House of Correction

by French, Nicci

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ said Tabitha, trying to edge away. ‘Really, good luck. You deserve it.’

  ‘I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I wasn’t more help.’

  ‘You were more help than most people.’

  ‘And you’re really doing this?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Defending yourself.’

  ‘It’s starting to look like it.’

  ‘You’re sure it’s a good idea?’

  ‘I’m not at all sure. I wasn’t able to convince my lawyer and now I think I can convince a jury. Sounds crazy.’ She put a hand on Ingrid’s arm. ‘I’ve really got to go but, as I said, good luck.’ Then she thought of something. ‘I haven’t got many friends out in the world. If you give me your number, maybe I can give you a call.’

  ‘Anything,’ said Ingrid, putting her hand on Tabitha’s. It was a gesture that felt like pity and Tabitha didn’t like it at all.

  * * *

  ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ said Tabitha in a rush, sitting opposite Laura. She expected Laura either to say that it didn’t matter or to issue some kind of rebuke but she didn’t reply at all. She looked paler than when Tabitha had last seen her.

  ‘I told people I was coming to see you,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to keep it a secret.’

  ‘Of course. I’m glad you’ve come.’

  ‘I told Luke and he didn’t seem to approve but then he doesn’t approve of anything I do, and I told Dr Mallon at the funeral.’ She paused. ‘I suppose I should say that we finally had the funeral.’

  ‘The funeral,’ said Tabitha. ‘Oh. I didn’t know. How was it?’

  ‘It was good, in a way. That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?’ As Laura spoke, she was looking past Tabitha, as if her attention was on someone standing behind her. ‘There’s so much to prepare and it’s all a bit complicated and it becomes easier to talk to people because you’re talking about arrangements, not about Stuart dying. The day itself was quite relaxing. It was nice listening to the hymns.’

  ‘Did the police come?’

  ‘Just DCI Dudley.’

  ‘The one in a suit with the grim face.’

  ‘He does wear nice suits, yes. I wouldn’t like to comment on his face. He’s been kind to me.’

  What had Luke said about him? Yes, that he’d thought the case was a slam dunk.

  ‘Were there lots of tributes?’ she asked.

  ‘The vicar said a few words.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Oh you know, the usual sort of thing. She said he was the heart and soul of the village. She said he kept people on their toes. Including her.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘As you know, Stuart preferred his services a little more traditional.’

  ‘You told me about his letter to the bishop.’

  ‘There you are then.’

  ‘What else did Mel say?’

  ‘Just the usual things that people trot out. She said he liked to get things done and that he didn’t suffer fools gladly.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before and I’m never quite sure what it means. It sounds like being angry with people who don’t deserve it.’

  ‘I don’t think he was exactly angry.’

  ‘So what was he?’

  ‘I think he saw people’s weaknesses. He had a sort of sixth sense about them.’

  ‘Did he see your weaknesses?’

  ‘Mine aren’t so hard to see,’ said Laura. ‘You don’t need a sixth sense for them.’

  ‘Did he suffer you gladly?’

  When Laura answered, it sounded like she was talking to herself. ‘Marriage is a funny thing. It’s strange what you do to the person you’re supposed to love.’

  Tabitha wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t used to people confiding in her like this. Let alone this person.

  ‘I suppose everyone in the village was there.’

  ‘Not everyone.’

  Tabitha wanted to know who had been there and, especially, who hadn’t been there, but she couldn’t think of a decent way of phrasing it.

  ‘So Dr Mallon was there.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ said Tabitha. ‘Having your doctor.’

  ‘He’s not actually our doctor. Not anymore.’

  ‘You mean he was?’

  ‘It’s not important.’

  ‘Another letter of complaint?’ said Tabitha.

  ‘It actually makes him easier to talk to, him not being our doctor any longer. I just talk to him like a friend.’

  ‘Like telling him you’re coming to see me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘I think he was surprised. He asked me why I wanted to.’

  ‘Did he try to persuade you not to?’

  ‘No. He was just concerned that I was doing it for the right reasons.’

  ‘What would the wrong reasons be?’

  Laura thought for a moment. ‘If I had the idea that meeting you would be some kind of comfort.’

  ‘Is it?’

  When Laura replied, it was pensively, as if she was asking herself the question, not Tabitha. ‘Why would looking into the face of the woman who’s been charged with my husband’s murder be a comfort?’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be a comfort to know who killed your husband and why? If I had killed Stuart and if I confessed to you, then you could start to make sense of everything. But I didn’t.’

  ‘I’m supposed to believe you?’

  ‘The problem is that this prison is full of people claiming that they’re innocent and that they’re hard done by. The further problem is that just a few of them are telling the truth.’

  ‘Did your lawyer believe you?’

  ‘I don’t think lawyers are meant to say that. My lawyer told me that she thought the case against me was very strong. She thought I should plead guilty and talk about the extenuating circumstances.’

  ‘Being abused?’

  ‘That’s what she had in mind.’

