They were in a kind of conference room with a large rectangular table taking up most of the space, whiteboards and a TV screen on the burlap-clad walls, and a long teak sideboard beneath windows that overlooked a well-stocked kitchen garden. They’d been led here by the deputy governor’s assistant, a chatty woman who’d explained that this was the admin block and quite separate from the main building, although they might spot a few inmates working among the vegetable patches outside.
“They won’t bother you,” she’d assured them as she’d pushed open the door to this room and waved an arm as if she were introducing them to the royal suite. “No one will interrupt you in here. It’s very private and comfortable—I’m told it’s even soundproofed, but I’m not sure anyone’s ever put it to the test.”
Dan thanked her on behalf of them all, and after she’d gone to chase up coffee and biscuits he and Andee exchanged ironic glances. This was quite a luxury in comparison to some of the places they held RJ meetings—and in a prison? Who’d have thought it?
The seating arrangements were easily sorted, with Claudia, Marcy, Jasmine, and Andee on one side of the table, Dan on the other with Archie when he arrived.
“I’m going to lower the blinds a little,” Andee said, “or we’ll be looking into the sun and it’s important for you to see more than the silhouette of the person you’re talking to.”
Marcy watched her adjusting the shades and nodded when she’d achieved the right level. Although everyone had a role to play here today she knew that the main focus was going to be on her and Archie Colbrook, and while she accepted that, it was still making her nervous.
Beside her, to her left, Claudia was checking again that her mobile was off, and after putting it away she reached for her mother’s injured hand. It was OK to touch it now; it didn’t hurt as much, although the itching could still be its own form of living hell. They’d joked the other day about getting half-price manicures now that she only had properly formed fingernails on one hand.
“What about half-price makeup too?” Marcy had added, but that little witticism had fallen flat as she should have known it would. There was nothing funny about her raw, scarred face and porcine eye, nothing to laugh at there at all—only oceans of desperate tears to shed in the privacy of her room. Still, the fact that they’d been able to raise at least one smile about her new look was surely a step in the right direction.
“If you want to leave at any time,” Claudia whispered, “you know you can.”
Yes, Marcy knew that, but she couldn’t imagine herself just upping and walking away now that they’d come this far. Unless things went horribly wrong, of course, in which case she might have to. Turning to Jasmine, she gave her a reassuring smile in spite of knowing how grotesque it was; hopefully the tone of her voice would convey her feelings. “You speak if you want to,” she told her. “Just because you’ve opted not to doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind.”
Jasmine leaned in to hug her. “I want this to be all about you,” she told her, “and Mum as well, so unless it feels that I ought to say something, or he asks me a question, I’ll just listen.”
Marcy looked across the table to where Dan was checking something on his laptop, and knowing how much he wanted this to go well, for everyone, she felt a surge of gratitude toward him. She wondered how Claudia might be reacting to seeing him on the other side of the table, taking up position with the enemy so to speak, although she’d known it was going to happen so perhaps it wasn’t upsetting her.
Turning to her, Marcy whispered, “Are you OK?”
“Yes,” Claudia replied. “Are you?”
“I’m fine. I wonder how he’s feeling right now.”
Dan said, “Nervous, I’m sure. Well, he’d probably use a different expression, but it would have the same meaning.”
Marcy couldn’t help imagining what words Archie might reach for, but she soon let it go as she began asking herself again if they were doing the right thing in coming here. After his last letter, his apology, she’d felt that it might be enough; she didn’t need to have any more to do with him, for no amount of talking, explaining, trying to understand each other, or whatever else might come up was going to change what had happened. Her face could never be properly repaired. She was disfigured now for the rest of her life. So, what was the point of it all?
“The point,” Henry had told her, “is that you’ve been talking more since you read his letters. I don’t know why or how, but they seem to have reached something in you that the rest of us haven’t managed to. Isn’t it worth finding out if seeing him really could help?”
Marcy had been surprised by that answer, for she’d expected him to be as wary as Claudia over this meeting; however, when she’d reported back to Claudia, her daughter had agreed, albeit cautiously, with Henry. So had Jasmine.
“It feels like a properly positive step,” Jasmine had said, “and if Andee and Dan are behind it I really don’t think we need to worry.”
“A lot can be to do with chemistry,” Claudia had continued, surprising Marcy further. “Don’t look like that, I’ve been reading about RJ online. If you absolutely take against him the minute you see him, we’ll know there’s no point going ahead with it, but I don’t think you will, not after the way you reacted to his letters.”
Marcy began thinking about the letters now, and the parts that had affected her the most. She was remembering letting go of her anger and vindictiveness at the unexpected tenderness she’d felt over their transparent bravado, when her heart suddenly lurched. The door was opening.
A woman came through with a tray of refreshments. Marcy watched her set it on the sideboard, then felt Claudia’s hand tighten on hers. She turned back to the door and her heart stilled again. A young man was filling the space and looking vaguely like the mugshots she’d seen on the news, but only vaguely. He was tall and clean shaven; his dark hair was combed back from his forehead, and his brown eyes as he looked at Dan showed the same vulnerability she’d picked up in his letters. There was no air of arrogance or cockiness about him, no sense of boredom or irritation; almost nothing of what she’d primed herself for, not even any tattoos or piercings.
