Her mouth turned down like a child’s and he reached for her hand. “Listen to me, Anna. I know what grief is like, loss, I’ve been there, and I did exactly what you are attempting to do. I went straight back to work, I hardly gave myself time to bury my wife. I did anything I could to stop or stem the grief, but you know what happened? It never goes away. It sits inside you, and just when you think the pain is over, it sneaks up and grabs your heart and squeezes it. You can’t let this happen to you. Please, just take my advice, will you? Look what it did to me.”
She drew his hand closer to wrap herself in his arms, and then she hugged him tightly. She smelled of shampoo and Pears soap, and he rested his head on her shoulder. From the comforter, he became comforted, and she wasn’t like a child but all woman.
“You have to let me deal with this in my own way. I can’t be alone, because without Ken, that’s what I am, and I am going to have to face it. Staying here in the flat by myself won’t help me, so please, you go now. I’ll take the time I need, I promise.”
They remained together, her arms around him and his head resting against her slender neck. She was kissing him sweetly and patting him, and all the love he had felt for her returned and overwhelmed him.
“I will always be here for you, Anna. You’re not alone, believe me. You call me, come to me, whenever you want.”
“I will,” she said, and moved away from him. He ached to draw her close to him again, but he didn’t. Instead, he eased his complaining body into a stretch and drained the remains of his coffee.
“I’ll call you later, all right?”
She nodded, needing him to go, wanting desperately to be by herself. When the front door closed behind him, she went back to the bar stool. He’d left his cigarettes and lighter on the kitchen bar. She took one and lit it and inhaled the smoke. It made her head spin, but she continued smoking, sitting and sipping her coffee, willing herself to do what she knew she needed to do.
All the bridal magazines she put into a black bin liner and left it with the garbage for collection. She cleaned and Hoovered the flat and remade the bed and then dressed. She drove to the jewelry shop to reclaim her engagement ring. She slipped it onto her finger and returned home after stopping to buy groceries. As if in a trance, she put away the groceries, cleaned up the kitchen, and then sat by the phone.
She was about to ring Ken’s parents when the phone rang. It was Lizzie, Ken’s sister. Anna felt the emotion well up inside, and she could hardly speak.
“I’m so sorry. We are all in shock, but I wanted to tell you that I will always want to keep in touch with you, and I know how much Ken loved you.”
Anna swallowed but still couldn’t talk.
“I’ve been talking to Mum and Dad. Mum’s taken it very badly, and with her heart condition, I’m going up to stay to oversee the funeral with Dad and...” Lizzie stifled a sob. Then she sniffed. “Thing is, Anna, Mum sort of blames you. You know that if Ken hadn’t met you, this would never have happened, as the bastard who killed Ken had this obsession with you. So Mum doesn’t want to see you at the funeral.”
“That’s all right,” Anna whispered.
“No, it isn’t, and I feel terrible about it. I know she’ll come round eventually, it’s just so painful right now.”
“I understand.”
“Well, I feel terrible. Our brother, Robin, is flying in from Australia, so that should help her, but we have to take care of her. I’m so sorry about this, but if there is any change of plan, I’ll call you. I am thinking of you, and...”
Lizzie broke down crying, and Anna couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She just replaced the receiver. She returned to the kitchen and lit another of Langton’s cigarettes, sitting smoking. It was odd, she thought, about Ken’s brother, unable to come to their wedding but making the effort to come to the funeral. She remained sitting, feeling as if she were caught in thick dense fog, unable to take in anything, yet slowly realizing that it was a reality. Ken was never coming back. No wedding, no living together, no nothing.
She stubbed out the cigarette and went back to the phone. Should she call them? She decided she would write, and she spent a long time writing and rewriting a letter to his parents and ripping it up and starting again. She constantly looked at the ring on her finger. It didn’t twist and turn; it fit perfectly now.
Langton called, and she let the machine answer. She couldn’t talk to him, talk to anyone. Instead, she went into her bedroom and lay down.
On her bedside table was the forever-present photograph of her beloved father, and beside it was the only photograph she had of Ken. It was the one he had sent her, aged eight, dressed as a clown. She lay with her face turned to the two photographs of the most beloved people in her life, and she cried.
Anna did not go to the funeral; nor did she send the letter to Ken’s parents. She spent most of the time looking over the notes for the forthcoming trial. Every night she slept turned to the two photographs and left her machine on, refusing any calls. Lizzie had called numerous times, Langton up to three times a day. She had told Langton she wouldn’t be able to cope being alone, but now she found the solitariness helped her remain calm, and gradually, she knew she couldn’t cry anymore. She even practiced controlling the surges of grief that would overtake her when she least expected it.
Her flat was immaculate, and those extra pounds she had intended to lose had gone, as she hardly ate, but she smoked a lot. Cigarettes no longer made her feel dizzy when she inhaled. Lighting and sucking in the smoke gave her a strange energy and made her aware of her shaking hands. Always glancing at her engagement ring, she had decided she would never take it off.
The day she decided to return to work, she dressed carefully, putting on black suit with a crisp white shirt and a pencil skirt, shedding the old tracksuit she had worn most days. She had washed and blow-dried her hair and made up her face carefully, adding lip gloss. She stood staring at herself in the wardrobe mirror and felt she was ready, her armor in place. She knew that the first day back was going to be difficult, and she intended to make it as unemotional as possible. Not for herself; she knew the team would find it hard to approach her.
Anna parked in her space at the station. She was glad not to see Langton’s car and to know he wouldn’t be there. She smoked a cigarette before she got out and headed into the station. It was exactly as she had expected. As she walked to her desk, the incident room went quiet. All eyes were on her as she put down her briefcase. Barbara was the first to come to her desk, and she had tears in her eyes.
“I am so sorry, it’s just terrible. If there is anything I can do, you just have to say.”
“Thank you, Barbara. I’m fine now.”
Joan looked over. Her face showed such compassion, and like Barbara, she looked like she was going to burst into tears.
Barolli brought her a coffee; he couldn’t meet her eyes. “You need anything, let me know.”
“Thank you, I will. I’ll need an update as soon as I’ve got myself sorted out.”
“Yeah, whenever you are ready.”
Mike Lewis looked through the blinds in his office. Langton had said that he doubted Travis would return for a few months, at least until the trial was set, but there she was. It had been only two weeks. He took a deep breath, finding it difficult to go out and face her. Everyone found it hard, since she appeared to be totally in control, spending a long time looking over the incident board and making her own notes.
Mike eventually came and patted her shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Anna, and you have my condolences.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that. Tell me, have they prepared a full case file for the Chrissie O’Keefe murder?”