A Sense of Guilt

by Andrea Newman

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ Helen said then.

  There was a movement on the stairs. Elizabeth, hesitating, saw Sally about to come down.

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said. ‘I’d rather get home.’

  * * *

  ‘She knows,’ Helen said, closing the door. ‘She must.’

  ‘How’s Felix?’ Sally said.

  ‘Recovering, apparently. Is that all you care about?’

  Sally shrugged. ‘Then they’ll let Richard out, won’t they? And that’s all you care about. Shall I make scrambled eggs? You should eat something.’

  * * *

  Elizabeth, driving home, pushed the thoughts away. Be like Scarlett O’Hara. Think about that tomorrow. Be grateful. Take it a day at a time. If God lets Felix get better, then I won’t question anything.

  She drove carefully. Not the moment to have an accident. It was a demanding job, life-saving, and she needed all her wits about her.

  * * *

  Richard resented any interruption in his routine. As long as they left him alone he was safe. He didn’t want news from the outside world. When John Hartley told him Felix was recovering he couldn’t even feel relief, in fact it seemed almost irrelevant. The image of the new recovering Felix simply lined up beside the older one he had killed.

  He needed to make sense of himself and his guilt, and to do that he had to see Sally. Felix’s words haunted him. He asked John Hartley to arrange a visit.

  ‘They want you to see a shrink,’ John Hartley said. ‘That’s more to the point. Now don’t look like that. Her name’s Jennifer Daley. You’ll like her.’

  * * *

  Jennifer Daley was small and dark with hair that fell over her face. She kept pushing it back like someone modelling sixties clothes. Inge had worn her hair like that once but it had not been straight enough and drove her mad because it wouldn’t flop correctly. He remembered her rages well.

  He could see that Jennifer Daley was a good, well-intentioned person, but for some reason she brought out the anger in him. She looked too young for her job. She looked like an actress pretending to be a psychiatrist, as if she had been brought in to tease him with her sexuality. And yet he had to be careful, in case she could make things worse for him. He found himself wanting to hit her, and his anger frightened him; he did not know whom it was meant for.

  ‘You know this can’t work if I don’t cooperate,’ he said to her. ‘And I’m not going to.’

  ‘Why’s that?’ she said.

  He laughed. ‘Come on, spare me all that. I cut my teeth on it.’

  ‘Don’t you want to get bail?’

  ‘I’ve nowhere to go.’ What stupid questions they asked. ‘I’m better off here.’

  ‘You’ve left your wife, is that right?’

  ‘You know all this, why ask me?’

  ‘When did you leave her?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’ It seemed a very long time ago but he knew it couldn’t be. ‘Last week or the week before. Maybe ten days ago. Ask her. She’s sure to remember. She’s extremely efficient. She probably made a note in her diary.’

  All the months that Helen had lived with him since Sally’s abortion. All the normal life they had had, eating and sleeping, talking and making love, all the ordinary things they had done together, and she had known all the time. She had betrayed him and kept her secret and behaved as if nothing had happened. She had behaved as if he didn’t exist and she had gone on living with him.

  ‘You sound very angry with her,’ Jennifer Daley said.

  ‘Yes, I do have to get pretty angry with someone before I walk out on them. Especially if I’m married to them.’

  ‘And even angrier before you hit them?’

  He laughed again. They were so predictable, these people. ‘My God, you’re brighter than I thought. You’re really getting there.’

  ‘Did you want to kill your friend when you hit him?’

  ‘No, but I hoped he was dead the moment after.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘And now what?’

  She fiddled with her hair. ‘What are you feeling now?’

  ‘Pretty angry with you for asking all these bloody stupid questions.’

  To be locked up for ever, that would be peaceful.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Isn’t that enough for you?’

  Jennifer Daley said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m not very experienced yet.’

  This threw him. ‘Oh God, am I supposed to feel sorry for you?’

