Part 13 (1/2)

'Gosh,' I said, my heart banging. 'How fascinating. And...is it true that there's...no limit on how long after a crime the perpetrator can be prosecuted?'

'That's right,' he said. 'Of course, it has to be a serious crime for the police to reopen the case.'

'How serious?'

'Well, murder, obviously; attempted murder, arson, or any serious a.s.sault.' My stomach turned over. 'But even if the police decide not to prosecute, the victims themselves can pursue their a.s.sailant through the civil courts.'

'Really?' I lowered my vegetarian kebab. I'd never thought about that. 'And what would they hope to gain?'

'Financial compensation, or just emotional satisfaction-a sense of closure. That's usually the most important thing.' Now, as the conversation continued, I wondered dismally if David-if I did ever find him-would decide to sue me. Perhaps he would. In which case he'd have to sue Jimmy as well. I was about to open a Pandora's box.

Don't go there, a small voice told me. Let it lie. Let it lie.

No, said my conscience. Tell the truth. Tell the truth and get closure at last. Then you'll be able to restart your life.

As I resurfaced I realized that the topic of conversation had now changed. Nigel's colleague, Mary, had joined us; a thin, sharp-faced blonde woman about his age. I knew from Daisy that she worked in the same department as him-commercial litigation. I also knew that Mary had liked Nigel, but that it hadn't really been mutual.

'It's Nigel's fortieth soon, isn't it?' she said, as her fork hovered over her plate.

'It is,' said Alan. 'Let's hope he has a party.'

'Yes, let's hope he has a party!' said another of his friends, Jon. 'Let's make sure he has one!'

'Let's hope he has a wedding,' said someone else. At this there was a collective guffaw. I glanced round for Daisy but she was in the conservatory, just out of earshot.

'A wedding?' Alan exclaimed. 'Nigel? Come off it, you guys!' Jon was snorting with laughter.

'I know,' Mary concurred with a satisfied smirk. 'I've seen them all come and go,' she went on with ostentatious weariness. 'He's very naughty like that. I suppose Daisy'll go off too, in the end. I mean, Nigel's a darling, but really...' she shrugged her sloping shoulders, '...who could blame her? Especially after so long.'

Right. 'Daisy doesn't want to get married,' I said. 'She's quite happy as she is.'

'How do you know?'

'Because she's my best friend.'

'Oh, so sorry,' said Mary with exaggerated contrition. She gave me a hard, false smile. 'I guess it's a bit of a tricky subject.'

'Not in the least,' I replied.

I walked away, my face burning. Daisy was clearly the object of amused pity. And as I watched her coming out of the house with another jug of Pimm's, chatting gaily to everyone, laughing and joking, making Nigel's evening go well, I felt incredibly angry with him. How mean of him to keep her dangling, encouraging her just enough to make her stay with him, but never making her feel secure. And how silly of her to let him do so, I thought. She's Crazy Daisy in more ways than one. I wondered what would get him to budge. I didn't believe that Daisy really would 'pin him down'; she's still clinging to her hope that he'll get down on one knee. But he clearly isn't going to, because he doesn't have to-plus, I don't believe he wants to share his life. And what if she left him? What would happen then? Probably not very much. Nigel would be out of sorts for a while, but then he'd meet someone else, and do exactly the same thing with her. Now Daisy was pouring Pimm's into his gla.s.s, looking at him raptly.

'Say when, Nige,' I heard her say.

Yes, Nige, I thought crossly. Say when.

The rest of the weekend pa.s.sed pleasantly, although I felt like throwing up when I listened to The Westminster Hour on Sunday and heard Jimmy. He was talking about some House of Commons report into university funding. I had to turn the radio off. I was busy all day on Monday, then on Tuesday I waited for Lily's star reporter, India Carr, to arrive. I knew she wrote well-I'd read some of her articles-and when she turned up she seemed friendly and nice. First she took notes about the house, then she asked me about my work-about the most difficult case I'd ever had to deal with; then the easiest; the most interesting one; the commonest mistakes people make with their pets. We talked about the growth in animal psychiatry, then she came to the personal stuff. She wanted to know who my favourite designer was.

I laughed. 'I never buy designer gear. I wear jeans most days, and the odd vintage jacket if I feel like adding a bit of sophistication, but I'm no clothes horse-or rather Shetland pony!' I quipped.

'You are quite tiny,' she said with a smile. 'What size are you?'

'At the moment I think I'm a six. I buy children's clothes sometimes-it's the one advantage of being so small-with kids' stuff there's no VAT.'

'And on the romantic front,' she said. 'You're single. That's right, isn't it?'

'Yes,' I said, s.h.i.+fting slightly. 'I am. Not that it's particularly relevant,' I added with studied casualness.

'Well, I think it is relevant.'

'Why?'

'Because you were engaged to Alexander Darke.' Oh s.h.i.+t. Her large green eyes were staring into me. 'Weren't you?' she said.

I sighed. 'You've obviously done your homework.'

'Of course I have-that's my job.'

'Well, I'd rather not discuss my private life, if you don't mind.'

'But it's something I have to ask.'

'Why?' I stared at the floor. 'Who's going to be interested?'

'Quite a lot of people, I'd say. Because by the time this article comes out in August, Alexander Darke will be a big name. So it would look odd if I hadn't mentioned your connection with him.' I glanced out of the window. 'So what happened?' she enquired. I felt ill. She checked that the ca.s.sette in her tiny tape recorder was still running. 'What happened?' she repeated gently.

I could have stopped the interview, but I needed the publicity. 'It just...'-I sighed-'...didn't...work out.' I picked Herman up, so that India wouldn't see my hands shaking.

'There must be more to it than that?'

'There isn't! I mean...there isn't,' I said. 'Really. There's nothing to say.'

'But a friend of Alexander's told me...'-oh no-'...that the engagement had ended very abruptly. I just wondered why that was. He said that Alexander never really explained.' I bet he didn't. 'He just told them you'd had ”second thoughts”. He said that they were all quite mystified as you'd seemed so happy. I'm sure the readers would love to know why the relations.h.i.+p came unstuck.'

I realized, reluctantly, that I would have to say something. 'Well,' I began, 'I did have second thoughts-that's true. Because I'd come to the...very sad...conclusion that it wasn't going to work out between us, long term.'

India gave me a sceptical look. 'Why not?' I did my best to remain calm. If I got upset, she'd sniff a story, and in my present state I might crack.

'I discovered that we were...incompatible. That we had...different values.' Oh G.o.d, that sounded so judgemental.

'Was he unfaithful?' she asked. 'Is that what you mean? There were rumours about his co-star, Tilly Bishop.'

A spasm of jealousy squeezed my heart. 'No, really, there was no one else involved. By ”different values” I simply mean...that we didn't have quite the same att.i.tudes to life. Sometimes these things can take a while to find out,' I went on reasonably, recovering now. 'And it's better not to go ahead if that's the case.'

'So no hard feelings then?'

'No hard feelings,' I lied.

'And do you remain friends with him?'

If I said 'no', she'd only want to know why. 'Yes,' I lied again. 'We remain friends. Alexander's...great. He's a brilliant actor, his career's obviously taking off...and so I...wish him well.'