Peter Lovesey - Stagestruck

The old man matched him for courtesy. ‘Whatever the reason, it’s an unexpected pleasure to meet a former pupil. Come through to the kitchen. I don’t have a living room as such. I use that as my studio. Still doing art, you see.’

To reach the kitchen they took a few steps through the studio. A high stool was in front of a desk on which a drawing board rested, lit by a powerful anglepoise lamp. An ink drawing of a city street was in progress, drawn in the exaggerated perspective of the modern graphic style. Beyond question, it was the work of a skilful artist.

‘I must have interrupted you.’

‘No, no.’ White pulled off the eyeshade. ‘Don’t be concerned about that. A visitor is a rare treat for me. I lead a hermit’s life these days. I’m going to insist that you have a drink.’

‘I’m driving. I won’t.’ The warmth of this welcome was disconcerting, the reverse of what he had expected.

In the small kitchen area, White fumbled between the fridge and the wall for a folding chair and tried to draw it open. He was not moving easily.

‘May I?’ Diamond offered.

‘Please do, and then use it.’

‘Where will you sit?’

He flapped his hand to dismiss the possibility. ‘I could use my stool if I wanted, but I won’t because it does me good to stand up. My back isn’t the best these days. Occupational hazard, bending over one’s work for many years. Draughtsman’s back, I call it. What did you say your name is?’

Diamond repeated it. ‘I was at Long Lane primary school.’

‘I remember. The school, that is, not you. I only ever taught in two schools and that was the first. I don’t remember the names of any of the scholars, I’m sorry to admit, and you’ll have changed beyond recognition since your primary school days. Were you any good at art?’

‘Useless.’

‘More of a scientist, were you?’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘So what did you become eventually?’

He didn’t want to say, and he didn’t want White setting the agenda. ‘Sport was my main interest. I played a lot of rugby.’

‘As a professional?’

‘No, no. Just amateur club stuff. I wonder if you can recall a school friend of mine called Michael Glazebrook.’

A shake of the head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’

‘I saw him only the other day. He remembers you. In fact, it was through Mike that I managed to trace you.’

White blinked. The glaze over his pale blue eyes was probably cataract. ‘How was that?’

‘He saw your picture in a magazine.’

Some hesitation followed. He pulled the cardigan close across his chest and frowned a little. ‘Recently?’

‘Some while back, he told me.’

White began fastening the cardigan buttons. He was very uneasy.

Diamond said, ‘It was a piece about book illustrators.’

The frown gave way to a look of relief, even mild amusement. ‘Oh, yes. I can recall being photographed for that. Such a performance it was, setting up an arc lamp and a camera on a tripod in my little studio. I have a copy somewhere. We artists don’t often get that sort of attention, even if our work gets seen more widely.’

All this small talk had to end now, Diamond decided. ‘Let me take you further back, a lot further. When you taught at my school you had some connection with a local drama group.’

‘I did some scene-painting, yes, and I designed the tickets and programmes.’ The enquiry hadn’t fazed him. He smiled. ‘Fancy you remembering that.’

‘Mike Glazebrook and I took part in one of the shows, about Richard III.’

White raised both hands. ‘Ah, you were the princes in the tower.’ This was said with the pleasure of recognition, unqualified delight, it seemed. ‘I recruited you, and very good you were, both of you. That’s forty years ago, if not more. I’m so pleased you mentioned it, because I can place you now, both of you.’

I bet you can, you pervert, Diamond thought. ‘It isn’t a pleasing memory for me. I was put off theatres for ever.’

‘Oh dear. That is a shame,’ White said with what sounded genuine concern. ‘On reflection it was a gruesome story to be in, the murder of the young princes. At the time I expect we assumed you’d take it in your stride, two tough little suburban schoolboys.’

‘It wasn’t the play that affected me.’

‘Stage fright, was it? You seemed very confident in front of an audience.’

‘Come on, we both know it wasn’t stage fright.’ He was losing patience.

‘You’d better enlighten me.’

‘No, Mr White. I want you to enlighten me. I want to know what happened between you and me.’

The old man blinked and shook his head and talked on in the same urbane way. ‘I’m sorry. I’m at a loss. As I recall it, I didn’t force you to take part. I offered you the role and you were keen to take it up. I would have got your parents’ permission, I’m certain. From what you say, something was amiss and I apologise for that. To the best of my recollection nothing happened, as you put it.’

‘Why did you choose me?’

‘I expect because you were a confident child who wouldn’t mind appearing on a stage. If you don’t mind me saying so, you have quite a forceful presence as an adult.’

‘I’m a police officer.’

The effect was dramatic. White’s hand went protectively to his throat. His face drained of colour, his voice husky. ‘I think I will sit down.’

Diamond got up from the chair and set it in the centre of the room. White was so shaken that he had to support himself briefly, holding onto the back before getting seated.

‘I know about your prison term,’ Diamond said.

Almost in a whisper, White said, ‘That was a long time ago.’

‘But it happened.’

‘I served my sentence.’

‘Early release after three years.’

‘It was no picnic. They make sure everyone knows what you’re in for and you get it tougher than anyone else. You’re called a nonce and that’s the lowest form of humanity inside. Sub-human, in fact.’

‘You won’t get sympathy from me.’

‘I’m not asking for any. I deserved all I got. I did my time and I haven’t offended since. You can check the records.’

‘I have,’ Diamond said. ‘All it means is that you weren’t caught again. People like you don’t reform. The perversion is permanent.’

He didn’t deny it. He nodded. ‘In that way it’s a unique crime. Other prisoners can wipe the slate clean. I’m a child molester, a paedophile, and that’s how the world will always see me, even at my age. Is this about the sex offenders’ register?’

‘No. It’s about you and me.’

As if he hadn’t heard, White continued, ‘All I can repeat to you is that I never worked in a school again. I was unemployed for a long time, incapable of getting my life back on track. When I did, it was my facility at drawing that was my salvation. I could have illustrated books for children. That’s where most of the work is. I deliberately stayed out of that. Eventually I found a niche in graphic novels for adults. Why are you here, Mr Diamond?’

The anger was hard to hold down. ‘Isn’t that bloody obvious? You say you changed your job and your style of life. At least you had the chance. It’s not so easy for your victims, is it? They have to live with the trauma of what you did to them.’

White lowered his head. ‘I’m aware of that. As a child I was abused myself. Many who commit these crimes had it happen to them. It’s self-perpetuating. Please understand I’m not whingeing. I made these choices. I knew my conduct was wicked and unlawful. Believe me, after I came out of prison I stopped.’

Diamond still despised him. ‘Mr White, I’m not interested in what happened after you came out or how you live now. I’m here because of what went on when I was a kid with a teacher I trusted, and who my parents trusted, apparently.’