Mourn not your Dead

Station from the mobile phone had brought him to the village, ready to run her into Dorking for the quickest train to London. He’d made no attempt to disturb her preoccupied reflection, yet his silence held no hint of injured feelings.
    She looked out the window again as the car swooped round a curve. Tall, silver-trunked trees closed in on either side of the road, and the falling leaves flickered and swirled through the air like swarms of golden bees. The beauty of it pierced her unexpectedly—sharply, sweetly—and for a moment she felt as exposed and transparent as a jellyfish.
    She must have made some involuntary sound, because Will glanced at her and said, “You all right, Gemma?”
    “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She took a breath, then said the first thing that came into her head. “Will—do you think we ever really know anyone? Or are we so blinded by our own perceptions that we can’t see past them? I’ve been imagining Brian as a loving father who might do anything to protect his son. But that was only one dimension, and it kept me from seeing the possibility that he might be Claire’s lover, a man who could have killed Alastair Gilbert for reasons that had nothing to do with his son. And I didn’t see Claire as—oh, never mind.”
    Will chuckled. “You didn’t see Claire as flesh and blood, as a woman with needs so strong she’d be willing to court social condemnation, at the very least, to satisfy them.”
    “You never seem surprised,” said Gemma.
    “No, I suppose I’m not, but I’m no cynic, either. This job teaches us not to have faith in people. But in the end, what else is there? I’m still willing to give the benefit of the doubt.”
    “That’s a fine balance,” she said slowly. But was she capable of achieving it? She studied Will covertly through her lashes, wondering if she’d been deceived by her perceptions once again, and if his placid exterior concealed something entirely different.
    His quick glance caught her off guard and she felt herself coloring. “This isn’t really about Brian, is it, Gemma?” he asked. Before she could protest, he added, “You don’t have to tell me. But remember, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m available.”
     
    BY HALF PAST ONE, GEMMA WAS ASCENDING THE STEPS AT the Holland Park tube station, fortified by a cheese and tomato roll bought from the buffet trolley on the train. A brisk walk brought her to Jackie’s flat and she stood on the pavement for a moment, catching her breath and admiring the way the tendrils of creeper flamed orange against the brown brick.
    Jackie answered the bell with a smile of pleasure. “Gemma! When I couldn’t get you at home I tried the Yard, but I wasn’t really expecting you to turn up on the doorstep like a lost pilgrim. Come in.” She wore a brightly colored dressing gown and her tight curls looked damp from the bath.
    “They said it was urgent,” Gemma explained as she followed Jackie up to the first floor.
    “Well, I expect I did lay it on a bit.” Jackie looked sheepish. “But I thought they wouldn’t take me seriously, otherwise. Have a seat and I’ll get you something to drink.” When Jackie returned from the kitchen with two glasses of fizzy lemonade, cold from the fridge, Gemma said, “What’s it all about, Jackie? And why aren’t you at work?” Jackie curled up on the settee, her dressing gown spreading around her like the robes of an exotic princess. “I go on at three. They’ve changed my shift. I’ll have to get dressed and be off in a few minutes.”
    “They said you weren’t in London—I haven’t brought you all the way from Surrey, have I?”
    Gemma gave her friend a quizzical look. “Jackie, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were stalling. And, yes, I did come up from Surrey. Now spill it.”
    Jackie sipped at her drink, wrinkling her nose as the bubbles got up it. “I feel a bit of a silly cow, to tell the truth. I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill. You know I said I’d have a word with Sergeant Talley?”
    Gemma nodded encouragement.
    “Well, he got quite shirty with me. Told me to mind my own business if I knew what was good for me. I hadn’t expected that, and it got my back up a bit. There are a couple of blokes on the beat that have been at Notting Hill as long as Talley, so this morning I ambushed one of them when he came off duty. Bought him breakfast in the caff next the station.” Jackie paused and drained half her