The reason I couldn’t talk to you when it mattered was because of your shell, the wall that you have around you. It’s built on foundations of trust. You bestow it on people without question, and you expect unstinting loyalty in return, from all of us who carry it. That loyalty includes honesty and frankness.
The one thing you can’t handle is betrayal of that trust. I’ve seen how much that hurts you, and how fiercely you can react. That’s where the cycle of conflict came into being. I couldn’t bring myself to tell you about Myra’s life of betrayal, because I knew that it would devastate you. Yet in trying to save you from learning what I knew, in your eyes, I wound up betraying you myself.
That’s why you don’t look at me any more like once you did. Because, just like Myra did all those years ago, without your knowing it, I’ve failed the Bob Skinner loyalty test, and Bob Skinner doesn’t hand out second chances. The reason I look differently at you now is because I can’t penetrate your shell any more, or carry the weight of your unspoken expectations.
I heard about Donaldson. Andy called in this morning to tell me. I’ve never seen him really angry before, but I think that if he could have got his hands on him he’d have killed him. He understands that you and Jimmy had to play it so close because it was so sensitive, but I think it would be a good idea if you explained that to him anyway.
Given the beliefs that you hold, and that make you what you are, I know how it must have hurt you, to find that you had a traitor in your midst. So I’m sorry to pile on this last piece of betrayal. I have decided that the way things are, I can no longer stay in this house, in this city, in this country.
So I am taking Jazz today, and flying to the States, to be with my folks for now. They deserve a visit from their grandson. Time will tell where he and I go from there.
I don’t want anything from you, Bob, other obviously than your love and support for our son as he grows. If you want anything from me, you know where I am. For now at any rate.
Love from the heart
Sarah
He leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. ‘So there you are. I don’t have much luck with wives, do I. Nor they with me. I can’t live with secrets being kept from me, Pam.’ All at once he looked at her, with a helpless expression. ‘How can I when my job, my life is dedicated to rooting them out?’
‘But look, there are two sorts of secret, surely,’ said Pamela. ‘There’s the kind you keep because if they’re uncovered they’ll hurt you, then there are the others, the ones you hold on to so that they don’t hurt someone else.’
He grunted, ironically. ‘Sarah’s right, isn’t she. I don’t give an inch.
‘Pam,’ he said, ‘I am riddled with guilt. Guilt over having such a hold over Myra that she became a whore, just to seek respite, guilt over Sarah being afraid to talk to me when it really mattered, guilt because I promoted Donaldson even as he was selling us out . . .’
He shook his head. ‘I am one very contrite polisman, believe me.’
She leaned back, smiling. ‘You’ve nothing to be contrite about, Big Bob. You’re only human, like the rest of us. It’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it,’ she murmured, ‘when you realise that you’re not perfect. It came as a shock to me when it happened, I can tell you.’
Bob laughed, softly. ‘And when was that?’
‘Tuesday. Around midnight, when I realised that I didn’t really want you to sleep in that spare room.’
As he looked at her, astonished, she swung herself off the couch to sit alongside him on the floor, and took the letter out of his hand. ‘Let’s see, shall we, what Sarah is really saying to you.’ She read quickly, then reread the final section.
‘She’s confused, she’s guilty, she’s hurt, she’s bitter and she’s angry with you,’ she murmured, as she read, ‘but through it all, you know what she’s saying, don’t you?’
Bob gazed at her, still slightly stunned by her frankness, and shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
‘She’s asking you to knock down your wall, to put everything else to one side, and to go out there and get her!’
‘But am I like she says? Do I have that impenetrable wall around me?’
She looked at him appraisingly. ‘Maybe you do, but I can’t see it. When I look at you, all I see is the Eagle. I see you. I’m a little in awe of you, but I’m not afraid that if I touch you I’ll break.’
‘So where should the old war-bird land, do you think, Pam?’ he asked her, hesitantly. ‘Should it be America?’
‘I’m not the one to tell you,’ she said. ‘Only you can answer that question.’
He reached out and took her hand. ‘I know that, Pam, love, I know. But the trouble is, I don’t know if this Eagle can fly that far.’
‘Maybe, for his own sake, he has to try,’ she said, smiling, as their eyes met, and locked.
‘But it doesn’t have to be tonight.’