“What?”
“He’s admitted that he stabbed Walter Fleet.”
“Good heavens. That must be terrible for you.”
“Well, yes, at one level, it is. I mean, I always knew Alec had a lot of personality defects, but it never occurred to me that he’d do anything on this scale. It’s terrible and”-Hilary Potton shuddered-“I also feel awful about the potential danger I’ve been in from him all these years-not to mention the threat he posed to Imogen.”
“But how has poor Imogen taken the news? She was upset enough, I seem to recall, about her father being taken in for questioning. This latest business must be appalling for her-you know, when her friends at school find out…”
“Yes, I thought of that. I’ve talked to the school, and they agree that it would be good for her to have a break till things settle down. I drove her up to stay with my mother in Northampton this morning.”
“That sounds very sensible.”
“Well, I thought it was for the best.”
“I don’t know what to say, Hilary. I’m just so sorry you’re being put through this dreadful trauma.”
“Yes, it’s no fun, I can tell you. But at least, now I know the kind of man Alec really is-presumably always was-I no longer feel even the tiniest twinge of guilt about the fact that I’m divorcing him.”
The words were spoken with unmistakable satisfaction. Carole wondered whether something comparable would have helped her. If she had known David to be the perpetrator of some atrocious crime, would she have felt less of a failure for getting divorced? Would the public opprobrium have made her feel she was justified in getting rid of such a monster? She rather feared it wouldn’t have made the slightest bit of difference. In her case, the guilt would still have been there.
One of the first commuter trains must have just arrived at the station, because Allinstore suddenly had an influx of customers, the first of whom was now approaching the checkout.
“Oh, I’d better take for these.” Hilary Potton ran the tins of Pedigree Chum past the barcode reader. “For that lovely dog of yours I saw in the cafe-now what was his name?”
“Gulliver.”
“That’s right.”
Carole handed across the exact change. “But listen, Hilary, if there’s anything I can do to help out, do just give me a call, won’t you?”
“That’s so sweet of you, Carole. But I’ll be strong-I’ll have to be. I’ll manage.”
This was said with considerable pluck-even nobility. And Carole realised that Hilary Potton was enjoying every minute of her new status. Not only was she getting rid of a hated husband, she was also being given the chance to play the central role in her favourite drama-the one about her own life.
“Jude, my back’s just seized up completely.”
“How completely, Sonia? Can you move?”
“Not really. I’m stranded on the sofa in the sitting room. It’s agony just trying to lie down, but even worse when I try to stand up.”
“I’ll come round straightaway. Will I be able to get in?”
“Yes, the front door’s unlocked.”
Not even someone as naturally elegant as Sonia Dalrymple could look good immobilised with back pain. Under the skilful makeup her face was grey and the darkened circles round her eyes showed through. Her blond hair was lank, and her eyes were red with weeping-though whether with tears caused by pain, frustration or something else Jude did not know.
She had brought an emergency kit of oils and microwaveable heat pads with her, but started first with just her hands. “Where? Small of the back, is it? Just at the bottom of the spine?”
Nodding was too painful, but Sonia managed to confirm that that was indeed where the epicentre of her pain lay.
Jude concentrated and brought her hands down gently onto the affected area. Through Sonia’s clothes, she could feel the rigid knots of tension that had tied up her movement. Jude focused and let the hot energy flow through her hands, melting the seized-up joints, easing the rigid muscles. Within about five minutes, her client had managed to sit up.
“Just relax. I’ll give you a full massage in a moment. First, let that relaxation go all the way through your body. All right, how is that?”
“Better. Better,” Sonia murmured.
“There’s something new, isn’t there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something new that’s upsetting you. Since you came to see me at Woodside Cottage.”
Sonia Dalrymple’s ravaged face turned to Jude, and the tears began again.
“Is Nicky coming home?”
A little nod. “He rang this afternoon. He wasn’t meant to be back till Sunday, but he’s getting an early flight tomorrow. Which reminds me, I must ring the police.”
“What?”
“Oh, they said they wanted to talk to Nicky when he was next home. Presumably just to check if he knows anything about the stuff they found in the hayloft, which of course he doesn’t.” Panic crossed Sonia Dalrymple’s face. “And he’ll be back tomorrow.”
“It’s not just that that’s got you into this state, is it, Sonia? You’re used to Nicky coming home unexpectedly.”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose I am. I never really get used to it, though.”
“It still frightens you?”
A little wordless nod. Sonia Dalrymple was too crippled, too abject to maintain her usual front of omnicompetence. She couldn’t pretend about the state of her marriage to Jude.
“Do you think you’d be happier apart from him?” Jude asked gently.
The nod that greeted this was shamefaced. “But he’d never accept that. Nicky would never accept anything that made him look stupid, that made him look in the wrong.”
“Yes, but if your health is suffering like this…There’s got to come a point when you put your well-being before his.”
“There are the girls to think of too.”
“Teenage girls are remarkably resilient.”
“But then there’s”-Sonia Dalrymple gestured hopelessly around her luxury home-“all this.”
“It would be possible to get out. It can be done. People have done it.”
“I know, I know. I can see all that stuff when I’m on my own here. I build myself up, psych myself up, work out all the bold sensible things I’m going to say, but then, when Nicky comes home…”
“You’re afraid of him?”
Sonia nodded. “It’s like he-his very presence-drains all the confidence out of me. All my will goes. I’m just… feeble…”
“Is it the violence that makes you so afraid?” Jude waited, fully expecting a denial of the charge. Sonia had never admitted before that Nicky sometimes hit her.
But no, the allegation was allowed to stand. Maybe it was her reduced state, or Jude’s calming presence, but Sonia did not even attempt to defend her husband. She almost smiled through her tears as she replied, “No, it’s not the violence, really. When he hits me, it’s almost a relief. That I can cope with; that I understand. Painful, horrible, yes, but in a way straightforward. It’s the way he undermines me verbally that really hurts. That’s what melts away my personality to nothing.”
Jude had a sudden thought. She would be taking a risk saying what she was about to say, but she thought the risk was worth it. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
“Oh?”
“Perhaps ‘tell’ isn’t the right word. ‘Confess’ might be nearer the mark.”
Sonia’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement, which was a welcome sign. The more she thought about things other
