And unfortunately, there were no witnesses. None that came forward.’
‘None that came forward,’ Lucia echoed. ‘You are sure about that?’
‘You would know better than I, Inspector,’ the headmaster said. ‘But yes, as far as I am aware there were no witnesses. Unless of course your own investigations have uncovered one?’
‘No,’ said Lucia. ‘Not as such.’
Lucia was the only person in London still seated at a desk who did not have to be. She thought about this for a moment. She thought about going to the pub, not doing it, more the concept: going to the pub. She thought about the last time she had gone to the pub in the manner the phrase implied, not as an event she would dither over and dress up for and look forward to. Be let down by.
She thought about calling her father but doubted she had the right number. It was a better excuse than others she had used. She could call her mother. She should call her mother. But the thought of doing so made her feel tired. It made her feel more alone, somehow, than she already felt.
That was unfair. Probably she was being unfair. She was tired already and she was tense and she could hardly blame someone to whom she had not spoken in a month. Talking might help, she told herself. It should help.
She picked up the phone and dialled.
‘Mum. Hi.’
‘Lucia. It’s you. I was thinking it would be your father. This is just the sort of time he would phone.’
‘It’s late. I’m sorry. I thought you’d be up.’
‘I am up. But that’s not the point. The point is, he wouldn’t care if I were up or not. He’d just call and expect me to answer.’
‘I’ll call back. I’ll call you in the morning.’
‘No, no, no. It’s you. You’re not him. You can call any time, you know that. My, but it is late. What’s happened? Has something happened?’
‘No, nothing’s happened. I’m fine. I just called because, well. It’s been a while, that’s all.’
‘Has it? I suppose it has. But the phone rings these days and it’s like someone’s jumped out at me from behind the sofa. Because when he’s desperate he doesn’t let up. He doesn’t give me a moment’s rest.’
‘You know why he does it, Mum. You shouldn’t encourage him.’
‘I have to give him something just so he’ll leave me in peace. If I didn’t, he’d end up on my sofa. Or I’d end up on the sofa, more likely, and he’d take over my bed. And then he’d never go. I’d never get rid of him.’
‘You can’t afford it, Mum. And you shouldn’t encourage him.’
‘He has a plan, though. He tells me he has a plan. The debt – he says there are no debts. He’s starting at zero, he says, but he’s looking up now and he just needs something to get him started. A step up.’
‘A step up?’
‘I’m his stepladder. That’s what he says to me. We had thirteen years of marriage and still that’s all I am to him. Ironmongery. ’
‘He hasn’t got a plan, Mum. He never has a plan.’
‘Talking of marriage, darling, how’s David? Is he there? Let me speak to him.’
‘Mum. I told you about David.’
‘What? What did you tell me?’
‘David and I broke up. I told you that.’
‘No! When? You didn’t tell me. You never tell me these things.’
‘I told you. I did.’
‘You didn’t tell me. What happened? You work too hard, Lucia. You do. The thing with men is, they need to feel wanted. They need attention. They’re like poinsettias.’ ‘It wasn’t that, Mum. It wasn’t anything like that.’ ‘Or maybe it’s just our lot, Lucia. We’re hamsters, that’s what we are. They mate once in a while, you know, but they never commit. They cope, though, just like us. We’re copers, Lucia. You call yourself a May but really you’re a Christie. And Christies cope. We have to.’
Half an hour later, Lucia was still at her desk. She had a report to write. Her hands, though, remained clasped in front of her keyboard. Her eyes focused on the creases on her knuckles.
The sound of voices in the stairwell startled her. Her first instinct was to turn off her lamp, to pretend that she was not there. She forced her fingers on to the keys instead and frowned at her monitor as though it reflected something more involving than an empty page and a blinking cursor. She typed her name, spelled it wrong. She shut down Word and opened a browser window. Her fingers danced in the air for a moment. She typed Samuel Szajkowski into Google and tapped the return key. As the voices grew louder, she studied the results, clicked on a link, hit the back button, clicked on another.
‘Give me five minutes,’ someone was saying. ‘Just fucking two minutes then. Two minutes is all I need.’
She had known it would be him. There had been no possibility that it was not going to be him.
‘Settle down you lot. It looks like someone’s home.’
Lucia picked up the phone again, realised they would have heard her talking if she had genuinely been using it and put it down. There was an emergency exit behind her. She considered it. She actually considered it.
‘Lulu!’ His tie was loose and his shirt had escaped his straining belt line. His cheeks were the fat-scarred dappled red of uncooked hamburgers and even from twenty paces she knew that his breath would smell like an ashtray overflowing with beer.
Behind him there was Charlie and there was Rob and there was Harry.
‘Walter.’
‘Lulu!’ he said again. ‘You’ve been waiting up for me!’
‘How was court?’ Lucia said. She spoke to Harry, who trailed his drinking buddies across the office. Harry hesitated and lost his chance to answer.
‘Waste of time,’ Walter said. ‘Fucking magistrates.’
‘Why? What happened?’
‘Two dykes and a faggot, that’s what happened. But what can you do?’ Walter edged closer, rested a buttock on the corner of Lucia’s desk. His wallet strained to escape the well-shined fabric of his seat pocket. ‘Talking of dykes,’ Walter said and he grinned at his tag-along audience. ‘What are you doing here, Lulu? You know the weekend’s started, don’t you? You know Cole isn’t here for you to impress.’
‘Your flies are undone, Walter. Did you know your flies are undone?’
Walter grinned. He did not even look down. ‘Why are you looking at my flies, Lulu?’
‘Hey Walter.’ It was Harry. ‘I’m thirsty. Just get your damn paperwork and let’s go, can we?’
‘The pub’ll still be there, Harry. Don’t rush me. I’m chatting with Lulu here.’ Walter turned back to Lucia. He slid along the desk, rounded the corner. His thigh was inches from Lucia’s mouse hand. She tried to resist withdrawing it but could not. She leant back in her chair and folded her arms.
‘Would you look at that?’ Walter said. ‘My fly is undone. Lulu here’s been undressing me with her eyes.’
Charlie laughed. Rob laughed.
‘You couldn’t do me a favour, could you darling? You couldn’t reach over here and zip the little fella back in?’
‘I wouldn’t worry, Walter. If it happened to fall out, I doubt anyone would notice.’
Charlie laughed. Rob laughed. Harry smiled.
Walter slid closer. His leg touched Lucia’s, pressed against it. She could feel the sole of his shoe against her shin and the flesh of his calf against her knee. She could smell the beer now. She could smell his curdling sweat.
‘You need a shower, Walter. And you need to get your leg away from mine.’
‘Two minutes, you said. Let’s go, Walter, come on.’
‘You hear that. Now she wants me fully undressed. She wants to see me naked.’ He leered at Lucia. ‘I’ll take a shower, Lulu. Just as long as you bring the soap.’
‘Move your leg, Walter.’
‘How would you like me to move it? Up?’ He slid his leg up. ‘Or down?’ He slid it down.
‘Move your leg. Move your fucking leg.’
