The track was there, a farm road signposted Six Mile Farm.
The tracks surface was rutted and pot-holed and Janet had to concentrate to pick out the least damaging line. Trudi was mentally doing the same and finding it even more difficult. The woman she was going to see would be grieving with a nearer and probably deeper grief than her own. Trudi was suddenly astounded at her arrogance in even thinking of intruding on her at this time. The car was entering a farmyard. She wanted to tell Janet to turn straight round and head back for the road, but it was already too late. The tall stone building had an abundance of small narrow windows, as though the builder lacked the art to make them double and had compensated by making them frequent. As they drove through the entrance, Trudi glimpsed a face pressed against one of these and before the car had come to rest on the cobbled forecourt, the farmhouse door was open and a woman emerged.
Saying to Janet, I wont be long, she got out.
The woman remained in the doorway, for which she was grateful. She wanted to explain her business out of Janets hearing.
Mrs Brightshaw? she said.
The woman nodded. She was tall and muscular, with a weather-beaten face, a sharp chin and nose, steely grey hair and deep-set, watchful eyes. She looked about sixty, or perhaps a well-preserved seventy.
Trudi said, Im sorry to trouble you at this time, Mrs Brightshaw. I was sorry to hear of your husbands death.
You knew Harold? she said in a flat Derbyshire accent.
No, Trudi said. Not personally. My names Adamson. Trudi Adamson. I dont know if you recall the accident on the road back there in the summer. Mr Brightshaw was a witness. It was my husband who was killed.
The woman considered this, then, Youd better come in, she said, stepping aside, adding as Trudi went by, What about her?
Presumably she was referring to Janet.
Trudi said, No, no. Shell be all right.
Mrs Brightshaw closed the front door and ushered Trudi into a long, high living room.
Sitting down in an old wing chair before a huge fireplace in which flickered a tiny fire, Trudi said, Look, Mrs Brightshaw, if you dont feel like talking about your husband, please say so and Ill go.
The woman answered, I reckon if you can talk about yours, I can talk about my Harold. And if I dont feel like it, Ill shut up. What do you want to know?
Trudi began to explain and found herself rambling.
Impatiently Mrs Brightshaw said, Lets get it straight. These lawyers are trying to say your man mightve had a bad turn and stopped his car sudden like, so it was blocking the road?
Thats right.
And if the court believes that, itll affect your compensation?
Trudi had not mentioned money, and now she reacted against the imputation of a merely mercenary motive.
I just want the truth, Mrs Brightshaw, she said firmly.
Truth! Aye. That, said the woman. Did he leave you all right, your man?
Belatedly, Trudi realized this was the key to whatever the woman could tell her. Shared grief could not bring them together; shared poverty might!
No, she said firmly. He left very little. Ive taken a job again after twenty-five years.
Oh yes? said the woman with a slight sneer. Thatd be hard for you!
Yes, said Trudi seriously. Not working, but finding work, thats whats hard. At my age, in these days.
The farmers widow nodded as if she had at last heard a potent argument. Then she blew her nose, picked up a poker, stirred the tiny fire.
Finally she said, Well, you neednt worry. He was parked proper all right. As tight up against the hedge as you could ask.
Trudi found herself as much puzzled as pleased by her emphasis.
Youre certain? she asked. Your husband told you that?
Yes, she said. He did.
And would you make a statement to that effect? asked Trudi. In writing I mean.
Mrs Brightshaw looked suddenly uneasy.
Would I have to go to court?
I dont know, Trudi said. To be quite frank, Mrs Brightshaw, Im not really sure about the law as it applies here. But it would be a great help to me personally, thats quite certain.
The woman continued to look so doubtful that Trudis surprise began to turn to suspicion.
You are quite certain thats what your husband told you? she asked.
Why do you ask?
Well, I wouldnt like to think you were just trying to cheer me up, said Trudi hesitantly. And
And, come to think of it, said Trudi in a rush, it does sound rather an odd thing for Mr Brightshaw to have been so emphatic about, particularly as he doesnt seem to have felt it was worth mentioning in his statement.
The old woman nodded and said, Thats the kind of thing them fancy lawyers would say, isnt it?
I suppose so. If it came to questioning.
I dont doubt it would, she said fiercely. And Id have to take an oath?
