No Laughing Matter

by Dorothy Simpson

  ‘So how did he take it?’

  Sister Benedict lifted her hands in a gesture of surprise. ‘Astonishingly well, I gather. She said he just went very quiet, seemed to go off into a trance. Patients never fail to surprise us. You can simply never tell how how they’re going to react. Anyway, she was a lot happier when she went off just now – if you can use that word, in her present circumstances.’

  ‘And how does he seem now?’

  ‘Quiet. But then, he’s been quiet all along.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘But not docile, mind. As I said, he was absolutely determined to see you.’

  ‘Did his mother also tell him about his uncle’s death, or did he hear about it in some other way – radio, television, newspaper?’

  ‘He hasn’t been out of bed yet,’ said Sister Benedict, ‘and the television is in the day room. And he’s not been feeling well enough to read or listen to the radio on the head phones. After a crack on the head like that you need rest and quiet. No, I think she must have told him. We did discuss whether he should be told or not and although she was reluctant to do so, she did realise he might otherwise hear about it in the media. I don’t think she was too worried about breaking the news to him, actually. I got the impression he wasn’t particularly close to his uncle. It was telling him about his sister’s death that was worrying her much more.’

  While they had been talking she had relaxed but now the stern look with which she had met them returned. ‘I’ll take you in to see him now but please remember what I said. I really do not want him upset. As I say, if he hadn’t been so insistent I would have refused to ring you, made him wait until tomorrow.’

  ‘We’ll do our best, Sister, I promise.’

  She led them right down the ward to the far left-hand corner. Thanet always hated walking the length of a hospital ward. He never knew whether to smile to right and left, acknowledging those patients who were conscious as if he were visiting royalty, or to ignore them. At least on this occasion, with Sister Benedict marching purposefully ahead, he didn’t have to scrutinise each one in search of a familiar face. Which was probably just as well. He may have met Jonathan Redman in the past, amongst all the other young people Bridget brought home, but he didn’t think he’d know him when he saw him.

  But he was wrong. Sister Benedict had stopped and the face on the pillows before them was at least vaguely familiar. Although Karen and Jonathan had been non-identical twins there was still a strong resemblance. And it was obvious that the lad had recognised him.

  Thanet had been prepared, obviously, for Jonathan to look ill, but he was still shocked by what he saw. Jonathan’s face was paper-white, his head was still swathed in bandages and his hands lay limply on the bed-cover. Like Karen he had always been slight in build and his body seemed scarcely to mound the blankets.

  Sister Benedict glanced from one to the other. ‘Well, here are your policemen, Jonathan. No need to introduce you, I see. I’ll leave you to it.’

  With a last, warning look at Thanet she swept the curtains around the bed, creating a false illusion of privacy, and left.

  Thanet and Lineham seated themselves on the stools provided for visitors.

  ‘Well then, Jonathan,’ said Thanet smiling. ‘What’s all this about?’

  TWENTY

  ‘But before you tell me,’ Thanet went on, ‘let me say how very sorry Mrs Thanet and I were to hear about Karen.’

  Jonathan pressed his lips together and turned his head away. Thanet was dismayed to see tears roll down the boy’s cheeks. Jonathan looked so young, he thought, more like sixteen than twenty, and desperately vulnerable. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned Karen? But how could he have spent some time talking to the lad without saying a word about her? He watched helplessly as Jonathan wiped the tears away and mumbled an apology. With three people in it the tiny enclosed world of the curtained cubicle suddenly seemed claustrophobically small and on impulse Thanet leaned across and murmured in Lineham’s ear. Jonathan might feel more comfortable alone with someone he knew. Discreetly, Lineham withdrew.

  ‘Thanks, Mr Thanet.’ But despite the expression of gratitude Jonathan didn’t look any more at ease.

  Thanet decided it would be best to press on, let the boy get off his chest whatever it was that was worrying him. Conscious of the fact that there was another patient in a bed only a few feet away, he moved his stool closer to Jonathan and said in a low voice, ‘So, why did you ask to see the police?’

  ‘You are in charge of my uncle’s case?’

