Page 49 of All the Things We Never Knew

As I turned to go, the door of the chapel opened and Anna stepped out, flanked by her children. I turned away, not wanting her to see me, but seconds later I heard a cry of alarm and the unmistakeable sound of a body falling to the ground.

‘She’s fainted,’ someone said.

My training and my instinct kicked in. I took a step forward, then hesitated, but it was too late.

‘Laurel’s here.’ Lulu Graham had spotted me. ‘She’s a nurse. She’ll know what to do.’

She reached out and gripped my arm as if it was the only thing stopping her falling herself. I could see terror in her eyes, and I knew what she must be thinking: Not Mum as well as Dad.

‘Hey.’ I put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. We’ve got this.’

‘Are you sure?’ Her voice trembled. I could see she’d been crying and was about to do so again.

Instinctively, I put my arms around her and held her close for a moment.

‘It’s okay, Lulu love,’ I said. ‘I’ll make sure your mum’s looked after.’

She gulped. ‘Thanks, Laurel.’

Then we let each other go and I squatted down next to Anna’s prone body, awkward in my high heels, abandoning any hope of making a discreet getaway.

Lulu’s was just one of the faces peering down at Anna and me, variously shocked, anxious and plain old curious. I could see two blonde women, almost indistinguishable from each other and so like Anna they could only be her sisters. There was an older woman with stylishly cut grey hair, slender in a rose-coloured silk dress. And Gray’s son too, his face frozen with shock.

I only looked up for a second before turning my attention to Anna.

‘Anna, can you hear me?’ I asked. Her chest was rising and falling. Her pulse was even.

Maybe she had fainted; maybe she had lost her footing descending the steps in her platform sandals and banged her head or winded herself. Mostly, though, the smell of gin on her breath, barely concealed by toothpaste, told its own story.

‘Is she all right?’ The woman in the pink dress had squatted down next to me. ‘Is she hurt?’

‘I don’t think so.’ I met her eyes and she nodded, understanding without me needing to say anything. I raised my voice. ‘If you wouldn’t mind all moving back a little, please. Me and…?’

‘Orla.’

‘Laurel.’ I smiled at her briefly. ‘Me and Orla will try and get Anna sitting up.’

‘It might be an idea to get people moving off to the pub,’ Orla said, turning to the small group that had gathered round. ‘Laurel and I will take Anna home and get her medical attention if she needs it.’

‘Come on, darlings.’ One of Anna’s sisters put her arms round Lulu and Barney, steering them away. ‘Mum’ll be fine. It’s the stress of the past few days, poor love. I’m sure she’ll join us when she’s feeling better.’

Orla and I leaned over Anna’s prone form, gently helping her to sit up. There was a bump on the back of her head, swelling already, but no blood. Her eyes were open but glazed and unseeing. I gave her a sip of water from the bottle in my handbag, and Orla called a taxi on her phone.

It was only then that I was able to look up and see into the chapel through the still-open doors. The rows of seats were vacant now. A ray of sunlight illuminated the front of the space where the celebrant and the readers would have stood. Where Gray’s coffin would have been, there was now only emptiness.

Half an hour later, we’d got Anna home. She was conscious, talking and able to climb the stairs on her own – just very, very drunk. I left Orla to settle her in bed, found paracetamol in the bathroom and a bag of frozen peas in the kitchen, and poured a glass of water before going back upstairs to the spare bedroom, where I guessed Anna must have been sleeping alone during Gray’s illness – or perhaps even before that; I had no way of knowing.

Orla met me in the doorway.

‘Poor woman,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t want…’

‘Anyone to know?’ Orla nodded, and I went on, ‘Strictly speaking, given she’s been drinking, she ought to have medical attention. But…’

‘She’s got it,’ Orla said. ‘From you. I’ve taken her dress and shoes off. She wouldn’t mind – we’ve known each other long enough. I’ve been their neighbour ever since they moved in. And you…?’

There was no point in lying, but at the same time I found it almost impossible to tell the truth.

‘I was…’ I began. ‘Gray and I were…’