All the Colors of Darkness

“A bit.”

“It was something he was very uncomfortable about. He was an only child, you see, and he didn’t turn out to be exactly the sort of son his father wanted. His father was a miner and very macho, apparently, played rugby and all that. Mark wasn’t very good at sports. Worse, he wasn’t even interested. He did well at school, though.”

“What about his mother?”

“Oh, Mark adored her. That’s one thing he would go on about. But she broke his heart.”

“How?”

“She was so beautiful and so artistic, so sensitive and tender, or so he said. She acted with the am drams, read poetry, took him with her to classical concerts. But his father used to mock everything they liked to do, called Mark a mummy’s boy. It sounds as if he was a drunken brute. In the end, she couldn’t take it anymore, so she left them. Mark was only ten. He was devastated. I don’t think he ever got over it.

Even when he told me about the day she left he was crying.”

Annie could hardly believe it. “She left her son with a brutal, drunken father?”

“I know. It sounds terrible. But there was another man in her life, apparently, and he didn’t want any children hanging around. They ran off to London. I didn’t get the full story, but I know it tore Mark apart. He loved her so much. He couldn’t stop loving her. But he hated her for leaving him. And I think after that he found it really hard to trust anyone, to believe that anyone he started to care about wouldn’t just up and leave him at a moment’s notice. That’s why it was so lovely to see him making a life with Laurence. They moved slowly, mind you, but it seemed to be working.”

“Go on,” said Annie. “What happened after his mother left?”

“Well, Mark was left with his father, who apparently just sank even deeper into the booze and became more and more angry and vicious as time went on. Mark lasted till he was sixteen, then he hit him with an ashtray and ran away from home.”

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9 9

“He hit his father with an ashtray?”

“It was in self-defense. His father beat him regularly, usually with a thick leather belt, Mark said. The kids at school used to tease him and bully him, too, spit on him and call him a sissy. His life was hell. That one time, he told me, it just all came surging up in him and he couldn’t control himself anymore. He lashed out.”

“What happened to his father?”

“Mark didn’t hang around to find out.”

“And he never went back?”

“Never.”

Annie took a moment to digest this. She could see why Maria had not wanted to talk about it in front of the others. If Mark Hardcastle had shown an inclination toward violence, poor anger control, then it certainly supported the theory that he had killed Laurence Silbert in some sort of jealous rage and was then overcome with remorse. The blood-typing that she and Banks had just found out about also agreed with this view.

On the other hand, there was the redemptive image of the relationship that Maria painted, and that Edwina had touched upon the previous evening: Mark loved Laurence Silbert, had practically moved in with him, was making a life with him. Annie knew well enough that the presence of love doesn’t necessarily rule out murder, but she also wanted to believe in the positive view of the two of them.

“He did very well for himself, then,” Annie said. “But it sounds as if he had a lot of inner demons to overcome.”

“And prejudice. Don’t forget that. We might think we’re living in an enlightened society, but as often as not you’ll find it’s only skin-deep, if that. People might know the politically correct responses and attitudes and trot them out as and when required, but it doesn’t mean they believe them, any more than people going to church means they’re really religious and believe in God.”

“I know what you’re saying,” said Annie. “Hypocrisy’s everywhere.

But it doesn’t sound as if Mark suffered a great deal from antigay prejudice here, at the Eastvale Theatre. I mean, you say that Vernon was uncomfortable, but he didn’t actively harass Mark, did he?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean to imply that. You’re right. It was a great 1 0 0

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place for him to work. And he had such great ideas. He was going to make so many changes.”

“What do you mean?”

“The theater. Well, you know what it’s like. It’s quite new, and they do the best they can. We get some good acts, but on the theatrical side, well . . . between you and me, the Amateur Dramatic Society and the Amateur Operatic Society aren’t exactly the cream of the crop, are they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re amateur. I’m not saying they’re not enthusiastic, even talented, some of them, but it’s just a sideline for them, isn’t it. With people like Mark and me, it’s everything.”

“So what was he going to do?”

“He had a vision of starting the Eastvale Players.”

“A rep company?”

“Not strictly speaking, no, but with some similar elements. It would be made up of some of the best local