A Sense of Guilt

by Andrea Newman

  ‘Oh darling,’ sh'e said, hugging him furiously, ‘I knew you’d come back – only I wasn’t sure.’

  Then she noticed he wasn’t returning the hug but standing there unmoving in her embrace. ‘I think I’ve killed him,’ he said in a conversational tone.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s why I came to you. I couldn’t think where else to go. Now we’re both murderers.’

  He sounded quite pleased with himself. He walked ahead of her into the living-room and poured himself whisky. She followed him.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Felix, I’ve killed him. At least I hope I have.’

  Helen considered this. It was what she thought she had heard. ‘Good,’ she said after a moment.

  Richard finished his drink and refilled his glass. She watched him.

  ‘What did you do?’ she asked, trying to sound calm.

  ‘I’ve been wandering around, then driving a bit, then just sitting in the car. I saw a copper watching me, so I had to move. I didn’t know what to do. If I’d stayed I might have hit him again. Or I might have had to help him and that would have been worse. Much worse.’ He sat down with an air of relief and sipped his drink, even smiled at her. ‘I knew you’d understand.’

  Helen felt panic. He sounded so matter of fact. She said carefully, ‘Darling, could you tell me exactly what you did?’

  He lay spreadeagled in the chair like someone at last relaxing after a long journey. ‘I turned out all the lights before I left. I thought that way there was less chance of anyone finding him too soon. I thought the longer he just lay there, the more likely he’d be dead. And I really want him to be dead.’

  ‘Could you go right back to the beginning?’ Helen said. She wanted a drink herself but dared not have one. She needed a clear head more. ‘Just tell me what happened.’

  Richard frowned. ‘I think he deserves to die, don’t you? After what he did.’ His eyes closed and he looked as if, having shed all his responsibilities, he might be about to fall asleep. Helen wondered if he had actually gone mad. She was still thinking how wonderful it would be if Felix was actually dead, only not if Richard had killed him.

  ‘I’m going to have to call an ambulance,’ she said angrily. All her instincts cried out that this was unfair.

  ‘Don’t,’ Richard said without opening his eyes. ‘They might save him.’

  ‘Look, I’d love him to be dead, but not if it means you being arrested for murder. Come on, be sensible. We’ve got to do something. Anyway, what about Elizabeth, won’t she be worried? He doesn’t usually stay out all night, does he?’ Still no response. ‘Come on, Richard, you’ll have to give me his address. I won’t mention any names, just tell them there’s been an accident and ring off, OK?’

  ‘He’s such a bastard,’ Richard suddenly said in a different voice, a faint voice full of pain.

  ‘I know. Where’s the flat?’

  * * *

  Elizabeth woke when the television went off and Felix still wasn’t home. She was very alarmed. He never stayed out late without letting her know; it was one of the basic courtesies underpinning their marriage. Then she heard a car drawing up outside. She knew it wasn’t his car but she rushed to the door all the same. Perhaps he had drunk too much and Richard had given him a lift. She saw Helen getting out of her van.

  ‘I didn’t like to ring you this late in case you were asleep,’ Helen said, but in a casual way, as if it were the middle of the afternoon, ‘so I thought I’d come and see if the lights were on.’ Elizabeth was very frightened.

  ‘Felix hasn’t come home. Oh God, it’s bad news, isn’t it? Something’s happened to him.’

  Helen came up to her with a reassuring smile that terrified her still more. ‘Don’t panic, it’s all right.’

  ‘What is it? Tell me.’

  ‘He and Richard had a bit of a row and Richard hit him. But don’t worry, I’ve called an ambulance.’

  ‘Ambulance?’ She felt stupid repeating Helen’s words. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Is he badly hurt? What d’you mean Richard hit him?’

  ‘Just keep calm,’ Helen said with her hand on Elizabeth’s arm, guiding her back into the house.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Elizabeth said, feeling like a guest in her own hall. ‘What happened? Where is he? I’ve got to be with him.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not serious,’ said Helen with maddening calm.

