Name To a Face

FIFTY-THREE

Carol put the knife down on the table with exaggerated care. Harding laid a hand gently on her shoulder. Something between a gasp and a sob escaped her. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, then held up her hands to signal that she was not about to break down; she was in control.

“Listen to me carefully, Tim,” she said. “I’ll have to phone the police soon. You shouldn’t be here when they arrive. It would only… complicate things. Put something of Barney’s on. His clothes will hang off you, but… you can’t leave looking like that. There’s blood all over you. You weren’t here when it happened, OK? It was just… me and Tony. He admitted hiring Barney’s killer. He taunted me. I cracked and let him have it. Crime of passion. They go easy on that kind of thing here, don’t they? So, don’t worry about me. I’ll get off lightly. You see if I don’t. I’ll need you to testify in my defence, though. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

“Carol-”

“You will do that, won’t you?”

“Of course. But-”

“I don’t regret it, you know.” She turned and stared unflinchingly at the sagging, crumpled, still-bleeding mess of clothing and flesh that was all there was left of the coiled strength and nimble cunning of Tony Whybrow “I used the same knife Hayley held to my throat. It was in my hand when the fight started. I’d already decided what to do with it. Barney was a good man. A rogue, of course.” She shook her head in fond remembrance. “But a lovable one. Except that I didn’t love him, did I? Not enough, anyway. Well, I’ve made up for some of that… neglect… today.” She looked round at Harding, as if she had suddenly remembered he was still there. “Go, Tim. Now. Leave me to it.”

“I can’t.”

“Don’t be stupid. Or noble. Or… whatever it is you’re being. Just go.”

“There’s bound to be lots of forensic evidence that a third person was involved in this, Carol. You’ll never be able to cover it up. Once the police realize you’re trying to trick them, they’ll treat you as a murderer. But it wasn’t murder. You and I both know that. Whybrow meant to kill me. Something in him had snapped. He was… angry. Like he said. Angry-and dangerous.” Harding touched the side of his face and winced. “I think he broke my cheekbone. And he wouldn’t have stopped there. You had to do it. OK? You had no choice.”

“They’ll never believe that.”

“Yes. They will. Because it’s the truth. And it fits the facts the way the truth does. I for one have had enough of lies and deceptions and carefully manipulated versions of events. This is where we stop running from the truth, Carol, you and I. This is where we face up to every part of it.”

“What about Hayley? You could go to her now. Take off somewhere. Be free.”

“We’re all going to face up to it. Hayley included. And then we’ll all be free.”

“Is that really how it’ll be?”

“Yes. I truly believe it is.”

“And I have to trust you on that?”

“You do.”

“One last time.”

“Exactly.” Harding shaped a smile. “One last time.”

Several seconds passed. Carol’s breathing slowed as she held Harding’s gaze and studied him, checking something she saw in him against something she knew in herself. Then she nodded. It was a moment of complete understanding between them; perhaps the very first such moment. “I’ll make that call,” she said softly.

They waited outside for the police to arrive. Carol paced the terrace, chain-smoking, while Harding stood by the pool, staring into the water. When his phone rang, he answered at once.

“It’s me,” said Hayley “Don’t worry. I’m in a call-box. I haven’t broken your rules. I just wanted… needed… to check you were OK.”

“I’m OK. Where are you?”

“Is it safe to tell you?”

“Oh yes. It’s safe.”

“We’re in Harrogate.” How far away was Harrogate? Harding wondered. A thousand miles? It felt at that moment more like a million. “When can we leave?”

“Anytime you like.”

“So, you’ve… dealt with Whybrow?”

“He’s been dealt with, yes.”

“And everything’s going to be all right?”

He had planned to return to London after visiting Carol, travelling via Munich in order to alter the statement he had made to the police and to retrieve Polly’s painting from the airport. He had been wondering how Hayley would react to her first sight of it. And wondering was all he could do now. He would have to tell her what had just happened-and soon. He did not know how to set about it. But he would have to find a way. There was something else he had to say first, though, something more important, more lasting. The future-their future-began here. He needed her to understand that. He needed her to believe it. “Yes, Hayley,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right. For you and me. For us. I promise.”

“I can hear a siren,” Carol called to him.

“What was that?” Hayley asked.

“That?” Harding gazed down into the clear blue water beneath him: a mirror of the sky; a vision of lightness, of liberation, from the past and present. He smiled. “That was nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Whybrow’s dead, Hayley. But that doesn’t matter. We’re alive. And we’re going to go on living. That’s what really matters.”