“So what the hell happened?” said Michael now.
“Did you google me?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know.”
“No, I don’t. For a start, what were you even doing in Okeham? I thought you hated the place.”
“Not exactly hated.”
“You said you were miserable there.”
“Maybe it was me, not the place. You know I hated living in London. It was always meant to be a stopgap while I decided what to do in my life but I kind of got stuck there.” He nodded. “Anyway, there was a fantasy I’d always had about this old house there and it came on the market and I bought it and I’ve been doing it up.”
Michael leaned forward on the table and rested his head on his hands. He looked like he was in pain.
“I saw that he was found in your house.”
“In a shed at the back.”
“That’s weird.”
“Yes.”
He gave a nervous little laugh. “I mean, why would you report finding a body in your own house if you’d killed him?”
“Shed. And I didn’t exactly find it. It was found by this guy, Andy.”
“Is he your new . . . ?”
Tabitha remembered that Michael had an irritating habit of leaving his sentences unfinished as if he were waiting for you to guess the word.
“No. He’s a builder. He’s helping me with the house. I guess I should say he was helping me.”
“I suppose you’ve got lots of old friends in the village.”
“I know people in the village to say hello to. There are a few left from when I lived there. And now one of them is dead.”
“You knew him?”
“He was a teacher at my school.”
“So you’ve got a motive,” he said with a half smile.
“Don’t. I’m in prison. Don’t make one of your stupid unfunny jokes.”
Michael made an indeterminate gesture. “I took a train across England to get here. I had to change twice and then take a bus and then a taxi.”
“OK,” said Tabitha tightly. “Sorry.”
“Can I ask a question? A body is found in your house. Or next to your house. That’s bad. But why are they actually charging you with murder?”
“I’m not completely sure. I think they have to tell the solicitor and she’ll tell me.”
“And what about your defense?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the law. I’m just desperately hoping that the lawyers are going to sort this out and show the police that they’ve made a mistake.”
Michael gave a shrug and shook his head.
“What?” said Tabitha.
“I don’t know. It’s just that it doesn’t sound like you. It sounds more like the way you saw me.”
“How did I see you?”
“Being passive. Not doing much. I wouldn’t expect you to just be sitting here waiting for someone else to sort things out.”
Tabitha took a few deep breaths. “Have you looked around?” she said. “I’m in fucking prison. How am I supposed to sort things out?”
“I don’t want to get sucked into one of your arguments.”
“One of my arguments?”
“I used to sometimes feel like we were slipping down a slope into an argument and whatever I did to stop it, I couldn’t.”
“Whatever you did?” said Tabitha. “You mean, sit there and look at me as if I was an object of poor taste?”
“Tabitha, please—”
“That’s exactly the tone. Tabitha, please. Like you were the sensible grown-up and I was a naughty little girl who was—”
She stopped suddenly and put a hand over her eyes so she didn’t have to see his face. “This isn’t what I wanted,” she said.
“I understand you’re under a great strain,” he said stiffly.
“I’m grateful you’re here.” Her face ached with the effort it took to look calm and rational. “I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
There was a pause.
“Ye-e-s,” said Michael slowly and then Tabitha knew, with a sickening lurch, what was coming.
“I’m so sorry about all of this. It’s terrible. It shouldn’t happen to anyone. But I’m not the right person for this.”
“Oh,” said Tabitha.
“I felt I needed to make the gesture. To come here and see you and bring you things.”
“Magazines.”
“And some other things. But we weren’t together for that long—”
“Fourteen months.”
“And it was a while ago.”
“It’s all right,” she said. She looked at his mouth opening and closing and she just wanted him gone. Why had she ever asked him to come?
“I’m not a lawyer. I don’t have money. I’m trying to deal with things myself.”
“I said it was all right.”
He looked at his watch. “I’d probably better be, you know . . .”
“Yes.”
“There’s a bus and a train.”
“Of course.”
He got up and held out a hand and then looked at it as if it didn’t belong to him. “I don’t know. Are we allowed . . . ?”
“Yes, we can shake hands.”
They shook hands briefly and then he turned and walked away. Tabitha thought to herself: Well, he was an ex-boyfriend, after all. What was I expecting?
Ten
You just have to keep going, that was what Ingrid had said. And Michaela. But today was one of Tabitha’s bad days, when the effort of hauling herself out of bed, of pulling on clothes that were always grubby, brushing her hair that always felt a bit greasy, eating food that made her gag, seemed a monumental task. Her body felt impossibly heavy. She wanted to curl in a ball and hide. She wanted to howl.
But at least her solicitor was coming to see her.
“So have you any good news?” she asked. Her voice came out too bright, almost jocose.
“I