  ‘You said ambulance.’

  ‘Just to be on the safe side. He bashed his head on the edge of the fireplace.’

  ‘But that’s serious. When did all this happen? Where were they?’

  ‘Where Felix works.’

  ‘I don’t know where that is.’ She started to cry, thinking how little she knew about his life. ‘I’ve never known.’

  ‘Come and sit down,’ said Helen like a nurse, leading her into her own living-room. ‘It’s all right, he’ll be fine. Just a little bump on the head, that’s all.’

  ‘Have you seen him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how can you tell?’ She was suddenly frantic. What if Felix died? She couldn’t live without Felix. ‘Oh God, I want to be with him.’

  ‘I’ll ring up and find out where he is,’ said Helen, soothing, ‘and I’ll drive you there, OK?’

  Elizabeth watched her, busy with the directory, taking charge. Terrible suspicions began to stir in her mind. ‘Why did Richard hit him? I knew they were having dinner together, Felix rang me earlier. I didn’t worry, I’ve been asleep. You know something, don’t you?’

  Helen didn’t answer. She was talking to someone else on the phone. She sounded very bossy, Elizabeth thought. ‘Have you got Felix Cramer in Casualty? He should have come in just now by ambulance and his wife would like to visit him. Could you check for me? I’ll hold.’

  Elizabeth said, ‘What’s all this about? There’s something you’re not telling me. First Richard leaves you and now he hurts Felix… what’s going on? You’re not telling me the truth.’

  ‘I see. Thank you very much.’ Helen put down the phone. ‘He’s just been admitted. Come on, I’ll drive you.’

  ‘You should have let me speak to them.’

  ‘But they don’t know anything yet.’

  Sudden icy certainty. ‘Have you been having an affair with Felix?’

  ‘No, I certainly haven’t.’

  They stood looking at each other, not moving.

  ‘I don’t want you to drive me,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I’ll drive myself.’

  * * *

  When Helen got home she found Richard had gone. She was disappointed rather than surprised, and almost too tired to care. She poured herself the drink she had wanted earlier and took it upstairs, faintly hoping Richard might have gone peacefully to bed, but knowing really that he hadn’t. Well, she had done her best. If he preferred to roam the streets or drive around all night, that was his choice. She ran herself a bath, thinking it might relax her and help her sleep. She felt slimy all over from Elizabeth’s accusation. An affair with Felix was the most disgusting thing she could imagine, though it was easy to see why Elizabeth should jump to that conclusion. In fact it seemed almost wilfully perverse of her not to suspect Sally by now: it could only be a matter of time. Perhaps tonight’s accusation had been the last bit of self-protective fantasy.

  In the bath she managed to make her mind a blank for a while, then the nightmare returned. She longed for Felix to die but she had to erase that longing, since it meant Richard going to jail. Even an injury could have serious consequences and her own discretion was irrelevant: if Richard didn’t go to the police, Elizabeth would almost certainly report him.

  Much to her surprise she fell asleep, the ultimate cop-out, she thought, and woke half an hour later in lukewarm water. She got out of the bath in a rage, feeling disorientated, and went to bed wrapped in a damp bathrobe. She punched the pillow several times before she fell asleep and wasn’t sure if the blows were intende
d for Felix or Richard.

  * * *

  Elizabeth stared at the doctor, willing him to give her good news.

  ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said.

  ‘There must be something you can do.’

  ‘We’re doing everything we can, but it’s early days yet. Look, I realise you’ve had a terrible shock, but I won’t be helping you if I pretend it’s not serious. He’s got a very nasty head injury and he could be unconscious for quite some time.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. Could be hours, could be days.’

  ‘Days…’

  He looked too young for such a responsible job, and he also looked very tired, as if he should be tucked up in bed instead of answering her questions. How could Felix’s life depend on this exhausted well-meaning young man?

