The Paying Guests(164)

And when she spoke again, her tone had changed, become shy. ‘What – What do you think she can be like?’

Frances frowned. ‘The girl? Billie?’

‘I keep trying to imagine her. I thought she would be here. I wish I could just see her and get it over with. I still can’t believe it of him. A girl like that! I just can’t believe that he was meeting her for all those months. I keep thinking of things, little things, things he said, things he did. She must have been doing his nails for him, Frances.’

‘His nails?’

‘You remember? His manicures? We used to laugh at him, didn’t we? But she must have been doing it. I’m sure she was. I thought of it when the inspector was reading, and I felt such a fool. Such a fool. If you could die from feeling a fool, I’d have died right then…’

Her voice had begun to waver, and her mouth to twitch. But perhaps now she was remembering that moment in Vera’s bedroom when Frances had spoken so sharply to her about taking the wall. She drew in her breath, and her features steadied.

‘I don’t want to go to the police,’ she said. ‘Not if you really think it’ll all come to nothing. I wouldn’t say it if the boy was different, but we’ve waited three days and he’s all right. We might as well wait another seven. I want us to wait another seven. It must become clear then, mustn’t it?’

Frances hadn’t realised that her heart was clenched, but at Lilian’s words she felt it slacken like an uncurling fist. Another seven days of freedom! The sudden release of it made her giddy. She nodded, saying nothing. She couldn’t look at Lilian again. She couldn’t speak warmly or kindly to her. She didn’t know if that was from shame, or squeamishness, or what it was. They hadn’t so much as touched hands since before Leonard’s funeral, and there were only inches between them now. If they could somehow close the space – But how could they do that, there? And Lilian had made no mention of coming home to Champion Hill.

So they stood in an awkward silence, then moved back to join the others.

As they did it, Inspector Kemp and Sergeant Heath appeared in the lobby. They came across to discuss the hearing, seeming well pleased with how it had gone. The sergeant had just seen the boy put into the police van for his journey to Brixton Prison. ‘They’ll look after him there, don’t you worry,’ he assured Leonard’s father, in an ominous way. Frances caught the inspector’s eye over Mrs Viney’s shoulder. He gave her a nod – and then, as if unable to resist it, he came around the group to her. He was smirking, just as Spencer had smirked in the dock.

‘So, Miss Wray, you were sharper than me.’

She didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You seemed to take a dim view of husbands when I spoke to you last week. You were right to be doubtful, you see. You were right about Mr Wismuth’s innocence, too. I hope you feel that we are up to the mark at last.’

He spoke lightly, of course. She answered in earnest. ‘No, I don’t.’

His smirk faltered. ‘You don’t?’

‘The boy’s all swagger. Can’t you see it?’

‘He’s an out-and-out villain! They’ve had their eye on him for years, up at Bermondsey.’

‘He didn’t murder Leonard Barber. He just likes the idea that he did.’

Now he was shaking his head. ‘Oh, Miss Wray, what an extraordinary woman you are.’

‘He didn’t do it,’ she repeated. ‘You’re making a mistake.’

There must have been something to her tone, something out of place, excessive. His smile returned, but less naturally than before. He was impatient with her, perhaps even slightly disappointed; she could see him putting her down, finally, as a simple crank. He made some humouring remark about keeping her words in mind, but even as he did it he was gesturing to Sergeant Heath. They were busy men, of course – busy in a way that didn’t include her now; busy in a way that barely included Lilian. When he said his goodbyes to the others, he spoke mainly to Douglas and to Lloyd. He would ‘keep the families informed’, he promised, as he and the sergeant moved off.

Frances watched them go, thinking, I could call you back and astound you. I could do it right now…

She didn’t do it. She saw them disappear into some other part of the court-house. They passed the woman with the beaten face, who was still starting forward in her hopeful way, still falling back.

And then it was time to leave the building. They steeled themselves to face the spectators gathered outside. Vera took Lloyd’s arm, Frances offered hers to Mrs Viney; they put Lilian between the four of them, to shield her from the worst of it. But when they went out through the doors, though people strained to look at them, something else happened to the crowd: there was a tremor at one of its edges, and then, before their eyes, the tremor spread. People were turning, moving away. It took Frances a moment to understand why. The police van was just emerging from some side gate, and everyone was desperate for a glimpse of the boy inside it. A couple of youths were jumping up, trying to see through its louvred windows. Others were hammering on its panels as it passed – she couldn’t tell if they were doing it in malice or in glee. She didn’t care why they were doing it, she realised, so long as they weren’t doing it to her.