Brian Freemantle - A Mind to Kill

‘Did you?’

‘Of course we didn’t. It’s an absurd thing to say.’

‘Gerald didn’t ask you to take the pill?’

‘I told you, he wanted a baby very much.’

‘But there’s only Emily?’

‘I just didn’t become pregnant, afterwards. I had tests: we both did. There was no reason why it didn’t happen. It just didn’t.’

‘Will you hate Rebecca, if she admits the affair in front of you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Will you hate Gerald?’

‘I couldn’t hate Gerald. Ever.’

‘Not even if it’s true?’

‘It wouldn’t have been love. Just sex.’

‘Wouldn’t you hate her, just the same?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why not?’ The psychiatrist had come forward on his chair, jabbing the questions at her.

‘If he needed another woman it would have meant I was inadequate, wouldn’t it? That I’d failed. It would have been my fault.’

‘ That you weren’t such a good fuck, after all.’

‘She says I’d realize I wasn’t such a good fuck after all.’

‘Were you?’

Jennifer felt herself colour. ‘I thought we had a more than satisfactory sex life,’ she forced herself to say.

‘You’re embarrassed?’

‘Of course I’m embarrassed.’

‘Do you swear?’

‘Swear?’ frowned Jennifer.

‘ Fuck, fuck, fuck.’

‘She’s saying fuck all the time.’

‘Do you? Use the word, I mean.’

‘Yes,’ admitted Jennifer at once.

‘So you’re not offended by it?’

‘No. Are you?’

‘No.’

‘Tell me what you thought about driving up from the country.’

‘I don’t remember much about that. It was as if I was a passenger.’

‘What about when you got to Gerald’s office?’

Jennifer shook her head. ‘I don’t properly remember that. I mean I do, but not as if I was part of it. It was as if I was looking on.’

Fosdyke stirred, a signal. ‘What illnesses did you have, as a child?’

Jennifer frowned. ‘The usual, I suppose.’

‘I want to know, specifically.’

‘I’m not sure, specifically. Is it important?’

‘Very. Can we find out from your family?’

‘I don’t have a family. My mother died twelve years ago: my father four years later. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.’

‘No aunt or uncle who could help?’

‘Both my parents were only children, like I was.’

‘We could try a trace through the family doctor,’ offered Peter Lloyd, from the bottom of the bed. ‘We’ve got his name on the case notes.’

‘Do that, will you? Now,’ said the neurologist, without turning to the doctor, who hesitated and then eased his way past the silent lawyers.

‘What about accidents?’ persisted Fosdyke.

‘ Being born.’

‘She says my being born was an accident,’ Jennifer told Mason, who nodded but didn’t say anything.

‘What’s the proper answer,’ prompted Fosdyke.

‘No.’

‘No broken legs? Arms?’

‘No.’

‘What about head injuries?’

‘ I’ve convinced them. You haven’t any idea how insane you sound .’

‘She says you’re convinced I’m insane… that I sound insane.’

For the neurologist’s benefit, Mason said, ‘What about a head injury, at any time?’

‘No. Never.’

‘How about your pregnancy?’

‘Perfectly straightforward… wonderful… no problems at all.’

‘The birth itself?’

‘The gynaecologist said it was the easiest he’d ever known.’

Fosdyke turned invitingly to Mason, who shook his head. To the lawyers the neurologist said, ‘I’m going to carry out a physical examination. Excuse us.’

Hall and Perry filed obediently into the corridor to the hostile glares from the two policewomen. The barrister continued walking until he was beyond their hearing before turning to the solicitor. ‘Well?’

‘I don’t know a court that would put up with it,’ said Perry, flatly.

‘I don’t think I do, either.’

‘I’m frightened what the reaction might be to what I’ve got to tell her about Emily,’ said Perry. ‘Maybe I should wait until tomorrow?’

Hall shook his head, forcefully. ‘Not in the circumstances. Make sure Lloyd’s with you.’

‘What about you?’ asked the solicitor, seeking as much support as possible.

Hall looked sceptically at the older man. ‘All right.’

Peter Lloyd emerged from the elevator at the far end of the corridor. When he reached them Lloyd said, ‘The family doctor is faxing what medical records there are. Which aren’t very much. We went through it on the phone: she’s never had a day’s illness in her life.’

‘Until now,’ said Perry, as the doctor moved on to the ward. ‘And now she’s making up for all the lost years.’

Inside the tiny room Jennifer lay on top of the bed as Fosdyke went through the neurological routine. Her toes contracted when a pencil tip was drawn across the soles of her feet and with her eyes closed she correctly isolated every point at which he lightly touched a pin against unbandaged parts of her arms and legs. Still with her eyes closed she correctly brought her finger-tip unfalteringly to the tip of her nose and resisted his pressure when he pushed against her raised legs. He repeated the test more gently against her injured arms but she was still able to respond.

‘If you can’t prevent it, don’t worry, but I don’t want to hear anything the voice says in your head,’ warned Fosdyke. ‘I just want your answers to my questions.’

‘Jane isn’t here,’ broke in Jennifer.

‘How do you know?’

‘There’s no tingling, burning sensation.’

‘Why didn’t you tell us about that earlier?’ demanded the neurologist.

‘I didn’t want her to know. That’s how I’m warned she’s with me: how I can beat her.’

‘When were you born?’ demanded the neurologist, briskly.

‘June eighth, nineteen sixty-six.’

‘So you’re thirty-three?’

‘Thirty-two.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘What?’ frowned Jennifer.

‘Answer me.’

‘Jennifer Lomax.’

‘What was it before you were married?’

‘Stone. Jennifer Stone.’

‘Where were you married?’

‘Caxton Hall.’

‘When?’

‘January fifteen, nineteen ninety-three.’

‘What time?’

‘Two o’clock.’

‘Your degree’s economics?’

‘And mathematics. I took an additional module.’

‘Where?’

‘Oxford.’

‘What was it?’

‘Double First.’ Before either man could speak further, Jennifer said, ‘Why is this important?’

‘That’s for us to decide,’ said Fosdyke. ‘Do you know what a brain scan is?’

‘Like an X-ray, of my head.’

‘ They won’t see me! ’

‘She’s back. Says you won’t see her.’

‘I’m not looking for her.’

‘ What’s he want? ’

‘She wants to know what you want.’

‘It’s nothing to do with her.’

‘ Tell me! ’

‘She’s demanding to know.’

‘She isn’t going to,’ said Fosdyke. ‘Do you think you could walk to the scanner? It’s one floor below.’

Jennifer looked to Lloyd, who said, ‘Do you feel up to it?’

‘Of course.’

Lloyd helped Jennifer into a shapeless hospital dressing gown, over the smock that had been changed after she’d wet herself. Jennifer looked down at herself, then smiled wanly up to Mason. ‘Not actually haute couture, is it?’

‘That worry you?’ asked the psychiatrist.

Jennifer remained smiling, although sadly. ‘I was going to ask Rebecca to bring some of my own stuff in. That’s ironic, isn’t it?’

The two policewomen straightened into something like attention when Jennifer came out into the corridor, hands clasping the dressing gown around her. They quickly fell into step behind the specialists, who walked either side of Jennifer. It wasn’t until they shouldered into the elevator that Jennifer realized Hall and Perry had joined them. No-one spoke. Jennifer remained tensed for Jane, who never came. The lawyers and the policewomen stood separately outside the scanner room.