“It wouldn’t have been so bad if there’d been two of you.”
He held a handkerchief to his lips as he used his radio to summon assistance. While he spoke he eyed her warily, registering the blood all over her clothes. Nausea choked him.
Jesus JESUS! How mad was she? Mad enough to take the axe to him?
“For God’s sake, make it quick,” he shouted into the mouthpiece.
“This is an emergency.” He stayed outside, too frightened to go back in.
She looked at him stolidly.
“I won’t hurt you. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
He mopped at his forehead.
“Who are they, Olive?”
“My mother and sister.” Her eyes slid to her hands.
“We had a row.”
His mouth was dry with shock and fear.
“Best not talk about it,” he said.
Tears rolled down her fat cheeks.
“I didn’t mean it to happen.
We had a row. My mother got so angry with me. Should I give my statement now?”
He shook his head.
“There’s no hurry.”
She stared at him without blinking, her tears drying in dirty streaks down her face.
“Will you be able to take them away before my father comes home?” she asked him after a minute or two.
“I think it would be better.”
Bile rose in his throat.
“When do you expect him back?”
“He leaves work at three o’clock. He’s part-time.”
Hal glanced at his watch, an automatic gesture. His mind was numb.
“It’s twenty to now.”
She was very composed.
“Then perhaps a policeman could go there and explain what’s happened.
It would be better,” she said again. They heard the wail of approaching sirens.
“Please,” she said urgently.
He nodded.
“I’ll arrange it. Where does he work?”
“Carters Haulage. It’s in the Docks.”
He was passing the message on as two cars, sirens shrieking, swept round the corner and bore down on number 22. Doors flew open all along the road and curious faces peered out. Hal switched off the radio and looked at her.
“All done,” he said.
“You can stop worrying about your father.”
A large tear slipped down her blotchy face.
“Should I make a pot of tea?”
Hal thought of the kitchen.
“Better not.”
The sirens stilled as policemen erupted from the cars.
“I’m sorry to cause so much bother,” she said into the silence.
She spoke very little after that, but only, thought Hal on reflection, because nobody spoke to her. She was packed into the living room, under the eye of a shocked W. P. C.” and sat in bovine immobility watching the comings and goings through the open door. If she was aware of the mounting horror that was gathering about her, she didn’t show it. Nor, as time passed and the signs of emotion faded from her face, did she display any further grief or remorse for what she had done. Faced with such complete indifference, the consensus view was that she was mad.
“But she wept in front of you,” interrupted Roz.
“Did you think she was mad?”
“I spent two hours in that kitchen with the pathologist, trying to work out the order of events from the blood