  ‘No, we all have to start somewhere,’ she said, sounding composed. ‘But I thought it was only fair to warn you.’

  Silence. He longed to be alone. He’d had enough.

  ‘D’you feel sorry for lots of people?’

  That was a joke. ‘In my line of work, yes I do.’

  ‘As well as feeling angry with them?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ And wanting to be dead, there was that feeling too, but she was too young to understand about that.

  ‘And how d’you feel about yourself?’

  He wanted to explode. ‘Yes, that’s the big one, isn’t it? Sad. Angry. Is that what you want to hear? I hate myself, will that do nicely? Is that appropriate, as you people say? My life’s an absolute shambles. I deserted my first wife and kids, now I’ve lost my second wife and my best friend. I think if you’d done all that, you might feel quite pissed off with yourself too.’

  Her hair fell forward again and she pushed it back. He wanted to kill her for being young and stupid and innocent. Life hadn’t tarnished her yet. Sally had been like that once.

  ‘I think you’re in a lot of pain,’ she said, ‘and I’d like to help you work through it.’

  ‘Well, don’t. That’s how I got into this mess, trying to help people.’ He saw her eyes look startled. ‘Go and take up a nice clean trade. Go and work in a slaughterhouse. Something like that. Where you can really see results at the end of the day.’

  He wondered afterwards if he was going mad. But that was for her to find out. It hardly mattered.

  * * *

  Felix was profoundly impressed that he might have died: it was a solemn fact. He thought it would give greater meaning to the rest of his life and oblige people to behave better towards him. He was also aware that sooner or later he would have some explaining to do. And he had a very sore head.

  The ward was grotesque, full of extremely sick people, some of whom were repulsive or made strange sounds. The hours kept were not to his taste, the food and drink on offer were quite extraordinary, and the discomfort of his bed made him very thoughtful. On the whole he found the entire experience rather surreal. He wondered if he had forgotten anything of importance; and he wondered how soon he could escape.

  There was a bedside table crowded with flowers and fruit. Elizabeth sat beside it, looking at him with a sort of honeymoon expression, as if he had risen from the dead, which in a sense he supposed he had. She was smiling a lot and at the same time looking as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

  ‘Oh darling,’ she said, ‘you gave me such a fright.’

  He kept thinking of Richard and the attack, and then waking up here. There didn’t seem much in between, and yet there was, known only to others. He didn’t like thinking he’d been absent that long; it was reminiscent of Lost Weekend without the fun and gave other people an unfair advantage over him. He thought he looked older, too, and he could do without that. He had asked for a mirror and had a careful look. Perhaps it was just shock and would wear off.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I scared myself a bit too.’

  Amazing to think old Richard had all that violence in him. He’d never have been so provocative if he’d known. But locking him up was absurd.

  ‘How are you feeling now?’

  Elizabeth was like a sort of auxiliary nurse, he thought. Eager for good news. Any moment now she might pop a thermometer or a grape in his mouth, plump up his pillows. It was appalling to think that some people spent years like this. It was li
ke being an overgrown baby in some science fiction tale.

  ‘Pretty weird,’ he said. ‘D’you know what I said when I first came round?’

  ‘No. I wasn’t here, damn it.’

  ‘I said, “Where am I?” Isn’t that humiliating? You’d think I could have come up with something a bit more original.’ She laughed weakly. It was always good if he could make her laugh, but he was seriously shocked by his own dialogue. A blow on the head was no excuse for banality.

  ‘What are you going to tell the police?’

  ‘The truth, of course.’ But he was alarmed; it seemed a bit soon for such a question. ‘The whole truth and nothing but the truth. Or at least as much as it takes to make them go away and leave me alone.’

  ‘And what are you going to tell me?’

  Really she was pushing hard. Surely the jaws of death and all that could not be discounted so swiftly?

  ‘Oh, darling,’ he said. ‘Not now. I’m very tired and I’ve had one hell of a crack on the head.’