  ‘On the other hand,’ he added with an encouraging smile, ‘he might come round any minute. Is he a heavy drinker?’

  She was shocked at the sudden question. It sounded more like an accusation, as if Felix had deliberately made things worse for himself.

  ‘No. Well, it depends.’ She thought how insulted Felix would have been. ‘I suppose we both drink a lot of wine, yes. I never really thought of it like that.’ To be honest, she couldn’t imagine how she and Felix would get through life without alcohol, whether to dull the pain or lift the spirits or simply as a pleasant diversion, but she was aware this wasn’t a fashionable view nowadays. It seemed very unfair. Your best friend deals you a heavy blow on the head and you are accused of heavy drinking, like a victim of theft being blamed for carrying money. Doctors had done their best to eliminate smoking, encourage exercise and dieting, and now they were trying to ban alcohol. What did this young man do in his spare time? Why was she suddenly dependent on a naive child for news of her husband? She lit a cigarette rather aggressively, thinking how tolerant Felix was, how he had never tried to cure her of her bad habits. Tears came in her eyes. She really didn’t want to live without Felix.

  ‘He seems to have had quite a bit tonight, which doesn’t help. We’ll know more when we’ve done a scan. Why don’t you come back in the morning? Have a quick look at him now and then go home and get some rest.’

  ‘He’s not… in any real danger, is he?’

  ‘Frankly, it could go either way. But at the moment he’s stable and we’ve got him on half-hourly observation. If there was any immediate danger I’d tell you, of course, and you could stay. We’ll phone you at once if there’s any change.’

  It was no good. He meant well but he couldn’t or wouldn’t be reassuring. She was terrified.

  ‘Can I see him now?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He summoned a nurse. She thought she detected relief that the interview was over. ‘Mrs Cramer would like to see her husband now.’

  ‘Would you come this way, Mrs Cramer.’ The nurse was another child, of course. The entire health service was in the hands of exhausted children. Felix would be furious to wake up and find himself here; she should have arranged at once for a private clinic. Why else did he pay so much insurance? But it had all happened too fast.

  She followed the nurse down the corridor.

  * * *

  When Richard left the house he went straight to the police. He felt quite peaceful about giving himself up; in fact the whole experience was remote, as if it were happening to someone else. He thought he might have slept for a while after Helen went out, because he seemed to be in a different frame of mind on his way to the station and he was not sure when the change had occurred. He remembered desperately wanting Felix to be dead, remembered experiencing hatred so violent that it seemed to burn his skin from the inside, but now that was all gone and a feeling of shame and disbelief had taken its place. He had done wrong and he must be punished: that was the only way to restore sanity to his world.

  He had trouble making the duty officer take him seriously at first. They knew each other and perhaps he thought Richard was joking, or too calm to have done what he said. But Richard persevered and was allowed to make a statement. Other officers took charge of him and seemed to go out of their way to do everything correctly, by the book.

  ‘Will you read over these notes, Mr Morgan, and sign them as a true record of this interview?’

  He tried his best, but his brain roamed round the letters like snakes and ladders without seeing them as words. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t seem to take it all in.’

  ‘Just initial your replies if they’re correct and sign at the bottom of each page.’

  That was a relief. He could manage that, although he had to think a moment to remember what his initials were. At least it was easier than reading. ‘Oh yes, of course. I ought to know the routine by heart. Funny. I never thought this could happen to me.’

  One of the officers peered at him with a worried expression on his face. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to see a solicitor, sir? You know you have the right to do that.’

  ‘I just want to go to sleep.’ Now that the statement was made he was aware of feeling immense exhaustion that was almost a luxury, like putting down a heavy suitcase or reaching the end of a long overnight journey in some foreign country. He was entitled to sleep now: he had earned it. A solicitor would want him to talk, because they always did.

  But the officer persisted. ‘D’you want anyone informed of your whereabouts?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Not even your wife?’

