Fell Purpose

up along it with their backs to the bricks. Cheap, worn carpet partly covered by a home-made rug. Shelves of books and an MFI desk with what looked like homework and school books spread across it. Cheap wardrobe with a door that wouldn’t close properly. Cheap dressing table with ornaments and an elderly Barbie mingling with the hairbrushes and a modest array of make-up. Ancient floral wallpaper partly obscured by framed family photographs and two cheap reproduction paintings, one of a cantering horse and one, very faded, of the Margaret Tarrant picture of Jesus with the sheep and the collie dog and the curly-headed children. In the circumstances it was horribly touching.

Mrs Wilding was not looking. She hardly waited to get in there before turning on Connolly to vent her spleen.

‘Can you believe he’d talk to me like that, at a time like this? But he’s always been the same. He thinks he’s the only person that feels things. Him and his education, and his “superior understanding”! What good has it done us, you tell me that! Here we are stuck in a place like this, hardly big enough to swing a cat, and neighbours you wouldn’t pass the time of day with. And everyone knows these were council houses. I can’t hold my head up. But that’s men for you. Promise you the earth, but you end up stuck in a council house, scratching about to make ends meet!’

‘Mr Wilding’d be a bit older than you?’ Connolly suggested, to keep her going. Not that she needed much encouragement – she was plainly ready to spill everything to another woman.

‘A bit? Try a lot! That’s half the trouble. He treats me like a child, or an idiot. I’m just as bright as him, let me tell you that! Where do you think Zellah gets her brains? He thinks it’s all him, but I used to write poetry when I was a girl. Always got top marks at school for my essays and things. I could have gone to university if I’d wanted to. But I couldn’t be bothered with it. Waste all that time getting a piece of paper that’s no use to man nor beast as far as I can see? Did you go to university? No, of course not – you’ve got more sense. I wanted to get on with life, get out and have a bit of fun. So I left school at sixteen, did a secretarial course, and got a job. Nothing wrong with that, is there?’

‘Nothing at all.’

‘I’ve never regretted it for a minute. But he looks down on me for it now. Didn’t mind it at the time, though, did he? Oh no. Couldn’t wait to employ me, soon as he set eyes on me.’

‘You worked for him, then?’

‘That was my first job. Shorthand and general office work at Wildings, Telford Way. A friend of mine’s dad worked there, that’s how I heard of it, but the employment agency sent me there for a vacancy. It was his own firm, making metal address plates. Not very big, but successful, mind,’ she added sharply. ‘It was – what do you call that, when you make something no one else does?’

‘A niche, you mean?’ Connolly suggested, after a moment’s thought.

‘That’s it. Well, like I say, it was very successful, but because it was a small firm he liked to interview everyone himself, to make sure they’d fit in. Oh, he was very grand, you know. The big boss!’ She curled her lip. ‘But he couldn’t keep his eyes off me, right from the beginning. I know the signs, believe you me. Well, long story short, he wasn’t getting on with his wife at the time, and before you could say knife he was asking me to work late. Then he started driving me home after. Then it was stopping for a drink on the way, then it was taking me out to dinner. One thing led to another, and – well, you know.’

‘Yes,’ Connolly assented.

‘Of course you do, dear,’ Mrs Wilding said, in generous acknowledgement of Connolly’s not-bad looks. Then she put herself into a different league. ‘I was gorgeous then, believe me.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Thank you, dear.’ She simpered a little. ‘I could have had anyone, you know. I was seventeen, with my whole life ahead of me. And the next thing I know, I’m pregnant.’

Connolly did a quick bit of maths and tried not to sound surprised when she said, ‘And would that be . . .?’

Mrs Wilding waved an impatient hand. ‘No, no. Zellah came later. Well, anyway, he’d been talking for ages about leaving Valerie – that was her name, the cow – and finally he had to put his money where his mouth was. He divorced her and we got married, but it was never the bed of roses he promised me. She’s been bleeding him white ever since.’

‘Valerie?’

‘The bitch,’ she spat. ‘Nothing was too good for her, was it? Lap of luxury, every comfort for her and the boys. She got the family house, this gorgeous detached house in Acton. While him and I had to start our married life living in his mother’s house. With his mother! I couldn’t believe it when he told me that’s where we’d have to go. It’s no wonder I lost the baby.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘Well, I wasn’t. Not really. I was too young to be saddled with a baby then. I wanted to have a bit of fun – and I did after that, believe you me. Dancing, shows, night clubs – I still had too much life in me to settle down to nappies and bottles and all the rest of it. I don’t think Derek minded all that much about the baby, either, though he pretended to, because it would have been extra expense, and he was having to work like a dog anyway, with Lady Muck to support, not to mention school fees for the boys – though why they had to go to private school I don’t know. Like leeches they were, the three of them, sucking the life out of us. No, I was twenty-five when I fell for Zellah, and that wasn’t planned, but at least I’d had a bit of pleasure by then. Though it’s goodbye to all that when you’ve had a baby. Your figure goes, and you’re tied hand and foot. But I never resented it. She was a gorgeous baby from day one, and she just got more gorgeous as she grew up.’ Her eyes filled with tears as reality struck another blow. ‘I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. Who would do such a thing? This’ll kill him, I’m not kidding you. He thought the sun shone out of her eyes. He’ll never get over this.’

She stared at Connolly, her large eyes swimming, tears slipping over in an almost theatrical way; but it was not theatrical. There was a world of genuine pain, the real, gritty, unbearable sort that only happens in real life, not on the screen. ‘She wasn’t raped?’ she asked pathetically. ‘You promise me she wasn’t raped?’

‘The doctor said not.’

‘And he didn’t cut her? This maniac? He didn’t – disfigure her?’

Connolly shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that.’

‘But – the other thing,’ she went on. ‘The thing he did. You know.’ She didn’t want to say the words. ‘Strangling. Does it hurt? Did she suffer?’

Connolly made a helpless gesture. How do you answer a question like that? ‘Mrs Wilding . . .’

‘I want to see her,’ she said. ‘I’ll know if I see her. I have to know.’

‘You can see her, of course. And somebody will have to identify her – you know, formally. Either you or your husband could—’

‘It had better be me,’ she said, suddenly sounding strangely calm and capable. ‘He’d go to pieces. Him and his superior education! He’s never been able to cope. The divorce, Valerie – he never stood up to her, just gave her anything she asked for. It was me that was short-changed – having to settle for second best, while she got the big house and everything. And then when she died, it turns out she owned half his company, more than half. She left it all to the boys. They didn’t want it, of course – just wanted the money. So he had to sell. She’d poisoned their minds against him, of course. They took the money and ran. Alan’s in Canada and Ray’s in New Zealand. Good riddance, as far as I’m concerned. But he practically killed himself building up that firm and putting them through school and everything, and when he had to sell it – well . . .’ She shook her head. ‘It knocked the stuffing out of him. He’s never really been the same since. After that, the only thing he cared about was Zellah.’

‘And you,’ Connolly suggested.

Her eyes became bleak, and she said, in a different voice from any she’d yet used, a plain, sad, matter-of-fact voice, ‘No, I don’t think he ever really cared about me. He thought I’d trapped him into marriage, you see. Well, we both lost out. I don’t know which of us lost more. Until now.’ Her lips trembled. ‘My Zellah. You’ve got to find who did this. And then let me have ten minutes alone with him.’

Wilding had to take a few turns about the room to deal with his emotions before he could speak with a semblance of calmness.