“Everyone,” Dan said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he turned to address the room, “this is Archie.”
Marcy, Claudia, and Jasmine watched as Andee went to greet him, introducing herself as their supporter, shaking his hand and thanking him for coming. As she returned to her place Dan led him to the other side of the table and before they sat down he continued his introductions.
“Archie, this is Claudia Winters.”
Archie started to reach out a hand but pulled it back when Claudia simply raised hers in greeting.
“This is Claudia’s daughter, Jasmine,” Dan continued.
He didn’t attempt to shake this time, simply gave her the same sort of awkward salute that she gave him.
“And this is Marcy Kavanagh,” Dan said.
As Archie’s eyes came to her Marcy ached inside to see his shock, horror—and was it panic? She obviously looked even worse than he’d expected, and he didn’t know what to do or say. She suspected he’d run, if he could.
Although she’d expected him to react to her scarring, and had been bracing herself for it, now that it was happening she had no idea what to do. Until, as though it had a will of its own, her right hand reached toward him offering to shake. He took it, tentatively, and managed a wrenchingly self-conscious hello.
Dan put a hand on his shoulder and held it there, gently easing him into his chair as Andee dished out the coffees.
Finally, Dan said, “OK, I’ll start off with a few easy rules to get us going. First, try not to interrupt when someone else is speaking. Second, if anyone feels they need time out at any point, just raise a hand and it can happen. Next, all our phones should be switched off—I think we did that before we came in. Lastly let’s do our best not to swear—Archie.”
Though it was meant as a gentle tease, Archie looked so alarmed that it was as though he thought he’d already disgraced himself. “No, no, definitely not,” he promised, lifting his eyes to Marcy before quickly lowering them again.
Telling herself that this reluctance to fully engage could be as much about nerves as repulsion—or guilt—Marcy found herself saying, “I’ll do my best to hold it in too.”
She almost felt Claudia’s and Jasmine’s eyebrows rise.
Apparently amused, Dan said, “In these meetings it’s usually the person who’s caused harm that speaks first, so unless you, Marcy, or Claudia have anything you’d like to say upfront . . .”
They shook their heads.
“. . . I’ll help Archie to kick off by asking a few questions.” Turning to address Archie, he said, “We’re all aware that the reason we’re here today is because of the crime you committed, and that someone ordered you to do it. You’ve already explained to me, and to Marcy in your letters, why you don’t want to discuss a third-party involvement, so I won’t press you about it during this meeting. What I want you to do is talk us through the events of the night of the fire, from your perspective. I realize you’ve written this down, but I think it’ll help Marcy and her family to hear you tell it. Maybe you can start by describing what you were thinking as you prepared to set the fire.”
Marcy watched Archie’s Adam’s apple bob up and down in his muscular neck as if it were as eager to get out of here as he was. His cheeks bloomed with color and he was unable to look at anyone when he finally stumbled into an answer. “Uh, um . . . I guess I wasn’t thinking about very much really,” he said to his hands, “only what I had to do, and if the advice I’d been given was sound.”
Dan said, “We know you watched Marcy and her family get into the car; what were you thinking then?”
Archie’s eyes flicked tentatively to Marcy as he said, “I was thinking the same as I did when I was staking the place before the times I broke in, that it was a shame someone had it in for you because you looked like nice people.”
Marcy wanted to ask who had it in for them, but as she’d been advised not to interrupt, she held on to it for now.
“Even though they looked like nice people,” Dan prompted, “you still went ahead and carried out the instructions you’d been given. Maybe you can tell us what those instructions were?”
Archie’s head was still down, the muscles in his arms tightening as he pressed his hands together. “They were to torch the place,” he said. “I knew there might be something inside that needed to be got rid of, and because I hadn’t been able to find it when I broke in . . . I . . . I was told to make the place go up in smoke as a kind of insurance.”
“And how did you feel when you were smashing the windows and pouring petrol through them?” Dan asked, matter-of-factly enough to make Marcy flinch.
Archie’s eyes were still on his hands as he said, “I felt scared of being caught, and of setting fire to myself. I’d been warned about how that might happen. I was also scared of screwing up because of what might happen to me and my ma if I did.”
Dan said, “Had anyone actually told you what that would be?”
Archie shook his head. “Those things don’t get put into words, you just know they’re bad.”
Accepting that, Dan prompted him to continue with how he’d felt while committing the crime.
“I suppose,” Archie said, “apart from scared and everything, I felt kind of weird about it all, because it wasn’t something I wanted to do. I just thought I had to . . .” He took a breath and wiped a shaky hand over his mouth. “Looking back, I reckon I wasn’t allowing myself to think much at all. I just went through the motions . . . Obviously I wish now that I’d had the courage to tell them what to do with their money and their orders and their threats. I wish they didn’t always target my ma the way they do. I used to try to make out she don’t mean anything to me so they’d leave her alone, stop using her to force me into stuff, but they did it anyway.” He took a moment, making his knuckles turn white as he bunched his hands together on the table, a kind of power-up, Marcy thought, to make himself continue.