  ‘Yes.’ Jonathan wasn’t merely uneasy, Thanet realised, he was very much afraid, and in the split second before the boy spoke again he experienced a tremor of premonition.

  ‘I wanted to tell you I killed him.’

  Thanet felt as though he had run into a brick wall that had materialised from nowhere. He stared at Jonathan, astounded.

  Jonathan’s fingers clutched convulsively at the bedclothes and his tone was despairing as he said, ‘This may sound crazy, but I didn’t remember anything about it until a couple of hours ago, when Mum told me about … about the murder.’

  In a blinding flash of comprehension Thanet suddenly saw it all. ‘It was Karen, wasn’t it? She told you, before she died?’

  There was no need for him to spell it out. They were both on the same wavelength. Jonathan nodded, eyes full of misery. ‘So you know about the baby.’

  ‘Yes.’ Thanet was uncomfortably aware that he knew only because of a confidence between Bridget and her mother.

  ‘I suppose Bridget told you. I expect she thought it didn’t matter, now Karen is dead.’ There was no condemnation in Jonathan’s voice. He just sounded inexpressibly weary, defeated.

  Still, Thanet felt bound to defend his daughter. ‘I wouldn’t put it like that. She’s known for years and has never said a word. I think it’s only because she was so upset about Karen that she told her mother now. And naturally, my wife told me. We had no idea who the father was, of course.’

  ‘Neither did we. Karen never would tell us, I don’t know why. To be honest, I suspected … I feel awful about it now, but … Oh, God …’ He put up a hand, rubbed his forehead as if to ease the pain of knowing. ‘In the beginning Mum tried to get it out of her, but … I didn’t know much about it at the time, of course. In fact, I don’t think anyone ever actually spelled it out to me, that my sister was having a baby. Mum finds it difficult to talk about things like that. But later, when Karen’s anorexia got worse – did you know the theory was that the pregnancy triggered off the anorexia?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  After a halting start Jonathan was now well launched into his story. It was, no doubt, the first time he had ever talked about this to anyone outside the family and it would probably be an immense relief to him to get it off his chest. All Thanet now had to do was lend a sympathetic ear and make the occasional appropriate response.

  ‘Well later, when this came out, I was much older of course, and Dad was dead. Mum didn’t have anyone else to talk to, and she was so sick with worry about Karen she just had to talk to someone, so she talked to me. And she told me that at the time it was almost as if, all along, Karen would never really accept that she was actually having a baby. Mum said it was impossible to talk to her about it. She wouldn’t even acknowledge your question, she’d just ignore it, change the subject. In the end Mum gave up. And afterwards, after the baby was born, I think all we wanted to do was forget about it as quickly as possible, put the whole thing behind us. I think we might even have managed to pretend it had never happened if it hadn’t been for Karen’s anorexia. But on Friday … On Friday, I think she knew, knew she was going to die. And I think I knew it, too. And I couldn’t bear the thought that I would never, ever know who’d done this to her. So I pressed her to tell me. I’d never done that before and I suppose she could see how important it was to me. So she told me.’

  Jonathan shook his head, slowly, as if even the slightest movement hurt. ‘I still don’t understand why she
never told anyone before. You’d think she’d have wanted people to know, wanted him punished. I can only think it must have been because she knew how upset Mum would be. Mum thought the sun shone out of Uncle Zak, still does – did. I don’t think they had much of a life with their parents and this made a pretty strong bond between them. I know she did all she could to encourage him to get a decent education. From things she’s said I suspect that while he was away at college she regularly used to send him money from the little she earned, and I think she always felt she’d contributed to his success. And I must admit he’s always been decent to her. He’s helped us out ever since Dad died … Looking back, I suppose that was conscience money,’ he added bitterly.

  Brisk footsteps tapped their way down the ward and Sister Benedict put her head around the curtain. ‘Everything all right?’ She gave Jonathan a penetrating look and, apparently satisfied by his appearance and their reassurances, left them alone again.

  ‘The really awful thing,’ said Jonathan into the ensuing silence, ‘is that I was there when it happened – oh, not present of course, I don’t mean that. But around, somewhere.’

