The Witness

by Naomi Kryskle

  After-dinner coffee came in demitasse cups with a small square of fudge on the saucer.

  “You had to have people in,” Joanne continued, “no matter what foods you were lacking or how many place settings you had to borrow from the neighbours, because you wanted to make friends. When the children were with us, I made friends through them, but when they went back to England to boarding school, I joined the women’s club. There were exercise classes, arts and crafts, even foreign languages, although for some reason the language of the host country was rarely offered.”

  “Was it hard to send your children away?” Jenny asked.

  “Oh, yes, but they came for holidays, and of course we had annual leave. It was more difficult seeing the conditions the local children endured. We all participated in charitable projects, but you could not impact their poverty in any meaningful way.”

  “How long were your husband’s postings?”

  “On paper four years each, but in practice that varied widely. Some of the places where we lived were lovely, but we always shared our house with some sort of creature—in fact, many times I think the creatures shared their house with us! I enjoyed our time abroad, but I was always glad to come home.” She smiled. “Colin’s rolling his eyes at me. Time for me to stop my chatter.”

  Jenny and Colin helped with the washing up. “Sunday dinner’s at midday,” Joanne said. “I’ll finish here.”

  Colin sent Jenny for her sweater, then took her hand and led her outside. The night was clear, and the stars so bright that she felt she could feel their warmth. No, it must have come from Colin’s kisses.

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  “How did you do it?” Jenny wanted to know over the Sunday meal. “Move so many times, start over so many times?”

  They had finished the watercress soup and were savoring roast lamb with mint sauce, fresh asparagus, and baked tomatoes. Joanne had explained the trinity that underlay most soups and sauces in England: carrots, onions, and potatoes.

  “COP,” Jenny laughed. She countered with the southwestern trio of bell pepper, onion, and garlic.

  Colin leant back in his chair and watched the two women bond. It was what he had hoped for. His ex-wife had never been interested in his mother’s stories. Violet—tall, slender, blonde, an only child who thought his choice of profession was exotic and assumed he’d settle down eventually into a more socially acceptable role. In point of fact, she was grooming him to work with her father, who had a very successful distillery and no sons to take it on when he retired. She had misjudged him. They had misjudged each other, actually.

  “I took my faith with me, but sometimes I thought I would wear my sense of humour out,” Joanne said. “There were negatives about every locale but compensations, too—things that helped you look past your immediate circumstances, like a beautiful countryside or adventures that kept your heart in your throat.”

  “I’ve had a few of those,” Jenny admitted, and Colin was amazed that she had referred to her experience, however obliquely.

  “Friendships formed in adversity, last,” Joanne said. “Besides—I mastered Scrabble! One of the few games you could play by candlelight, when the power had failed.”

  “And your husband?”

  “Cam loved what he was doing, and I loved him. I would have followed him anywhere.” She paused, running her finger across the wedding band she still wore. “I did follow him, everywhere I could. This last time—I couldn’t go where he went.”

  Jenny’s throat was tight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I cry so easily now.”

  “Some things are worth crying about, aren’t they?” Joanne answered gently. She glanced at her son, whose eyes were on Jenny. He wants to go to her, and I should make myself scarce and let him. “Pudding coming straightaway,” she said and took a bit longer in the kitchen than was necessary. Jenny was the first girl Colin had spoken of—not to mention, brought home—since that minx Violet had left him. She had never loved Violet, but she wished Jenny had some of her self-assurance. Colin was clearly enthralled with her, and she was so tentative.

  The final course was fresh strawberries with a vanilla cream sauce that Jenny found delicious. When Joanne confessed that it was an upscale brand of vanilla ice cream, melted, they laughed almost until they cried. Of course, the wine that had been consumed during the feast might have had something to do with it, as well as the loving acceptance that Joanne brought to every meal she served.

  They lingered over their coffee, and Colin thought again about how different Jenny was from his ex-wife. Violet had always been in a hurry to leave his mother’s table, remaining only as long as was necessary to fulfil her familial commitment. Her bag would have been packed long ago, and only her extraordinary self-discipline would have kept her from drumming her fingers in her lap. He saw Jenny smile and touch his mother’s hand and knew he could forgive Vi now.

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  Jenny was quiet on the drive back to Hampstead. She had a new list for her journal: Things I Learned from Colin’s Mother. Family matters most was the first item, followed by, Having friends helps. So many more, though: Be resourceful; Take the long view; Starting over is a part of life and not necessarily a bad thing; and, Happiness can be found anywhere if you love the man you’re with. She’d learned why Colin wasn’t affected by the disorder around him—as a child, there had been chaos in nearly every third world country they’d lived in. Corruption was rife in countries with unstable political systems. No wonder he was so committed to the process of justice now!

  Joanne kept a journal, too, filled with simple sketches of recreational activities she’d shared with her children. She’d given Jenny a drawing of a preadolescent Colin flying a kite, one of the last times he’d been unrestrained, she said, because after he’d started boarding school, he’d been so serious about modelling adult behaviour. She’d also presented her with a photograph of him in his constable’s uniform, taken just after he’d completed the introductory course of instruction at the academy. With a hug and a promise to invite Colin’s sister, Jillian, and her family the next time Jenny came, she had let them go.

