Is it really possible that inside is the body of the keen-minded barrister I once admired so much? Who made such an impression on me when I was still so young and naive? The same man who had been seeing Carla’s mother on the quiet?
I’m reminded acutely of the latter when Tony’s widow greets us graciously at the reception afterwards. It is being held in the hall adjoining the church. She is sitting in her wheelchair, back straight and head held high like it’s a throne. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she says, as if welcoming me to a cocktail party. She has tiny features, I note. Her complexion is pale and translucent, the kind one might see in an ‘over sixty and still beautiful’ magazine feature. On her knees is a fuchsia silk shawl; the invitation had clearly said ‘No black’. I, myself, am wearing a dove-grey designer dress suit with wide white lapels.
A young woman is leaning over her protectively. I presume she is Tony’s daughter – there’s definitely something about the nose.
‘Go and look after our guests, darling, would you?’ Then Tony’s widow turns her face to mine.
‘I’m Lily Macdonald,’ I say. ‘I used to work with your husband.’
‘I know. He told me all about you.’ Her eyes go hard. She looks around. People are keeping a respectful distance. Then she leans towards me. ‘I am aware my husband had his indiscretions,’ she whispers. ‘He told me about that Italian woman on his deathbed. She wasn’t the first, you know. But he stayed with me. And that’s what counts. I’ll thank you to keep any gossip to yourself.’
I am shocked by her directness. It’s as if she has been waiting for a meeting with me so she can fire this warning shot.
‘Do you know, he did everything for me,’ she continues. She holds out her hands and I see that the fingers are tightly closed like claws. ‘When I could no longer cut up my food, he did it for me.’ She leans forward again. There’s a smile on her lips, but her eyes are icy. ‘He dressed me every morning. He ran my bath every night and helped me into it.’
I am taken back through time. To the visitors’ room and Joe Thomas, who liked to run Sarah’s bath. I remember thinking at the time that Tony Gordon wasn’t the sort to do the same for his wife.
How wrong can you be?
‘I understand,’ I say. And as the words come out of my mouth, I realize it’s true. Marriages go through all kinds of ups and downs. But you can make them work. Just look at Ed and me.
‘Thank you.’ Then her head nods and the daughter appears, as if silently summoned to the chair. Tony’s widow is off, mingling with other guests. Thanking them graciously. Wondering, perhaps, how many others know of her late husband’s hidden life. Yet, at the same time, believing utterly in her own version of Tony’s loyalty.
How can we deceive ourselves so easily?
I’m leaving the church when I bump into a tall man in a dark suit who’s hovering on the pavement. A cold chill passes through me. The brown-black eyes. His hair is shorter than last time. It’s cut in an almost military fashion.
‘What are you doing here?’ My voice is scratchy with fear.
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’
Joe Thomas’s voice bears a slightly rougher edge than the highly polished accents around us. ‘Tony and I were good friends.’
I make to move away from him, but the crowds are too thick. The whole world, it seems, has been to pay its respects. ‘He was your barrister. He got you off for something you should have stayed inside for. That was all.’
‘Please.’ He lays a hand on my arm. ‘Not so loud.’
I try to shake him off, but the hand is tightening around my arm. ‘How dare you,’ I splutter.
Joe is grinning. The same way he grinned after the case was over when we emerged from the court to the flash of cameras and journalists begging for quotes. ‘Dare is one of those words that can be taken two ways, isn’t it? You can have a brave kind of dare. Or an offensive sort of dare.’
Already I’ve had enough. ‘Stop playing word games with me.’
‘Just want to get a few points straight, that’s all. It’s for your benefit, Lily. I’m sure you don’t want that lot in there to know.’
‘Know what?’
We’re close to the edge of the pavement now. Traffic is rushing past. I want to run away. Hide.
‘I helped Tony a lot after my release. It was my way of saying thank you.’
‘I don’t understand.’
But I do. At least I am beginning to.
‘I gave Tony extra information for his cases.’ He taps the side of his nose. ‘It’s one of the reasons why he tried so hard to get me off. Told him I could help in the future, you see. And I did. Picked up quite a lot when I was inside. Turned out that some of those things were useful.’
‘What kinds of things?’
‘I can’t go into details, Lily, you must know that. And don’t go getting all high and mighty. You’ve benefited too.’
‘Me?’
‘Come on. What about the tip-off over the lorry driver?’
I go cold. We hadn’t been sure we were going to get the poor man off until that envelope arrived anonymously. No postmark. Just the name of the dealer who had supplied drugs to the teenager. Crucial evidence which helped me win. I told myself that anonymous tip-offs happened every now and then. It could be someone completely unrelated to my past.
‘How did you know what cases I was working on?’
He taps the side of his nose again. ‘Maybe I’ve been dating one of the secretaries.’
‘Which one?’
He seems to misinterpret my question for interest. ‘Does it matter?’ he shrugs. ‘She means nothing. It’s just a means to an end.’
‘But you’ve been abroad.’
‘Not all the time.’
I stare at Joe. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because you got me off. So I want to help you too. Express my thanks. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Heard you were having problems with that case, so I thought I’d try and give you a helping hand.’
‘How did you hear?’
‘I won’t say.’
Not ‘can’t’. But won’t.
‘And there’s Tom, too, of course,’ he continues. ‘If I’m helping you, it means I’m helping him as well.’
‘I don’t want your help.’ But even as I speak, I feel the same crawling sensation from the past. That pull – that magnetic pull towards a man I despise, yet at the same time feel inexplicably drawn to.
‘I think you do.’ His face is so close that we are almost touching. ‘Admit it. We have something between us, Lily.’
I can smell his breath on mine. I can smell his skin. It reeks of danger, but I can’t move.
‘I need to know, Lily.’ His mouth is hovering over mine. ‘How is our son?’
Our son?
‘I’ve already told you,’ I say, pulling away. ‘He’s not yours.’
Then I’m off. Walking as fast as I can in my heels. Down the street. Past the supermarket and the cinema where ordinary lives are being lived. Putting as much distance between Joe Thomas and me as possible. Before I do something stupid.
Again.
36
Carla
OBITUARIES
Barrister Tony Gordon passed away on 22 November after a long brave fight. Loyal and doting father and husband.
Darling Mamma,
There is something I have to tell you.
No, that wasn’t right.
Dearest Mamma,
I need to tell you that I found Larry …
No. That might raise her hopes.
Dearest Mamma,
I have some news that you might find distressing.
At least that might warn her gently.
Tony Gordon – whom we knew as Larry – has died. I went to see him before he passed away and gave him your message. He was not worthy of you, Mamma. God has made him pay through an early death. Now we can put him out of our lives.
Tucking the obituary clip from the newspaper inside the envelope and sealing it hastily, Carla dropped it into the post box on the way to the church.
‘The funeral is next Wednesday if you would like to come,’ Lily had said when she’d called.
‘Thank you, but no,’ she’d replied, and she’d meant it. But at the last moment, her lecture on tort had been cancelled. There was just time to get to the service and back for her next tutorial. It had seemed almost like fate.