Page 57 of Maybe Tomorrow

A five-minute walk away from the Winstanley house, in John Street Geoffrey and Judith Patterson were sitting on the sofa in silence. The television was off, neither of them was reading a book or a newspaper, they were simply sitting together, holding hands, struggling to cope with events.

Geoff had taken an extended period of leave from work. His manager said for him to take as long as he needed, his job would still be waiting for him. Judith tried to call her manager several times but could never get past dialling before she burst into tears. She didn’t care if she lost her job. She’d already lost her daughter, anything else would pale into insignificance.

Judith’s mother rang several times a day to see how her daughter was doing. After the funeral, she’d gone back to Whitstable and said she’d come back if they needed her. Her parting words were trite: ‘time is a great healer’. It was something Judith had heard a lot since Alice was so cruelly taken away from her.

How long was grief supposed to last? Was there a time when you thought you’d done enough crying and it was time to laugh again? If so, how much longer was she going to have to sit in agony? And when she did finally laugh, would she feel guilty for enjoying herself when her daughter would never laugh, talk, dance, sing or breathe again?

She increased her grip on her husband’s hand. He squeezed back.

Since the funeral, their lives had continued in a kind of non-state. They got up in a morning once it was light, padded around the house doing odd jobs, making tea, letting it go cold, snacking on slices of toast and bowls of cereal, never hungry enough for a full meal. In the evenings, they sat together on the sofa, not speaking, not watching television, not laughing atAre You Being Served?, not giving ridiculous answers to the questions onWhat’s My Line?andMr and Mrs. They simply existed in their own dark world of sadness.

The telephone rang. It was a sound so loud in the quiet vacuum they were in that both of them jumped. It was unusual for Judith’s mother to call so late in the day, but they doubted it would be anyone else.

Judith went over to the windowsill where the phone was and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’ she asked, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

‘Mrs Patterson, it’s Detective Inspector Henry Bishop. Is your husband there?’

‘Yes. I’ll just get him.’ She turned to her husband. ‘It’s Inspector Bishop for you.’

Geoff took a deep breath and pushed himself up from the sofa. He took the receiver from Judith and cleared his throat before speaking. ‘Hello?’

‘Mr Patterson, I’m sorry to call so late in the evening, but we’ve made a development and I thought you’d like to hear it from me rather than from the news. We’ve arrested someone for your daughter’s murder.’

‘Really?’ He looked over to his wife. ‘That is good news. Are you allowed to tell me who it is?’

‘His name is Anthony Winstanley. He lives in Crescent Avenue, not a five-minute walk from your house, I believe.’

‘No. It’s not far. I don’t… I don’t know the name.’

‘A young man in his late twenties, slightly odd character, I’m afraid, a bit of a misfit.’

‘Has he admitted… you know?’

‘He has. I have his confession on my desk in front of me,’ Bishop said, sounding almost pleased.

‘Well, that is good. Thank you for taking the time to call me and let me know.’

‘You’re very welcome, Mr Patterson. If there is anything else you need to know, you have my number. Please, call me any time.’

‘That’s very kind of you. Thank you.’

‘Good evening, Mr Patterson,’ Bishop said, his voice full of life as he ended the call.

Geoff, still with the receiver in his hand, turned to look at his wife who was sitting on the edge of the sofa, looking hopefully at him.

‘They’ve arrested someone.’

‘Oh, thank God,’ she said, almost collapsing on herself.

Geoff put the phone down and went back to the sofa where he took his wife’s hands in his. ‘He’s called Anthony Winstanley. He lives on Crescent Avenue. Does the name ring any bells?’

She frowned as she thought. Then her eyes widened as the penny dropped. ‘Oh my God. He’s the young man in the library. He and Alice are always having a laugh and a joke. Oh my God, Geoff, I’ve spoken to him so many times. I encouraged them to chat. They seemed to really get on. Oh, Geoff,’ she cried.

He rushed to her side, put his arms around her and pulled her into a protective embrace. He told her everything was going to be all right, all the words he thought would help but he didn’t believe.

‘So, what happens now?’ Judith asked, sitting up and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

‘I don’t know. I’m guessing if he’s admitted it then there doesn’t need to be a trial. There’s no point in a jury finding him guilty or not guilty if he’s admitting it, is there?’