out.’
Tom let a silence open up. Then he said, ‘I hope you’re careful who you say that to.’
A direct gaze. ‘I am. At the funeral I was in handcuffs again – of course. When I bent down to throw earth on the coffin, I had to kind of coordinate it with the warder, like a bloody three-legged race. It was ridiculous.’
‘So there’s no home base?’
‘No.’
‘What about your father?’
‘Haven’t seen him for years. He used to come and see me at Long Garth. You know, it was almost like a posh school, sort of place he went to. I think he quite liked that, so long as he didn’t have to remember why I was there.’ He stopped, patted his pockets. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’
‘No, go ahead.’
He used matches still. Tom put an ashtray near him and went back to his chair.
‘I did try to talk to him once.’
‘About?’
‘The obvious. He got up and walked out. I can’t remember if that was the last visit. If it wasn’t, there weren’t many more.’
‘What about last Saturday?’
‘I woke up feeling quite good, actually. I’d got the second anniversary of my mother’s death over, and I thought, Right now, for Christ’s sake, start moving on. And then… I don’t know what happened. I just fell into the pit. I was wandering round, I’d had quite a bit to drink – that didn’t help – and I was near the river, and I thought, Sod it.’
‘Like when you went back to prison?’
‘It was a bit like that, yes. Except worse, because then I knew there wasn’t anywhere to go.’
‘So you didn’t plan it at all?’
‘No.’
Danny’s face was veiled in smoke. Not that it mattered. Any good liar – and Danny was exceptionally good – can control his expression. It’s the body that gives the game away. Tom thought he could discern a new tension in Danny’s posture, a choppiness in the movement of the hands. When he said ‘No’, he’d :ned to shrug, but only one shoulder moved. And who carries temazepam around with them in the middle of the day? No, Danny was telling, at best, a partial truth.
‘I’m glad it happened,’ Danny said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I met you. Again. And I know you’re going to laugh, but I still think that wasn’t an accident.’
You and me both, Tom thought. ‘So what was it, then?’
‘It was, I dunno, a sort of kick in the pants, I suppose, because I’d tried to go on ignoring it and pretending it didn’t happen and suddenly there it is, bang. Right in front of me.’
‘And that’s a sign you have to face up to it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re putting an awful lot on coincidence, Danny. I mean, you get fished out of the river by a psychologist, so you decide it’s time for some psychotherapy. Suppose I’d been a tailor. Would you have ordered a suit?’
‘That’s not fair. And it’s not a psychologist, is it?’
Tom took time to think. ‘You know, if you’re really serious about this, there’s quite a strong argument for starting at the beginning with somebody else.’
‘No. It’s you or nobody. And by the way, I don’t want psychotherapy. Why would I want that? I want to work out why it happened.’ He waited. ‘It’s not as if we had a personal relationship.’
‘No, that’s true. Did you ever get any treatment?’
‘No. Don’t look so shocked. You were the one who told the court I was normal.’
‘I didn’t say you were normal. I said you were suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.’
‘Yeah, well, they forgot about that. Look, it was made pretty clear you didn’t talk about it. Not to anybody. Mr Greene, that was the headmaster at Long Garth, actually said, on the first night, I don’t care what you’ve done. Nobody’s going to ask you about that. This is the first day of the rest of your life. And everybody did what he said. There was an English teacher there, and I wrote something for him, but not about the murder. I couldn’t talk to my mother.
Floods of tears the minute she walked through the
Tom let a silence open up. Then he said, ‘I hope you’re careful who you say that to.’
A direct gaze. ‘I am. At the funeral I was in handcuffs again – of course. When I bent down to throw earth on the coffin, I had to kind of coordinate it with the warder, like a bloody three-legged race. It was ridiculous.’
‘So there’s no home base?’
‘No.’
‘What about your father?’
‘Haven’t seen him for years. He used to come and see me at Long Garth. You know, it was almost like a posh school, sort of place he went to. I think he quite liked that, so long as he didn’t have to remember why I was there.’ He stopped, patted his pockets. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’
‘No, go ahead.’
He used matches still. Tom put an ashtray near him and went back to his chair.
‘I did try to talk to him once.’
‘About?’
‘The obvious. He got up and walked out. I can’t remember if that was the last visit. If it wasn’t, there weren’t many more.’
‘What about last Saturday?’
‘I woke up feeling quite good, actually. I’d got the second anniversary of my mother’s death over, and I thought, Right now, for Christ’s sake, start moving on. And then… I don’t know what happened. I just fell into the pit. I was wandering round, I’d had quite a bit to drink – that didn’t help – and I was near the river, and I thought, Sod it.’
‘Like when you went back to prison?’
‘It was a bit like that, yes. Except worse, because then I knew there wasn’t anywhere to go.’
‘So you didn’t plan it at all?’
‘No.’
Danny’s face was veiled in smoke. Not that it mattered. Any good liar – and Danny was exceptionally good – can control his expression. It’s the body that gives the game away. Tom thought he could discern a new tension in Danny’s posture, a choppiness in the movement of the hands. When he said ‘No’, he’d :ned to shrug, but only one shoulder moved. And who carries temazepam around with them in the middle of the day? No, Danny was telling, at best, a partial truth.
‘I’m glad it happened,’ Danny said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I met you. Again. And I know you’re going to laugh, but I still think that wasn’t an accident.’
You and me both, Tom thought. ‘So what was it, then?’
‘It was, I dunno, a sort of kick in the pants, I suppose, because I’d tried to go on ignoring it and pretending it didn’t happen and suddenly there it is, bang. Right in front of me.’
‘And that’s a sign you have to face up to it?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re putting an awful lot on coincidence, Danny. I mean, you get fished out of the river by a psychologist, so you decide it’s time for some psychotherapy. Suppose I’d been a tailor. Would you have ordered a suit?’
‘That’s not fair. And it’s not a psychologist, is it?’
Tom took time to think. ‘You know, if you’re really serious about this, there’s quite a strong argument for starting at the beginning with somebody else.’
‘No. It’s you or nobody. And by the way, I don’t want psychotherapy. Why would I want that? I want to work out why it happened.’ He waited. ‘It’s not as if we had a personal relationship.’
‘No, that’s true. Did you ever get any treatment?’
‘No. Don’t look so shocked. You were the one who told the court I was normal.’
‘I didn’t say you were normal. I said you were suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.’
‘Yeah, well, they forgot about that. Look, it was made pretty clear you didn’t talk about it. Not to anybody. Mr Greene, that was the headmaster at Long Garth, actually said, on the first night, I don’t care what you’ve done. Nobody’s going to ask you about that. This is the first day of the rest of your life. And everybody did what he said. There was an English teacher there, and I wrote something for him, but not about the murder. I couldn’t talk to my mother.
Floods of tears the minute she walked through the
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