‘From a previous marriage. Yes.’
‘Mansell ‘
‘I used your bathroom, Ray. I hope you don’t mind. I needed a wash and a shave, and there aren’t many places I can get them.’
‘God, how long have you been here?’ said Proctor.
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‘A few minutes, that’s all. The door was open.’
‘Connie is bound to have heard you. But she probably thought it was me.’
‘I didn’t see her,’ said Quinn. ‘Pity. I don’t get to talk to many people.’
Quinn smiled, and Proctor saw bits of brown seed stuck between his teeth.
‘I used to be an outgoing sort of bloke,’ said Quinn. ‘Do you remember, Ray?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not now. Not any more. And you know something else, Ray? When you’re in prison, you can’t help thinking you’ll be able to come out and go back to your life, and things will be exactly the same as they were before. No matter how many years have gone by in between, that’s what you believe. It’s something to hold on to, if nothing else.’
‘Yes.’
‘So I come back here, and Castleton looks pretty much the same. Except somebody else is living in my house. A complete stranger. It’s bloody weird, Ray.’
‘It must be.’
‘And you. You married again.’
Proctor nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Still trying to pass your genes on to a son then, Ray?’
Then Proctor heard an intake of breath. He turned to see Connie standing in the passage, staring through the doorway at Mansell Quinn. He was amazed that he hadn’t heard the door open.
But Quinn didn’t seem worried to see her. He even smiled as he raised the whisky to his lips.
‘Who’s he?’ said Connie.
And Proctor remembered that she’d never seen Quinn before, that the man had never featured in her life the way he had in his. She would have seen the press photographs at the time of Carol’s death, but Mansell Quinn had changed since then.
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‘I’m an old friend,’ said Quinn.
Connie was no fool. She put two and two together quickly enough.
‘Get rid of him, Ray,’ she said. ‘Then call the police.’
‘That’s not very hospitable,’ said Quinn. ‘You must be Connie.’
‘Ray -‘
But Proctor didn’t move. He felt transfixed between the two of them.
‘I’ll phone the police myself,’ said Connie, and began to turn to go back across the passage.
‘No,’ said Proctor. ‘Leave it to me.’
1 won’t have him in the house,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry. He’s just about to leave.’
Quinn raised an eyebrow, but he wasn’t as self-confident since Connie appeared. He got up, letting more water drip from his smock where it had gathered in the creases. Connie continued to stare at him, as if trying to drive him towards the door with the strength of her will.
‘Mansell, what are you going to do?’ asked Proctor.
Quinn put his glass back on the desk. Proctor was surprised to see that his hand was shaking.
‘Later, Ray,’ said Quinn. Till be seeing you later.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ said Diane Fry again as they came through the door of the flat.
‘But, Di -‘
‘Angie, I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe not ever.’
‘But you must think about it sometimes? You can’t wipe out memories completely.’
‘I can try.’
Angie slumped on the settee while Diane hung her jacket carefully in the wardrobe.
‘Is that why you’re so obsessed with your job, so you
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can keep the memories away?’ called Angie from the sitting room.
The? I’m not obsessed with anything.’
Fry took off the alpaca top as well and folded it away. She found a T-shirt thrown over a chair and pulled that on instead. She immediately felt more comfortable, more ready to defend herself.
‘Because I can relate to that, you know, Sis,’ said Angie. ‘That’s what an addiction is all about, in the end.’
