Waiting for Wednesday

helping with the lottery tickets on
the next-door stall. We got on. She was very easy to get on with – everyone liked her.
She was kind and practical and made you feel everything was going to be all right. I
didn’t know that at the time, of course. I just thought she was nice. You probably
think that
nice
isn’t a very romantic word. It wasn’t that kind of
affair.’ He made a visible effort and went on with the story: ‘We met after,
for coffee. It just felt natural.’
    ‘Are you saying,’ interrupted
Yvette, ‘that you and Ruth Lennox were lovers for ten years?’
    ‘Yes. We got the flat after a few
months. We chose that area because it wasn’t somewhere we’d bump into anyone
we knew. We never went to each other’s houses. We met on Wednesday
afternoons.’
    Yvette leaned forward. ‘You’re
saying that every Wednesday afternoon, for ten years, you and Ruth Lennox met at this
flat?’
    ‘Except when we were on holiday.
Sometimes we couldn’t make it.’
    ‘And no one knew?’
    ‘Well, as a matter of fact my partner
knows. I mean, my work partner. At least, he knows that every Wednesday I’m not
available. He turns a blind eye. He probably thinks it’s funny –’ He stopped
abruptly. ‘Nobody else knew anything. We were careful. Once or twice we’d
see each other on the streets near our homes and we’d ignore each other. Not even
a smile. Nothing. We never phoned each other or sent each other messages.’
    ‘What if one of you had to
cancel?’
    ‘We’d tell each other the week
before, if we could. If one of us went to the flat and the other hadn’t turned up
after fifteen minutes, we’d know something had happened.’
    ‘That all sounds very neat,’
Yvette said. ‘A bit cold-blooded.’
    He unplaited his hands. ‘I don’t
expect you to understand, but I love my wife and Ruth loved her husband. We
wouldn’t have hurt them for the world. Or our kids. This was separate. Nobody
would be affected. We never even talked about our families when we were together.’
He turned back to the window. ‘I can’t believe I’ll never see her
again,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe I won’t go to the door and
open it and she’ll bestanding there with her smiling face. I
dream about her, and when I wake I feel so calm, and then I remember.’
    ‘We need you to tell us about that
last Wednesday,’ said Yvette.
    ‘It was the same as always. She came
about half past twelve. I was already there. I always get there before her. I’d
bought some bread and cheese for lunch and some flowers, which I’d put in a vase
she’d bought the year before, and I’d put the heating on because although it
was a warm day the flat felt a bit chilly.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘So.’ He seemed to find it hard
to speak now. ‘She came and – do you need to know everything?’
    ‘Just the bare facts for now. You had
sex, I take it.’ Yvette sounded harsh, even to herself.
    ‘We made love. Yes. Then we had a bath
together before we ate the food. Then she left and I locked up and left about half an
hour after her.’
    ‘What time would this be?’
    ‘She left at about three, maybe a
touch earlier, ten to three or something. Like she always did. So I left at three thirty
or a quarter to four.’
    ‘Did anyone see you?’
    ‘I don’t think so. We never met
the other people in the building.’
    ‘Do you know where she was
going?’
    ‘She always went home straight
away.’
    ‘And you?’
    ‘Sometimes I went back to work. That
day I went home.’
    ‘Was your wife there?’
    ‘No. She arrived at about six, I
think.’
    ‘So you saw no one between leaving
Shawcross Street and your wife arriving home two hours or so later?’
    ‘Not that I remember.’
    ‘When did you hear about Ruth
Lennox’s death?’ asked Karlsson.
    ‘It was in the papers the next day.
Elaine – my wife – showed me. Her photo was there, and she was smiling. At first I had
this stupid idea that it was about us – that someone had discovered and put it in the
papers. I couldn’t speak. She said: “Isn’t this terrible? Did we ever
meet her?”’
    ‘And what did you say?’
    ‘I don’t know. Elaine said,
“Doesn’t she have a nice face? Poor children.” Things like that. I
don’t know what I said. It’s all a blur now. I don’t know how I got
through the evening. The boys were there and there was a general noise and bustle and
they had their homework, and Elaine made a meal. Shepherd’s pie. And I put it in
my mouth