seen a rainbow before. I
strained my eyes and realised its arch was covering the exact spot where we believed April was taken. As it grew brighter, I saw that it had stretched right from Penrath, where I’d spent so
many happy moments with April, to Ceinws, where she’d most likely breathed her last. I started to cry again, but my tears were now a mix of sadness and a strange sort of joy. April loved
rainbows and she always sang about them in her little improvised songs, using the Welsh word
enfys
.
The rainbow remained as I trudged back down the hill. It seemed to grow more vibrant each time I looked at it. Neither Coral nor I are religious but, while Coral believes in the possible
existence of angels, I have always been a little more sceptical. Before April was taken, I was more or less of the opinion that death was final – that all of our thoughts and feelings ceased
to exist at the end of our life.
Now it’s tempting to think there might be an afterlife. I wouldn’t say I was a believer, but I keep an open mind. April was so at one with the countryside and I went to my hill to
feel close to her. It would be lovely to think that her spirit lived on, that the rainbow was her way of communicating with me – but I guess I’ll never know for sure.
When I got home, there wasn’t much time before the meeting, so I quickly showered and changed before Dave and Hayley arrived to take us to the sanctuary. We’d be meeting with Ewan
Jenkins of the Crown Prosecution Service as well as Andy. Ewan was a very nice man and answered all of our questions as best he could.
‘Do you think Mark Bridger could be convicted, even though we don’t have April’s body?’ I asked.
‘Considering the forensic evidence we have, I’m very conf-dent,’ he said. ‘If he isn’t, I’ll eat my words.’
‘I’ll remember you said that,’ I replied. We both laughed, but in my case it was more through relief than anything else. Ewan had given us the news we wanted to hear. For a
fleeting moment I allowed myself to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the rainbow had been a sign after all. If Mark Bridger was locked up in jail, he couldn’t hurt any more children. Could this
be April’s way of telling us everything was going to be OK? In the end, I decided not to dwell on the unanswered questions and focus on things that seemed more certain – we had a good
case and we had to concentrate on getting through the trial.
But I was soon to be brought back down to earth with a crushing blow. I’d noticed my eyesight had worsened over the past few weeks, though I’d largely ignored the changes as
I’d been so preoccupied. However, when I went for a routine examination, my optician told me that I’d failed my basic vision test, meaning my eyesight had deteriorated so much I could
now be registered legally blind. It’s amazing what trauma can do to the human body.
Coral and I also decided to accept an invitation to go to the school’s Christmas fair. The school had been so good to Harley, it seemed a shame to miss it and in a way it was uplifting to
see the children running around, excited for the festive season. But it was also a stark and crushing reminder of what we’d lost.
‘April, I think about you every day,’ I wrote that evening. ‘I cry most nights. I always look in and say goodnight and send you a kiss but, as Christmas comes, I miss you and I
can’t bear to see your empty bed.’
By now, hot tears were stinging my eyes, as I carefully formed the words with my pen. As my vision deteriorated, it got harder and harder to write but I couldn’t bear to give up.
‘I find myself crying and I don’t know why,’ I continued. ‘I’ll get through this because I love you and I know you love me. This alone is enough for me. I wish to
hear your voice, to see your smile, to kiss you goodnight. But my memory will have to do. I miss you, my beautiful, brown-eyed girl.
‘Lots of love, your very sad Dad xxx.’
Coral
strained my eyes and realised its arch was covering the exact spot where we believed April was taken. As it grew brighter, I saw that it had stretched right from Penrath, where I’d spent so
many happy moments with April, to Ceinws, where she’d most likely breathed her last. I started to cry again, but my tears were now a mix of sadness and a strange sort of joy. April loved
rainbows and she always sang about them in her little improvised songs, using the Welsh word
enfys
.
The rainbow remained as I trudged back down the hill. It seemed to grow more vibrant each time I looked at it. Neither Coral nor I are religious but, while Coral believes in the possible
existence of angels, I have always been a little more sceptical. Before April was taken, I was more or less of the opinion that death was final – that all of our thoughts and feelings ceased
to exist at the end of our life.
Now it’s tempting to think there might be an afterlife. I wouldn’t say I was a believer, but I keep an open mind. April was so at one with the countryside and I went to my hill to
feel close to her. It would be lovely to think that her spirit lived on, that the rainbow was her way of communicating with me – but I guess I’ll never know for sure.
When I got home, there wasn’t much time before the meeting, so I quickly showered and changed before Dave and Hayley arrived to take us to the sanctuary. We’d be meeting with Ewan
Jenkins of the Crown Prosecution Service as well as Andy. Ewan was a very nice man and answered all of our questions as best he could.
‘Do you think Mark Bridger could be convicted, even though we don’t have April’s body?’ I asked.
‘Considering the forensic evidence we have, I’m very conf-dent,’ he said. ‘If he isn’t, I’ll eat my words.’
‘I’ll remember you said that,’ I replied. We both laughed, but in my case it was more through relief than anything else. Ewan had given us the news we wanted to hear. For a
fleeting moment I allowed myself to wonder if maybe, just maybe, the rainbow had been a sign after all. If Mark Bridger was locked up in jail, he couldn’t hurt any more children. Could this
be April’s way of telling us everything was going to be OK? In the end, I decided not to dwell on the unanswered questions and focus on things that seemed more certain – we had a good
case and we had to concentrate on getting through the trial.
But I was soon to be brought back down to earth with a crushing blow. I’d noticed my eyesight had worsened over the past few weeks, though I’d largely ignored the changes as
I’d been so preoccupied. However, when I went for a routine examination, my optician told me that I’d failed my basic vision test, meaning my eyesight had deteriorated so much I could
now be registered legally blind. It’s amazing what trauma can do to the human body.
Coral and I also decided to accept an invitation to go to the school’s Christmas fair. The school had been so good to Harley, it seemed a shame to miss it and in a way it was uplifting to
see the children running around, excited for the festive season. But it was also a stark and crushing reminder of what we’d lost.
‘April, I think about you every day,’ I wrote that evening. ‘I cry most nights. I always look in and say goodnight and send you a kiss but, as Christmas comes, I miss you and I
can’t bear to see your empty bed.’
By now, hot tears were stinging my eyes, as I carefully formed the words with my pen. As my vision deteriorated, it got harder and harder to write but I couldn’t bear to give up.
‘I find myself crying and I don’t know why,’ I continued. ‘I’ll get through this because I love you and I know you love me. This alone is enough for me. I wish to
hear your voice, to see your smile, to kiss you goodnight. But my memory will have to do. I miss you, my beautiful, brown-eyed girl.
‘Lots of love, your very sad Dad xxx.’
Coral
Similar Books
