“I didn’t think that she’d come,” Mary said.
“What happened to the note? It was never found.”
“She had it with her when we met. She was waving it at me, taunting. I snatched it from her hand.”
“I don’t think for a moment you intended to kill the girl. You thought you could reason with her. You’d explain that Robert was a good man with a lot to lose. You only meant to protect him. You were more like a mother than a wife, weren’t you? It doesn’t seem fair that you had to live like that. Holding the family together, keeping up appearances in the parish. You’d never all have survived another move.”
For the first time that evening Mary was quite still. She could have been carved from wax. She stared ahead of her and she didn’t answer.
“But Abigail was never reasonable. She was disturbed and wilful. She liked to create trouble. She would have been delighted to see you. Someone else to be her audience. Did she gloat about her power over Robert? It would all have been a game to her. Did she laugh?”
“Yes,” Mary said. “She laughed.”
“And she wouldn’t stop?”
At first Vera thought Mary would refuse to answer, that she’d made a terrible mistake, coming here so late, provoking a confrontation. The silence seemed to last for hours. Then Mary spoke, her words as considered as always. She wanted her story told in her own way. “It was so loud. Louder than the rooks and the sound of the wind. Even there, miles from anywhere, I was afraid someone would hear.”
“You wanted her to be quiet.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “I wanted the noise to go away.”
The door opened and Ashworth came quietly into the room. Mary didn’t notice.
“Perhaps we should talk about this later,” Vera said. “Somewhere else. When there’s a lawyer to look after your interests.”
“Let me tell you now.” Her voice was urgent.
“I should warn you that you’ll be charged and that you don’t have to say anything…”
“I know all about that,” Mary interrupted impatiently. “But I want you to know. Before anyone else puts words into my mouth…”
“Let her speak,” Emma said. “I have to know.”
“Go on.”
Abigail was laughing. Suddenly it felt so undignified, standing there, shouting at the girl. I reached out to make her stop, so I wouldn’t have to yell. I caught both ends of her scarf and pulled them. To make her listen at first. Just to make her take me seriously. Then she was quiet and limp and I could hear the rooks again and the wind. I left her and I went home. I took off my wet shoes and my jacket and put them in the cupboard under the stairs. I went into the kitchen. No one had missed me. I didn’t really believe she was dead. I thought I’d given her a fright, she was young and fit, and she’d run back to the Chapel.”
“You can’t really have believed that,” Vera said. “Because you followed Emma out.”
“I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want Emma to find Abigail and be alone. I suppose I thought I might have killed her.”
“You never told Robert?”
“He didn’t realize I knew he was seeing her. He thought it was a big secret.”
“Weren’t you angry that he was making a fool of himself over her?” Emma asked. “Jealous?”
“He couldn’t help himself,” Mary said. “And he had so much to give. So much good work still to do.”
There was another silence. Vera knew she should move on. It was one of the rules she’d passed on to Ashworth. Don’t let them get to you. Whatever they’ve done, you can’t take it personally. You’d go crazy. But she allowed herself one unnecessary question. “How could you let Jeanie go to prison?”
“I couldn’t think about it. I had Robert to look after and the children. They wouldn’t have survived without me. She was young, strong. I thought she’d be out in a few years.”
Vera said nothing. She thought of the prison on the top of the cliff, Jeanie Long protesting her innocence, facing the parole board and refusing to play the game which would have got her released.
“If you had children,” Mary said, ‘you’d understand.”
“Did Christopher see you out in the field that afternoon?”
“No. No one saw me!
“Why did he have to die?” “He didn’t have to die. Of course not. Do you think I wanted to kill him?”
“I don’t understand. You’ll have to explain.”
“That summer, he was obsessed by Abigail Mantel too. It was as if she’d cast a spell over the whole family, over Emma and Robert and Christopher. I was the only one who could see through her. That first day, when we’d ridden our bikes to the Point and we were eating ice creams, and she turned up with her father in that fast car, I could tell then that she resented us. We had a closeness that she missed. Her father was out with different women, tied up with work. She wanted to be like us but she couldn’t and so she had to spoil things.”
She was a child, Vera thought. Screwed up and miserable. But she let Mary go on.
“Christopher saw Robert and Abigail together. He didn’t say anything then. Perhaps it didn’t mean much at the time. He’d had the afternoon off school. A dentist’s appointment. He saw them together in Crill. Then he watched her. I think there were other occasions.”
“Did he ask you about it?”
“No. Of course not. He was a secretive boy and children seldom confide in their parents.”
“How do you know, then, that he saw Abigail and your husband together?”
“He told me when he came here last week.”
“The day that he died?”
“Yes.”
“The day that you killed him?”
There was a long pause. “Yes.”
“Did he phone you that morning?”
“Robert had left for work. I started later in the library, and I was on my way out when the phone went. It was Christopher, calling on his mobile. He sounded dreadfully upset, almost incoherent. He was in that derelict farm near the parish cemetery. He was accusing Robert of killing Abigail. He said he should have realized, said something at the time. I didn’t know what to do. I thought we were safe. Robert was working hard. He’d put the nonsense of Abigail Mantel behind him and nothing of the sort had happened since. We had a new family, Emma and James and the baby…”
“More people for you to be responsible for.”
“Yes,” Mary said gratefully. “You see, you do understand.”
“Did you go to see Christopher at the farm?”
“No. I needed time to consider what I should do for the best. I told him I’d ring him later, that we could meet. I hoped he’d get bored with waiting. He was very easily bored. I didn’t think he’d make a scene in public. I hoped he’d just go back to Aberdeen and forget. Later, when I’d had time to put together a proper explanation, I’d go to visit him and make him see. I understood then why he’d been so reluctant to visit us, to be a part of the family. I thought if I had time, I could make it right. That we could be close again.”
“Easy-going,” Vera said. “Relaxed. Like other families.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “Exactly.”
So the second set of fingerprints at the farm hadn’t belonged to the murderer. Another false lead. Vera thought there was probably little forensic evidence connecting Mary to Christopher. But now they had a confession. And she wouldn’t go back on that, whatever her lawyers would tell her. The role of martyr suited her.
“Was killing him one of the options you considered?” “Of course not.” She was horrified. “He was my only son.”
“What did you do with his mobile phone?” “It’s upstairs. In my drawer in the bedroom.” Vera knew she should be triumphant, but looking at the dumpy woman with the untidy ponytail, she only felt sick. No doubt Mary would end up in Spinney Fen too. She would be a model prisoner. She’d volunteer for the groups to tackle offender behaviour. Robert and Emma would visit. Robert wouldn’t be able to work there any more, but the probation service was supposed to be compassionate. They’d find him something else.