Also, I don’t think you’ve paid me for the Greenwood job or the psychology collection I did before that. I know there’s always a delay in paying and I don’t want to make a fuss, but I really need the money at the moment as you can imagine. It would be good if you could do it by bank transfer. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pay cheques in from here.
You can write to me here and I’ll let you know if things change.
All the best,
Tabitha
Tabitha looked over the letter. It felt like a mixture of too much information and not enough. And a bit whiny as well. It felt strange to be complaining about late payment when she was in prison charged with murder.
The second letter required more thought.
14 January
AO3573
Dear Michael,
After writing this, Tabitha stared at the wall for fully ten minutes. There was a poster on the wall, a photograph of a pine forest with a soft green floor, dropping gently into the distance. For a tiny moment, she had the illusion that she was looking through a window and the forest was just in front of her, tantalisingly out of reach.
Michael. What could she say to him? They’d had no contact at all for nearly a year. Things with him hadn’t ended disastrously, but they hadn’t ended all that well either. Just write, she told herself. Don’t think about it too much.
You’re probably surprised to hear from me. And you’re probably even more surprised to get a letter from me. I don’t know if you’ve heard what happened. The postmark will tell you something. There’s no point in me going through it all here. Just google me and you’ll be able to find out as much as you want to find out.
Short version. I’m in Crow Grange Prison. What happened is that a neighbour of mine was found murdered and insanely I was suspected of it. In fact, you’ll see after about two seconds of going online that I’ve been charged with murdering him and so I’m here on remand.
So why am I writing to you? All I can say is that I’m like someone who’s just fallen in the water and you were one of the names that came into my head to shout to for help. I was wondering if you might come to visit. I know it’s a lot to ask because you’d have to come all the way to Devon. But it would mean a lot to me.
If you can come, please write back with a phone number. I’ll need to ring you because visiting is a bit complicated. You have to fill out a form and bring ID and probably other stuff. I’ll check.
Let me know.
Love (if it’s OK to say that),
Tabitha
NINE
And, three days later, he came.
Tabitha took the route to the visiting hall. She saw him before he saw her. He looked so familiar. The unbrushed hair that was starting to recede, the grey jacket he always wore with too many pockets, his hands awkwardly in two of them. He always had the air of seeming just a little uncomfortable wherever he was. At least he had some excuse this time. There were the usual sounds of sobbing. Somebody shouted and a warder ran across.
Tabitha sat down opposite him.
‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ she said.
He shifted in his seat as if he was already preparing to leave.
‘I didn’t know what to bring,’ he said. ‘I brought some magazines and a couple of other things. They took them away. But the woman said you’d get them. I suppose they need to check them.’
‘Thank you,’ said Tabitha. ‘And thank you for coming.’
‘Thank you for asking me,’ he replied solemnly, absurdly. But then he added, ‘I was a bit surprised that you did, actually.’
She remembered the last time they’d met. She remembered shouting at him and him backing away. He had often seemed faintly puzzled and embarrassed by her. They’d met in the café where she’d briefly worked when she’d arrived in London after dropping out of university. Michael had come in to the café almost every day for lunch. He had the soup of the day followed by Earl Grey tea and a flapjack. They’d both been lonely, knowing almost nobody in this huge, churning city. They’d both taken the other for someone they were not. Tabitha had thought Michael was shy and thoughtful, but actually he turned out to be quite smug and doggedly set in his ways. He had thought Tabitha charmingly kooky at first; her rages and her wretchedness had soon made him acutely uncomfortable.
‘So what the hell happened?’ said Michael now.
‘Did you google me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you know.’
‘No, I don’t. For a start, what were you even doing in Okeham? I thought you loathed the place.’
‘Not exactly hated.’
‘You said you were miserable there.’
‘Maybe it was me, not the place. You know I hated living in London. It was always meant to be a stopgap while I decided what to do in my life but I kind of got stuck there.’ He nodded. ‘Anyway, there was a fantasy I’d always had about this old house there and it came on the market and I bought it and I’ve been doing it up.’
Michael leaned forward on the table and rested his head on his hands. He looked like he was in pain.
‘I saw that he was found in your house.’
‘In a shed at the back.’
‘That’s weird.’
‘Yes.’
He gave a nervous little laugh. ‘I mean, why would you report finding a body in your own house if you’d killed him?’
‘Shed. And I didn’t exactly find it. It was found by this guy, Andy.’
‘Is he your new…?’
Tabitha remembered that Michael had an irritating habit of leaving his sentences unfinished as if he were waiting for you to guess the word.
‘No. He’s a builder. He’s helping me with the house. I guess I should say he was helping me.’
‘I suppose you’ve got lots of old friends in the village.’
‘I know people in the village to say hello to. There are a few left from when I lived there. And now one of them is dead.’
‘You knew him?’
‘He was a teacher at my school.’
‘So you’ve got a motive,’ he said with a half-smile.
‘Don’t. I’m in prison. Don’t make one of your stupid unfunny jokes.’
Michael made an indeterminate gesture. ‘I took a train across England to get here. I had to change twice and then take a bus and then a taxi.’
‘OK,’ said Tabitha tightly. ‘Sorry.’
‘Can I ask a question? A body is found in your house. Or next to your house. That’s bad. But why are they actually charging you with murder?’
‘I’m not completely sure. I think they have to tell the solicitor and she’ll tell me.’
‘And what about your defence?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the law. I’m just desperately hoping that the lawyers are going to sort this out and show the police that they’ve made a mistake.’
Michael gave a shrug and shook his head.
‘What?’ said Tabitha.
‘I don’t know. It’s just that it doesn’t sound like you. It sounds more like the way you saw me.’
‘How did I see you?’