  Laura nodded. ‘Because you were abused.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tabitha after a shocked pause. ‘Are you saying that as a question?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Last time we met,’ said Tabitha, picking her words carefully. ‘You seemed certain that I was responsible for what had happened at school. You said I had pursued him and he had succumbed in a moment of weakness.’

  ‘I know what I said.’

  ‘So why have you changed your mind?’

  ‘I’m not stupid, you know.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Describe yourself at fifteen.’

  The two women were staring at each other now; it was as if the space between them had opened up so that for this moment only Tabitha felt that she could say anything, ask anything, and Laura would listen and would answer.

  ‘I was small,’ she said and as she spoke she could see herself then, with her short dark hair and a brace on her teeth, her head buried in books because that was where she was safe and the world was welcoming. ‘Thin. Flat-chested. Plain. Unpopular. Unhappy. Awkward. Quite clever. Angry.’

  Laura nodded as if everything she had said made perfect sense. ‘Why didn’t you say no?’

  ‘How do you know I didn’t?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I can’t explain it to myself. I was fifteen, he was my teacher. I didn’t know.’

  ‘What didn’t you know?’

  ‘I didn’t know anything.’

  ‘It was more than once, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How many times?’

  ‘Eleven, maybe twelve.’

  ‘And you never told anyone.’

  ‘No.’ Tabitha looked away at last, wrinkling her brow. ‘Who would I have told?’

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Tabitha said: ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  ‘What question?’


  ‘How was Luke’s relationship with Stuart?’

  ‘You know. He came to see you.’

  ‘I’d like your view of it.’

  ‘Stuart could be a difficult father. But then Luke could be a difficult son.’

  ‘How did that show itself?’

  ‘In disagreeing about things. Luke felt that he hadn’t measured up to his father’s expectations.’

  ‘Why did he feel that?’

  ‘Because he hadn’t.’

  ‘So he was angry with his father?’

  ‘We lived in a house of anger,’ said Laura.

  ‘Why did he come back then?’

  ‘It was Christmas. Family time,’ she added, apparently without irony.

  ‘Yeah, but he hadn’t come back for other Christmases, had he?’

  ‘Who said that?’

  ‘People in the village. Before all this happened.’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with anything.’

  ‘It just seems a bit of a coincidence that Stuart’s estranged son returns on the same day that Stuart gets killed.’

  Laura’s face became tight with anger. ‘You’re talking about my son.’

  ‘I’m just asking.’

  ‘Is that your plan? Are you going to throw mud at people? Create confusion?’

  ‘That’s what lawyers do. I just want to find the truth.’

  ‘All right, then. I’ll answer the question you can’t quite bring yourself to ask. Luke would not be capable of killing his father and hiding the body and then lying about it. He couldn’t do it.’

  ‘That’s a strange way of putting it.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You’re not saying he didn’t do it. You’re saying he’s not capable of it, even if he wanted to.’

  ‘It amounts to the same thing.’ She leaned forward. ‘The only thing in the world I am certain of is that Luke didn’t kill his father.’

  ‘Because you’re his mother?’

  ‘I know.’

  They both sat back in their chairs and Tabitha could feel the tension in Laura gradually lessen. She tried to think of anything else she should ask. ‘Are you coming to the trial?’

  ‘I’m giving evidence,’ said Laura.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m allowed to tell you.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a problem. As far as I know, the prosecution have to tell me their case. If I start threatening you or trying to persuade you not to say what you know, then it starts being a problem.’

  ‘Are you going to threaten me?’

  ‘You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want.’

  ‘I told them about how he reacted when you came back to Okeham,’ Laura said in an even tone.

  ‘How did he react?’

  ‘He was very shaken. He said he’d seen a ghost. Then he insisted we put the house on the market.’

  ‘Didn’t that seem a bit drastic?’

  ‘He was scared. I’d never seen him scared like that before.’

  Tabitha sat in silence for a few seconds. She couldn’t imagine Stuart being scared of her. Disregard or casual contempt seemed more likely.

  ‘What did you think about it all?’

  ‘I forgave him long ago,’ Laura said, in a voice entirely lacking in emotion.

  She stood up, preparing to leave, and Tabitha stood as well. She had remembered something, something she needed to ask.

  ‘I saw the CCTV footage of the village, from the day of the murder. At half past ten, Stuart drove out of the village. As you know, there was a tree across the road and he had to come back. Do you know where he was going?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I looked at the prosecution evidence. There was nothing in his diary for that time. Did he have some regular place he went on that day?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Does it seem strange to you?’

  ‘My only thought is that if that tree hadn’t fallen over, he might still be alive.’

  ‘That’s true. What a strange thought.’

  ‘And soon there’s the trial.’

  ‘Yes, there’s that.’

  As they were starting to say goodbye, Tabitha thought of one last thing and wondered whether she ought to say it aloud and then said it anyway.

  ‘You never said why you came to see me.’

  ‘I’m not sure I know.’

  ‘I think I know. I think that you believe me when I say I didn’t kill your husband.’

  ‘I’m not sure what I believe,’ said Laura and turned away, making her way slowly through the tables of the visiting room.

