Waiting for Wednesday

derisively.
    ‘What did it say?’
    ‘It didn’t say, “Darling
Paul, I like fucking you”, if that’s what you mean,’ Ben said
savagely. ‘It said that yes, she would like to see him again and that he
wasn’t to worry, everything was going to be all right.’ He grimaced
violently. ‘It was kind of tender and practical. I thought of Mum being so ill and
weak and still looking after us, and then this other woman loving Dad as well, and it
seemed so fucking unfair.’
    ‘When was it sent?’
    ‘The twenty-ninth of April
2001.’
    ‘And you still insist you didn’t
tell your mother?’
    ‘I didn’t.’
    ‘But you did push a mutilated doll
through the Lennoxes’ letterbox.’
    Ben turned a deep red. ‘Yeah. I
didn’t plan to. But I saw this stupid doll stuffed in a big basket of toys at a
friend’s house – it was his kid sister’s. And I just took it on a whim and
cut it up a bit to show her what we thought of her. I had to do something.’
    ‘She never got your little message,
though. Her ill daughter picked it up and thought it was meant for her.’
    ‘Oh, shit.’
    ‘So you and Josh knew where she
lived?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you go there at other
times?’
    ‘No. Not really.’
    ‘Not really?’
    ‘I might have stood outside every so
often. To see her.’
    ‘Did you see her?’
    ‘No. I saw her kids, I think. It all
made me feel a bit sick, if you want to know. Poisoned.’
    ‘Is there anything you haven’t
told me?’
    Ben shook his head miserably. ‘Josh is
going to be mad at me. He made me swear not to say anything.’
    ‘That’s what happens when you
start breaking the law. People get mad at you.’



FORTY-SIX
    Frieda had got Judith’s email address
from Chloë, and sent her a short message, saying she would be waiting for her at four
o’clock the next afternoon at Primrose Hill, by the entrance just minutes from
Judith’s school. The weather had changed: it was blustery and the clouds were low
and grey, threatening rain.
    She saw Judith long before Judith saw her.
She was in a knot of friends, which loosened and dispersed as they went, and finally it
was just the girl making her way slowly towards the gate. She was wearing her clumpy
boots, which made her legs seem thinner than ever, and she had an orange scarf tied
several times round her head, like a turban from which wild tendrils of hair escaped.
Even her walk was unsteady, her feet in their heavy boots tripping on the pavement. She
looked hunted, her eyes darting from side to side, and she kept putting her hand to her
mouth, as if she was stopping herself saying anything.
    As she came into the park, she noticed
Frieda sitting on the bench and her step quickened. A series of expressions flickered on
her face: bewilderment, anger, fear. Then it hardened into a mask of hostility. The blue
eyes glittered.
    ‘Why is
she
here?’
    ‘Because it’s not me you need to
speak to. It’s DC Long. Yvette.’
    ‘I don’t know what you’re
talking about. I don’t need to talk to either of you. I don’t want to. I
want everyone to fuck off. Leave me alone, all of you.’ Her voice cracked. A
hoarsesob forced its way out of her mouth and she lurched where she
stood, as if she would fall.
    Frieda stood up and gestured to the bench.
‘You’ve been under terrible pressure. You must feel as if you’re about
to explode with it.’
    ‘I don’t know what you’re
going on about. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. Or somewhere,’
she added.
    But she didn’t move, and for a moment
she looked so young and so full of uncertainty and terror that Frieda thought she would
burst into tears. Then, as if her legs would no longer hold her, she crumpled on to the
bench beside Yvette and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, hunching her
body up protectively.
    ‘Tell Yvette why you’re so
scared.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ whispered
Judith.
    ‘You can’t protect
him.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Your father.’
    Judith closed her eyes. Her face became
slack, suddenly like that of a middle-aged woman, defeated by tiredness.
    ‘I sometimes think I’m going to
wake up and this will be just a dream. Mum will still be there and we’ll be
arguing about stupid stuff, like staying out late and makeup and homework, and all the
horrible things won’t have happened. I wish I’d never had a boyfriend. I
wish I’d never met Zach. I feel sick when I think about him. I want to be like I
was before all of this.’ She opened