‘Just helping Lucia here find her keys. She dropped them. Didn’t you, sweetheart?’ He looked down at her. He held out his hand. Lucia knocked it away. She reached past and used the car to steady herself as she stood.
‘Lucia’s there?’ Harry was closer now, a few cars away. Lucia did not look at him but she nodded. She held out her keys. Got them, she tried to say but the words did not get past her throat.
‘Well, that’s me for the day. You remember what I said, Lulu. You remember what I showed you.’ Walter stepped out from behind the car. He nodded at Harry as he passed him, dropped a palm on to his shoulder. ‘Nighty night, ladies.’
Lucia fumbled with the door handle. She jabbed the key at the lock and scraped the paintwork. She tried again. Harry edged towards her.
‘Lucia? Is everything okay?’
Still Lucia did not look at him. She held up her palm. She coughed. ‘Everything’s fine, Harry.’ All she could manage was a whisper.
‘Are you sure? I mean, you don’t sound—’
‘It’s fine.’ The key found the lock and Lucia tugged at the door. ‘Goodnight, Harry.’
She slid inside.
She wanted just to sit but she did not let herself. She tripped the ignition and fastened her seat belt. She did not cry.
She put the car into reverse and released the handbrake. She turned in her seat and eased the vehicle backwards. She did not cry.
When she was clear she applied the brake and shoved the gear lever into first. She released the clutch and eased away. She did not cry.
Harry stood aside to let the car pass. He held up a hand but Lucia stared ahead. She passed the squad cars and slowed at the barrier and pulled out into the road. She did not cry.
Fifty yards on she pulled the Volkswagen to the kerb and killed the engine. She closed her eyes and gripped the wheel and allowed her head to slump against it. She coughed. She swallowed. She did not, would not cry.
And yet the tears came. In spite of herself, Lucia cried. And she cried.
.
What are these things always about, Inspector? Samuel taught history, right? So let’s look at history. In all of history, what has been the common motivation in any act of lunacy, of depravity, of desperation? What more than anything else has driven people to steal, to lie, to cheat? To lose their minds sometimes. To kill.
Love, Inspector. Always love. Love of God, love of money, love of power, love of a woman. Of a man too but we’re women, we both know history is written by men so invariably it’s love of a woman. There’s hate of course but hate is just the flip-side of love. Hate is what happens when love turns rotten. Hate comes with betrayal.
I can’t say I knew him well but I know the signs. And I know Maggie. She’s one of my best friends, in or outside of school. And because she’s one of my best friends, I can say what I’m going to say without malice. That’s what friends are for, don’t you think? To praise you when you deserve it but to be honest about it when you don’t. To support you, to be faithful to you but not to lie, not to tell you that you’re right when you know that actually you’re wrong.
Maggie was wrong. What she did, what she’s done: it’s wrong. She should have told him. She shouldn’t have done it in the first place if you want my opinion but when she did she should have told him. She shouldn’t have left him to find out for himself. She shouldn’t have left him to find out how he did, when he did, in the way he did. But I suppose that was part of the plan. I’m not saying there was a plan, not a plan as such, because as much as she was fooling Samuel she was fooling herself. But underneath it all, there was a plan. Deep down, she knew what she wanted. Do you see?
You don’t. You’re lost. I’ve lost you. Where did I lose you?
No, no, no. Since then. Since they broke up.
You mean you don’t know? You didn’t hear? She didn’t tell you, did she? I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. Although I can of course. Of course I can.
I won’t start at the beginning because clearly you know the beginning. I’ll start at the end.
They broke up. Samuel and Maggie. You know this. She told you this. It was a long time coming, them breaking up. She probably told you that as well. Samuel had problems, you see. Clearly he had problems but well before all of this happened it was obvious that he wasn’t coping. Which, by the way, is why Maggie found herself attracted to him. She’s a motherly one, Maggie. I don’t know if she’s ever been with a man she couldn’t mother. They’re kids usually. Not literally of course, I don’t mean literally, but mentally, they’re children. They need protecting. They need looking after. Which shows you how caring Maggie is as a person. Which explains why she’s always so generous as a friend. It’s a strength of hers definitely but also a frailty.
So Samuel, he didn’t settle, he didn’t mix and he didn’t have any control over his students. I don’t know much about his private life but I think that’s partly because there was never very much to know. Maggie, it seemed to me, was his private life. She became his private life. Before she asked him out, Maggie was terrified that he would say no. I told her, no way. Don’t be ridiculous. I said, he’s besotted with you, you can tell. He used to watch her. I used to watch him watching her. Me, I would have found it creepy. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I’m just saying that because of what he’s done. Either way, there was no possibility that he would have turned her down. The only reason he might have done would have been because he was shy, scared, afraid of being with a woman. And at one point it occurred to me that maybe he would say no, precisely for that reason, but it was too late to say anything to Maggie by then and anyway he didn’t.
You know all this. She asked him out and he said yes. They went together for a while, a few months, but Samuel had his problems and Maggie couldn’t help, that’s the gist of it. She tried and all the while she was trying she became more… more… what word should I use? I’m not sure she was in love with him. I hope for her sake that she wasn’t. But she was fond of him. More than that, she was attached to him. Attached like ... I don’t know, like an owner gets to their dog. No, that’s awful. What an awful analogy. Like a nurse, say. Like a nurse to a patient, like in
This was oh gosh. February. March maybe. The end of February. But that, really, was just the beginning. It was the beginning of a whole other phase.
They broke up and Samuel said nothing. That’s what Maggie told me. Literally, he said nothing. Okay so maybe it wasn’t a shock but you still might expect a few words. If not of regret then of anger or desperation or misery perhaps, of despair. But Samuel curled up. You know, like spiders do, the way they wrap their legs around themselves whenever they feel threatened. Like that.
And Maggie, she’s convinced it’s because he didn’t care, that he never cared, when of course it’s exactly the opposite. Samuel just went on being Samuel, cold, withdrawn, solitary, but his behaviour was so exactly like it had been before that it was obviously just an act. It was obvious to me anyway. Maggie, though, she couldn’t see it. And it hurt her. You know how humans are seventy per cent water? Seventy per cent, sixty per cent. Something like that. Maggie is seventy per cent emotion. She cares easily – she can’t watch the news, she tells me, because it’s worse for her than watching
