‘And what makes you think I’d do that?’
‘Because you’ve done it once.’
‘Oh, that was an aberration. As I said, I just got over-emotional.’
‘Listen, Hester, I don’t have any medical qualifications, but I work as a healer so I do come across a lot of people who’ve got troubles in their lives. And I’d be failing in my duty to my profession – not to mention in my duty as a human being – if I were just to let you go straight home.’
‘But I’m fine.’
‘Look, just think how I’d feel if I heard on the local news tomorrow that you’d committed suicide.’
‘But I’m not about to commit suicide.’
‘That’s exactly what someone planning suicide would say.’
Hester Winstone was suddenly on the verge of tears as she said, ‘Can’t you just leave me alone!’
‘No, I really don’t think I can.’ There was a silence, broken only by Hester’s suppressed sobs. ‘Look, if you won’t agree to talk to me, I’ll have no alternative but to call an ambulance.’
‘But I don’t need an ambulance. You’ve seen my wrist – it’s only a scratch.’
‘The fact remains that it’s a scratch which you inflicted on yourself. If you were to go home, you’d be on your own, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Hester admitted grudgingly.
‘Well, is there someone who could come and be with you? A family member? A neighbour?’
‘No, there’s no one. Anyway, I don’t want people knowing about what’s happened. If Mike ever got wind it, it would be an absolute disaster.’
‘Don’t you think you should tell your husband?’
‘No, he wouldn’t understand.’
‘But surely, if you’re unhappy enough to slit your wrists – even if you didn’t do it very efficiently – then your husband ought to know.’
‘No, he mustn’t.’
‘So when he comes back next Friday, how are you going to explain the big scar on your wrist?’
‘Oh, I’ve worked that out. I’ll say I cut it when I was opening a tin of dog food.’
‘And will he believe you?’
‘It would never occur to Mike not to believe me.’
‘I still think you should tell him what happened.’
‘No, Mike’s no good with that sort of stuff. It’d confuse him – and upset him.’
‘If he’s the cause of your unhappiness, then perhaps he needs to be upset.’
‘I didn’t say he was the cause of it.’
‘No. But you haven’t said what else is the cause, so I’m just having to make conjectures based on the very small amount of information you have given me.’
‘You have no right to make conjectures about my life. I’m going to go.’
‘Hester, I’ll tell you why I have a right to make conjectures about your life. Because I found you in your car having just cut your wrist. That means, whether you like it or not, I have that information. What I do with that information is up to me. A lot of people would have just rung for an ambulance – or even the police – straight away, regardless of whether you wanted them to or not. Carole and I didn’t do that. We brought you back here and tidied you up. And I’m quite happy for no one else to know what happened … so long as you persuade me that you’re not about to do the same thing again.’
‘What – you’re blackmailing me into talking to you?’
‘I don’t like your choice of word, but if that’s what you want to call it, fine. I just want to feel reassured about your mental state.’ Hester Winstone was silent. ‘Anyway, suppose Carole and I hadn’t come into the car park just then …? Would you have cut your wrists some more? Did you want to be discovered there by someone in SADOS?’
The slightest of reactions from the woman suggested Jude might have touched a nerve there. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t very in control,’ Hester mumbled, acknowledging for the first time since Carole had left the two women together that there was something wrong.
‘Look, I don’t know you,’ said Jude. ‘I know nothing about your life apart from what you’ve told me in the last few minutes, but for someone to cut their wrist – however ineffectively – suggests a very deep unhappiness.’
‘Maybe,’ Hester Winstone conceded.
‘Whether that’s caused by the state of your marriage, or your boys being away at boarding school or some recent bereavement or a long-term depressive condition or the menopause, I don’t know. But if you do want to confide in someone, I have the advantages of not knowing your social circle, so nothing you say will go further than these four walls. I also promise not to be judgemental. And enough people have said it to me that I think I can confidently state I’m a good listener. Not to mention an experienced healer. So if you do want to tell me anything … well, the ball’s in your court.’
Hester twisted her hands together in confusion. ‘It’s tempting.’
‘Then why not give into temptation?’
After a moment the reply came. ‘No, I can’t. Sorry.’
‘Well,’ said Jude, ‘shall I tell you what I, as an impartial observer of what I saw happen in the Cricketers, think may have caused the sudden deterioration of your mood?’
‘You can try. But we were only in the same group of people for a couple of minutes, so you can’t have seen much.’
‘I had been aware of you in the bar before we were actually introduced. I noticed your body language.’
‘God, I didn’t know I had any body language.’
‘Oh, you did. Hard thing to avoid, body language.’
‘And what was mine saying?’
‘It was saying you were feeling neglected …’
‘Oh?’
‘Or possibly rejected.’
‘Really? By whom?’
‘Neville Prideaux.’
‘Oh God.’ Hester Winstone’s hand shot up to her mouth. ‘Was it that obvious? Does that mean everyone in SADOS knows?’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much about that. From the impression I got of those I met this evening, they’re all too preoccupied with themselves to notice what’s going on with other people. It was easier for me to observe things as an outsider.’
‘So what exactly did you observe? From my body language?’
‘You seemed to be trying to engage Neville’s attention. He seemed to be very deliberately avoiding eye contact with you, and constantly moving to other groups in the pub, so that you wouldn’t get a moment alone with him.’
Hester Winstone was silent. Tears were beginning to well up in her hazel eyes.
‘But, as I say, I’m sure nobody else noticed,’ Jude reassured her. ‘It’s just, being introduced to a group of people for the first time, you see things in a detached way … you know, before you get to know any of them.’
Hester nodded, hoping, but not convinced, that what Jude had said was true.
‘So you’ve got a bit of a history with Neville Prideaux, have you?’
‘A very brief history. I hadn’t met him a month ago.’
‘But you did meet him during the time that your husband’s been in New Zealand?’
‘Yes,’ the woman said wretchedly.
‘And he came on to you?’
‘It wasn’t as obvious as that. Not like Ritchie. He … Neville … he kind of took me seriously. At least appeared to take me seriously.’
‘You mentioned Ritchie. So he came on to you, did he?’
‘Well …’
‘He came on to me the minute I was introduced to him,’ said Jude.
‘Yes, he does that to everyone.’ Hester Winstone coloured. ‘He’s a very attractive man.’
‘He certainly thinks he is.’
‘But he really is,’ Hester insisted, and Jude was forced to admit it was true. Though Ritchie Good’s chat-up line had been crass beyond words, Jude had still felt a tug of attraction towards him.