  ‘When he …’ Thanet found he couldn’t say ‘raped’. Not to this grieving boy and not in these circumstances. He resorted to the common euphemism. ‘When he abused her, you mean?’

  ‘Yes. For the last hour or two, ever since Mum told me Karen had died – I’d forgotten, can you believe that? Forgotten, that my twin sister was dead!’

  ‘The mind plays odd tricks,’ said Thanet. ‘Sometimes we “forget” what we don’t want to remember. And as I’m sure they’ve told you, amnesia of varying degrees is very common in cases of head injury.’

  ‘Well anyway, ever since she told me, and it all came back to me in a rush – what Karen had said, and what I’d done afterwards – I’ve been lying here struggling to block out those last pictures of what happened to Uncle Zak by trying to remember. It was when we were twelve. Mum had to go into hospital for some minor op … She was only away for a couple of days, and for some reason Dad couldn’t look after us – I think he was away on business or something. Anyway, Uncle Zak took us out to stay with him and Auntie Alice, at the vineyard. That was when it happened, apparently. It was just that once.’ Jonathan gave Thanet a miserable glance and shook his head. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it? A few minutes’ pleasure and he’d signed Karen’s death warrant.’

  It sounded melodramatic but it was the simple truth, thought Thanet. ‘Look, Jonathan, you’re not trying to say you feel responsible, are you? That you should have protected Karen, prevented it happening? Because that simply isn’t true.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No! A boy of twelve can’t be his sister’s self-appointed guardian twenty-four hours of the day, every day, year after year. Because we’re not just talking about the time you spent at the vineyard. Karen was equally vulnerable at any time, before or since.’

  Jonathan said nothing.

  ‘You really must not torture yourself like this,’ said Thanet.

  Still Jonathan remained silent. But he must have been considering what Thanet had said because eventually he sighed, plucked at a loose thread on his pyjama cuff and said, ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘I am,’ said Thanet, with all the certainty he could muster.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Jonathan with a sudden spurt of energy, ‘that doesn’t alter the fact that he thought he’d got away with it, the filthy pig! God, how he must have squirmed, when he learnt Karen was pregnant – as I assume he must have – in case she gave him away! But as time went on and nothing happened he must have felt more and more safe. And all the while, Karen was slowly dying … When she told me, on Friday, all this seemed to sort of explode in my head. I didn’t show it, of course. I didn’t want to upset her. She died soon afterwards.’ Jonathan bit his lip to stop it trembling. ‘And when she did … I couldn’t bear to stay there, in the same room, and look at her. All I could think of was having it out with him, telling him what I thought of him, making him understand what he’d done to her …’ Jonathan shook his head in wonderment. ‘I assume I must have got on my motorbike and driven out to the vineyard, but I don’t remember a thing about that. The next thing I remember is barging into his laboratory.’

  Even though he knew what he was going to hear Thanet was conscious that his breathing had become shallow, his pulse had speeded up. Now, at last, he was approaching the heart of the mystery.

  ‘He was standing at the bench, doing something with test tubes. I wanted to go for him but I made myself stop. I wanted him to know what he’d done.’

  ‘Jonathan! What the hell do you mean, bursting in here like–’

  ‘Shut up! She’s dead, you bastard, and you killed her!’

  ‘What do you mean? Who’s dead? What are you talking …?’

  ‘Karen! Karen’s dead! Oh, what a relief that must be for you! Now no one will ever know!’

  ‘Know what? Really, Jonathan, you –’

  ‘Don’t “really, Jonathan” me! I’ll spell it out for you, shall I? I’ve come straight from the hospital, where my sister Karen has just died. And before she died she told me that it was you – you, who raped her when she was a kid of twelve – only a few years older than Fiona. How would you feel if Fiona has a baby when she’s twelve because some filthy pervert couldn’t keep his hands off her? Yes, that got to you, didn’t it?’

  ‘Jonathan. Calm down. I’m sorry to hear about Karen …’

  ‘Are you? Are you sorry? Like hell you are!’

