The Shadow Friend
Page 28
And finally, I saw Marie.
She had found a seat at the end of one of the middle rows of the church, and she smiled when she saw me notice her. I had gone into the bookshop yesterday, taking an old book with me. The Nightmare People. It had taken its place on the shelves opposite the counter, but without a price written in pencil on the inside. I’d suggested to Marie that if someone found it and wanted it, they should just take it, and she had agreed with me.
Then I’d helped her with a delivery, just like old times, and she had said something else, a little pointedly.
You know … I won’t be up to doing this much longer, Paul.
I was still thinking about that. When I’d spoken to Amanda earlier, I’d said I was a lecturer for now, because even though I’d never have imagined it a week ago, a part of me was already picturing a different sign above that shop. Johnson & Ross still, of course – it was important to remember where you came from – but it didn’t seem impossible that a new sign might add a different name as well. After all, it had always felt like home.
It was something to think about.
But for now, I looked back down.
‘The story I wrote,’ I said. ‘The one my mother read. It was a stupid one. It was about someone returning to his home for one last time. It stopped before he actually got there, because I didn’t know how to end it. I still don’t. All I know is what happened when I did.’
And then I spoke a little of what I’d learned about my mother since returning to Gritten. There wasn’t much, but there was at least a little. The friends I hadn’t known about until now. The love of reading she’d discovered later in life. The people she had cared about, and who had in turn cared about her.
When I was done, I looked at the coffin beside me, remembering all the photographs I’d seen. The ones where she was young, unguarded and laughing with joy, the life ahead of her full of possibility. And even though I wasn’t a religious man, I found myself wondering if she might be dreaming anything now.
‘Sleep well,’ I said.
Acknowledgements
As with the writing of any novel, I owe a large debt of gratitude to a vast number of people – in this case especially my editors, Joel Richardson and Ryan Doherty, without whom this would be a very different book. Their expertise and patience are second to none and massively appreciated. Thanks are also due to Cecily van Buren-Freedman, Emma Henderson, Grace Long, Ellie Hughes, the rights team at Michael Joseph, and literally everybody else in publishing I’ve had the good fortune to meet and work with on this book and the last. Some writers get lucky on that level; I feel utterly blessed.
A huge thank you to my awesome agent Sandra Sawicka, and to Leah Middleton, Guy Herbert, and everybody else at Marjacq.
Thank you also to the reviewers, bloggers and readers who have picked up my work and taken the time to say kind things about it – you’re all hugely appreciated. To the wonderful staff at The Packhorse, Briggate and the Bower’s Tap in Leeds for putting up with me typing away in the corners. To my friends and family. And to the crime fiction community as a whole, especially Colin Scott for keeping me sane and being ridiculously ace.
Last of all, thank you so much to Lynn and Zack. I couldn’t do any of it without you, and so this book is dedicated to you once more, with so much love.
THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
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First published in the UK by Michael Joseph, 2020
Copyright © Alex North, 2020
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover images © Getty Images
ISBN: 978-1-405-93626-2
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