Nicola Upson - An Expert in Murder

Archie looked at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go now –

Bill’s expecting me back at the station. Will you see me out?’ he asked, and Josephine nodded.

‘Actually, I’ll walk with you,’ she said. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’

Traffic coiled around Trafalgar Square as Josephine and Archie made their way towards Whitehall, and news vendors were just starting to emerge, ready to catch the lunch-hour trade. ‘They’re going to have a field day when this comes out,’ Archie said. ‘I just hope we can find Marta before she has her life story splashed all over the front pages. I didn’t want to tell you in front of Lydia, but Bill and I are going to Somerset House this afternoon. Apparently, Aubrey telephoned there on Friday to make an appointment. I’m not certain yet, but I’d say he was about to go through the records to find out who Elspeth’s mother was. If only he’d done it sooner.’

Once again, Josephine considered how differently things might have turned out – for Marta and for Elspeth. ‘I’m glad you didn’t mention it,’ she said. ‘Lydia’s had about as much as she can take for now – I think everyone has. She spoke to Hedley last night, and said he was absolutely inconsolable.’

‘At least he needn’t be on his own – the Simmonses have said he can stay with them if he wants to.’

‘Have you been to see them yet?’

‘Yes, first thing this morning. When I got there, Frank Simmons was out the back burning the doll that Hedley had sent. He said he couldn’t bear the thought of anything Vintner had touched going near Elspeth, and he’s already packed away all his theatre stuff, 284

ready to sell to another collector. He and Betty seemed to be getting on better, though; there was a warmth between them today that I didn’t see the last time we were there. Strange how people can be brought closer together by the death of someone they love.’

‘Or driven further apart.’ She stopped, and looked at Archie.

‘Why have you never told me?’

‘Told you what?’ he asked, but she could tell from the way he hesitated that he knew what she meant.

‘The soldier Jack saved – the man he died for – it was you, wasn’t it?’ She waited for him to say something, half hoping that he would deny it, but he simply looked at her with a mixture of shock and relief. ‘It’s the only thing that makes any sense,’ she continued. ‘I know you were wounded at around that time, and it explains why you avoided me for so long after Jack died. God knows, I’ve had long enough to think about it.’ His silence was making her angry now. ‘How could you let me go on wondering year after year? You’ve made it impossible for us to have any sort of truthful relationship, and you can’t even speak to me about it now.’

‘I didn’t know you had any idea,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose that’s why I haven’t said anything – because I didn’t want it to affect our friendship.’

The excuse sounded feeble, even to him; to Josephine, it was insufferable. ‘And you don’t think it has been affected?’ she said scornfully. ‘For Christ’s sake, Archie, there’s always this sadness about you when you’re with me. I thought at first it was because I reminded you of Jack, but you’ve had years to get over that, and if I can manage it, you should be able to. I watch you with other people, and there’s a spark in you. But not with me. You’re so bloody careful around me all the time. You know, it was quite gratifying yesterday when you were furious with me – at least it felt honest.’

‘Oh, don’t talk to me about honesty,’ he said, relief giving way to resentment. ‘Why didn’t you say something? If you wanted this so-called truthful relationship, you could have made it easier for me to talk to you. But no – instead, you have to piece it all together like some sort of cheap detective story, building your 285

evidence out of my feelings and my silence. Do you have any idea how cold that is?’

Afraid of what he might say next, Archie turned to walk on but Josephine caught his arm. ‘All right, I should have done things differently, too. I know that, and I’m angry with myself as much as with you. But I needed to feel you could tell me – don’t you understand that?’

‘But I couldn’t,’ he said. ‘Facing up to it with you would have meant dealing with it myself, and that was too much to ask.’ He paused, wondering how he could ever give Josephine the explanation she wanted when he barely understood it himself. ‘You see, I didn’t know much about it at the time. I was unconscious for days, and it was a long time before anyone thought I was well enough to talk about it. I don’t know if they’d ever have told me exactly what had happened if I hadn’t started to remember bits and pieces, and to ask questions about Jack. When I heard the whole story, it was as if it had happened to someone else. I don’t know if it was some sort of defence mechanism or just cowardice, but I distanced myself from the whole thing, acted as though I hadn’t been there.

I’d talk about that soldier in the third person, as if he were a complete stranger. Eventually, I came to some sort of peace with myself

– well, acceptance rather than peace – but I could never find that with you. All I could think about was that last summer when I went to stay with Jack in Scotland, and I’d watch the two of you together and marvel at how happy you were. So no, I couldn’t own up to what I’d taken from you, and the longer I left it, the more impossible it became ever to say anything.’

‘Did it never occur to you that it might be easier for me to know Jack died for someone I care about?’ As soon as the words were out, she realised how selfish they seemed. Archie smiled, but there was no reassurance in it.

‘That’s a nice sentiment, but I doubt it’s true, however much you care. It’s not to my credit to be jealous of a dead man, especially one I loved, but if you’d had the chance to play God back then, it wouldn’t be me you’d have allowed to live.’

Now it was Josephine’s turn to pull away. ‘Listen to yourself, 286

Archie,’ she said, oblivious to the scene they were making. ‘How can you talk about playing God after all that’s happened? You know, I’m sick and tired of people making decisions for me, telling me how I would and wouldn’t feel. First I’m caught up in a private war between Vintner and Aubrey, and now you’ve manoeuvred me into some sort of no man’s land between you and Jack.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said, stunned. ‘It isn’t the same thing at all.’

‘Isn’t it? You’re manipulating me because of your own guilt, and from where I’m standing that’s exactly the same thing. How dare you tell me how I’d have felt when you never gave me the chance to find out? Yes, I was in love with Jack, but it was young love and it didn’t ask for very much. It might have grown, of course – I assumed it would at the time – but I would have looked for something more sooner or later. I’m not going to live my whole life according to the options I had when I was nineteen. So don’t think you know what’s best for me, because you don’t.’

‘And when exactly is this sooner or later going to arrive? You were let off the hook in deciding whether or not to commit to Jack, and ever since, you’ve used his death as an excuse not to commit to anyone. Instead, you just throw yourself into your work, living with people who don’t exist and never will.’ He stopped, and turned away, unable to trust himself not to go any further and suspecting that he had already said more than he would be forgiven for.

Josephine let him walk away. Shaken by the truth in his parting shot, she sat down on the cold, stone steps of one of the government buildings that lined the street and watched him stride angrily down Whitehall. He stopped by the Cenotaph, and bent down to pick something up from the foot of the memorial. As he stood there, looking at it, she wondered what was going through his head, and realised sadly that she would never truly know: no matter how hard she tried to put herself in his position, or how strong the instinct for forgiveness and reconciliation, understanding was one of the casualties of the war; even now, there was an unbearable void between those who had fought it and those who had not, a stifling of emotion which was not so different from the deaden-287