Into the Dark (ORIGINAL AND UNEDITED EDITON)

Epilogue

Eight months later

I park the car at the bottom of the hill, near the gate and climb out. In the back seat, he's fighting two plastic dinosaurs against each other; "raaaaaaaaar, baaaaaaaaaang, deaaaaaaaaaaaaad!!!!"

We'd talked about it at length, and for days, but I still don't know that it was a good idea bringing him here. I'd kept him away from the funeral - I didn't even want to be at the fucking thing — but he needs to say goodbye. I need him to know that she's gone. Properly gone. He'd never know the facts of how and why, but I need him to say his goodbyes.

"Alright buddy, let's go. Grab the flowers."

Unbuckling his seatbelt, I hook my hands under his arms and haul him out of the car, little legs swinging. "We have to walk up the hill a bit, you want your hat on?"

He shakes his head, but I grab it anyway and stuff it in the back pocket of my jeans. The sky looks like a water balloon about ready to burst; sagging, heavy, grey clouds. I crouch down to fasten up his raincoat, a bright-yellow, hooded number, the same colour as the daffodils he's holding. I pull up the hood, but he reaches up with his free hand and pushes back down again. When I do it again, he pushes it back down again and we do this until he bursts into a fit of giggles. Good sign that he's laughing. I smile at him and ruffle his mop of hair and take his hand to start pulling him up the hill.

About halfway up on the left-hand side, we pass a grave that has a collection of toys on it. My heart sinks and my stomach flips as I read the inscription on the white marble headstone: Jacob James Maxwell.

Our little angel - Gone to be with the rest of God's angels.

8th May 2010 - 1st May 2016.

Jesus fucking Christ. Six-years old. I try and tug Caleb past before he notices, but of course, I fail. Of course, he wants to stop and look at the toys. Buzz Lightyear. Purple soft toy dragon. Minion figures. He wasn't about to miss those. And given what he's about to have to look at, I decide to let him wander over to the well-tended grave and see it up close. There's a picture of little Jacob on it. A cute-looking kid with almost black hair, his most prominent feature being a triangular gap between his two front teeth. If he'd grown up he'd have gotten that fixed. But he'll never grow up. He'll have that gap in his teeth forever. I swallow hard and clutch Caleb's hand tighter.

"How did he die?" Cale asks, soft little voice cutting through pitch-dark thoughts.

"Not sure. Doesn't say. He might have been sick."

"What kind of sick?"

"The really bad kind."

"That's when you die? When you're really bad kind of sick?"

"Not always, no."

"His mummy and daddy must be sad."

My stomach lurches again. Fucking hell, I'm going to throw up. My forehead breaks out in sweat, my hands too, so that I feel my grip on his slip a little. I let go of his hand and wipe my palm on my thigh before retaking it.

"Am sure they are, buddy." I nod. "Let's keep going, yeah? Then we can go for ice-cream."

He nods and lets me pull him back to the path.

Her stone is black. Shiny gold engraving. No picture. There are some nice pink flowers around the side. Wonder who brought them. I fucking hate this place. I never wanted to set foot in this place again. This is the last time I'll come here - ever. I don't belong here. Caleb doesn't belong here either. If he wanted to come back when he was older, then that was his choice. But I'd plant a tree or something, and we could visit that instead in the meantime.