  CHAPTER 10

  Jenny woke up thinking about Colin’s caresses. She had wanted more. She dressed, wondering as she donned each item what it would feel like when he removed it. A whole new set of feelings welled up inside her: excitement, joy, anticipation. She was giddy, laughing out loud, wanting to celebrate because she was in love. Should she call him? No, this was too big a deal for that—and besides, she wanted to see his face when she told him. And if they were together, then physical love would follow. Wouldn’t it? That was scary, but thrilling too. She decided to get a bottle of wine. She could find her way to the High Street; there was bound to be a place there that would have some. After dinner she’d ask him to open it and she’d tell him how she felt, if she could wait that long! She picked up the keys and left the flat.

  It was the first time she had been out by herself. The High Street hadn’t seemed far when she had been with Colin, but now each step led her farther from the safety of his flat. She didn’t find a liquor store or grocery right away and had to ask at the bookstore where the closest supermarket was. Sainsbury’s, she was told, on Finchley Road. She didn’t know where that was, so she bought a map of Hampstead.

  That almost defeated her. She’d have to retrace her steps to Colin’s flat and then start out in another direction. She tried to recapture her happy feelings but succeeded only in feeling exposed. No one was paying any attention to her, she was sure, but nevertheless she hurried.

  The store was crowded, and there were long shelves of wine. First she had daydreamed the time away, then she had gone the wrong way, and now she was rooted to the spot, not being able to choose from the many varieties. She remembered some of the names from her list of Wines I Have Enjoyed With Colin, but there were so many brands which bore those titles. She closed her eyes and purchase
d the one her outstretched fingers touched.

  Now all she had to do was follow the map to Colin’s and she’d be home free. Her first solo flight—she’d been scared, but she had done it! When she let herself into the flat, Colin was already there. She had wanted the wine to be a surprise, but he came toward her immediately.

  “Where have you been?”

  He didn’t sound happy. She was startled and short of breath.

  “You went out by yourself? For wine?” His voice was rising. “We shopped yesterday. How could you do such a thing? What were you thinking?”

  Her mouth dropped open. He was angry!

  “Answer me!” he yelled. “Why would you take such a risk?”

  “What—what risk?” she stammered.

  “What risk? Damn it, Jenny!” He shook his head in frustration.

  “Colin, you’re scaring me.” She gripped the bottle of wine tightly. Her mind said, he won’t hurt you. Her body said, run! No, she thought, I am not retreating.

  He turned aside, took several deep breaths, and ran his fingers through his hair. “What have I done?” he said to himself. He turned back and held up his hands, the fingers spread in a gesture of concession. “Sorry. I just reacted.” He let his hands fall to his sides. “Jenny, could we sit down and talk about this?”

  She waited until he was seated before occupying the other armchair. She was still holding the bottle of wine. She rested it in her lap, one hand on the neck. The sofa separated them. Now that the shock of his anger had passed, she felt only a sense of sadness.

  “Jenny, I was afraid for you. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. I’m terribly concerned for your safety.”

  She tried to clear her throat. “Why? It’s over. Isn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer right away, and her dread deepened. She had thought her fear was irrational. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “When Scott’s verdict was read, he threatened you. I’ve heard other threats made in anger, but none had the intensity of this one. I didn’t think I should take it lightly.”

  The fear in her chest had nothing to do with Colin now.

  “Jenny—when you were in protection, things happened on the outside, things that would have frightened you. You had been through so much. We wanted to protect you in every way we could, so we didn’t tell you everything. Please understand.”

  “That was then. Now we are supposed to be equals. How—if you love me—could you bring me back to danger?”

  Her words cut him to the quick. “It was one of the most selfish things I have ever done.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Revenge is a powerful force. It’s possible I overreacted, however. Protecting you has become a habit, but the more time that passes, the less likely any retaliation will be.” He noticed suddenly the bottle in her lap. “Why did you buy the wine, Jenny?”

  She looked at it as if it were a foreign thing. “It doesn’t matter now.” She put the bottle on the floor.

  He stood slowly. “Will you let me hold you?”

  She felt his arms around her and discovered that it was possible to feel alone in someone’s embrace.

  CHAPTER 11

  The same question that haunted Jenny all evening returned with a vengeance in the morning. What should she do?

  “Why do you need to do anything?” Colin had asked.

  Because doing something—anything—meant that she was not powerless.

  He had tried to explain about the double standard in detective work: Find out everything but release information only on a need-to-know basis to anyone outside the investigation. It was hard to shift gears, and married officers sometimes took that attitude home with them, almost always to their detriment. It wasn’t just the long, sometimes unpredictable hours that made married life difficult for coppers. The contrast between the need for discretion on the Job and the need for openness at home contributed, a continual tug of war between what could be said and what could not.