In court, yes, said Trudi, bewildered and by now a trifle uneasy.
Then youd better hear what I would have to tell them, Mrs Adamson, she said with an air of decision. Then you can make up your mind. What my husband told me wasnt what he told the police. Dont misunderstand me, he didnt lie, he just kept it simple. He told them hed no idea how long your mans car had been stopped on the road when he noticed it. And the crash happened shortly after.
Trudis uneasiness was now a constricting pain beneath her breast bone.
Truth was, Mrs Brightshaw continued, hed noticed the car arrive twenty, thirty minutes earlier. Then another car came and stopped behind it. He heard doors slamming. Then he saw someone move from the second car to the first. It was a woman. Harold was working with his tractor you understand, not just standing gawking. But a bit later on, he saw the second car move off. And it wasnt long after that that the accident happened.
Trudi made two false starts before she could speak.
Why didnt he say anything about this in his statement? she managed in the end.
He was a kind man, my Harold, said the older woman softly. He reckoned that if there was nothing in it, the other driver would come forward soon enough. But if it was what it looked like, there was no point in adding to your troubles by letting all and sundry know your husband was parked out in the countryside to meet his fancy woman.
She raised her eyes and regarded the younger woman steadily.
But theres one thing for sure, she said. A man doing that doesnt leave his car lying halfway across the road.
Trudi took a deep breath. She was almost too bewildered to be distressed. She heard herself saying wretchedly, It was definitely a woman, was it?
It was, said Mrs Brightshaw. He told me he could see her head clearly above the hedge. She must have been a tall lass. Blonde hair he said, I remember that. Bright blonde.
A tall lass. Bright blonde hair. Trudi felt the information register. Then she asked, And her car? Did he say anything about that?
Yes, he did, as a matter of fact. He said it was a little red thing with a kind of flag on its aerial. He mentioned how small it was, particular, because that seemed likely the reason this blonde lass went to the other, which was bigger. More room for that sort of meeting. He wasnt making a joke, just giving me his reason for keeping mum. When the police came for his statement, he asked if there was a wife and when they told him yes, that made up his mind. He thought youd be hurt enough. Like I say, he was a kind man.
A tall lass. Bright blonde hair. Trudi felt the information register. Then she asked, And her car? Did he say anything about that?
Yes, he did, as a matter of fact. He said it was a little red thing with a kind of flag on its aerial. He mentioned how small it was, particular, because that seemed likely the reason this blonde lass went to the other, which was bigger. More room for that sort of meeting. He wasnt making a joke, just giving me his reason for keeping mum. When the police came for his statement, he asked if there was a wife and when they told him yes, that made up his mind. He thought youd be hurt enough. Like I say, he was a kind man.
Yes, yes, he sounds like a kind man, Trudi echoed, rising. She now felt surprisingly calm. How will you manage now that youre by yourself? she heard herself asking, calm and concerned as the vicars wife on a parochial visit.
Mrs Brightshaw let the question hang, smelling more patronizing by the second, till she had shown Trudi to the door.
Ive been managing ever since Harold took his stroke, she said finally. Managings easy. Its wanting to manage thats the hard bit. But youll have found that out yourself, I daresay.
The door closed behind Trudi and the bolt rattled home.
Slowly she returned to the car, moving in time to the childish jingle which had risen unsummoned into her head.
Three blind mice see how they run they all ran after the farmers wife she cut off their tails with a carving knife
OK? said Janet, compressing a whole catechism into the question.
Fine, said Trudi. Im fine.
You dont look fine. You look terrible, said Janet. Come on, what do you really feel like?
I feel like a widow, said Trudi savagely. I feel like a fucking widow!
4
Trudi told Janet nothing of her discovery about Astrid Fischer till they got drunk together on Boxing Day.
She had made a token protest when Janet invited her to spend Christmas in Oldham.
Its your first Christmas together, she said. And its a family time.
Family! What family? Mines halfway across the world, and Franks good for half an hour of Santa Claus with his grandkids, then its King Herod time. Hell be glad of an ally.
This had turned out to be true. And on Boxing Day, Frank had taken further advantage of her presence by going off to play golf with a clear conscience.
Fair dos, said Janet. He put golf at the top of his interests on the bureau form. I dont mind. Golfs good for a marriage. Man with his eye on the ball doesnt have much time to look at anything else.
