Part 29 (1/2)

'We wait for your brief.'

I want him to know.

I want him to know there was no blood.

'I only hit him once,' I say. 'It wasn't hard and I didn't mean to kill him.'

'You'd better save it,' he says. 'You're being held for murder. You should probably keep your trap shut for now.'

It shouldn't take only a second to end a life.

'I'm not a murderer,' I say.

'That's not for me to decide.'

I wrap my arms round my knees.

'Are you cold?'

'Yeah.'

'I'll see if I can get a blanket.'

He goes out for the blanket, locks me in.

He comes back.

'Sorry, we don't have any spare blankets. I'll get you one later.'

I take a tissue out of my pocket.

He looks away, waits a bit, looks back. 'Okay?' he says.

He takes off his jacket and hands it over.

'Thanks.'

I put the jacket over my shoulders.

'I'll need it back,' he says. 'Soon as I can get you a blanket.'

I look down at the concrete floor and wipe my eyes and it probably looks to Davies like I've got a case of remorse. But I don't know about that, or guilt either. All I know is, I didn't mean to kill him.

It's three or four o'clock when the desk sergeant comes. He's got my solicitor. Davies leaves the cell.

My solicitor's about fifty and he's got curly black hair.

'We've got about ten minutes,' he says.

'I think I need help,' I say.

'That's what I'm here for.'

He sits next to me on the bench and opens a red notebook.

'My name's Keith Pearl. I've been appointed by the court. I'll be taking you through your statement and I'll sit with you when we go into the interview room. But you might not see me again.'

A jackhammer starts up outside.

'That's bad timing,' he says.

'Yeah,' I say. 'It was dead quiet before.'

'You'll have to speak up nice and clearly.'

'Okay.'

He tells me that Ian Gordon Welkin was found deceased in the room next to mine and that I woke the landlady by knocking on her door and informed her that I'd 'hit him too hard' and that I subsequently went for a walk but didn't resist arrest when I was found by the police about a half-hour later.

'I didn't hit him hard enough to kill him,' I say. 'And I didn't mean to kill him.'

'What did you intend then?'

'I don't know.'

He moves his red notebook from one hand to the other. 'But were you angry?'

'No.'

I pull Davies' jacket tighter round my neck for some warmth. 'Why did you hit him?'

'I didn't mean to kill him.'

He crosses his legs. 'All right, you'd better tell me what happened. Tell me about all the important details leading up to the event. Your actions, state of mind, who said what to whom.'

'What I tell you doesn't get told to the police, right?'

'Yes. What you tell me is privileged and you only tell me what you want me to know. Is that clear? I need to know the story as you want it told in your statement.'

'I could lie if I wanted?'

He crosses his legs again. 'I didn't say that. And I wouldn't advise that. I'm not advising that.'

I tell him the story, that Welkin got very drunk, that I went in to wake him and, when he wouldn't wake, I hit him on the temple.

'I can't remember now if it was his right or left temple but I know for sure there was no blood.'