Read Online Killing a Stranger by Jane A. Adams - Free Book Online

son and Naomi because she felt drawn in by her association and because she knew just how much Harry hated funerals. They reminded him too much of the memorial they had for his sister, Helen, and, later, much, much later, Helen’s funeral. They, apart from Clara and the odd neighbour, were the only adults present.
    Why, Naomi wondered, did they so often sing ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ at funerals? They had, she recalled, sung the hymn at Helen’s and at her father’s. She mumbled the words, remembering them well enough from long ago school assemblies. Beside her, Harry intoned with more emotion than accuracy and Patrick was silent, his arm pressed close against hers. She could feel him shaking. Napoleon nuzzled at her hand, sensing that his people were upset and ill at ease. She felt Patrick’s hand brush hers as he reached down to fondle the dog’s silky ears.
    A little distance away, a woman wept, her sobs a constant backdrop to the singing and then to the eulogy which spoke of lost opportunity and a life cut short too soon. As if we needed telling that, Naomi thought.
    There was to be no wake.
    Charlie and Becky joined them outside, and Patrick stepped away from his father and Naomi to speak to them, their voices hushed as though overcome by the solemnity of the moment.
    â€˜I should be going,’ Harry said uneasily. ‘I can stay,’ he added, addressing his comment to his son.
    â€˜No, Dad, you’d better go. You’ve got that meeting and stuff. Look,’ he added, ‘thanks for coming. I’m glad you did.’
    â€˜I’m glad too,’ Harry told him. ‘You sure you’ll be OK? How are the three of you getting back to … wherever?’ It was a school day, but Harry wasn’t so naïve he thought that’s where they’d go.
    â€˜We’ll be OK, thanks,’ Charlie answered for them. ‘We’ll walk back home, I think. We can go back along the towpath.’
    â€˜The towpath?’
    Naomi could feel Harry force back the protest. The canal was where Rob had died, where … other bad things had happened. ‘OK, then,’ he managed, his voice just fractionally unsteady. ‘Nomi? You want for me to call a taxi? Or I could give you a lift?’
    â€˜I can do that,’ a woman’s voice. ‘I’m Rob’s mother,’ she added. ‘Clara Beresford. I just wanted to thank you. For coming along. All of you.’
    Not many had, Naomi thought. The echoing emptiness of the crematorium and the few voices raised to praise the ‘Bright and Beautiful’ had told her that. She wondered if Clara had invited others or chosen not to. Clara’s voice was thickened by the tears she had shed.
    â€˜You must be Naomi,’ Clara said quietly. ‘And Harry, Patrick’s father.’
    Harry confirmed his identity and repeated his excuses. He kissed Naomi on the cheek and checked again that she would be alright to get home.
    Naomi found herself walking down the path from the crematorium, Patrick and his friends behind and Clara at her side.
    â€˜I really am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine what you must be going through.’
    â€˜I don’t know what’s worse,’ Clara told her candidly, ‘losing my son or knowing he killed someone else’s. It’s all right,’ she added, ‘Patrick told me you knew. It’s a relief, actually, feeling I can say something. Everyone has been so nice, so sympathetic, and I feel almost like a fraud. If they suspected … My God, if they knew.’
    â€˜We don’t know what happened,’ Naomi reminded her. ‘Not yet. There could have been some kind of accident.’
    â€˜It could have been,’ Clara agreed. ‘But, frankly, it doesn’t seem like it, does it, and everyone’s going to draw their own conclusion sooner or later, aren’t they? I mean, the papers have reported the