She grinned broadly as she spoke. Their lunch of cold turkey washed down with a bottle of hock was being rounded off with liqueur chocolates and brandy.
Relaxed but not yet somnolent, Trudi said, I think you did well there, Jan. Mebbe mail orders the best way!
You didnt think so at first, said Janet slyly.
Didnt I? I dont know what I thought. I wasnt quite right in my mind for a while you know. I mean, its hard. You dont know what youre like till youre not like it any more.
She giggled and held out her glass for a refresher.
Janet said, Dormouse philosophy is it now? Not to worry. Another shot of this and Ill be able to pour you back in the teapot!
No, Im serious, said Trudi. And its not just the drink. I woke up this morning feeling it might not be so bad to be me after all. I cant remember the last time I felt like that, Jan.
Janet looked at her disbelievingly.
But youve had the life of Reilly! she protested. Highflying husband, glamorous cities, no kids to weigh you down. Dont imagine I didnt lie in bed many a night and think, that bitch is living my life!
I certainly wasnt living my own, said Trudi.
Whats this? Self-pity? I thought we were past that stage.
Oh no. I may get maudlin later but right now Im stuck at honesty. Let me tell you about my life, Jan, if youve a moment to spare. I married Trent and went off to Zürich. Only I didnt really go to Zürich. I just stayed inside the private little atmosphere that existed for me round Trent and it went to Zürich. We had an apartment, lovely views, a skyful of Alps. I hated those mountains. All that space threatening to suck me away, to steal my private atmosphere. But Id have climbed them with Trent. When he was with me, anything was possible. When he was away, which in his job was often, I never stirred from the flat. Id stock up the larder in advance and just not budge. He never knew till one time he was delayed an extra week with engine trouble and came home to find me starving.
What did he do?
Got angry. Told me not to be stupid. Made me go out by myself.
Great therapy, said Janet angrily. Didnt you talk to anyone else? Friends? A doctor?
A doctor? Not that time. As for friends, how should I make friends? I didnt want to make friends. We hardly ever entertained, thank God. When we did, it was disastrous. He brought Herr Schiller to dinner once. Trent was still working for the charter company then. I suppose he wanted to make a good impression with a view to getting more work through Schiller-Reise. Everything went wrong! We had burnt salad and raw trout I seem to recall. Trent said it didnt matter. In fact he seemed to find it rather amusing. I thought Id ruined his future.
But you hadnt.
No, said Trudi sadly. I should have known even then that ruining his future wasnt an option Trent left open to anyone, especially me. Schiller came back several times, but just for drinks! Eventually Trent announced he was taking a job full-time with Schiller-Reise and we were moving to Brussels. I was delighted. Trent was giving up flying and becoming an executive. I thought hed be home every night. It didnt work out like that. If anything, he travelled abroad even more. So the old pattern reestablished itself. And Trent found out and got angry and ordered me to go out. And I did and it seemed to be all right. At least there werent all those mountain peaks threatening me. Till one day I was sitting in the Gran Place feeling rather proud and woman-of-the-worldish when a storm blew up. The sky went dark and swirly, there was a tremendous wind, the air seemed lurid. Everyone ran for cover, everyone except me. I couldnt move. I knew it was me they were after
They?
Them. Whatevers outside wanting to get inside and destroy us, said Trudi calmly. I just sat there paralysed with terror. No one paid much heed till the rain came. But after a while the sight of a woman sitting under a deluge attracted first attention, then concern. When Trent came back from that trip, he found me in hospital.
What did he do? Command you to take up your bed and walk?
He got me the best medical treatment money could buy, said Trudi, smiling. I loved it. Suddenly I was the centre of Trents attention. When I was declared cured we moved to Paris. I felt so happy! But Trents job took him away as often as ever, so when one day I felt the old terror returning, I almost welcomed it! Wouldnt it put me back at the centre of Trents life? Well, for a time I thought it had. But this time after the treatment was over, Trent started wondering whether it might not be better if we bought a house back in England where I wouldnt feel so isolated. It might mean our separations would be longer, but at least Id be among my own folk. I dont know if he meant it as a threat or a genuine kindness. All I know is that it was the last thing I wanted. So I took it as a threat and became a changed woman!