Everything is Beautiful Eleanor Ray (best manga ereader .TXT) 📖

The robin looked at her, its beady eyes gleaming. Then it fluttered up into the sky. Gone.

Amy tried to stand again and the pain shot through her.

Then she looked down.

Blood. Running down her leg.

Amy hobbled into the kitchen and grabbed her mobile phone, calling an ambulance. Then she sank down to the floor and curled up, hugging her knees to her chest. She hoped the ambulance would arrive soon. But she couldn’t help feeling that there was nothing they could do. Amy rocked gently forwards and backwards, willing her baby to be OK.

It was cold in the early August morning, and Amy held her paper cup of tea close to her, feeling the steam warm her chin. The horizon had an orange glow and it was getting lighter all the time; the sun was busy rising, almost white with the effort of turning the sky blue. Amy decided that if she painted again, she would no longer choose a sunset. She’d choose a sunrise.

Fresh starts.

She took a sip of her tea and turned around to look at the playground. Richard was staring at the hive of activity around what had been the paddling pool, but looked away from it to give Amy a reassuring smile. ‘It won’t be long now,’ he said. They stood behind the police tape, with its strict instructions. Do not cross.

Amy had no desire to disobey that order. This was close enough.

It had been hard to get to this point. After what happened, Chantel ran for help. Later Amy discovered it was Rachel who had called 999, but at the time all she could do was stare at Jack’s hand, poking out from under her things. Twitching like a nervous spider, its movements reflected in the shards of a broken mirror.

Then stillness.

A flurry of confusion followed. An ambulance. The police. She heard Chantel’s voice. ‘The boxes fell,’ Chantel had said firmly. ‘It was an accident.’

Chantel continued talking to the police officer, her voice low. The officer’s face changed and she called her partner over. Amy sat and watched while the paramedics tended to her head.

The boys had come out to see the emergency vehicles, but Richard quickly shepherded them back indoors. By the time the police car drove off with her and Chantel, only Smudge remained on the pavement outside their house, nonchalantly licking his tail.

Jack was in custody. He’d had some concussion and bad bruising but would make a full recovery. His problems were only just beginning. Chantel had finally told the police what had happened, eleven years ago. They had taken her allegations seriously.

Now here they were, waiting to see if Tim’s body was buried under the playground.

‘What if he’s not there?’ whispered Amy.

‘The police will find him,’ said Richard. ‘Now that they know where to look.’

If only she’d got that letter earlier. The letter that told her Tim had not betrayed her. The photograph that showed where Tim had breathed his last.

And when.

Sunset.

Chantel hadn’t wanted to come back to this place. Amy understood, but she felt she had to see for herself. Richard came with her. His arm rested comfortingly around her shoulders.

‘It is different,’ said Richard. ‘Knowing that someone is dead. I know you’ve suffered loss already, but now it will feel final.’

‘I know what it feels like,’ said Amy. Without realising, she’d put her hand to her stomach. Richard’s eyes following her hand.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘I didn’t know.’

Amy looked back at the horizon. The orange line had vanished as if it had been an illusion. The sky was blue. She could feel the heat of the sun starting to warm the air. A shout sounded out, and Amy turned to see scenes of crime officers in their white suits flock together like doves. Peering downwards.

‘That’s him,’ she said. ‘They’ve found Tim.’

*

‘Thanks for doing this.’ Tim’s father seemed incapable of letting go of her hand. ‘And that was such a beautiful speech.’

‘I think Tim deserves it,’ replied Amy. She looked around the small party at the memorial service. Tim hadn’t been religious, so Amy hadn’t been sure where to hold it. Then she remembered the festival where the band had played, all those years ago. The field was a little out of the way, but she remembered how happy he’d been.

‘You’ll scatter the ashes here?’

‘We will,’ said Amy. She looked to the urn, surrounded by fragrant honeysuckle. Inside was what remained of Tim, mingled with the tiny pieces of Scarlett that Amy had cremated with him. The bird was too badly broken to be mended this time. ‘After the concert. I think they are ready to start soon.’

The remaining band members had reunited one last time. Simon, Idris and Phil. Chantel stood next to her at the front as people gathered. She tentatively took Amy’s hand. The two of them were gradually feeling their way back to friendship. Amy didn’t think she could ever love Chantel like she used to. Not after she’d left her for so long. But it felt good to have her back in her life.

‘This is a song about missing a sunset,’ said Simon, his face close to the microphone. ‘It was our signature song, written by the late, great Tim Carver. “Already Dark”.’

Amy listened to the song, but she found her eyes wandering around the gathering. Erin, Chantel’s elder daughter, had come to stand next to her mother and had taken her other hand. Daniel and Gwyneth, Chantel’s youngest, were holding their arms out like aeroplanes and careering round the field. Charles was crouched on the ground, likely inspecting an insect. Alan stood mesmerised by the music he’d never heard his son perform.

And Richard was standing at the back, watching her. She gestured to him and he came and joined her. It felt odd, listening to Tim’s song with another man.

But she couldn’t miss another sunset.

*

‘So we’ve got three categories and I’ve brought labels,’ said Rachel, clearly relishing her role. ‘Green for keep. Red for throw away.