“Ken said you weren’t expecting to stay over, so I’ve got some disposable toothbrushes and little toothpaste tubes. I collect them when we go to hotels; there’s also shampoo and bath foam.”
“This is very kind of you, thank you,” said Anna. “If you could just show me where the bathroom is...”
“Of course, dear. It’s at the end of the landing, and I’ll bring you fresh towels.”
Anna sat on the pink toilet seat that matched everything else in the communal bathroom: the pink bath, the pink tiles, and the pink shower curtain. She had rinsed some toilet paper under the cold tap and held it to her face, as she felt worn out and her head was thudding. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself and pressing the tissue into her eyes.
By the time she had returned to her bedroom, the clean towels had been left on her bed, along with the toothbrush and toothpaste. Anna combed her hair and sat on the bed for a while: she could hear Langton laughing downstairs. She could have strangled him, but then she sat up and told herself to get it together. She took a few more deep breaths and stood up, determined to at least try and be pleasant.
In the cozy sitting room, which had a large sofa and matching chairs with a huge plasma screen TV and fake log fire, Langton was talking to Mr. Hudson. The man rose to his feet as Anna entered and shook her hand.
“Very pleased to meet you, dear. The wife is just bringing in a cup of tea for everyone, unless you want something else?”
“No, a cup of tea will be fine, and if you have any aspirin, I’d be most grateful, thank you.”
Mr. Hudson was a well-built man, rather handsome, with the same fair good looks as his son, but his hair was receding. He left them to go and help his wife.
“Got a headache, have you?” Langton asked.
“Yes. It was a long drive and a long session.”
“Useful though. You know, he virtually described John Smiley — and while I was with the governor, he let me make a few calls. Three ex-employees of Swell Blinds, according to the team, all said the same thing. Smiley was an exemplary worker, well liked, and none of them had a bad word to say about him. We’re getting all the files about that victim wrapped in the blue blanket brought over — it’s a possible new case. Mike Lewis said the officers making inquiries about the barns and outhouses knew that a lot of lorries did use that back road and—”
Just then Mrs. Hudson came in carrying a large tray of sandwiches and cakes. Langton jumped to his feet to take it from her and set it down on a coffee table. Mr. Hudson then brought in a big china teapot and some aspirin for Anna. It was hard not to like them. They were a delightful couple and were obviously devoted.
As they had their tea, Mrs. Hudson pointed out all the photographs of children she had fostered over the years, telling them how many she still kept in touch with. She admitted she had never thought about fostering until her own children were in school. It had started with one child, and then the agency would call and ask if she could see her way to caring for another, then another. Next they were shown the albums of her own children: her daughter, Lizzie, in Richmond, who had two children of her own; her youngest son, Robin, living in Australia; and then Ken.
“He was more trouble than the other two put together,” she said affectionately.
She laughed as her husband started recalling some of the teenage Ken’s escapades, from his running off to join a circus to motorbike racing, proudly showing them a cup he’d won at sixteen as a dirt-track rider champion. It was at this point that Ken walked in. He had showered and changed and was wearing a light blue denim shirt and jeans.
“Oh, Christ, she’s not going on about me, is she?” He hooked an arm around his mother and kissed her. The adoration on her face was touching.
Anna sat back, listening to Ken’s stories of his attempts to join various circuses. He was funny, describing how his father, whom Ken called by his Christian name of Roy, would get someone to use a megaphone to call him home. At that point, Langton excused himself, explaining that he needed to make some calls.
Anna helped Mrs. Hudson take the tea things out to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher. The kitchen was like the rest of the house, tidy and with every surface shining, and when she put the milk jug back in the fridge, Anna could see it was stocked with plastic containers, all labeled. From the rows of well-thumbed cookbooks, it was obvious that Mrs. Hudson took great pride in her domestic abilities.
When Ken came in to say that he had booked a table at the local Indian restaurant, Anna noticed how at ease he was with his mother. He towered above her as she started to protest that she could cook dinner for them, and he insisted that it would not be necessary.
“But they’ll want one of your full cooked breakfasts — right, Anna?” he said.
Anna agreed. Now that her headache was receding, she found herself liking him more and more. He suggested that he would drive his father’s car so that his guests could enjoy a glass of wine.
Langton had shaved and was keen to go and eat. He sat beside Ken in the front seat of the car, which was as spotless as the house.
“Don’t you drink?” Anna asked.
“Not really, except maybe the odd pint after a game. I play rugby every weekend. We’ve got quite a good team made up from the officers and a few from the local clubs.”
Their conversation was easygoing, and by the time they’d ordered at the small restaurant and a bottle of red wine had been opened, Anna was at last totally relaxed.
The food was not exceptional but was reasonable, and Langton, like Anna, seemed to be enjoying himself. Not until they had ordered coffee did the conversation turn to the reason they had been to the prison. Langton asked Ken what he thought of Cameron Welsh.
“He’s a complex individual,” the young man said. “I don’t like him; he’s manipulative and doesn’t mix with anyone. He spends most of his time studying.”
“Child psychology, wasn’t it?” Anna asked.
“Yes, and I think he’s embarking on economics. He’s very intelligent, but like I said, he’s to my mind very warped. I can’t stand his obsession with his clothes and food fads. He’s got more shampoos and conditioners for his hair than my sister. He’s also independently wealthy, so that makes it easy for him to order in all the books he needs. He’s not allowed cash, obviously, but we can’t stop him ordering from Amazon, and as it’s for educational reasons, there’s no real reason to.”
Langton asked when Welsh had been inside the main prison. Ken said he hadn’t had much to do with him; he just knew there had been trouble, as Welsh constantly antagonized the other inmates.
“Welsh was more intelligent and better educated than any of them, and he knew it and delighted in creating problems. They found out he’d been doing a Joe Orton in the library once, so that caused a stink.”
“Orton? Who’s he, an inmate?”
Anna was surprised that Langton didn’t know. Ken explained that Orton was a brilliant writer who had been charged with cutting out and pasting obscenities in his local library books.
“He was murdered by his boyfriend a good few years back, but Welsh, like him, cut out pages and pasted stuff inside the books, so he got into trouble.”
“You think he’s homosexual?” Langton asked.
“No, no, I don’t, although the way he fancies himself up, he could appear to be. He has a hatred of women, so who can tell what goes on in his head? All I know is he’s never made any sexual approaches to any inmates that I am aware of.”
“Why do you say he hates women?” Anna asked.
Ken explained that when Welsh was submitting his papers for the Open University, Ken had been asked to double-check them in case there were any attempts at communication concealed in the essays. Inmates with twenty-four-hour lockup spent their time finding ways of sending out messages or even trying to arrange an escape.