Disordered Minds

'Not my problem,' Louise said frankly, reaching forward to stub out her cigarette. 'You asked me what I thought and I told you. Wynne was a lush-put away half a bottle of gin a night because she couldn't stand Howard and she couldn't stand her job-and I've never heard of a chronic alky lying awake worrying. Everyone at Brackham & Wright's knew. Her shift followed Dad's, and she was so hungover sometimes, she'd collapse over her bench with her head in her hands. Why do you think she was so worried about getting the chop?' Her pale eyes flashed with sudden humor. 'Ask David Trevelyan. He'll tell you it's true. Everyone knows the whole Howard thing did her a favor. She ended up with the money from the sale of Grace's house and got shot of her useless son.'

Sasha rested her pencil against the arm of her spectacles and stared at her notepad.

'Is that it? Are you done?'

'Just a couple more questions, Mrs. Fletcher. You said it was Cill who told your father about the rape ... yet, according to your brother, you and she fell out so badly that she stopped coming to your house.' She looked up with a smile. 'When did she have an opportunity to talk to him?'

Louise didn't answer immediately. 'Probably on the phone when Mum was at work. It's the kind of thing she did.'

'Not easy if she was at school all day. There were no mobiles in 1970.' No answer. 'And if it wasn't Cill, there were only two other people who could have told him: you or Grace.'

'Why not Billy?'

'He wouldn't have said that Cill deserved it, Mrs. Fletcher, but Grace might have done if you fed her your version first when you collected the clothes.' She paused in face of Louise's incomprehension. 'I'm trying to understand why your father encouraged you to tell the police about the rape on the Saturday morning, when David Trevelyan had punched him only a few hours earlier for saying Cill was a cheap little tart who deserved what she got. Most men-particularly men with unhealthy passions for little girls-don't do that. They damp down police interest as fast as they possibly can.'

Out came another cigarette. 'He always called her a tart.'

'Only after the rape. Before the rape he wanted her on his lap all the time. That must have made you jealous.'

'Why should it?'

'He was an abuser, Mrs. Fletcher, and you were his little princess. Did he show his disappointment too obviously when Cill stopped coming to the house? What did you tell him? That she preferred rough sex with Roy Trent to letting a dirty old man grope her?'

It was a second or two before Louise could bring the flame into contact with her cigarette. 'What if I did? It doesn't change anything.'

'It changes everything, Mrs. Fletcher. It says you're a liar and that you were jealous of your friend. And that lends credence to your brother's version of events.' She paused. 'It must have made you very angry that everyone you ever met-male or female-preferred Cill.'

*25*

There was so much hatred in the pale eyes that Sasha moved warily to the edge of her seat. On paper, there was no contest. She was taller, heavier and younger, but she didn't know how crazy Louise was and she certainly didn't fancy her chances if the woman seized on the heavy glass ashtray as a weapon. 'I'm sorry if I offended you,' she said, reaching down to put her notepad in her case. 'It was a flippant remark and I apologize.'

Louise watched her suspiciously. 'What are you doing?' she demanded.

'I've taken up enough of your time.'

'You haven't finished yet,' she snapped. 'Aren't you going to ask me how my father reacted when he heard I'd told the police Cill had been raped?'

This time there was no pretense when Sasha ran her tongue across her lips. There was too much emotion in the room and she lacked the experience to deal with it. aCertainly. If you want to tell me.'

'The usual. Said he'd have me the minute Mum was out of the house.'

'And did he?'

The cigarette trembled violently in Louise's fingers. 'He sent Mum and Billy shopping, then buggered the life out of me in front of Grandstand. I even remember what was on-a horse race. I hate the fucking animals and they're on every television screen in this house.' She gave a harsh laugh. 'You're all obsessed with Cill's rape. What about mine?'

'Leave,' said Sasha's boss in her ear. 'Trevor's watching her ... says she's about to blow.'

It was true. Anger flared in the woman's eyes again like a forest fire fanned by wind. 'Why don't you say something? What sort of damage do you think a grown man does to a skinny little kid? Why do you think I've never had babies?'

Sasha fluttered a hand to her mouth. 'I'm trying to find some ... words. I'm not qualified for this, Mrs. Fletcher. You should consult a lawyer or someone who works in the field of abuse.'

Louise's derision was colossal. 'How often have you been buggered, darlin'? Have you even had sex? Maybe you consult a lawyer every time a man looks at you, just so your fat little arse remains intact. Cill never got buggered-rogered by a trio of clowns, maybe, but never buggered. She should have been. It would've taken some of the heat off me.'

'Humor her...'

'I'm sorry,' said Sasha inadequately. 'Have you ever thought about having your father prosecuted? There's no