“She’s not right, you see,” he said, “I mean in the head. She’s not mental or anything, well, I suppose she is a bit, but she understands things and she’s got feelings like anyone else.” He took a breath and then another, showing that talking about his mother affected him deeply. “She tried to stop me from going that night,” he told them. “She said it didn’t matter what they did to us we couldn’t go round hurting other people just to save ourselves. I saw straightaway after that she was right. No way did you deserve what I did to you. I swear I didn’t see you going back into the house. On my ma’s life I’d never have done it if I had. I wish I hadn’t done it anyway . . .” His voice fractured as he pressed his bunched hands to his head.
“It’s OK, son,” Dan said comfortingly, “this is a big thing you’re doing and it’s bound to bring up a lot of emotions, probably more than you’re expecting.”
Marcy watched the lad take gulps of air and press his fingers into his eye sockets as though to stem the tears. She wondered how it might have felt to hear Dan call him son. Had anyone ever called him that before, with affection? It was no surprise, with everything happening, that he was having such a struggle to rein in his emotions. If she allowed herself to think too much about it she’d have trouble reining in her own.
“Tell us what happened after you started the fire,” Dan said, when Archie was ready again.
“I can’t really explain what happened after,” Archie answered. “I mean, I knew it was happening, and I got myself clear the way I’d been told to, but when I got into the trees it was like I couldn’t make myself stop watching. It was nothing to do with making sure the whole place went up, I wasn’t even thinking about that . . . I just couldn’t make myself run like I was supposed to.”
“How long did you stay?” Dan asked.
Archie shook his head as though he were trying to recall a dream. “If this doesn’t sound too weird,” he said, “it was like I was hypnotized or something, you know kind of in a trance. I heard someone shouting that they’d called 999 and I even thought for a minute it was me doing the shouting.
“I was still there when the fire engines turned up. I watched them rolling out the hoses, breaking in through the door, spraying the roof . . . It was only when I heard someone shouting . . .” He lost his breath and after a tense moment he stole a quick glance at Jasmine. “I heard you shouting,” he told her. “As you got out of the car, I heard . . . and that’s when I realized someone was inside the house.”
As he fell silent Marcy wondered if he had any idea of the terrible impact his words were having on her and her family, being told that he’d been there watching the tragedy he’d caused to unfold. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure how she did feel about it. Would it have been better if he’d just run away? Or did it make it worse that he hadn’t?
Realizing that there were no easy answers, and probably still wouldn’t be even after today, she took a sip of her coffee, now cold, and waited for him to continue.
Assisting him, Dan said, “At what point did you leave the scene, Archie?”
Archie frowned as he thought. “Just before, just after the air ambulance turned up. I can’t really remember now. I know it landed on the moor. My van was there, hidden in a layby. I got to it, but there was no way I could get into town through all the fire engines and stuff, so I went in the opposite direction.”
“To where?”
“I went home eventually. I took the long way round.”
“Did you call anyone to let them know you’d completed your task?”
He nodded. “I texted. I admitted I’d screwed up, that someone had been inside . . . I knew it was going to be the end for me. I thought about running, taking my ma with me, but then a message came back . . .” He glanced awkwardly at Marcy.
Guessing he didn’t want to repeat the words that had told him it was OK that someone had been inside, and knowing that she didn’t want to hear them, she said, “What happened next? Were you paid?”
His head fell forward as he nodded.
“Can I ask how much?”
“Five grand,” he mumbled.
She felt strangely dizzied by that. She hadn’t considered the price of burning down their home before, wouldn’t have had any idea of the going rate for such a monstrous crime, but that it was so little . . . But not little to him. To him, as he’d told her in his letters, it had opened up a small world of possibilities.
Moving them on, Dan said, “Then what happened?”
Archie shrugged. “I tried not to think about what I’d done, but it never went out of my head, and we kept hearing about it on the news. My ma fixated on it, got herself into a terrible state, even threatening to kill herself and me.” He broke off, took a breath, and started again. “I kind of knew she’d end up reporting it. In a way it was a relief when she did. Not that I want to be stuck in here, don’t get me wrong, but it’s where I belong so . . .” He shrugged again and began jigging a knee up and down so fast it was as though he had no control over it.
Dan put out a hand to stop him. “Before we take a break,” he said, “is there anything else you’d like to say to Marcy and her family?”
Archie nodded, and swept a tumble of hair from his forehead as he forced himself to meet Marcy’s eyes. “I want to tell you again,” he said, “that I’m truly sorry for what I did. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have gone through what you did, but if I could make it like I went through it instead and you were OK, I promise I would.”
Marcy held his eyes, watched him swallow more emotion, and continued to watch him as he finally looked away. Words were so easy; anything could be said or promised when there was no possible way of following through. And emotions could be feigned, as could tears. It was true he looked and sounded genuine. She couldn’t imagine Dan bringing them this far if he didn’t believe in him.
For the moment she seemed to have lost touch with her own emotions, but she realized that what she needed more than anything, for Claudia’s sake and her own, was for Archie to confirm that Marcus had been behind it. It was the only way for real justice to be done—and for them to ever have a chance of moving on.