  As Tabitha watched her go, she thought of what she really hadn’t dared say aloud. Laura may have believed that Tabitha was innocent, yes; or she may have believed that she was guilty and didn’t care.

  Or maybe she knew something about her husband’s murder. Or maybe she feared something.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Tabitha read through her timeline again and again until she knew it by heart. It was almost restful. She could lie on her bunk, close her eyes and play the film in her head, moving outside into the cold blustery Devon day and going inside into the shop. As she played it over and over, it developed its own rhythm, like a piece of music, the school bus coming in the morning and returning in the afternoon, the delivery van coming at 9.40am and then leaving at 3.35pm. Mel and Luke and Dr Mallon and Shona and the rest of them moving this way and that.

  Tabitha created different scenarios in her head. Laura had been conveniently absent during the day, called away by a mysterious client who hadn’t turned up. Had the police traced him yet? She needed to check. But then Laura couldn’t have known about the fallen tree. That couldn’t have been part of any plan.

  Always she came back to the video. The video. It was almost nothing and yet it was everything. There was a simple fact and she repeated it to herself. Nobody could reach Stuart’s house – or indeed her house – without being seen by the CCTV camera. Unless they flew in, or arrived by balloon or boat. There were of course two exceptions to that. Luke, who had been there at the very end of the time when it was possible. And herself, who had been there pretty much throughout. Which was more bad news.

  She considered her meeting with Laura. If Laura hadn’t definitely been out of the village, Tabitha would have started to suspect her. Then she thought of someone else, someone else she needed to see. It was a slow process. Finding someone’s number, phoning them and arranging a date took days. But perhaps in this particular case there was a quicker way.

  Unfortunately, Mary Guy was the warder on duty. Tabitha walked up to her.

  ‘I’ve got a pain in my ear,’ she said. ‘It might be an infection.’

  Mary Guy seemed indifferent. ‘You know where to go.’

  ‘I’m a remand prisoner. I’ve a right to see my own doctor.’

  The warder looked puzzled and then she looked angry. ‘What are you talking about? It’s only your ear. Just go and see the nurse.’

  ‘You can check if you want. I’ve got the right to be seen by my doctor. But if you want to tell me that you aren’t going to do it and want me to make an official complaint, then just tell me.’

  Guy looked to the left and to the right, checking that nobody could hear her. Then she leaned forward and spoke in little more than a whisper.

  ‘You’d better get off in this trial of yours. Because if you’re convicted, you’ve got a lot of people’s backs up in a very short period of time. If you’re convicted…’ She paused. ‘Oh fuck, let’s stop pissing about. When you’re convicted, you’re going to find out what people can do to get their own back over five years, ten years, fifteen years.’

  Tabitha reached into the pocket of her jeans and produced a torn-off piece of paper.

  ‘That’s his name,’ she said. ‘Tell him it’s an ear infection. Tell him it could be meningitis.’

  Guy snatched the piece of paper. ‘Fuck you,’ she said.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  ‘I
can’t see anything,’ said Dr Mallon. ‘No signs of infection. No discolouration.’

  They weren’t in the visitors’ room. Tabitha had been led to an examination room in the medical wing. There was none of the usual paraphernalia of a hospital. No posters on the wall. No objects that could be picked up and used as a weapon. There were two battered chairs and an examination couch. Mallon himself was dressed in a faded grey jacket and a navy blue shirt and dark trousers.

  ‘Sod’s law, isn’t it?’ said Tabitha. ‘The moment you actually see the doctor, you’re suddenly better.’

  ‘Well, I can confirm that you don’t have meningitis,’ said Mallon. ‘That was your self-diagnosis, wasn’t it? Meningitis because your ear ached? That’s what they said on the phone.’

  ‘I mentioned it as something I was worried about.’

  ‘She didn’t speak very warmly of you.’

  ‘We didn’t get off to a good start,’ said Tabitha. ‘And then it continued not being good.’

  ‘She said she thought you were malingering. Malingering.’ He said it again with a smile. ‘I haven’t heard that word since I was at school. I suppose the mention of meningitis could be a ploy. It more or less forces a doctor to actually examine you, just to make sure.’

  ‘The problem with being in here,’ said Tabitha, ‘is that you feel ill almost all the time, one way or another.’

  ‘When she rang, I could have said something else.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That I’m not actually your doctor.’

  ‘You’re my doctor in a way. You’re the doctor who lives in the village where I live.’

  ‘You’d been there for a few weeks. You’re not registered with me. But it doesn’t matter. I’m here now. What do you want? Apart from examining your uninfected ear?’

  Tabitha began a conversation she was getting used to, in which she told Mallon that she was conducting her own defence and it became gradually clear that he knew almost all of it already. What else did they have to talk about in Okeham? Then she told him about the CCTV footage.

  ‘I saw you on it,’ she said.

  He looked faintly surprised. ‘What, me?’

  ‘Yes, you. You think you got away from it all when you moved to Okeham, but we’ve got our own little piece of the surveillance society in front of the village shop.’