continued. ‘Mine happens to be crime. Not the mundane stuff, but the deeper plots, and what drives people to them. Your reporting of crime is always thoughtful. You’re one of the rare few who tries to get behind the facts and into the underlying motives. You look for the insight and you seem to be able to understand people and see it.’ He paused, the burning stare again. ‘I like that. It’s exactly what we artists do when we paint. Well, the decent ones anyway.’
Dan stayed still, facing the man, aware now that he wasn’t the only one who’d prepared for this meeting. He could feel the room around him had gone quiet as Nigel and Abi listened in.
‘Plenty was written about the Bray case,’ said McCluskey, nodding slowly. ‘It was an extraordinary one. And the word was that you saw the solution. But it was never made clear in the reporting what led you to it. How did you solve it?’
Dan let out a deep breath as his eyes filled with the past. He’d been over that so many times in his mind. It was too ridiculous to talk about, but still so vivid and strong. 15 years ago now. Thomasin, aged 21, the last two weeks of their final term at University. They’d been in the same year, but had only met in the last fortnight, and she was so beautiful, so clever, so funny, so warm, so loving… so perfect.
They’d tried to make it work, but the simple college days were fading and the merciless currents of life had begun pushing them apart. They hadn’t had enough time together to establish the foundations to make the relationship last. Every other woman since had been compared to her, and none had ever come close. Nowhere near. How could fate play that spiteful trick on him so young?
Dan blinked the memories away and said finally, ‘The best I can say is that I think I understood how deeply you can be affected by one single event in your life. I knew how some people can never truly be freed of that weight, and how it can stay with them until it drives them to one day find some resolution.’
McCluskey held the stare, nodded slowly. ‘And in the Bray case, it was revenge?’
‘Yes. He’d broken people’s lives and that had to be avenged.’
‘And in your case?’
Dan could feel the room’s silence, the eyes on him, but why was he was still tempted to tell McCluskey about Thomasin? A feeling like being in a confessional? To this man he didn’t know? No, not now, not ever. No one knew and no one would. No one would know about the catalogue of sticking-plaster relationships that had followed, the attempts to cover the cracks in a fractured heart. Continued to follow he thought, as Kerry walked across the stage of his mind, head held high, not looking at him.
‘Mr McCluskey, I’d love to stay and talk, but we have to get the unveiling of the last picture on the lunchtime news.’
Another silence as they stared at each other, then a faint nod from the artist and a swell of relief in Dan. He thought he managed to disguise it, but he wasn’t sure.
‘You’re very privileged you know,’ McCluskey said, turning back to the last of the pictures. ‘No one from outside has seen the series properly yet.’ He looked up and reached out a hand to touch the alarm clock, as though wanting to adjust its time. ‘Abi’s acquaintance with your editor and her kind offer to let me write my own obituary swung it. It was something I couldn’t refuse, and that doesn’t happen very often, not to a man in my time of life.’
McCluskey flinched and let out a deep wracking cough, his body shaking. He took a couple of deep breaths and composed himself. Abi was at his side instantly, an arm on his shoulder, fear in the tightness of her face.
‘OK, OK...’ he said to her breathlessly, gathering himself. ‘Now, time is something I don’t have the luxury of, so shall we get on with the interview? In here, using the pictures as a backdrop?’
‘Yes please,’ Dan replied.
‘Almost ready,’ said Nigel, ‘just give me
Dan stayed still, facing the man, aware now that he wasn’t the only one who’d prepared for this meeting. He could feel the room around him had gone quiet as Nigel and Abi listened in.
‘Plenty was written about the Bray case,’ said McCluskey, nodding slowly. ‘It was an extraordinary one. And the word was that you saw the solution. But it was never made clear in the reporting what led you to it. How did you solve it?’
Dan let out a deep breath as his eyes filled with the past. He’d been over that so many times in his mind. It was too ridiculous to talk about, but still so vivid and strong. 15 years ago now. Thomasin, aged 21, the last two weeks of their final term at University. They’d been in the same year, but had only met in the last fortnight, and she was so beautiful, so clever, so funny, so warm, so loving… so perfect.
They’d tried to make it work, but the simple college days were fading and the merciless currents of life had begun pushing them apart. They hadn’t had enough time together to establish the foundations to make the relationship last. Every other woman since had been compared to her, and none had ever come close. Nowhere near. How could fate play that spiteful trick on him so young?
Dan blinked the memories away and said finally, ‘The best I can say is that I think I understood how deeply you can be affected by one single event in your life. I knew how some people can never truly be freed of that weight, and how it can stay with them until it drives them to one day find some resolution.’
McCluskey held the stare, nodded slowly. ‘And in the Bray case, it was revenge?’
‘Yes. He’d broken people’s lives and that had to be avenged.’
‘And in your case?’
Dan could feel the room’s silence, the eyes on him, but why was he was still tempted to tell McCluskey about Thomasin? A feeling like being in a confessional? To this man he didn’t know? No, not now, not ever. No one knew and no one would. No one would know about the catalogue of sticking-plaster relationships that had followed, the attempts to cover the cracks in a fractured heart. Continued to follow he thought, as Kerry walked across the stage of his mind, head held high, not looking at him.
‘Mr McCluskey, I’d love to stay and talk, but we have to get the unveiling of the last picture on the lunchtime news.’
Another silence as they stared at each other, then a faint nod from the artist and a swell of relief in Dan. He thought he managed to disguise it, but he wasn’t sure.
‘You’re very privileged you know,’ McCluskey said, turning back to the last of the pictures. ‘No one from outside has seen the series properly yet.’ He looked up and reached out a hand to touch the alarm clock, as though wanting to adjust its time. ‘Abi’s acquaintance with your editor and her kind offer to let me write my own obituary swung it. It was something I couldn’t refuse, and that doesn’t happen very often, not to a man in my time of life.’
McCluskey flinched and let out a deep wracking cough, his body shaking. He took a couple of deep breaths and composed himself. Abi was at his side instantly, an arm on his shoulder, fear in the tightness of her face.
‘OK, OK...’ he said to her breathlessly, gathering himself. ‘Now, time is something I don’t have the luxury of, so shall we get on with the interview? In here, using the pictures as a backdrop?’
‘Yes please,’ Dan replied.
‘Almost ready,’ said Nigel, ‘just give me
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