White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Robert was my eldest son," Mrs. Blight's voice rang out loudly across the chapel. The emotion in her voice made me ache. Her posture slumped over the stand, her face white and void of feeling.

"He had a bright future ahead of him. One that would have shaped him into the greatest man he could be. There are no words that come to mind that would explain what Robbie means to me, to his sisters, to his family and community. We can only try to put those precious moments into words, knowing full well that words will never do justice. All I know is that I am the luckiest mother in the world, to have been given the privilege of raising such a wonderful young man. I can only hope that he returns to me again. If not in this life, then at least the next. Thank you to everyone for coming together under one roof today. Thank you for sharing in our grief. Remember that we are all stronger together, and weaker when divided, in these trying times. Thank you."

She said nothing else, and quietly sat back down to her seat. Her hollow footsteps thudded slowly across the floorboards. The entire room was heavy with commiseration. Sympathy for the poor mother who lost her boy in such a meaningless, incomprehensible way.

My own mother's arms were around me, her fingers lightly stroking my hair. After my breakdown, I'd composed myself enough to maintain a straighter face.

Stupid, the voice that lived in my head, the one that wasn't my own, scolded. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How many times have I told you never to show weakness, especially in such a public setting?

I did show weakness. I showed vulnerability. And I couldn't afford to show vulnerability again. When you're a liar, people craved your vulnerability. It gave them the power to destroy you. Thankfully, nobody seemed to have witnessed my humiliation – except my own mother.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Mrs. Hockley stood up next, her face shrouded in despair. Aurora Hockley was a wealthy socialite here in Alistair, who's source of wealth had - up until now - been the town's great source of mystery. Even at her own daughter's funeral, she wore a pair of red-bottomed heels and racy designer clothing. The shape of her nose looked different, as if she'd gotten work done to it recently. While the chances of her daughter being alive grew slimmer and slimmer.

Unbelievable.

She reached the stand, and delicately cleared her throat. "I'd like to speak a little bit about Jenny. I loved my little Jenny so much. She brought me joy like nothing else," her voice cracked. Something about the way she embellished her pain through the long lines of her face, through the perfectly-timed cracking of her voice, made me sit up straighter. "She was such a beautiful, bright, happy girl. Like Angie has said, I too am so proud to be her mother. And I know the search isn't over. But if it is... and if this is it... I'm going to miss her so much. Life without her will be unbearable..." she broke down in tears, hysterically sobbing into her hands.

Everyone broke out in hushed whispers, which quickly magnified in pitch.

A stout, bearded man quickly made his way over to assist an inconsolable Aurora Hockley back to her seat.

I sat very still.

As someone who compulsively lies, not only could I bullshit like a pro, but I could also spot a bullshit from a mile away.

My dried eyes instinctively trained themselves on Aurora, with one niggling thought in my mind.

Liar.

The rest of the memorial passed by in similar fashion. Parents and grandparents, siblings and cousins and uncles gave their eulogies one by one, expressing grief that was shared with the Alistair community. Real, genuine grief.

I could hardly pay attention to it all. My pupils studied every move Aurora made. The attention of the room slowly drifted away from her and towards the next grieving speaker. And once she was free of their prying eyes, her miserable, heartbroken facade all but disappeared.

There she sat, bright eyed and keenly watching the performances unfold. A blank face. Crossed legs, a restless pointed heel bouncing from her crossed knee. At one point, she even checked in her phone reflection if her cherry red lipstick were still in place.

Nobody else seemed to notice.

I did.

It seemed as if in a room full of people, I was not the only deceiver amongst them.

I'd been so absorbed in studying every twitch of Aurora's body, that I hadn't realized that the memorial had ended.

Almost in unison, people stood to greet their neighbors, speaking quietly in respective circles. My mother patted my shoulder, snapping me of my daze. She gave me a curious look, motioning me up. Then we both stood without a word.

It was then that other people's eyes began to fix themselves onto me. The second performance of the day was my presence in this room. The horrified and scandalized looks thrown my way were almost comical. Shit. I'd completely forgotten that I was the alleged murderer.

"Come, Jesabel. Let's get going," my mother quickly took hold of my hand, briskly making her way for the door and into fresh air. I stood and held my ground, looking everyone in the eye. The whispers broke out into murmurs, and soon half of the back pews were consumed in looking at me, taking me in. I put on a brave face. Inside, my heart was pounding.

"I need to do something first," I whispered to mother, before quietly pushing through the crowd. Glares and mutters followed as I made my way towards the very front of the procession. Even in God's house, there was still plenty of room for people's bigotry. I couldn't help but listen to them, and no matter how quietly they spoke, their words still travelled.

"That's the one."

"All the kids at the school think she killed them."

"I heard she murdered them and ran around the town center afterwards, covered in their blood. Heard she drank some of it."

"She's the one being question by police – no idea why she'd be here today, of all places."

"The nerve! I know all about her and the trouble she gets up to, they should have her locked up in a loony bin—!"

I met Nathan's eye from across the room, seated by his beautiful mother. I didn't do it, I mouthed. He gave no response.

I headed towards Robbie's mother. This was it. I took a deep breath, and tapped her shoulder.

She turned around, and whatever resolve I had to say anything meaningful faltered. She didn't glare. She took a little while to register my appearance, a little longer to register who I actually was. She couldn't afford enough energy for anything more. She didn't even try to rip my hair out. Her gaze was as blank and empty as a piece of paper.

"You're the girl they all talk about," was all she said. "What do you want?"

I hesitated. Angelica Blight ignored the gathering crowd surrounding her, staring directly at me. I cowered under their stares, but not under hers. The loss of her son had sucked away her liveliness. She was a robot now.

"I... I just wanted to say something quickly. I wanted to say that I didn't do what they say I did. And that I'm sorry," was all I could manage.

Her face remained the same. "I know you didn't. I can tell that you're anguished about what people are saying. You don't need to make amends to me – you've done nothing wrong. If anyone has murdered my son, I'm the only person left in this town who can uncover who did it."