Brian Freemantle - A Mind to Kill

‘ Didn’t love anyone, except himself. And fucking. Fucking anything that moved.’

‘Not true.’

‘She’s back,’ said the woman police constable, looking over her newspaper to her sergeant. ‘Should we tell someone?’

‘Suppose we’d better.’

The younger woman started to move towards the summons button but the sergeant said, ‘I’ll walk down to the nurse’s station. It’ll be something to do.’

The sound in Jennifer’s head was of cackling, near hysterical laughter. ‘ This makes it all the better. Brilliant. Fucking your best friend. Think they planned to kill you, too? Murder you, like you murdered me? Might have been a problem, though. Couldn’t go on killing wives he didn’t want, could he? Might not have got away with it twice .’

‘Don’t want to listen.’

‘ Oh, you’re going to have to listen Jennifer. Listen to all of it. Hear what a shit he was. What a shit Rebecca was.’

Emily! Who was going to see Emily for her? Tell Emily her mummy loved her…?

‘ Why not still ask Rebecca? She was fucking your husband so she might as well go on keeping it in the family. She’d have probably had the brat anyway, after Gerald had divorced you. Don’t forget how clever he was, getting whatever he wanted. All he wanted was a brat, not you. You were a breeding animal, like a sow.’

‘Stop!’

‘Mrs Lomax?’

Jennifer became conscious of Lloyd beside her bed. Conscious, too, that there was something sticking to her ribs and that thick leads connected her to a machine on one side but that the drip, although the bottle still hung from its hook, wasn’t in her arm any more. But there was a fresh dressing on what had been her uninjured arm almost as large as the one on the other arm. It hurt.

Seeing the frightened head swivel the doctor said, ‘You tore your arm rather badly, where the needle was inserted. I’m not sure you need it any more anyway…’

‘What’s the machine for?’

‘Heart monitor.’

‘ Broken-hearted Jennifer. See it on the machine! ’

Jennifer fought against a response and won. ‘Have they gone?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have allowed it.’

‘You heard what the policeman said?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wasn’t true.’

‘ Don’t be stupid.’

‘I don’t know anything about that,’ refused Lloyd, uncomfortably. He wished another doctor had been covering emergency when she’d been admitted.

‘He wouldn’t have done that. Not Gerald.’

‘Mrs Lomax, I can’t help you with any of that. I have to care for you medically.’

‘You don’t believe I’m mad, do you?’

‘That’s not my field. I’m concerned with your physical recovery.’ To cover himself he should have a hospital psychiatrist examine her: make a report. Should have done that before agreeing to the police interview.

‘ Course he thinks you’re mad.’

‘Mrs Lomax?’ intruded the woman police sergeant. ‘Do you feel well enough now to talk to my superiors again?’

Jennifer flinched back on the bed and Lloyd wheeled towards the uniformed woman. ‘ I have spoken to your superiors and told them there won’t be any more interviews until I authorize it… if I authorize it. Nor are either of you to attempt to question her. If you do I shall insist upon your remaining outside of this room. Do you understand?’

The grey-haired woman retreated to her chair, face blazing.

‘Thank you,’ said Jennifer. ‘Are you my friend?’

Lloyd blinked at the question. ‘I’m your doctor.’

‘ You haven’t got any friends, Jennifer. No-one. And I’m going to leave you, too. I don’t want anything to get in the way of your realizing how totally alone and helpless you are. ’

She was alone, Jennifer accepted. Totally. Clever of Jane to leave her, to think herself deeper into abandoned despair: to make mistakes like it had been a mistake to forget the numbness of Jane’s presence… There was an abrupt contradiction. No it wasn’t! Not clever at all. Alone she was able to think clearly – even the fog had gone – like she’d thought clearly before. Made decisions. What decisions were there to make now? The most important: the one never to forget. Wouldn’t give up. Never had. Never would. And not just for herself. Because there was someone. Emily. If she gave up she would be giving up Emily. Which was unthinkable. By herself she had to fight – find a way out – and make a life with Emily. Just the two of them. The only thing that mattered now. Herself and Emily. She could do it. Had to do it. There was no alternative. What about the other decisions she’d made, earlier? Still the same. And in the same sequence. Couldn’t plan anything about herself and Emily until she’d proven herself innocent. More difficult, now. There had been a motive. A reason everyone would understand: oldest story in the book. Hadn’t Gerald loved her, ever? All lies? Not all. It couldn’t have been all lies. Just sex then with Rebecca? She’d never thought Rebecca sexy. The opposite, in fact. Icy. Couldn’t remember their ever discussing men, talking about men sexually. Only remembered one man, an American broker. Wesley or Weston. Something like that. Flown over a few times, after Rebecca’s transfer from New York. Spent one weekend with them in Hampshire. Never laughed and wanted to talk metal futures all the time. What was wrong with the sex she and Gerald had? Nothing, she hadn’t thought. He’d liked sex, certainly. But so had she. Wanted it, whenever he had. Integral part of successful, ambitious people, a strong sex drive. Did whatever he wanted, like he’d done whatever she’d wanted. Maybe she should have known he’d need sex when they weren’t together. Why hadn’t he used hookers! It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d done that. Could have understood it: accepted it even. It wouldn’t have meant anything. A business transaction. That was the pain, not that he’d slept with someone else but that it had been someone she knew, believed to be a friend. Humiliating. The office would have known. Inevitable that they would. Laughed at her: about her. Gerald not getting enough at home, has to look elsewhere. He wouldn’t have wanted a divorce. Wouldn’t have wrecked their perfect life. Wouldn’t have hurt and bewildered Emily: wouldn’t have hurt and bewildered her. Just sex, that’s all it had been. Her own fault, for not realizing the risk. For being too complacent. Too late now. Gerald – Gerald who’d loved her but had an affair – was dead. Her life with him was dead, too. Had to start again. Rationalize it, accept it had happened and move on. Move on to her and Emily. Needed to get a lot of obstacles out of the way first. Jane most of all. Big mistake for Jane to have left: to have given her time. Couldn’t let her realize it. Had to pretend to despair: to be devastated. Wouldn’t be difficult. She had been humiliated: cheated. Gerald was a bastard, even if it was a casual affair. Not a problem to despise Rebecca. Bastard and a bitch. Easy enough to think like that. Had to be alert, for the tingling sensation: be even more alert for the gaps, when she could say things without Jane being able to interrupt.

Why had Gerald done it? Why hadn’t she been enough for him?

‘She’s crying,’ said the police constable.

‘She’s got every reason to,’ said the sergeant. ‘They always do when they get caught out.’

‘Why’s Mummy had to go away?’

‘Mummies have to, sometimes,’ said Annabelle.

‘When will she be back?’

‘I’m not sure yet. Eat up.’

‘I don’t want to eat up.’

‘And I don’t want you to be a rude girl.’

‘Don’t care.’

‘No story tonight then.’

‘Don’t want a story. Want my mummy.’