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Back The Imposter
Chapters (55)
  1. Cover
  2. ANNA WHARTON
  3. Dedication page
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  54. Praise
  55. THE IMPOSTER

She wasn’t there for the service, so it takes some searching, but finally she finds it among all the others. The earth has not yet sunk back to level on this particular grave, and a stone has only finally been put in place in the last week. Chloe bends down beside it. She lays her coat on the ground and sits on top of it so as not to ruin the new black dress that Maureen had run up on her machine.

‘Hello, Nan,’ Chloe says, gently smoothing the blades of grass with the palm of her hand as if they were fine strands of Nan’s own soft white hair.

She reads out loud the inscription on the grave:

Here lies Grace Hudson

1919–2004

Wife to Hugh

Mother to Stella, taken from this earth still an angel

Rest in Peace

It was simple enough, and even if Chloe had been able to have any input, she knew Nan well enough to know there wasn’t much more she would have wanted except to be mentioned alongside her husband and the daughter she lost at just six years old. If anyone knew the pain of losing a child, it was Nan. Her little girl had died of polio, the cruellest of childhood illnesses. Grace had been able to lay her daughter to rest, unlike Maureen, who had endured all those years of not knowing.

Chloe had considered coming to the funeral, even just to watch from afar, but in the end she had decided that it was too risky. Better to blend into the background. She had always been so good at that. She knew that she would celebrate Nan’s life in her own way, or all fifteen months that she had known of it.

Chloe had needed to change her mobile number, of course, but she was used to that. The only person who needed her new one was Hollie. She knew Hollie always understood, each time Chloe convinced her that this time would be the last. But what are best friends if they’re not someone who believes in you utterly? Hollie might not have liked it, but she at least understood Chloe’s search to feel whole, for that perfect place where she would finally belong. Perhaps it had just become one of those annoying habits you come to accept in those you love. We all have them, Chloe thinks.

She sits up and looks around the cemetery. She has other friends here, people she has said goodbye to, other services that she has attended – most that she hasn’t. She’s experienced enough loss in her life to know that you celebrate people inside – that’s where you carry them with you, the people who have made a difference. And she hopes that she has at least done that – made a difference.