  He thought about it, but it seemed complicated. Why did they have to ask him such difficult questions when he was so tired?

  ‘I don’t think I’ve got a wife. Or maybe I’ve got two. Only they’re both ex. In a way. I’m not really sure.’

  ‘Then how about letting somebody know at the office?’ Now they were being absurd. ‘I’d like to vanish off the face of the earth, if you really want to know.’ He looked at his neat initialling: RM over and over again. It looked much more solid than he felt. He handed back the statement. ‘There. I’m sure that’s all in order.’

  * * *

  She stayed with Felix as long as they would let her. He looked very ill, his skin drained of colour. There was a dressing on his head and he was attached to a drip. She was very frightened, but the sight of him made her instantly calm, so that she could be useful. She held his hand and kissed it and talked to him in a low voice so as not to disturb others in the ward. She remembered reading that unconscious people could hear what was said to them even though they couldn’t respond, and hearing it could help them get better. She told him she was there and she loved him and she would stay as long as she could and come back the next day. She told him this over and over again like a litany. At the same time she was aware of thinking that if there was any question of brain damage Felix would not actually want to live and in that case she should not will him to survive. She would have to let him go, no matter what it cost her. She wondered if this thought, too, could reach him, if he could read her mind.

  A nurse brought her a cup of tea and this simple act of kindness brought tears to her eyes.

  ‘Better not stay too long,’ the nurse said. ‘There’s nothing you can do and you’ll need your sleep.’ She took Felix’s pulse.

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘There’s no change.’

  ‘Just a little bit longer,’ Elizabeth begged.

  The nurse went away. Elizabeth drank her tea, holding the cup in one hand and Felix’s hand in the other. It seemed important not to let go of him. She didn’t feel tired at all; she could have sat there all night pouring her strength into him, telling him she loved him. It seemed the only fact of importance left in the world.

  * * *

  Richard was surprised and annoyed the next day to be summoned to see John Hartley. Apparently Helen had rung Marion, and asked her to check with the police. Now Marion had called in her husband to assist. It seemed an amazing impertinence to Richard: a whole chain of interference down the line, spoiling his day. He had slept wonderfully well. He des
erved the simplicity and discomfort of his cell. He felt safe having decisions made for him and it seemed appropriate that he should know at first hand how his clients must feel. Above all, he did not want to be disturbed.

  ‘Come on, Richard,’ John Hartley said, ‘why don’t you tell me what this is all about?’ He smiled at Richard in a confident way, as if they were friends or colleagues. Richard felt doubly offended.

  ‘I told them I don’t want a solicitor.’

  ‘Well, tough. You’ve got to have someone to represent you in court. They’ll have to charge you in thirty-six hours or let you go, and they’re not going to let you go while your chum is still unconscious.’

  ‘Is he going to die?’ Perhaps John had information. It would be worth seeing him if he had.

  ‘Who knows? If he does, they can do you for manslaughter.’

  ‘Why not? I wanted to kill him.’ In his heart he would always be a murderer, whether Felix recovered or not. It was terrible to live with that knowledge. He was no longer the person he had always imagined he was.

  ‘I hope you haven’t said that to them. Have you? Look, this is serious. At the very least they’ve got you for assault with intent.’

  ‘It was very kind of Marion to send you along.’ How strange lawyers were, growing fat and prosperous on other people’s pain. John looked fairly typical, Richard thought, grey and heavy and pleased with himself. They had met a few times in the past; he was dimly familiar.

  ‘She didn’t send me, she asked me to come, and I had to rearrange my day and put off several other clients to fit you in. It’s extremely inconvenient, so I hope you’re going to be cooperative.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have bothered,’ Richard said. ‘I’m guilty. Whatever they charge me with.’ How angry John sounded; how eager he was to hear gratitude.

  ‘If you go on like this, they’ll probably make you see a shrink. I hope he gets more out of you than I have. Look, let’s start again. Just tell me exactly what happened.’