“When she died, I vowed revenge, as anyone would, I’m sure. But for me, he had only added to the misery that had followed my family for such a long time. I sometimes think about what her final thoughts must have been. How terrified she must have been.” Tears began to run down his cheeks. He took another drag and regained control of his emotions.
“Take your time, please,” Steph said quietly.
“I wanted to wait long enough so that people would forget. They always forget. Give someone enough time and the things that don’t matter to them, simply fall by the wayside. I decided to enlist and went to France to fight the Nazis. I was shot, here in the leg,” he said as he pulled his pant leg up, revealing a dark scar on the side of his calf, “and managed to return early 1945. More than a decade had gone by and I knew Lightman was sitting comfortable up there in Crab Apple. I knew that enough time would have passed, and with my service record, managed to secure a position as a guard. I began working at the prison in early 46. I didn’t make a beeline for him though. Thought better of it. Instead, I worked wherever they stationed me. This unit, that unit. Eventually, in late 48, my prayers were answered. I was asked to transfer to the S-wing. It housed the worst of the worst. Ten cells for 10 prisoners you never wished to meet, and one of them was of course, Harry Lightman.
“Did he recognize you?” I asked, but Jeremy only shook his head.
“Not even close. He began to chat with me, every day, wanted to chat as if we were best mates.”
“About what?” Steph asked, butting her cigarette out.
“Oh, usual crap. The weather, sports. He was a keen Carlton supporter and liked to talk about the previous week’s game. Or the coming game, especially if they played Collingwood or Richmond. I’m South Melbourne myself, never could switch to the Cats, even after moving out here. Think they might go all the way this year, too, the Cats. You?” he asked, turning to me.
“Bombers.”
“Good for you. Anyway, so there we were, chin wagging on a daily basis. And then, about six months after starting in that unit, I told him. I had to work a night shift, and it was me and young Angus McCredie. ‘Course Angus was sound asleep this side of midnight. And, there I was, alone with nothing between me and the killer of my kid sister but a single door. A door to which I had the key.” He took another cigarette out, lit it then continued. “I almost opened it, too. I often pictured just going in there and beating that cunt’s brains out. Oh,” he said, looking at Steph apologetically, “’scuse my language, please.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Jeremy,” Steph said, smiling at him.
“And I cannot tell you just how close I actually came to making that daydream a reality. But…” his voice trailed off a little as he took another drag.
“You doubted it, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, nodding, “I always had this little niggle in the back of my mind that questioned whether he actually killed her. That’s why I wanted him to look at me during the trial, something he never did. So, I told him. I woke him up and had him come to the door. I had the trap down and watched him climb out from his bed and shuffle over. I shone my torch into his face, waited for him to wake up properly, then told him who I was.” Another long drag, then a sip from his tea, followed by another drag. He held it again, impossibly long, the silence of the kitchenette now screaming at us.
“What did you see?” Steph asked. He looked at her for a minute then took another drag. He finally crushed his butt out in the ashtray and spoke again.
“I can tell you what I didn’t see. I didn’t see the man that killed my baby sister. I don’t know how else to describe it. Except that the man who I saw that night, whose eyes I looked into, was not the man that ended Veronica’s life.” My heart jumped at the words, my stomach took a turn and I felt something give within me. I too, had the same niggle for the past 20 years and was terrified by this man now confirming his own trepidation.
“How can you be so sure?” Steph asked, pulling out her own packet of cigarettes and offering them up. Jeremy took one, lighting it and Steph’s with another match.
“Because the one thing a man cannot hide, Officer, is his eyes. Whatever secrets he has, whatever words he speaks, they mean nothing if the eyes don’t support them. But I didn’t just leave it there. He actually told me a lot more. Like the girl he had been seeing.”
“He had a girlfriend?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes, he did. Told me the whole story. But he never named her. Said he wanted to protect her from all the haters out there. He knew that if people knew about her, they would go after her. Of that, you could be sure of. Harry Lightman having a girlfriend, can you imagine?”
“What did he say about her?” Steph asked.
“He said they met by sheer accident. They would never have met if his bike didn’t have a flat tyre. He was taking a shortcut back to town and had crossed through a paddock when he came across her. She was just sitting in the sun. She had been singing, that’s what caught his attention.”
“Met where?” Steph suddenly asked. I could see her attention peak, sitting forward in her chair.
“He never said. Just that he had cut through a paddock and heard her singing. He did tell me he loved
