‘He thought you weren’t religious enough?’
‘He had certain views.’ Mel smiled cheerily. ‘Which I quite understand. I shouldn’t be saying any of this. I’m here to listen to you. Is there any way I can help?’
‘You can get me out.’
Mel gave a nervous bark of laughter.
‘All right,’ said Tabitha. ‘Failing that, you can tell me how things are in the village.’
Mel thought for a moment. ‘I don’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened there before. Once the police and the television cameras had gone away, there was a sense of confusion and grief.’
Tabitha felt dissatisfied with this. Confusion and grief sounded more like a sermon Mel was giving to her usual, near-empty church. Tabitha needed specifics.
‘Did the police interview people?’ she asked.
‘They talked to people.’
‘Did they talk to you?’
Mel beamed at her. ‘I’m not sure if I’m allowed to say.’
‘I don’t know if you’re allowed to say either. Anyway, what could you possibly tell them about me?’
Tabitha looked at Mel but Mel didn’t reply.
‘I know this is tricky for you,’ Tabitha said, ‘but what do people think of me?’
‘They don’t know what to think,’ said Mel. ‘They know that Stuart Rees was murdered and they know that you have been, you know…’
‘Charged with his murder,’ said Tabitha.
‘Well, yes.’
‘I don’t completely fit with Okeham society.’
‘I wouldn’t say that exactly.’
‘And Stuart was friends with everyone.’
Mel’s amiable smile wavered. ‘I wouldn’t exactly say that either.’
Tabitha stopped to consider. ‘Then what would you say?’
‘Oh, you know. Villages.’
‘I don’t know what you mean exactly,’ said Tabitha. ‘My main impression was that I didn’t really know anyone in the village and he knew everyone. Villages like Okeham probably depend on people like Stuart.’
‘I suppose he did know everyone.’ She gave another little laugh. ‘But then I know everyone as well. And people probably have mixed feelings about me. You know, here comes Mel again, asking how I am. That’s probably what people say.’
‘I’m sure they don’t. But what do they say about me? You’re the person who talks to everyone.’
Mel took a deep breath, as if she was making a resolution. ‘Tabitha, rather than worrying about what other people think of you, don’t you think it would be helpful to reflect on what you think of yourself?’
‘That doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.’
‘I’m just here to guide you and give you comfort in any way that I can.’
She leaned forward with an expression of earnest sympathy that made Tabitha want to tell her to fuck off and never come back. But she didn’t. It occurred to her that she might need Mel one day.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That means a lot to me.’
THIRTEEN
It was spitting snow outside the little window. It didn’t look like the kind that would settle. Tabitha tried to count the days. Today was Thursday 31 January so she had been here three weeks and one day. Tomorrow it would be February. That meant that in a week’s time she would be going to the court to enter her plea. One week.
Michaela was brushing her long hair in front of the mirror that Tabitha still avoided looking into, though every so often she caught a glimpse of her face: pale, with new lines round the eyes, cracked lips and hair badly in need of a cut. She put on a clean shirt, though nothing really felt properly clean, and a cardigan that had a hole in the elbow but was better than her old sweatshirt.
‘My solicitor is coming,’ said Tabitha to Michaela. ‘I hope she has news.’
* * *
‘Can I remind you what you said to me on my last visit?’ said Mora Piozzi.
‘This sounds like I’m already in court,’ said Tabitha.
She forced her bruised lips into a smile, which hurt. Mora Piozzi did not smile back.
‘You said that you couldn’t think of anything that you hadn’t told me that might be relevant to your case.’
‘That’s right,’ said Tabitha warily.
‘Really? Nothing, Tabitha?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Yesterday, the prosecution received a letter that stated you had been in an inappropriate relationship with Stuart Rees when you were a schoolgirl.’
Tabitha felt like someone had punched her hard in the stomach. She heard herself give a gasp of laughter and put a hand across her mouth for a moment in case more laughter should escape.
‘Well?’
‘What do you mean, a letter?’
‘I mean a letter.’
‘Who wrote it?’ Tabitha asked indignantly. She could feel her face flaming; her whole body felt intolerably hot.
‘That’s hardly the point. Is it true?’
‘Of course not.’
‘And yet Laura Rees has confirmed it.’
‘What?’
‘I said—’
‘I heard what you said. Why did you ask me if it was true if you already knew it was? You were just trying to trick me.’
Mora Piozzi was white around the nostrils and her mouth was a thin, straight line.
‘I think you’ll have to come down from your moral high ground,’ she said, her voice clipped and sharp. ‘You explicitly assured me there was nothing you were keeping back. And now I learn from the prosecution that when you were fifteen, you were sexually involved with the man you stand accused of murdering. Are you going to tell me that’s not relevant?’ There was a long pause. ‘Well?’
‘Hardly sexually involved,’ said Tabitha, dragging her gaze up to meet the solicitor’s hard stare. She was aiming for a scoffing tone but it came out a weak squawk.
‘You were underage. He was your teacher. He had sex with you. You return to the village and buy the house that is nearest to his.’
‘Five minutes away,’ Tabitha interjected feebly.
‘A few weeks later, he is found stabbed to death in the backyard of your house. You don’t tell anyone about the relationship; indeed, just now you denied it.’
‘None of that sounds quite right.’
‘It might not sound right – but are you going to tell me it’s not true?’
‘It’s not not true. But you’re putting sentences next to each other that don’t belong next to each other, and it makes it seem that each thing leads to the next, but it doesn’t. Not necessarily.’
‘Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me? You must have known it would come out.’
‘It’s no one’s business,’ Tabitha said. ‘It didn’t matter.’
Mora Piozzi brought her fist down on the table and Tabitha jerked backwards. ‘Wake up! Do you have any idea of how bad this looks?’
‘It was years ago. It has nothing to do with now.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’