Shape of Snakes

'Did they know about Rosie's rape?'

He shook his head. 'Not unless Alan told them. Rosie was paranoid about her mum finding out-thought it'd kill her quicker than the cancer-so we kept quiet.'

I tried to make sense of the chronology. 'And this all happened in '79?'

He nodded.

'Was it Alan who attacked Maureen while I was still living there?' I thought back. 'Sometime during the February of '79?'

Another nod. 'She was drunk one day and started slapping him about when he answered her back. He went for her like a maniac.'

'Who called the ambulance?'

'Derek. He came in about an hour later and found her on the floor with little Danny trying to clean up the blood. Alan was blubbing in the garden because he thought he'd killed her. Derek had to run to the nearest phone box.'

I eyed him curiously. 'Did you know this at the time, or did Derek tell you about it afterward?'

'Derek told me,' he admitted, 'but it made sense when I thought about what Alan did to Rosie.'

'Except Maureen said Derek did it,' I murmured.

'Yeah, well, she's a liar. She snapped little Danny's arm across her knee one time, then swore to the doctors he'd fallen off his bike. Us kids knew it wasn't true because she did it in front of us.' His lips thinned to threads. 'She was a scary woman, and if we hadn't been such fucking cowards-' He broke off to stare at the table. 'Derek was right pissed off when I told him about it. That's why he wanted to write letters to his kids. He really cared about them.' He lifted his eyes to mine. 'I know what you're thinking. Michael's not as bright as I thought. He spends a couple of months talking to a man he despises and ends up getting conned by him. Well, that might be true-I wouldn't go to the wall for it-but the one thing I do know is that Derek's so damn stupid even a moron could run rings around him. Sure, he was a bully and, sure, he used his fists, but he had to be told to do it. He was like a guided missile. Point him in the right direction and give him an instruction and-wham!-he did the business.'

E-mail from Dr. Joseph Elias, psychiatrist

at the Queen Victoria Hospital, Hong Kong

M. R.

From: Sarah Pyang ([email protected])

Sent: 15 August 1999 14:19

To: [email protected]

Sent as from: Dr. Elias

Such are the wonders of modern technology! My secretary tells me she received your e-mail yesterday (Saturday) and you wish me to reply by return. Well, I'm happy to do so but I wonder if answers given in haste are wise.

You pepper me with questions. Who is more to blame: the architect of a crime or the one who carries it out? Should a whole police force be smeared because of one bad apple? Can justice be selective? Can the damage done by a mother to her child be mended? Can rapists be cured? Can children be evil? Is any crime excusable? Should the sins of a father be visited on his family? Should the sins of a mother?

In a poor attempt at wisdom might I suggest that, if you are honestly seeking justice for your friend, then you arrogate too much authority merely by thinking such things? These are not your decisions to make, my dear. Justice is impartial. Only revenge is prejudiced.

But isn't prejudice what you've been fighting all these years?

All best wishes,

Joseph

*25*

It was three o'clock by the time I drove down to the main road with my brain worrying away at what Michael had said like a tongue at a sore tooth. Each time I negotiated a hairpin bend the panoramic view of Weymouth Bay and Chesil Beach was spread out below me, but I was too absorbed in thoughts on motherhood to notice it. I wondered sometimes if my rush to judgment of the Sharon Percys and Maureen Slaters of this world was a way of punishing my own mother-and by extension myself. For everything I did as a parent was either in mimicry of her-or in defiance-and I had no idea which was right and which was wrong.

I had few feelings for Sharon beyond contempt for abandoning her son out of embarrassment the minute she acquired a modicum of respectability after Geoffrey moved in with her. Yet I couldn't understand why Michael had seemed so worried every time her name was mentioned when anger would have been a more normal reaction. He'd been angry enough with Maureen. Did Sharon's shying away from society's censure of her son's violence really make her ipso facto incapable of murder? And did Maureen's willingness to keep Alan's violence under wraps, together with my absolute certainty that she was the instigator of the hate campaigns against Annie and myself, make her ipso facto capable?

I was tired, and a little depressed, and I hadn't intended to see Danny that afternoon, but when I reached the T-junction at the bottom of Verne Common Road I took an abrupt decision to turn left toward Tout Quarry. He was still at work on Gandhi when I turned into the gulley fifteen minutes later. 'How's it going?' I asked.

He dropped his hands to his sides, resting the chisel and hammer against his thighs. 'Okay,' he said with a pleased smile. 'How about you?'

'I've been to see Michael Percy. He sends his regards, says if you're bored he'll be happy to entertain you for an hour in the visitors' room.'