Shape of Snakes

Letter from Libby Garth-ex-wife of Jock Williams,

formerly of 21 Graham Road, Richmond-

now resident in Leicestershire

Windrush

Henchard Lane

Melton Mowbray

Leicestershire

December 4, 1989

M'dear,

Happy Christmas! I'd send a card if I didn't think Sam would go ballistic at the idea. It still hurts, you know, that he took Jock's side without ever bothering to hear mine. I know you say it's not in his nature to think ill of anyone-let alone a close friend-but he must think ill of me if you can't even tell him we're still in touch. It's one of the horrible truisms that divorce doesn't just divide property, but friends as well. That being said, it's probably better this way if he's still shying away from the whole subject of Annie's death.

Have you ever worked out why that is? I know you say he has a habit of forgetting anything he doesn't want to remember-like your frigid spell, your near-divorce, your "fits of the vapors," your police caution, etc.-but surely Annie doesn't hold any fears for him now? He can't possibly have killed her because he's not the type to push people under trucks! Surely, that had to be Derek Slater? He was the only man on Graham Road who was vicious enough.

Jim and the girls are fine. At the moment I'm resisting Jim's blandishments for one more try to see if we can make a boy. I keep telling him a three-year-old, a nine-month-old and a teaching job are more than enough to occupy anyone, but he seems to think I'm Superwoman. I don't know how you managed without a nanny. The only thing that keeps me sane is to get into my car every morning and spend the day with my alternative "family" at school, though I'm still trying to work out how to persuade fourteen-year-old gorillas with twice as much testosterone as brain that learning is a "good thing." I leave every class feeling as if I've been raped and ravaged by their revolting imaginations. Did that contribute to your agoraphobia after Annie died? I've often wondered. I remember you telling me that you couldn't stand the way Alan Slater and Michael Percy looked at you.

Apropos, I enclose two cuttings. One about Michael, who goes from bad to worse, which is only to be expected of the tart's son. Yes, I'm being beastly, but I'd have to be a saint to view the "bleached vampire" and her progeny with anything other than hatred since they received a rather more regular income from Jock than I ever did! The second is about the policeman, Sergeant Drury-the one you had a yen for at the beginning. (Looked like a shorter-haired version of Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing-have you seen the movie? It's to die for!) I might have fancied him myself if he hadn't turned out to be such a shit. It was unforgivable of him to "kiss and tell" to Sam. Have you considered that that might be Sam's problem with the Annie saga? It was certainly his problem the night before he took himself off for three weeks. Have you forgiven him for forcing you yet? It was a shabby and beastly way to treat you when you were struggling with agoraphobia and depression. But that's men for you-act first, think later! I bet he regrets it now, especially if you managed to persuade him that Drury was lying.

Anyway, Drury's taken early retirement, though by the way the piece is worded the implication is he was given the boot for whacking a seventeen-year-old Asian boy.

Keep smiling,

All my love,

Libby