Free Without Prejudice by Andrew Rosenheim

days you need help; I try to give it to you. You’re a big boy now, so if there’s some days it’s me needing the help, well then, I’m asking you to provide it. That make sense?’
    ‘What do you want me to do, Vanetta?’ he asked, feeling he was being led down a road where he could not reverse.
    ‘I want you to be good to Duval. Show him your toys – you got wonderful toys. Play your marbles games with him. Go in the back when it’s nice out – the sun’s shining today – and play ball in the yard.’
    Where was Vanetta in all of this? She seemed to read his mind. ‘I’ll be here,’ she assured him, ‘and Duval ain’t going to be around every day. But when he is, be his friend.’ She put an arm gently on his shoulder. ‘You growin’ up, Bobby, or I wouldn’t be asking. So will you do this for me?’
    He didn’t answer directly, but she must have understood his assent, for he was already on his way back to the kitchen.

V
    1
    W ITH THE SUN sunk and only the faintest moonlight shining on the tall beech in their front yard, Anna and Robert sat side by side on the deep soft sofa in the living room, each with a glass of red wine from the bottle they’d opened at dinner. Even after sundown, the air was moist and warm, and Anna wore shorts and Robert the blue jeans Sophie always teased him about – Dad, you’re too old for jeans . Upstairs the little girl lay asleep at last, after two visits by Robert, each precipitating a hurried click of her bedside lamp switch to disguise her furtive reading.
    Constrained by Sophie’s presence at dinner, he had given Anna only a short account of his meeting with Duval. Now she asked, ‘So what was he like?’
    ‘I think we were both nervous. To tell you the truth, I was a little apprehensive about meeting him again.’
    ‘Was he anything like you remembered him?’
    ‘Yes, that was the strangest thing about it. I expected someone harder – after so many years in prison. But there was the same innocence I remember.’
    ‘Innocence?’
    ‘I’m not sure how to explain it. He seemed like a little child – a kid – who’s got lost and doesn’t know where to go. It reminded me of Dr Wembley.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘He was my father’s closest friend in Michigan. He was very commanding: we were all a little in awe of him. In a small Midwestern town the GP is next to God – even when I was grown up I still called him Dr Wembley.
    ‘Once when I was little, he visited Chicago – there was a medical conference at the Palmer House. My dad said Wembley hated cities, so I don’t know why he went. He was going to spend a night with us in Hyde Park, and I went along with my father to pick him up. We drove down to the Loop. I remember seeing him standing in front of the Palmer House hotel, almost right under the El tracks. He was holding an old pigskin bag and looking around for us, and suddenly I realised that instead of the formidable figure I knew, he looked incredibly anxious. Like he’d entered a time warp and come out into a nightmare.
    ‘Then my dad honked and Wembley saw us and came over. And by the time he got into the car all his usual authority was back. I said, “Hi, Dr Wembley,” dutifully, just as I always would. But for a minute I’d seen a completely different man, one who looked utterly lost. And it was that expression I saw on Duval.’
    Anna sighed. ‘It can’t be easy after so many years in prison. Doesn’t he have a parole officer?’
    ‘I assume so, but the guy’s probably more concerned that Duval stays out of trouble than with actually helping him.’
    ‘I don’t understand why he wanted to see you.’
    ‘He said Vanetta asked him to, to thank me for all my family had done for her.’
    ‘Like what?’
    ‘Not a lot. I sent her money sometimes – not very much. And I flew back for her funeral. Big deal.’
    ‘Did he want anything else from you?’
    He shook his head. ‘I offered him a loan, but he wouldn’t take it. He did say he was