hatred, could easily have culminated in a determination to kill her. Vine, Wexford thought, seemed to have forgotten all about Burden’s instruction to his team to forget about motive. The image on the screen changed to a kind of chart with Sarah Hussain’s name and photograph in the middle of it and various arrows radiating out from it to the names of Georgina Bray, Thora Kilmartin, Duncan Crisp, Dennis Cuthbert, Gerald Watson and, to use Burden’s sobriquet for him, Ahmed X. Clarissa’s name was absent, but when the chart disappeared her face, so beautiful and film-starish, filled the screen.
Burden turned to Wexford and asked him if he had anything to contribute. ‘Not now,’ Wexford said, and when he found himself alone with his friend, ‘I see the apologetic racism is still going strong and the not so apologetic.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Ahmed X.’
‘Are you saying I’m to be deferential to a rapist who was probably an illegal immigrant?’
Wexford’s smile turned into a burst of laughter. ‘Is there any coffee going in this place?’
‘Come upstairs with me and we’ll send for some.’
Burden sulked for a while, said when the coffee came, ‘There’s no pleasing you,’ and stirred two lumps of sugar into his cup. ‘Lynn’s talking to Clarissa now.’
‘Still half-term, is it?’
‘I suppose so. She’s going to ask her about her father. Ask her if she knows who he is. Lynn’s the best person for the job. I’m glad I haven’t got to do it.’
‘Me too,’ said Wexford, re-establishing their amicable relationship.
CHAPTER NINE
DIANE STOW’S HOMECOMING was no longer such a long way off. Fiona wanted to know what had happened to the furniture and equipment which had been in the house in Peck Road when Diane moved out of it. Or, more to the point, when Jeremy moved out of it about a year later and in with her.
‘We’ve got some of it here.’ Jeremy found the whole business profoundly boring. ‘That table over there and wasn’t there a microwave?’
‘There was,’ said Fiona, ‘but you put a tin plate in it and buggered the thing up.’
‘I left a lot there for Jason and what’s-her-name.’
‘Only they’ll take stuff with them and what happens when Diane comes home and finds she hasn’t got a bed to sleep in?’
‘I’ll think about it. Hush up a minute, will you? I’m watching
The Voice
.’
Relations between Clarissa Hussain and Georgina Bray were far from good. Clarissa would stay until Christmas, or maybe until Christmas was over, she told Lynn Fancourt, but after that . . .
‘I’m supposed to go to Mrs Kilmartin but how can I go to school from where she lives? I’ve got to go to school, I’ve got my A levels next summer. Why can’t I live on my own? I can, I’m over sixteen, and in January I’ll be over eighteen. Why can’t I?’
Lynn was nonplussed. This wasn’t at all what she had anticipated when she had agreed to meet Clarissa in the cafe called Twice because it was situated at 200 Kingsmarkham High Street. In law, at her age, Clarissa could live on her own and where she liked, but Lynn sensed that she would be laying up trouble for herself (not to mention the girl) if she agreed with this proposition.
‘Well, I suppose you could, but where?’
‘In the Vicarage. Why not? It’s empty, no one’s there. Why shouldn’t I live there?’
Lynn was on firm ground there. It was a question to which she very well knew the answer. ‘Because the Church of England wouldn’t allow it. The Vicarage belongs to them and when anything happens to the – well, the incumbent, I’m afraid they take it back. If it’s a spouse and child, like in your mum’s case. Three months, I think, they allow, but I’d have to check that.’
‘That’s so unfair!’
She sounded – and looked, flushing deeply – so young. It wasn’t unfair, of course it wasn’t; it was, Lynn thought philosophically, just the way of the world. She hoped their coffee
Burden turned to Wexford and asked him if he had anything to contribute. ‘Not now,’ Wexford said, and when he found himself alone with his friend, ‘I see the apologetic racism is still going strong and the not so apologetic.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘Ahmed X.’
‘Are you saying I’m to be deferential to a rapist who was probably an illegal immigrant?’
Wexford’s smile turned into a burst of laughter. ‘Is there any coffee going in this place?’
‘Come upstairs with me and we’ll send for some.’
Burden sulked for a while, said when the coffee came, ‘There’s no pleasing you,’ and stirred two lumps of sugar into his cup. ‘Lynn’s talking to Clarissa now.’
‘Still half-term, is it?’
‘I suppose so. She’s going to ask her about her father. Ask her if she knows who he is. Lynn’s the best person for the job. I’m glad I haven’t got to do it.’
‘Me too,’ said Wexford, re-establishing their amicable relationship.
CHAPTER NINE
DIANE STOW’S HOMECOMING was no longer such a long way off. Fiona wanted to know what had happened to the furniture and equipment which had been in the house in Peck Road when Diane moved out of it. Or, more to the point, when Jeremy moved out of it about a year later and in with her.
‘We’ve got some of it here.’ Jeremy found the whole business profoundly boring. ‘That table over there and wasn’t there a microwave?’
‘There was,’ said Fiona, ‘but you put a tin plate in it and buggered the thing up.’
‘I left a lot there for Jason and what’s-her-name.’
‘Only they’ll take stuff with them and what happens when Diane comes home and finds she hasn’t got a bed to sleep in?’
‘I’ll think about it. Hush up a minute, will you? I’m watching
The Voice
.’
Relations between Clarissa Hussain and Georgina Bray were far from good. Clarissa would stay until Christmas, or maybe until Christmas was over, she told Lynn Fancourt, but after that . . .
‘I’m supposed to go to Mrs Kilmartin but how can I go to school from where she lives? I’ve got to go to school, I’ve got my A levels next summer. Why can’t I live on my own? I can, I’m over sixteen, and in January I’ll be over eighteen. Why can’t I?’
Lynn was nonplussed. This wasn’t at all what she had anticipated when she had agreed to meet Clarissa in the cafe called Twice because it was situated at 200 Kingsmarkham High Street. In law, at her age, Clarissa could live on her own and where she liked, but Lynn sensed that she would be laying up trouble for herself (not to mention the girl) if she agreed with this proposition.
‘Well, I suppose you could, but where?’
‘In the Vicarage. Why not? It’s empty, no one’s there. Why shouldn’t I live there?’
Lynn was on firm ground there. It was a question to which she very well knew the answer. ‘Because the Church of England wouldn’t allow it. The Vicarage belongs to them and when anything happens to the – well, the incumbent, I’m afraid they take it back. If it’s a spouse and child, like in your mum’s case. Three months, I think, they allow, but I’d have to check that.’
‘That’s so unfair!’
She sounded – and looked, flushing deeply – so young. It wasn’t unfair, of course it wasn’t; it was, Lynn thought philosophically, just the way of the world. She hoped their coffee
Similar Books