  She had called it the I-need-to-know-but-you-don’t attitude, and she didn’t like it.

  Simon’s call was a welcome distraction. After lunch he took her to St. Paul’s Cathedral, and she was sure that her awe at what she saw concealed her unusual quietude. The Grand Canyon was vast, but that was God’s creation. This magnificence was man’s achievement, the vision Sir Christopher Wren’s, and the execution, thousands of nameless artisans. This cathedral had been an inspiration since its construction, and it still conveyed a sense of holiness to those who entered. People trod softly on the marble floor, and their voices had a respectful hush.

  She was touched by the memorial to the American servicemen who had died defending Britain in World War II. They passed the tombs of the Duke of Wellington, Lord Nelson, even Florence Nightingale. T. E. Lawrence’s statue was labeled with his movie name, Lawrence of Arabia! And there was a bust of George Washington, who had surely been regarded as a renegade on these shores. Simon asked if she’d like to climb to the whispering gallery, but when she heard how many steps there were, she shook her head, not confident that she had the energy after tossing and turning all night.

  They stopped for a cold drink at a sandwich shop nearby. She had given him a brief description of her trip to Kent on the tube ride to the city. Now he wanted to know more. “Talk to me. You’re not yourself.”

  How could she? If he had to deal with a crisis every time they were together, he would not want to take her places any more.

  He switched his voice to the tone she could not ignore.

  “Colin lost it yesterday,” she answered. “I’ve never seen him so angry. I’d gone out by myself. That was what brought it on. He’d never told me about the monster’s threat.”

  “Your safety has been his primary consideration.”

  “You protected me, too,” she commented. “Would you have lied to me?”

  If lying meant not disclosing everything, yes. “Jenny, you have to sort things out with him. You’re part of a couple now. That means you don’t take decisions by yourself.”

  “He did.”

  “Water over the dam. Time for us to move out.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Colin came toward the door as she opened it. “Jenny, I feared you’d gone. Or that something had happened to you.”

  “We need to talk, Colin.”

  “Indeed we do.” He gestured toward the sofa. “What were you doing with Casey?”

  “Touring St. Paul’s,” she answered with a frown. “Are you going to attack me for that?” Her chin went up. “I needed a friend today. He was your friend, too, if you must know. He defended you.”

  “Jenny, our dispute has been on my mind all day. I admit I withheld information from you, but I’ll not carry the can by myself in this misunderstanding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You accused me of bringing you back into danger. That doesn’t tally.”

  “Are you telling me that there’s no danger?”

  “No. I’m suggesting that you may have suffered from selective memory. We all do, from time to time.”

  Colin had a Voice, too—a tone of professional detachment. She didn’t like it any more than she liked Simon’s voices.

  “The sniper attack during Bates’ trial came after Scott’s verdict and sentencing. You suspected the source of the threat then. Nothing significant has altered since.”

  She remembered thinking that the sniper’s victim had borne at least a slight resemblance to her and that Simon would neither confirm nor deny it. “Ouch,” she said. “That’s true.” They were sitting only a few feet apart, but she felt as if there were still miles between them, and she didn’t know how to bridge the distance. “Feeling safe is important to me. I’m so tired of being afraid. I shouldn’t have criticized you for wanting to protect me.”

  “In my view the risk level is the same. Your whereabouts are still the issue.”

  Her frustration surfaced. “Oh, please stop sounding like a detective! I can’t live he
re like a prisoner. Help me figure out what to do.”

  “Do you want to stay?”

  “Yes, and I want a job, and I want—chocolate.” She gave a shaky laugh, and he felt a weight rise from his shoulders. “I need something to do while you’re at work, and I need to make friends. Besides Simon.”

  That would be a good idea.

  “I know I don’t have a work permit,” she continued, “but couldn’t I volunteer somewhere? Somewhere nearby?”

  He raised his eyebrows, and she squirmed under his gaze. “Colin, I haven’t been completely honest, either. I’m—I’m—afraid to go out by myself. I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to know how crippled I was.”

  No matter—he had already known. “My independent daughter—gone,” her father had lamented to him when he was in Houston. “One of us has to take her everywhere she goes.”

  “Close to home works for me,” he assured her. “I’ll make some calls for you tomorrow. In the meantime, where would you like to go for dinner? French, Indian, Italian?”

  “That Italian restaurant on Heath Street.”

  While Colin ate his Dover Sole Amalfi, he promised to be proud, not angry, when she left the flat. She feasted on an herb-broiled chicken breast in basil cream sauce and agreed to leave him a note when she did and not to use her credit cards. They’d had a pasta course before their main meal, and the wine they drank was light and smooth. “Why are you willing to stay with me, Jenny?” he asked.

  He saw the slow blush. “I can’t answer that here,” she said.

  He put a generous assortment of pound notes on the table and left with her before the coffee and fudge cake had been served. She had trouble keeping up with his long strides. Inside the flat, he took her face in his hands and asked, “Why, Jenny?”

  She was still panting from the dash home. “You have to kiss me first.”