The Imposter Anna Wharton (e novels to read .txt) 📖

realize that everything she has come to know as family has ended:

‘Been trying to call . . . police search . . . sorry to have to tell you . . . your grandmother passed away in hospital this afternoon.’

FORTY-NINE

It had taken a few weeks to release the body for the funeral. With it being a sudden death there were the inevitable tests that needed to be carried out. It was only once the authorities were satisfied that the death certificate was released. The coroner had recorded a verdict of death by misadventure.

So much time had passed that it was almost summer when a small crowd gathered in the city’s cemetery for the burial. The sun was shining so brightly that the usual black garb worn at funerals conducted the heat and everybody hoped – for more reasons than one – that the Rite of Committal would soon be over. No one likes to see a child go before an adult, except in this case, so many adults had gone before they had found her. The priest mentioned each of them by name during the church service, relatives of the Kyles who hadn’t lived to see little Angela returned to her parents, and even as he did, everybody thought again inwardly what a shame it was that she had been returned to them in death instead of in life. Some people, as ridiculous as it might have seemed, had never given up hope. Sometimes, in the face of so much despair, it really is all we’ve got.

At first Chloe had thought it was best to hang back, but it was Maureen and Patrick themselves who had picked her out of the crowd as they filed into St Gregory’s. Maureen’s hand had found Chloe’s and it has not left hers since. Nobody asked who Chloe was as they filed out of the church to make their way to the cemetery, but Chloe had overheard Patrick telling one group of friends that she was their lodger, and then Maureen had interrupted – her hand still wrapped firmly around Chloe’s – to tell them that she was ‘practically family now’. This had made Chloe glow inside, even on such a sorrowful day. She understands now that Patrick wants only what will make the pain easier to bear for Maureen, and for now, that is Chloe.

As they’d waited for the priest to arrive to commence the committal Maureen had made sure to introduce Chloe to even the most distant of relatives, and if they noticed – by coincidence – the resemblance between Chloe and Angie, nobody commented. Perhaps it wouldn’t have felt right on this particular day.

Chloe stands at the front now, right beside the grave as the tiny coffin hovers over it. On her right, Hollie’s hand fits neatly into hers and she feels her best friend – her only friend – squeeze it every now and then as if to remind her that she is here, that she is always here for her. As they recite the Lord’s Prayer, Chloe looks behind her, and Phil gives her a tight, embarrassed smile.

On Chloe’s left is Maureen, and beside her, Patrick. Maureen’s fingers are wrapped so tightly around Chloe’s that her bones ache, but she doesn’t let go of this mother’s grasp, not for one second. She can see now why Patrick didn’t. And behind Maureen, a hand on her left shoulder, stands Josie. Perhaps she had proved her friendship a hundred times over in all the years that followed. Who knows how much she has also suffered for her own deceit? We rarely have a way of telling.

The priest concludes his prayers:

‘Loving God, from whom all life proceeds

And by whose hand the dead are raised again,

Though we are sinners, you wish always to hear us.

Accept the prayers we offer in sadness for your servant, Angela Rose Kyle:

Deliver her soul from death,

Number her among your saints

And clothe her with the robe of salvation

To enjoy forever the delights of your kingdom.

We ask this through Christ our Lord.’

The congregation, Maureen, Patrick and Chloe, all whisper, ‘Amen.’

Maureen and Patrick stand beside the grave until the crowds disperse and people finish telling them that the service had been ‘lovely’ and ‘fitting’ and ‘beautiful’ and all the other adjectives that people hope will make grief that much easier to bear. In truth, what it takes most of all is time, and haven’t Maureen and Patrick had enough of that already? But their grief starts again at day zero, now they have finally laid their daughter to rest.

Most people are heading for the wake, but Maureen and Patrick understandably want to have the last few moments alone with their daughter.

‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’ Chloe asks Maureen.

She nods. ‘I’ve got Patrick,’ she says, squeezing his arm underneath hers. ‘I just feel that I need to be near her, you know? After all that time that she had to lie there alone, I just need to make sure she’s truly rested now.’

‘Of course,’ Chloe says, planting a kiss on Maureen’s cheek. ‘Take as long as you need. I’ll see you at the wake.’

She slips her hand from Maureen’s, the first time that morning.

‘Thank you, Chloe,’ Maureen says. ‘Not just for today but all these days. You’ve been my rock. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Patrick smiles from behind her shoulder, and reaches out a hand to Chloe’s arm.

Chloe leaves them with Angie, assuring them she will get a lift to the wake with one of the other mourners.

‘I’m sorry we can’t come with you, Chloe,’ Hollie says. ‘But we’ve both got to get back to work.’

‘It’s OK,’ Chloe says. ‘Thank you for coming, both of you.’

Hollie wraps her in a hug. ‘Remember, you’re never alone,’ she says. ‘You’re as good as family to me and Phil. You’ve always got us.’

Chloe breaks away and nods. ‘Thank you,’ she says.

‘Are you going to walk out with us?’ Hollie asks. ‘We could drop you off at the wake?’

‘It’s OK,’ Chloe says. ‘I want to take a little time here . . .’

Hollie nods.