THE CHARITABLE DINNER was a dull affair, held in the reception room at Matlow’s Town Hall, a gloomy building with few redeeming features. The food was mediocre, the wine corked and the company boring. The photographer from the Chronicle was there, but Annie could not see the journalist, Georgie Segger. William played his part. He listened with interest to the speeches and talked to the people who spoke to him. Annie sat on the other side of the table between two middle-aged men who battled like cockerels for her attention, all puff and preen, the one spitting food over her plate in his garrulousness, the other so obscenely attentive that Annie knew, from his glances, that William could sense her revulsion from twenty feet away.
As the company broke for cigarettes between the main course and the dessert, William excused himself and walked round the table to where Annie was sitting. He offered her his arm and they walked outside together. The night air was cool and fresh; the street lamps glowed yellow, an undernourished dog tugged at the contents of a spilled bin bag.
They leaned on the railings and looked out over the town.
‘Why did you bring me out here?’ Annie asked.
‘I wanted to have you to myself for a while. I wanted you to remember.’ William looked at her fondly. ‘This was where it all started for us, Annie, here in the Town Hall.’
‘I suppose it was.’
‘The first time I ever saw you was in this building. I knew at once that you would be my wife.’
‘How could you have known that?’
‘Because you were always the only one for me.’ William gave a self-conscious little laugh, the sort that invariably preceded some self-deprecatory anecdote that he considered amusing. ‘I was like a lovestruck teenager. Paul used to tease me about it. I was forever coming to the typing pool under the flimsiest pretexts so that I could talk to you. Do you remember how I used to ask you to type up even the most insignificant memos? How I’d get you to redo the same letter time and again?’
‘You were always finding fault.’
‘No, it wasn’t that! Didn’t you realise I was finding excuses to be close to you?’
Annie looked at her hands holding on to the railings. She had not realised, no. Her head had been so full of Tom.
‘I was afraid of you at first,’ she said quietly.
‘Afraid of me? Why?’
‘You were so important; so senior. I was just a typist.’
‘You didn’t say anything.’
‘I didn’t want to let on how I was feeling.’
Annie remembered how kind William had been to her after Tom’s arrest. How he had looked after her, protected her with his authority and how necessary that had seemed to her at the time.
‘I never thought somebody like you would be interested in someone like me,’ she said more gently.
‘I will never stop being interested in you,’ William said, ‘never.’
He stiffened his back.
‘We’ll have Greenaway soon,’ he said. ‘There are officers all over Yorkshire looking for him. And when we have him locked up, then our life can get back to normal.’
‘I can hardly remember what “normal” feels like,’ said Annie.
They were silent for a while.
‘What if Tom didn’t do it?’ she asked quietly. ‘What if it wasn’t him?’
‘He did do it,’ said William. ‘He murdered both those women. There is no doubt at all that he is responsible for their deaths. He’s mentally unbalanced. Psychopathic. He’s not the man you think you know.’ William rubbed his chin. ‘This has been a difficult time for you,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been around, I’ve been distracted.’ Don’t, she thought, don’t apologise for your behaviour. ‘And it was … difficult for me too. I’ve been so worried about you, Annie. I’ve been so, so worried.’
‘There was no need.’
‘Wasn’t there?’ He cleared his throat and she tried not to hear him. ‘I think we should have a holiday,’ he said. ‘We’ve all been through a lot these last weeks. We could take Elizabeth out of school for a fortnight; with what we’re paying, they couldn’t possibly object.’ Annie opened her mouth but he hushed her. ‘We’ll go away and by the time we return, Greenaway will have been apprehended and the fuss will be over. And while we’re away, perhaps we could try for another baby?’
For a moment Annie was speechless. Then she said: ‘William, what makes you think I’d want another baby?’
‘You told me the happiest time of your life was when Elizabeth was little. You haven’t been happy lately. I’m not the most sensitive man, but even I can see you haven’t been happy. I’d like to see you smile again. And in any case, don’t you think it would be good to have another child? Good for us, I mean, as a couple and as a family.’
‘I …’ Annie looked around, searching for the words. ‘You think a baby would make things better between us?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where has all this come from, William?’ Annie asked. ‘Why are you saying all this to me now?’
‘Because I know we’ve had a few problems lately. No, don’t say anything. I know we have.’ He cleared his throat. ‘But I also know that things will be better from now on.’
‘How can you know that?’
‘Because I’m going to make it happen,’ he said.