“Yeah, right,” said Luke, with a strange sort of smile.
“What does that mean?” said Tabitha. “Does that mean ‘yeah, right’ meaning yes? Or ‘yeah, right’ meaning no?”
Luke stood up and leaned toward her. She realized he was very angry. “You’re the person who stayed on at school. You’re the person he fucked. You’re the person who’s in prison for his murder. You decide.”
The interview was over.
Thirty
When she got back to the cell, she saw that Dana was away. Was that a good sign? Not necessarily but most of the really bad things people did to themselves were in their own cells. She sat at her table and retrieved her list of names. Against Luke’s name she wrote: “At home. No witness. Angry.”
When she was finished she lay on her bed and went over the interview in her mind. Stuart Rees: revered teacher, beloved husband and father, the heart and soul of the village. Something Luke had said, a phrase, floated into her mind: Poor old Mum, having that as well. As well as what? She stood up and opened her notebook again to write down the words, underlining “as well.”
Then she turned to the page on which she had written the timeline. She inserted Luke’s timing.
6:30 (approx): Wake up. Lie there for some time (how long?). Not feeling good.
7:30 (approx): Get up. Start making porridge and tea. No milk.
8:00: Go to village shop to buy milk. See CCTV. In PJ bottoms and wellies. School bus there. Meet Rob Coombe? Insult Stuart?
??? A.M.: Go for swim. Meet Dr. Mallon.
10:34: Stuart drives out of village in his car.
10:41: Stuart drives back again in direction of house (blocked by fallen tree).
2–3: Luke arrives in village (apparently). Climbs over tree (workmen there).
Walks to his house. Says he sees no one at all.
2:30: Meet vicar. Talk about news.
3:30: Laura returns. Luke there. No sign of Stuart.
4:30: Andy arrives at house. Discovers body.
The sky in the small window darkened. Dana returned, shuffling her feet. The key turned in the lock. They ate their supper in silence. Someone screamed and then screamed again. They used the toilet. They brushed their teeth. Footsteps echoed outside. Tabitha lay in her bunk and Dana climbed into hers, a foot or so above her; she could hear her breathing and shifting her position. She imagined the other women lying in their bunks in both directions, and on the floors above and the one below, like they were stacked on warehouse shelves. If she looked carefully, she could see a few pale stars in the small square of window. She thought about there being a moon out there somewhere, fields, woods, rivers and then the sea. She thought about snow falling on the water and frost glittering in the branches. She thought about people in their houses, closing curtains and cooking meals and watching TV, reading a book maybe, sipping tea and chatting about their day.
She needed help and suddenly she had an idea.
Thirty-One
From her icy little cupboard Tabitha could hear the sounds of sewing machines clattering and women talking. She put her hands to her ears and tried to concentrate. She had in front of her the list of names of people who had been in the village on December 21.
Me
Mel
Shona
Rob Coombe
Andy
Terry
Dr. Mallon
Luke
Pauline Leavitt
Deliveryman
If she hadn’t murdered Stuart, then one of these people must have. But why? She took the names one by one, adding comments beside some.
Me: Sexually abused by Stuart when 15.
Mel: Disagreement with Stuart over religion. He wrote to the bishop complaining about her.
Shona: ????
Rob Coombe: ???? (Why would he lie about me to the police?)
Andy: Didn’t like Stuart.
Terry: Must have been in shop all day?
Dr. Mallon:
Luke: Stuart bullied him.
Pauline Leavitt:
Deliveryman: Who is he?
She looked at what she had written. Her motive was the only one that made clear sense. Her eyes ached, her throat felt itchy and sore. She had the beginnings of a cold. She put her head on her arms and fell asleep.
“You look tired,” said Ingrid.
“I am.”
“It’s hardest in winter. But the days are getting lighter.”
“I guess.”
It was March 27. Tabitha had been in prison for more than two and a half months. Eighty days. Spring was lying in wait. The snowdrops and winter aconites would be long gone, and the witch hazel would have lost its rusty gold blossom, but there would be primroses and crocuses and daffodils, and tight buds uncurling on the trees. It was time to pick young nettles for soup. Time to mend the porch and paint the windows.
She mustn’t think of such things. She turned to Ingrid. “How are you, anyway?”
“My parole hearing’s coming up soon.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes.” Ingrid smiled. “I’m feeling hopeful.”
“It is so nice of you to come.”
Michaela sat across from her, a tall, strong figure. She was wearing black jeans and a yellow blouse the color of sunshine. Her hair was held back in a complicated plait. There was something different about her, thought Tabitha, and then she realized what it was: she looked clean. Her clothes, her hair, her skin, were fresh. She even smelled nice.
“I said I would,” said Michaela.
“How’s it going?”
“It’ll be better when winter is over. What about you? How’s your new cellmate?”
“Dana. Young, like a child really. She cries a lot.”
Michaela nodded matter-of-factly. “Early days.”
“I need your help.”
“Go on.”
“You know I’m defending myself. So I need to find out what happened on the day that Stuart was murdered.”
“Why?”
“To work out who could have killed him.”
“You just have to show it might not have been you.”
“Everything points to me. I’ll be found guilty unless I can show it could have been someone else.”
As clearly as she could, Tabitha spelled out what she knew. How a tree had come down, cutting the village off and effectively trapping only a handful of people. How the CCTV had shown Stuart to be alive at ten-thirty in the morning—so it was just the hours between then and three-thirty in the afternoon that mattered. How his body had
