Waiting for Wednesday

school, which is only a few minutes away,
because I had my mock art exam. For which I just heard I got an A star by the
way.’ He gave a savage grin.‘Brilliant, wasn’t it?
Then I was at school for the rest of the day. Then I met Judith, we hung about for a bit
and came home together. And found police everywhere. Good enough for you?’
    ‘Good enough.’
    Judith Lennox was next. She came through
the door quietly as a ghost, staring at each of them in turn with her pale blue eyes.
She had coppery curls and freckles over the bridge of her nose. Although her hair needed
washing and she was dressed in old jogging pants, with a baggy green jersey that
probably belonged to her father, down almost to her knees and with long sleeves covering
her hands, she was obviously lovely, with the peachy bloom of youth that days of crying
couldn’t entirely conceal.
    ‘I’ve nothing to say,’ she
announced.
    ‘That’s quite all right,
dear,’ murmured Amanda Thorne. ‘You don’t need to say anything at
all.’
    ‘If you think it was Dad, you’re
just stupid.’
    ‘What makes you say that?’
    ‘It’s obvious. Mum was cheating
on him so you think he must have found out and killed her. But Dad adored her, and
anyway, he didn’t know a thing, not a thing. You can’t make something true
just by thinking it.’
    ‘Of course not,’ said
Karlsson.
    Frieda considered the girl. She was fifteen,
on the edge of womanhood. She had lost her mother and lost the meaning of her mother;
now she must fear that she could lose her father as well. ‘When you found out
about your mother –’ she began.
    ‘I came home with Ted,’ said
Judith. ‘We held hands when we found out.’ She gave a small sob. ‘Poor
Ted. He thought Mum was perfect.’
    ‘And you didn’t?’
    ‘It’s different for
daughters.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘He was her darling boy. Dora was her
sweet baby. I stole her lipstick – well, I didn’t, really. She didn’t go in
much for makeup or stuff. But you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m the middle
child.’
    ‘But you’re sure that no one
knew?’
    ‘That she was cheating on Dad all that
time? No. I still don’t really believe it.’ She rubbed her face hard.
‘It’s like a film or something, not like real life. It’s not the kind
of thing she would do. It’s just stupid. She’s a middle-aged woman and
she’s not even that attractive –’ She broke off, her face twisting. ‘I
don’t mean it like that, but you know what I’m saying. Her hair’s
going grey and she has sensible underwear and she doesn’t bother with what she
looks like.’ She seemed suddenly to realize that she was talking about her mother
in the present tense. She wiped her eyes. ‘Dad didn’t know anything, I
promise,’ she said urgently. ‘I swear Dad didn’t suspect a thing.
He’s gutted. Leave him alone. Leave us alone.’
    The interview with Dora Lennox wasn’t
really an interview. She was scrawny and limp and exhausted, smudged from all her
weeping. Her father had grown years older in the days since his wife had died, but Dora
had become like a tiny child again. She needed her mother. She needed someone to gather
her up and cradle her in their arms, make all the horror go away. Frieda laid a hand on
her damp, hot head. Amanda Thorne cooed and told her everything was going to be all
right, seeming not to grasp the idiocy of her words. Karlsson stared at the girl, his
brow furrowed. He didn’t know where to start. The house was too full of pain. You
could feel itprickling against your skin. Outside, the daffodils
glowed in the warm brightness of spring.
    When Yvette asked Russell Lennox about the
bottles he just stared at her as if he hadn’t understood a word.
    ‘Do you know who put them
there?’
    He shrugged. ‘What’s that got to
do with anything?’
    ‘Perhaps nothing, but I need to ask.
There were dozens of bottles hidden in the shed. There might be a harmless explanation,
but it suggests that someone was drinking secretly.’
    ‘I don’t see why. The
shed’s full of junk.’
    ‘Who uses the shed?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Who goes into it? Did your
wife?’
    ‘It wasn’t Ruth.’
    ‘Or perhaps your son and his friends
–’
    ‘No. Not Ted.’
    ‘Did you put the bottles
there?’
    The room filled with silence.
    ‘Mr Lennox?’
    ‘Yes.’ His voice rose, and he
looked away from her as though he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze.
    ‘Would you say –’ Yvette
stopped. She was