“Don’t you see that’s why-”
“I do not. So there they are-those cops-and they’re looking at me and I can see what they know and what they think. Poor stupid cow she is. Her boyfriend’d rather do some old witch than be with her. And I didn’t need that, d’you see it, Will? I didn’t need their pity and I didn’t need them knowing because now it all gets written down for the world to see and everyone knows and do you know-have you any idea-what that feels like?”
“It wasn’t your fault, Madlyn.”
“That I wasn’t enough for him? So much not enough that he wanted her as well? How could that not be my fault? I loved him. We had something good, or that’s what I thought.”
Will said, stumbling, “No. Look. It wasn’t you. Why couldn’t you see…He would’ve done the same…He would’ve walked away, no matter who he was with. Why couldn’t you ever see that? Why couldn’t you just let him-”
“I was going to have his baby. His baby, all right? And I thought that meant…I thought we would…Oh God, forget it.”
Will’s jaw had dropped with Madlyn’s revelation. Cadan had, of course, heard the expression before-someone’s jaw dropping-but he’d never imagined how lost it made one look till he saw what Will’s face revealed. Will hadn’t known about this, then. But of course, how could he? It was a private business held within the family, and Will was not a member of the family or even close to becoming one, a fact which he did not appear to understand. Even now. Sounding numb, he said, “You could have come to me.”
“What?” Madlyn said.
“To me. I would’ve…I don’t know. Whatever you wanted. I could have-”
“I loved him.”
“No,” Will said. “You can’t. You couldn’t. Why won’t you see what he was like? He was no good, but you looked at him and what you saw-”
“Don’t you say that about him. Don’t you…don’t.”
Will looked like a man who’s spoken a language that he assumes his listener has understood, only to discover she’s a foreigner in his country and so is he as a matter of fact and there’s nothing to be done about the matter. He said slowly and with dawning knowledge, “You can still defend him. Even after…And what you just told me…Because he wasn’t going to stand by you, was he? That’s not who he was.”
“I loved him,” she cried.
“But you said that you hated him. You told me you hated him.”
“He hurt me, for God’s sake.”
“But then why did I…” Will looked around as if suddenly waking. His glance went to Cadan, then to the flowers he’d brought to give Madlyn. He tossed these into the fireplace. Cadan rather liked the drama of the gesture, had the fireplace been one that actually worked. But as it didn’t work, the act seemed past its sell-by date, the sort of thing one saw in old films on the telly.
The room was filled with a hollow silence. Then Will said to Madlyn, “I punched him out. I would have done more if he’d even been willing to fight, but he wasn’t. He didn’t even bother to care. He wouldn’t fight. Not for you. Not because of you. But I did that. I punched him out. For you, Madlyn. Because-”
“What?” she cried. “What on earth were you thinking?”
“He hurt you, he was a first-class wanker and he needed to be taught-”
“Who asked you to be his teacher? I never. I never. Did you…My God. What else did you do to him? Did you kill him as well? Is that it?”
“You don’t know what it means, do you?” Will asked her. “That I even hit him once. That I…You don’t know.”
“What? That you’re Sir Bloody Whoever in Sodding Armour? That I’m supposed to be happy about that? Grateful? Thrilled? Your handmaiden forever? What exactly don’t I know?”
“I could’ve gone back inside,” he said dully.
“What’re you talking about?”
“If I so much as tripped some bloke on the street. Even accidentally. I could go back inside. But I was willing to do it, because of you. And I was willing to sort him because he needed sorting. But you didn’t know that and even if you did know-now that you do know-it doesn’t matter. It never mattered. I don’t matter. I never did, did I?”
“Why the hell did you think…”
Will looked at Cadan. Madlyn looked at Will. And then she, too, looked at Cadan.
For his part, Cadan thought it was a very good moment to give little Pooh his walkies for the evening.
BEA WAS STRETCHING WITH the aid of a kitchen chair, doing her part to keep an ageing back more or less pain free when she heard a key in the front door. The sound of the key was followed by a familiar knock-bim bim BIM boom BOOM-and then Ray’s voice, “You here, Bea?”
“I’d say the car’s a fairly good indication of that,” she called out. “You used to be a much better detective.”
She heard him coming in her direction. She was still wearing her pyjamas, but as they comprised a T-shirt and the trousers to her tracksuit, she was not bothered by someone’s coming upon her in her morning deshabille.
Ray was done up to the nines. She looked at him sourly. “Hoping to impress some bright young thing?”
“Only you.” He went to the fridge where she had left a jug of orange juice. He held it to the light, gave it a suspicious sniff, found it apparently to his liking, and poured a glass.
“Do help yourself,” she said sardonically. “There’s always more where that came from.”
“Cheers,” he replied. “D’you still use it on your cereal?”
“Some things never change. Ray, why’re you here? And where’s Pete? Not ill, is he? He has school today. I hope you’ve not let him talk you into-”
“Early day,” he said. “He has something going on in his science course. I got him there and made sure he went inside and wasn’t planning to bunk off and sell weed on the street corner.”
“Most amusing. Pete doesn’t do drugs.”
“We are blessed in that.”
She ignored the plural. “Why’re you here at this hour?”
“He’s wanting more clothes.”
“Haven’t you washed them?”
“I have. But he says he can’t be expected to wear the same thing after school day after day. You sent only two outfits.”
“He has clothes at your place.”
“He claims he’s outgrown them.”
“He wouldn’t notice that. He never gives a toss what he’s wearing anyway. He’d be in his Arsenal sweatshirt all day if he had the option, and you know that very well. So answer me again. Why are you here?”
He smiled. “Caught me. You’re very good at grilling the suspect, my dear. How’s the investigation faring?”
“You mean how is it faring despite the fact I’ve no MCIT?”
He sipped his orange juice and put the glass on the work top, which he leaned against. He was quite a tall man, and he was trim. He’d look good, Bea thought, to whatever bright young thing he was dressing himself for.
“Despite what you believe, I did do the best I could for you with regard to manpower, Beatrice. Why d’you always think the worst of me?”
She scowled. She didn’t reply at once. She dipped into a final stretch and then rose from the chair. She sighed and said, “It isn’t going far or fast. I’d like to say we’re closing in on someone, but each time I’ve thought that, either events or information have proved me wrong.”