  ‘Your best friend tries to kill you and that’s all you can say?’

  ‘We were larking about. It was all a silly accident.’ He had made up his mind about that, whatever Richard might say, and her disbelieving look annoyed him. ‘Oh, come on, darling. I’m saving my energies for the old bill.’ He closed his eyes for a moment to make her feel guilty, but he was genuinely tired and then there were manipulative layers of tiredness as well, a protective screen. ‘There is something you can do for me though. Get me moved to a private room. Put the whole thing on Bupa. It didn’t matter while I was out for the count, but now – dear God, there are people coughing and spitting day and night, I don’t know how I’m going to sleep now I’ve woken up, and it’s impossible to get a drink round here.’ He held her hand and kissed it. ‘Really, hospitals are pretty barbaric places once they’ve saved your life.’

  * * *

  John Hartley asked, ‘How did you get on with Jennifer Daley?’ He seemed excited by her visit.

  ‘Who?’ said Richard, just to annoy him.

  ‘Your shrink.’

  ‘Oh, she tried hard.’

  ‘Don’t be fooled by that little girl approach, she’s actually quite astute. Mind you, between ourselves, I have trouble hearing what she says because I can’t take my eyes off her legs.’

  He grinned at Richard as if demanding some sort of complicity and Richard stared back astonished. It threw fresh light on Marion’s marriage. John seemed to him like a sniggering small boy in the playground. Was he supposed to laugh?

  ‘Now, with a bit of luck we should get bail this time,’ John said, professional again. ‘Your chum’s going to live and a lot depends on what he says to the police. Is he a forgiving sort of chap, d’you think? Willing to let bygones be bygones and all that?’

  Chum. It seemed an odd word for Felix, for someone you’d tried to kill. It had a Boy’s Own and Beano ring to it. ‘I don’t want to be forgiven,’ Richard said. ‘I’m guilty and I want to be punished.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Richard,’ John said as if he had caught him cheating at cards, ‘that’s not the right approach at all. Where would we all be if everyone took that attitude? I’d be out of a job for a start.’

  ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ Richard was suddenly frightened, a new strange feeling coming at him out of nowhere. He wondered how John would react if he panicked, begged for help, cried? He felt he could no longer predict or control his own behaviour.

  ‘Well, if they decide to go ahead but they stick to assault with intent, you could wind up on probation.’

  Richard laughed.

  ‘Yes. Sorry about that. On the other hand if your chum gets a bit heavy, they might go for attempted murder. You didn’t help yourself much with that statement you made. Just begging to be locked up, that’s the way it reads. Of course that could make them decide you’re a genuine nutter and they’ll let you out, just to be awkward.’

  And where do I go then? Richard thought. John made it all sound quite jolly. He didn’t see the abyss.

  ‘I often wish I was dead,’ Richard said. ‘Oh, not in a suicidal way, I’m much too limp to do anything about it, but I do keep thinking how peaceful it would be.’

  ‘Try telling Jennifer that,’ John said eagerly. ‘She’s very good on depression.’

  But Sally was the only person he wanted to see.

  * * *

  Felix had just about settled into his private room by the time the police arrived to interview him. He thought the whole thing was very theatrical and he wondered if he was up to it, if he had sufficient reserves of energy. He hoped they wouldn’t stay long; he was rather looking forward to watching television, enjoying the privacy of his own bathroom, playing some music on his cassette machine and generally pretending he was in a hotel. Later he would have to persuade his consultant to allow him some wine with his meals. He really didn’t have much time to spare for the fuzz.

  ‘But surely,’ he said, ‘if I don’t press charges, you haven’t got a case.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that, sir. The court doesn’t have to proceed but Mr Morgan can be charged on his own confession.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Felix said. ‘I’m the one in hospital and if I don’t want to make a fuss why the hell should anyone else?’ It had never occurred to him that Richard could be charged against his wishes; he had been looking forward to being magnanimous, heaping coals of fire and all that. Love your enemy. Do good to those that hurt you. Forgiveness felt like a powerful weapon. It was annoying to be told that the pathetic wheels of the law could grind away without his consent.

