who’d come to the party with her boyfriend, and she kept going on about the way they were always having sex all the time. She took him upstairs earlier in the evening.”
“Do you remember their names?”
“I don’t remember his. Don’t think I ever knew it, actually. But hers…she was a right little madam – wouldn’t forget her in a hurry.” A wave of recollected playground jealousy swept through her. “She was called Diana Milton.”
“Any idea what happened to her?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” came the childlike response.
Carole looked across at Gita Millington, and they silently agreed that the interview was probably at an end. “Thank you so much. You’ve been an enormous help for the book.”
“It was my pleasure. As you see, all I’m doing is cooking. For a husband and two teenage sons.”
She finished this with a laugh, which seemed to emphasize the hollowness of her life. Cooking was more than a necessity for Libby Pearson. It was a validation of her existence in a house full of three men. She was always going to be the galumphing one, running behind the others in the playground, wanting to join in their games and rituals.
And she would talk to anyone about the murder of Janine Buckley, because it was the only time when Libby Pearson, even for a few minutes, could hold centre stage.
? The Witness at the Wedding ?
Twenty-Seven
Carole was glad when Jude suggested a drink in the Crown and Anchor on Wednesday evening. And even gladder when she heard that Gita had gone up to London for the night.
With customary instinct, Jude understood her friend’s feelings. “Nice for us to have a chat together. Sounds like this Libby woman you met was a mine of information.”
“Oh, Gita’s told you all about it, has she?” In spite of her best efforts, there was an edge of pique in Carole’s voice.
“No, not all the details. I wanted to hear all those from you. Don’t forget, Gita’s only our research assistant in all this. We two are the investigators.”
Part of Carole knew that this was a kind of soft soap, but there was such honesty and warmth in Jude’s brown eyes that she yielded happily to being soft-soaped. “Gita has been very useful to us,” she conceded magnanimously, “though probably a lot of the information is stuff we could have got for ourselves.”
“Of course we could,” Jude agreed soothingly. “You could have done it standing on your head.”
Carole tried not to show how flattered she felt.
“But it has been incredibly important for Gita. It’s helped her get her confidence back. And I really appreciate what you’ve contributed to that process, Carole.”
“Well…” Carole had a nasty feeling that all she had really contributed had been jealousy and prejudice. Still, if Jude didn’t see it that way…
“What I want us to do tonight is to pool the new information we’ve got. You bring me up to date with what you learned from Libby Pearson, and I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to.”
“Oh? You’ve been up to things too, have you?”
“Yes. An idea I followed through.”
“With Gita?”
Sometimes Carole’s insecurity was so naked as to be almost comical, but Jude just smiled and said, “No, not with Gita. I’ve been following up a contact at Austen Prison.”
“Oh, do you still do all your
“Yes, I still do. Anyway, you first. Tell me what you got from Libby Pearson.”
So Carole did. Then Jude brought her up to date with the information she’d been given by Jimmy Troop.
“I’m amazed,” said Jude, when they both knew as much as each other, “given her family background, how remarkably sane Gaby is.”
“You really think she is?” asked Carole anxiously.
“Yes. Absolutely, yes. I don’t know her as well as you do, but I think she’s got a remarkably strong personality. She and Stephen will be great together.”
“I hope so.”
“Of course they will, Carole.”
“But, given her family history, particularly on the female side, I do worry. Her grandmother had a breakdown, her mother seems permanently on the edge of a breakdown…”
“The great thing about heredity, Carole, is that it’s an indicator of possible behaviour, not a form of predestination. Everyone can escape their background.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I’m absolutely certain of it.”
“Hm.” Carole didn’t sound convinced. But then she looked across to the bar, where Ted Crisp was sharing his store of elderly jokes with a group of elderly customers, and she felt a little surge of confidence. She thought back to the deep shame and embarrassment she had felt at the end of their brief affair, and compared it to the amiable friendship she and the landlord now enjoyed. Yes, maybe Jude was right. Maybe it was possible to grow away from the past.
“You can’t hold a breakdown against someone, Carole. It could happen to any one of us.”
“Nonsense. I can’t see it happening to you, for one.”
“Don’t you believe it. I’ve been very close.”
Carole was too taken aback to ask the proper immediate follow-up questions. And another opportunity to find out more about her enigmatic friend was whisked away, as Jude went on, “Everyone who’s human must have been very close.”
“Well, I never have,” Carole pronounced firmly. “No?”
“No.” Carole confirmed this with even more vehemence.
“What do you think a breakdown is?”
“It’s…losing control.”
“And you’d hate to do that?”
“Yes.”
“Well, for some people I think it’s necessary: part of the way they grow as human beings. The personality they had before wasn’t working, that’s what led to the breakdown, and after it they have to rebuild a personality that fits them better, a personality they can live with.”
“And is that what Gita’s doing?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what Gita’s doing.”
“And you really don’t think Gaby’s going to go the same way?”
“Carole, if Gaby was the sort to crack up, she’d have cracked up over the last few weeks. The strain she has been under has been enormous. No, she’s a survivor.”
“Mm. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s very good.” Jude leant across and patted her friend’s hand. “Now listen, I’m going to buy you supper.” She held both hands up to stop the inevitable remonstrances. “No, no argument. Hm, I wonder how special Ted’s special is tonight?”
When she got back, slightly unsteadily, to High Tor, Carole Seddon felt relaxed. For the millionth time, she asked herself: what was it about Jude?
Never mind what it was, it worked. Carole had had a really good evening. Certainly better than the one she expected to have the next day.
