The funeral was the worst thing Nula had ever lived through. Throughout the whole ceremony she tried not to look at the tiny white coffin on the dais in the church, tried not to take any of this in; it was too painful. She didn’t think she would ever wipe from her memory the sight of Charlie single-handedly carrying the coffin from the hearse and up the aisle to place it so carefully, so lovingly, on the dais.
Since that day with Terry when Charlie had cried his heart out, he seemed to have released his demons and regained some composure. Dry-eyed, he carried his dead son to be laid to rest. Dry-eyed, he listened to the prayers, the hymns, the solemn reassuring words of the vicar who said there was life beyond the grave. Charlie didn’t believe it. He clutched onto Milly’s hand while Nula, all in black, held on to Harlan. The Bartons sat beside them, Terry at Charlie’s right hand, then Belle, then Jill.
Soon it was over. They laid Charlie Stone’s son in the ground, and everyone went back to the big house.
Nula was dazed with grief. Her beloved boy. She wouldn’t see him off on his first day at school, wouldn’t fret over him learning to drive, would never see him become a man, get married, give her grandchildren. All of that, she was going to miss. All of it, she’d mourn forever.
‘It was fucking tragic,’ said Beezer to Nula as he happened to be standing beside her at the buffet table.
He had a paper plate of sausage rolls and Scotch eggs stacked high in one hand, a large Scotch in the other. Flashy, trendy Beezer. He was great with the kids, well with the girls, anyway, he didn’t seem to care for Harlan much. And as for women? He had all the gear and no idea. He never had a clue what to say to them, they were like an alien species to him.
‘Yeah,’ said Nula, who felt as if she was floating through a very bad dream.
‘Poor little kid,’ he said. ‘After that party too. At the christening. Christ, what a night we all had. Drunk as fuck, weren’t we? Even the kids were up half the night. Felt bad about that. Noisy music and all us lot dossing down everywhere and wandering the halls.’
Nula didn’t want to think about the christening party. After little Jake died, she’d sacked Chrissy. Raged at her. Told her to piss off and be glad she wasn’t being prosecuted. That she should be grateful Charlie didn’t throttle her with his bare hands. Jake had been in her care. And Jake had died.
‘Poor bloody Harlan, must have been a shock, finding his little brother like that,’ said Beezer, scoffing down half a Scotch egg.
Nula’s sore eyes focused properly on Beezer for the first time. ‘What do you mean? Milly and Harlan were asleep. They were up in the top nursery suite with Chrissy. Harlan didn’t find Jake, Chrissy did.’
‘Well no, I saw him down on the second floor. About four o’clock in the morning, it was, when I got up to have a piss. Stepped out of my bedroom and there he was.’
‘He?’
‘Harlan. In his pyjamas.’
‘What, he was in the hallway?’ asked Nula.
‘He was just coming out of the room beside yours, the one right on the end.’
Something that felt clammy and fearful was crawling up Nula’s spine. She could feel the room starting to sway. Beezer was talking about the nursery adjoining the master bedroom, the one in which baby Jake had been sleeping. Harlan had been coming out of there? Nula thought of Harlan, and of baby Jake who he was always asking to hold. But he wasn’t allowed to. He knew that. Not unless he was supervised.
He’d gone there in the night.
And next morning – oh Christ! – they’d found Jake dead in his cot.