Barclay said, ‘It wasn’t like that; I swear it wasn’t like that.’
Which was true, but I wanted her to dig herself in even deeper.
Never knowing when to shut up, she obliged me.
‘I …’ She paused and swallowed hard, tearfully brave. My fingers itched. ‘I went outside to check. I know it was against Dr Bairstow’s orders, but I had to know for myself. There … there wasn’t much of them left, but it was certainly them.’
She suddenly remembered she’d despatched Peterson after the explosion. ‘Peterson lay a little distance away. He’d been shot.’
She uttered these blatant lies without hesitation, knowing there was no way they could be disproved. No one ever went back to check.
Except me.
‘You’re telling me you saw four dead bodies?’ I let uncertainty bleed into my voice, just to draw her in a little further.
She lifted her chin and said clearly and without hesitation, ‘Yes. I saw four bodies. They were damaged, but recognisable.’
‘So you knew them?’
‘I did.’
‘These four dead bodies you saw – would these be the same four people standing behind you now?’
She didn’t move. A small, disbelieving smile crossed her face.
I said softly and with complete contempt, ‘You still don’t get it, do you? And that’s why you’ll never be one of us. We’re St. Mary’s. We never, ever, ever leave our people behind.’
And finally, she got it. She turned slowly. They stood quietly at the back of the Hall, headed by Chief Farrell. I had, like everyone else, always seen the gentle, likeable man, but I swear the look on his face chilled my blood.
In the silence, someone swore softly.
Helen rose shakily to her feet, hanging onto the back of a chair. ‘Peterson?’
He shouted ‘Helen!’ and started climbing over chairs and people to get to her. It broke the spell and people surged forward, laughing, cheering, and shouting. We’re a noisy bunch.
I remembered where I was and turned around to face Bitchface Barclay. She stared at the Chief, her mouth still open.
I said softly, ‘Hey!’ and she jerked her head around. Suddenly, we were face to face, our eyes only inches apart. I could feel the hatred coming off me in waves. For two pins, I could have ripped her head off there and then. The Hall was packed with shouting, cheering people, but for me, there was only her.
I watched a thousand emotions chase across her face. It took several efforts, but eventually, she got the words out.
‘You stole my life.’
In a million years, I hadn’t expected that.
‘All this.’ She jerked her head backwards, whether at Leon Farrell, the noisy horde behind her or St Mary’s in general, I never knew.
‘You took my life. I was the one with the golden future. I worked so hard … He would have seen me eventually. Seen what I could offer. All this – it should have been mine. It could have been mine.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘One day it will be.’ Spit flew from her lips. She quivered with suppressed fury. ‘One day, Maxwell, I will finish you. I swear it.’
I should have let it go but I thought of what I’d lost already and something, somewhere, demanded revenge.
My fist, travelling at the combined speeds of rage and retribution impacted hard on her nose. There was a glorious cracking and squelching noise and a great big gout of blood darkened the front of her beautifully pressed uniform. She went over backwards, fell onto her stupid lectern, and the whole lot crashed to the floor.
I looked up at the gallery. ‘Was that how you wanted it done, sir?’
The Boss came slowly down the stairway, to huge applause. Such a showman! Standing beside me, we both surveyed the wreckage of the lectern, which had bits of Izzie Barclay sticking out of it.
‘Very satisfactory,’ he said, and went to speak to Mrs Partridge.
I was joined by the Chief. He stood looking down into my eyes, smiling his slow smile. We had one of those conversations where you don’t need words.
After a while, he said, ‘Broke your hand, didn’t you?’
‘Yep.’
‘Forgot to un-tuck your thumb?’
‘Yep.’
‘Hurts like buggery?’
‘Yep.’
The Boss cleared his throat. ‘To clear up a few minor points: I am Dr Edward Bairstow and I am the Director of St Mary’s Institute of Historical Research.’
His unit cheered. He bent over the vaguely stirring Barclay.
‘Madam, you are relieved!’