  ‘I repeat, I’m sorry to hear about Karen. But I really cannot see how that makes me responsible for her death.’

  ‘Oh you can’t, can’t you? Well that’s because you haven’t been living with her for the past eight years, seen her dying by inches because when she was pregnant with your bastard she got it into her head for once and for all that she was too bloody fat!’

  ‘Fat!’

  ‘And he thought that was funny!’ Jonathan shook his head in despair. ‘Funny! When it was thinking she was too fat that killed her! The bastard grinned. He actually grinned! And that did it. I went for him.’

  David and Goliath, thought Thanet. He could visualise it all too vividly: the slight figure hurling itself in fury against the tall, well-muscled Zak Randish.

  ‘But he was so much stronger than me. He just put up his hands, got hold of my forearms and held me off. Oh God, it was so humiliating …’

  ‘Jonathan. Calm down and back off, will you?’

  ‘Let me go. Let me go, you pervert!’

  ‘All right, I will.’

  ‘And he just sort of threw me back against the wall. I fell over and as I got up I noticed some full bottles of wine lined up on the floor under one of the benches. I grabbed one and, without thinking, threw it at him. He ducked and I missed. The bottle smashed through the window behind him and … I don’t know how to describe what happened next. It was as if the sound of breaking glass triggered off something in my head, as if I actually felt something snap in my brain … Honest, Mr Thanet, I’m not trying to make excuses, just trying to tell you how it was.’

  ‘I know that, Jonathan.’

  The boy shook his head. ‘I suppose I just went berserk. I just chucked everything I could lay my hands on at him. I didn’t mean to kill him, I just, well, I suppose I just wanted to get that awful … rage out of my system. I can’t tell you exactly what made him lose his balance and go over backwards, but he did. One moment he was standing there and the next he’d crashed through the window. The blood … It was horrible. And then he just sort of slid down into a sitting position. There was blood everywhere, and it was really gushing out, pouring down his neck and front … He …’

  ‘All right, Jonathan. No need to go on. I get the picture.’

  ‘I couldn’t move. It was as if I was paralysed or something. It seemed only a matter of seconds before he slumped sideways and I could see he was dead. So I ran.’

  And you
were so distraught that on the way back you had the accident, thought Thanet. Once again he wondered if it had been the site of Jonathan’s accident he had passed on the way to the station to meet Bridget, Jonathan on the stretcher he had seen being loaded into the ambulance.

  ‘Jonathan,’ he said, ‘I have to ask you this, because others will do so. Why didn’t you ring for an ambulance?’

  ‘But he was dead! There was no point!’

  ‘Did you check?’

  ‘No, but it was obvious.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Jonathan frowned, remembering, and trying to work it out. ‘It was his eyes,’ he said at last. ‘If people are just unconscious they have their eyes shut. His sort of … glazed over, and stayed open.’

  ‘Yes, I see. All the same, it might have been a good idea, just in case.’ A fatuous statement, really. Jonathan had obviously been incapable of rational thought.

  ‘I suppose so. Oh God, what a mess. I don’t know how Mum’s going to react. What on earth am I going to say to her?’

  ‘She’ll have to know. And know why you did it, too. Or perhaps you’ve already told her it was your uncle who was responsible for Karen’s pregnancy?’

  Jonathan shook his head. ‘When it all came back to me I was too shocked to tell her anything, in case I said the wrong thing. Does she have to know it was him?’

  ‘Oh come on, Jonathan,’ said Thanet gently. ‘How else are you going to explain what happened? In any case, she’s bound to find out eventually.’

  ‘It’ll come out in Court, you mean. Oh God, I don’t think I can face it. Unless …’ He looked up, his eyes gleaming.

  ‘Unless what?’ By the way Jonathan was looking at him Thanet had a feeling something tricky was about to come up.

  ‘I don’t suppose … No, I can’t ask you.’

  Thanet refrained from asking ‘What?’ He thought he could guess.

  Jonathan waited a moment and when Thanet didn’t respond said desperately, ‘Have you told anyone else about Karen and the baby?’