  ‘If you could just tell us what happened.’

  One of them asked questions and the other took down the answers. Behind the politeness he felt suspicion, as if he might be a criminal instead of a victim, and he found it irksome.

  ‘It was an accident,’ he said firmly. He had given a lot of thought to this and had come up with a scenario he found so convincing he was almost beginning to believe it himself. ‘We’d had a few drinks and we were acting out a scene from my new book. I’ve only just finished it and I wanted to make sure I’d got it right, so I said come on, hit me, see how far I can roll. I’m very keen on getting details absolutely correct.’

  He wasn’t sure if they were impressed by his fame or whether he should play it down.

  ‘Go on, sir.’ Their faces gave nothing away but he had the same feeling of unease as going through customs at the airport.

  ‘Well, he couldn’t do it. I mean he’s a really nice bloke and thumping people just isn’t his style.’ Unlike Tony Blythe, he thought. ‘So just to get him going I said something about fancying his wife or maybe it was his ex-wife or both, I really can’t remember, but anyway I made some stupid joke that obviously got him on the raw and he hit me. If I hadn’t bashed my head on the edge of the mantelpiece I’d have been perfectly all right.’

  ‘What time did all this take place?’

  Oh dear, it was hard work. He could feel his energy flagging and he had a long way to go yet. ‘I’m not sure. It was early evening because Richard came straight from work. Seven or eight maybe. I was a bit jet-lagged from holiday and I’d had lunch with my agent, so I had a bit of a kip before he arrived. That’s why I’m not too sure of the time.’

  ‘Was it dark?’

  ‘I really can’t remember. I didn’t know I’d have to describe the evening in such detail or I’d have paid more attention. Does it matter?’

  ‘It was after midnight when your friend’s wife called an ambulance.’

  Felix could feel irritation swamping his desire to be charming. ‘Was it really?’

  ‘So you’d been lying on the floor of your flat for several hours.’

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for it. I was unconscious so I really didn’t notice time dragging.’

  Not a flicker of amusement, ‘If you could just bear with me, sir. I’m trying to establish what your friend did during those
hours.’

  ‘Perhaps you could try asking him.’

  ‘Yes, we did think of that, but he seemed rather vague on the subject. Just wandered about, he said.’

  ‘Then that’s what he did. He’s extremely truthful.’

  ‘So if he says he was hoping you’d die, we can believe him.’

  God, how they twisted everything. ‘Certainly not. He’s truthful but he’s also very confused. He’s been under a lot of strain at work and at home and obviously something snapped. He probably lost his memory, poor chap.’

  They both looked at him thoughtfully.

  ‘You do realise the longer the interval between knocking you down and calling an ambulance, the more it looks as if he wished you to come to some harm?’

  Well, of course he realised that. No one had ever tried to kill him before. Ironic it should be Richard. What deep feelings must be there. It was almost a tribute.

  ‘I can assure you he didn’t. He’s been having marriage problems and he must have flipped.’

  ‘So your vagueness about the time wouldn’t have anything to do with trying to protect him?’

  ‘Rather more to do with a bump on the head, I’d have thought.’ He was getting tired: they had a heavy presence. ‘But you’re quite right, I am trying to protect him, not just because he’s my friend but also because he’s innocent. I think it’s quite absurd you’ve got him locked up. I’d be happy to stand bail for him if necessary.’

  They didn’t look as if they believed a word he was saying.

  ‘You’re an extremely forgiving man, Mr Cramer.’

  ‘Well, I’ve known Richard for twenty years and I value his friendship. I’m not going to let a silly accident change that. And I’m certainly not going to testify against him in court.’

  ‘You can be subpoenaed to give evidence, you know, sir.’

  How eager they seemed to make trouble. Perhaps promotion depended on it.