‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’
‘Are you gay?’
‘No.’
She looked at him, waiting for him to speak.
‘I find it difficult to approach women,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose I’m shy. And I don’t socialize much. I live with my mother. She was widowed when I was a baby and now she’s not very well. I’m all she has.’
Vera wanted to tell him to get out and get a life while he still had a chance. But it wasn’t her place.
‘Does Dr Calvert have a girlfriend?’
Clive stared at her, horrified. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A mistress. A lover.’
‘Of course not. He’s married to Felicity.’
‘This might come as a bit of a shock, pet. But some married men do commit adultery.’
‘But not Peter. You’ve seen them together. They’re happy.’
They put on a good show, Vera thought. That’s not the same thing at all.
But she smiled at him. ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ She nodded towards Ashworth for him to take over the questions.
‘Were you working last Wednesday?’
‘Yes, until four-thirty. I start at eight and I’m supposed to finish at four, but it’s usually half past before I leave.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I went home. I called at the supermarket on the way. We had a meal together. Mother usually goes to bed early. Around nine. After that I stopped up and watched television. I’d videoed a documentary on the rain forest. Mother tends to talk through programmes which don’t interest her.’
‘You didn’t go out?’
‘No.’
‘You seem to have a very clear memory of what you did that night,’ Vera said.
‘I do have a good memory. I told you on Friday night, I’m good at detail.’
‘Do you drive?’
‘I can drive. I mean, I passed my test and I hold a driving licence. But I don’t enjoy it. I’m always aware of the potential danger. And I have a conscience about the environment. Greenhouse gases. I decided a couple of years ago to do without a car. Public transport’s quite good into the city centre. And I have a bike.’
Vera could tell Clive was uncomfortable. Although the building was gloomy and cool, he’d started to sweat. He fidgeted with the scalpel on the board in front of him. She told herself not to read too much into it. This was probably the longest conversation he’d had with anyone other than his mother for years. When he was with his friends, he’d be a listener not a talker. Now, she kept her voice easy, gossipy. His mother would probably enjoy a good gossip.
‘Did Gary tell you about his new woman?’
The change of tone in the question seemed to surprise him and he took a moment to answer. ‘He told us all about it.’ He paused. ‘It wasn’t unusual. There’s always some new woman in his life. He’s mad about all of them. For about a week. None of them stay.’
‘He said this one’s different,’ Vera said.
Clive smiled again. Like smiling was something he did about once every six months. ‘That’s what he always says. Ever since Emily left he’s been looking for someone to replace her.’
‘Emily?’
‘They were engaged. She dumped him.’
‘Did you know Julie, the latest girlfriend?’
‘No. He doesn’t take me out on his dates.’
‘Her son was the lad who was murdered,’ Vera said. ‘Strangled. Like Lily Marsh.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t suppose you know a family called the Sharps?’ she said, not really expecting a response.
‘Davy Sharp lives in our road. When he’s not in prison.’
‘You came across the boy, Thomas?’
‘I saw him about. My mother looked after him sometimes when he was a baby. She took a shine to him. He was there sometimes when I got home from work. Not recently, of course. Not once he was old enough to fend for himself.’
‘She must have been upset when he died.’
‘Yes, we went down to the river. She’d seen the flowers on the water on the news and wanted to see. To pay her respects.’ He paused. ‘There wasn’t much to look at when we got there. The tide was on its way out. It had carried the flowers out to sea.’
They sat in silence. Through the open window came the sound of a siren, shouted voices.
‘Tell me about these mates of yours,’ Vera said at last. ‘Gary, Peter and Samuel. They are your mates? Only you don’t seem to have much in common. Except the birding.’
‘We’re close. Like family.’
‘With you and Gary as brothers and Samuel and Peter as mummy and daddy?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
She knew she was pushing him, wanted to see if he ever lost that control. He was very flushed.
‘OK, then,’ she said. ‘So they’re not really like family. Tell me why you get on so well together, what it is that’s kept you together over all these years.’ She was really interested and it showed. She wasn’t sure about friendship. She had colleagues, the people she’d grown up with, who lived close to her in the valley. But no one she felt any obligation to, no one she had to put herself out for. She thought it could be a two-edged sword, friendship. You’d end up giving more than you got.
‘Partly it’s the birding,’ he said. ‘People outside don’t understand. They think you must be geeky, weird. But it’s more than that. Although we’re very different, we trust each other. I feel supported by them.’
She gave a chuckle. ‘Eh, pet, you’ve lost me now. That sounds like something from a women’s magazine.’
He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand.’
‘What about Friday?’ Ashworth asked. He gave the impression that he too was irritated by Vera’s comments and questions, that he didn’t want to be here all day. ‘What did you do before you went to Fox Mill for dinner?’
‘I met Peter for lunch.’
‘Another birthday celebration?’
‘No, nothing like that. We meet most Fridays. Just a pint and a sandwich. When we were more active ringers that’s when the weekend would start. I work flexi so I could take the time off, we’d have lunch then Peter would give me a lift up the coast to the observatory. The others would join us later. We don’t go out so much now, but still have lunch when we can.’
Vera thought sadly that it was probably the highlight of his week. Lunch with an ageing, self-obsessed man who only wanted an admirer.
‘How was Dr Calvert?’
‘Fine. Like always. Looking forward to the weekend.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘I’m not sure…’
‘You must remember. You have a brilliant memory. Detail. It’s what you do.’
‘He’s writing a book. We talked about that.’
‘And after lunch?’
‘I went home to spend a couple of hours with my mother.’
‘What about Dr Calvert?’ Ashworth said. ‘Where did he go?’
‘Back to the university. At least, I presume that’s where he went. He didn’t say, but he walked off in that direction.’
‘How did you get to Fox Mill?’
‘Gary gave me a lift.’
‘He picked you up from home?’
‘No, he was running late and coming straight from work at the Sage, so we arranged to meet in town. I got the metro.’
He picked up the scalpel again, turned over the dead bird on the board, ran his finger over the skull. ‘Really, I should be getting on with this. I don’t understand the need for all these questions. I was there when a body was found. That was all. I’d never met either of the victims.’
Vera looked over at Ashworth to see if he had anything else to say. He shook his head. ‘We’ll leave it at that, then,’ she said. ‘For the time being.’
‘I’ll show you out.’ Clive dragged his attention away from the little auk, walked ahead of them down the corridors, through the dust caught in shafts of sunlight from the long windows. He opened the door which separated the staff territory from the public domain, hesitated as if reluctant to go further. Vera stopped too and faced him.