When he had told Yvette that he was taking Frieda to talk to Ted, Judith and Dora, not her, she had stared at him with such a reproachful expression that he had almost changed his mind. He could deal with her anger, not her distress. Her cheeks burned and she mumbled that it was fine, perfectly all right, it was up to him and she understood.
Ted was first. He shuffled into the room, laces trailing, hair straggling, hems fraying, all rips and loose ends. His cheeks were unshaven and there was a rash on his neck; he looked unwashed and malnourished. He refused to sit, and stood by the window instead. Spring had come to the garden. There were daffodils in the borders and blossom on the fruit tree.
‘Remember me?’ said Frieda.
‘I didn’t know you were with them,’ he said.
‘Thanks for agreeing to see us like this,’ said Karlsson. ‘Before we begin, this is Amanda Thorne. She’s what is known as an appropriate adult. It means –’
‘I know what it means. And I’m not a child. I don’t need her here.’
‘No, dear,’ said Amanda, rising to her feet and crossing the room to him. ‘You’re not a child. You’re a young man who’s been through a terrible, terrible event.’
Ted gazed at her with contempt. She didn’t seem to notice.
‘I’m here to support you,’ she continued. ‘If there’s anything you don’t understand, you must tell me and I can explain. If you feel upset or confused, you can tell me.’
Ted looked down at her tilted, smiling face. ‘Shut up.’
‘What?’
‘Shall we start?’ Karlsson interrupted.
Ted folded his arms, stared jeeringly out of the window and wouldn’t meet their eyes. ‘Go on, then. Are you going to ask me if I know about my mum and her other life?’
‘Do you?’
‘I do now. My dad told me. Well, he started to tell me and then he was crying and then he told me the rest.’
‘So you know your mother was seeing someone else?’
‘No. I just know that’s what you think.’
‘You don’t believe it?’
Ted unfolded his arms and turned towards them. ‘You know what I think? I think you’ll get your hands on every bit of her life and make it ugly, dirty.’
‘Ted, I’m very sorry but this is about a murder,’ said Karlsson. ‘You must see that we have to conduct a full investigation.’
‘Ten years!’ The words were a shout, his face contorted with fury. ‘Since I was eight, and Dora was three. Did I know? No. How does it make me feel that it’s all been a lie, a charade? How do you think?’ He turned wildly to Amanda Thorne. ‘Come on, Appropriate Adult. Tell me what I must be feeling. Or you.’ He waved a dirty-nailed hand at Frieda. ‘You’re a therapist. Tell me about it.’
‘Ted,’ said Frieda. ‘You need to answer the questions.’
‘You know what? Some of my friends used to say that they wished she was their mother. They won’t say that now.’
‘Are you saying you had absolutely no idea?’
‘Do you want to take a break?’ Amanda Thorne asked.
‘No, he doesn’t,’ Karlsson said sharply.
‘Of course I had no idea. She was the good mother, the good wife, the good neighbour. Mrs fucking Perfect.’
‘But does it make sense to you now?’
Ted turned to Frieda. He seemed bony and brittle, as if he might crumble into a pile of sharp fragments if anyone touched him, tried to hold him. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘You’re suddenly and painfully having to see your mother in a new way – not the person everyone seems to describe as safe and calm and unselfish. Someone with another, radically different, side to her, with needs and desires of her own and a whole life she was leading in secret, separate from all of you – and I’m asking if in retrospect that makes any sense to you.’
‘No. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. She was my mum. She was …’ he closed his eyes for a moment ‘… comfy.’
‘Exactly. Not a sexual being.’
‘I don’t want to think about it,’ he repeated. ‘I don’t want the pictures in my head. Everything’s poisoned.’
He wrenched his body sharply away from them once more. Frieda sensed he was on the verge of tears.
‘So,’ Karlsson’s voice broke into the silence, ‘you’re saying you never suspected anything.’
‘She was a terrible actor, useless at things like charades. And she couldn’t lie to save her life. She’d go red and we’d all laugh at her. It was a family joke. But it turns out she was a pretty fantastic actor and liar after all, doesn’t it?’
‘Can you tell us about the day she was killed, Wednesday, the sixth of April?’
‘Tell you what?’
‘When you left home, what you did during the day, what time you returned. That kind of thing.’
Ted gave Frieda a wild stare, then said: ‘OK. My alibi, you mean. I left home at the usual kind of time. Half eight, something like that. I had to be early at school, which is only a few minutes away, because I had my mock art exam. For which I just heard I got an A star by the way.’ He gave a savage grin. ‘Brilliant, wasn’t it? Then I was at school for the rest of the day. Then I met Judith, we hung about for a bit and came home together. And found police everywhere. Good enough for you?’
‘Good enough.’
Judith Lennox was next. She came through the door quietly as a ghost, staring at each of them in turn with her pale blue eyes. She had coppery curls and freckles over the bridge of her nose. Although her hair needed washing and she was dressed in old jogging pants, with a baggy green jersey that probably belonged to her father, down almost to her knees and with long sleeves covering her hands, she was obviously lovely, with the peachy bloom of youth that days of crying couldn’t entirely conceal.
‘I’ve nothing to say,’ she announced.
‘That’s quite all right, dear,’ murmured Amanda Thorne. ‘You don’t need to say anything at all.’
‘If you think it was Dad, you’re just stupid.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘It’s obvious. Mum was cheating on him so you think he must have found out and killed her. But Dad adored her, and anyway, he didn’t know a thing, not a thing. You can’t make something true just by thinking it.’
‘Of course not,’ said Karlsson.
Frieda considered the girl. She was fifteen, on the edge of womanhood. She had lost her mother and lost the meaning of her mother; now she must fear that she could lose her father as well. ‘When you found out about your mother –’ she began.
‘I came home with Ted,’ said Judith. ‘We held hands when we found out.’ She gave a small sob. ‘Poor Ted. He thought Mum was perfect.’
‘And you didn’t?’
‘It’s different for daughters.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was her darling boy. Dora was her sweet baby. I stole her lipstick – well, I didn’t, really. She didn’t go in much for makeup or stuff. But you know what I mean. Anyway, I’m the middle child.’
‘But you’re sure that no one knew?’
‘That she was cheating on Dad all that time? No. I still don’t really believe it.’ She rubbed her face hard. ‘It’s like a film or something, not like real life. It’s not the kind of thing she would do. It’s just stupid. She’s a middle-aged woman and she’s not even that attractive –’ She broke off, her face twisting. ‘I don’t mean it like that, but you know what I’m saying. Her hair’s going grey and she has sensible underwear and she doesn’t bother with what she looks like.’ She seemed suddenly to realize that she was talking about her mother in the present tense. She wiped her eyes. ‘Dad didn’t know anything, I promise,’ she said urgently. ‘I swear Dad didn’t suspect a thing. He’s gutted. Leave him alone. Leave us alone.’