to supplement the income. It was just as well because I wanted to make sure that she got a private room when it reached the point that she required hospitalization.
“And then what happened?” asked Rick, now wary of trying to anticipate the twists and turns of Justine ’ s life-history.
“I should think that ’ s obvious. She died. And now, at the ripe old age of twenty three, here I am all set to end my days of freedom on a murder rap.”
“How did you feel about not spending much time with your mother?”
He was looking for signs of guilt.
“I wanted to. But she insisted that my studies must come first. She knew that she wouldn ’ t be around much longer and she wanted to be sure that I had a secure future. She didn ’ t want me to spend my whole life regretting the lost opportunities that had passed me by. On her deathbed she told me that whatever I decided to do, I should do it well. She told me that my good looks could be both a blessing and a curse. I could use them to give me the pick of the men, but I could also lapse into a safe marriage for security and never get to make the most of my mind, because the alternative was all too easy. She knew what it was like being married to the wrong man, I mean he became the wrong man, and she didn ’ t want me falling into that trap.”
“Did it come as a shock to you?”
“What?”
“Your mother ’ s death.”
“No, of course not. I knew it was coming, even without my medical studies I knew it. At first when it wasn ’ t clear how advanced the malignancy was she tried to play it down and dismiss it from my mind. But once she knew that it was terminal she made sure that I confronted reality and didn ’ t try to hide from it. She made sure that I was prepared for the inevitable. But it was still painful. It was harder on me than for her. She could take it, I couldn ’ t. She forced me to accept it and prepare for what was to follow. Even in her illness she was still the pillar that I had to lean on.”
“Did you resent it?”
“The fact that she gave me strength? The fact that she showed me how to face up to tragedy? The fact that she taught me how to stand on my own two feet so that I could give her the strength when the time came? Would you have resented it?”
“I ’ m sorry. It was a stupid question.”
He took a deep breath and let a moment of silence pass.
“Did anything happen to hasten her death?”
“No. But nothing happened to stop it either.”
There was a trace of sharpness in the tone, a cutting edge of anger. It seemed to strike at odd intervals, defying any pattern of expectation.
“When you objected to me defending you, was it because I ’ m a man?”
“You ’ re asking me if I hate men?” she asked incredulously.
“I ’ m trying to figure you out,” he admitted, too desperate to hide behind the stalking horse of small talk.
“You ’ re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I just thought that if your mother never remarried after your father ’ s death, maybe she was man-shy... and maybe it was contagious.”
“My mother was one of a kind.”
“Were you close to her?”
“Most of the time.”
He leaned forward again, but this time only slightly, almost imperceptibly.
“You mean you were estranged before she died?”
“No, nothing like that. It ’ s just that there were times when we couldn ’ t talk too each other, at least about certain things.”
“Did you patch it up before she died?”
“Long before. This was when I was in my early teens.”
“Can you talk about it now?”
She flicked her hair back girlishly and looked up at him.
“What do you want to know?”
“What was the problem?”
“It wasn ’ t one problem, it was lots of things. I guess that was part of the problem. I had too many things on my mind all at once. I was going through a bad patch at school and I swore I wasn ’ t going back there. I don ’ t mean academically, it was what they call inter-personal relationships.
“And then what happened?” asked Rick, now wary of trying to anticipate the twists and turns of Justine ’ s life-history.
“I should think that ’ s obvious. She died. And now, at the ripe old age of twenty three, here I am all set to end my days of freedom on a murder rap.”
“How did you feel about not spending much time with your mother?”
He was looking for signs of guilt.
“I wanted to. But she insisted that my studies must come first. She knew that she wouldn ’ t be around much longer and she wanted to be sure that I had a secure future. She didn ’ t want me to spend my whole life regretting the lost opportunities that had passed me by. On her deathbed she told me that whatever I decided to do, I should do it well. She told me that my good looks could be both a blessing and a curse. I could use them to give me the pick of the men, but I could also lapse into a safe marriage for security and never get to make the most of my mind, because the alternative was all too easy. She knew what it was like being married to the wrong man, I mean he became the wrong man, and she didn ’ t want me falling into that trap.”
“Did it come as a shock to you?”
“What?”
“Your mother ’ s death.”
“No, of course not. I knew it was coming, even without my medical studies I knew it. At first when it wasn ’ t clear how advanced the malignancy was she tried to play it down and dismiss it from my mind. But once she knew that it was terminal she made sure that I confronted reality and didn ’ t try to hide from it. She made sure that I was prepared for the inevitable. But it was still painful. It was harder on me than for her. She could take it, I couldn ’ t. She forced me to accept it and prepare for what was to follow. Even in her illness she was still the pillar that I had to lean on.”
“Did you resent it?”
“The fact that she gave me strength? The fact that she showed me how to face up to tragedy? The fact that she taught me how to stand on my own two feet so that I could give her the strength when the time came? Would you have resented it?”
“I ’ m sorry. It was a stupid question.”
He took a deep breath and let a moment of silence pass.
“Did anything happen to hasten her death?”
“No. But nothing happened to stop it either.”
There was a trace of sharpness in the tone, a cutting edge of anger. It seemed to strike at odd intervals, defying any pattern of expectation.
“When you objected to me defending you, was it because I ’ m a man?”
“You ’ re asking me if I hate men?” she asked incredulously.
“I ’ m trying to figure you out,” he admitted, too desperate to hide behind the stalking horse of small talk.
“You ’ re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I just thought that if your mother never remarried after your father ’ s death, maybe she was man-shy... and maybe it was contagious.”
“My mother was one of a kind.”
“Were you close to her?”
“Most of the time.”
He leaned forward again, but this time only slightly, almost imperceptibly.
“You mean you were estranged before she died?”
“No, nothing like that. It ’ s just that there were times when we couldn ’ t talk too each other, at least about certain things.”
“Did you patch it up before she died?”
“Long before. This was when I was in my early teens.”
“Can you talk about it now?”
She flicked her hair back girlishly and looked up at him.
“What do you want to know?”
“What was the problem?”
“It wasn ’ t one problem, it was lots of things. I guess that was part of the problem. I had too many things on my mind all at once. I was going through a bad patch at school and I swore I wasn ’ t going back there. I don ’ t mean academically, it was what they call inter-personal relationships.
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