Free A Little Learning by J. M. Gregson Page A

it. ‘When I left the house on Friday afternoon to drive up here. About two thirty, that would have been. Because George wasn’t coming with me, I was able to get away early, so as to drive here in daylight and get ahead of the weekenders. The M6 north is always busy on a Friday evening with the second-homers. Even in November.’
    Peach nodded. ‘Would your husband normally have come with you?’
    There was the faintest of hesitations before she replied, ‘Yes, more often than not he would. He liked my mother, and she him.’
    ‘And why didn’t he come with you on this occasion?’ She looked at him sharply, and he said evenly, ‘We have to piece together what happened in the last hours of his life if we are to discover exactly how he was killed; you must see that.’
    ‘He said he had too much work to do this weekend to get away.’
    ‘And you believed him?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Have you any idea what it was that detained him?’
    ‘No. The UEL has only been operating for fifteen months. There is a constant accumulation of small problems. Many of them are minor administrative details. But they take time.’
    She spoke as though repeating a formula, and they knew that she had used those words before, perhaps many times.
    ‘How long were you married to him, Mrs Carter?’
    ‘Twenty-three years. We met when we were students, married when I was twenty-two. He was two years older than me.’
    ‘Please understand that I have to ask this, in the case of a violent death. How happy was your marriage at the time of his death?’
    She had been picking off the routine questions swiftly and efficiently, as though ticking them off on a list of what she had expected. Now she looked angry for a moment, though she raised no objection to the question. There was an obvious effort of will as she said, ‘It was as happy as most marriages, I suppose. We had our ups and downs, like everyone else.’ It was the first cliché she had allowed herself, and a quick, unexpected flash of contempt burst into her sallow face, either at the thought itself or the lameness of her language.
    Peach said, ‘You can do better than that, I hope. Was there any serious trouble between you in these last few months? Did you have a quarrel before you left him on Friday?’
    ‘No!’ This time the denial came too quickly and too vehemently. Then Ruth Carter eased herself back a little into the armchair, forcing herself to take time. She looked like a woman who hated to display emotion, but whether this was habitual or a piece of caution applied to this particular situation they could not tell. She crossed her long legs for the first time, and Lucy Blake was surprised to see that they looked like those of a much younger woman.
    Then she folded her arms, so that they could see the slim wedding and engagement rings on the finger of her left hand, and said, ‘Look, I understand why you have to ask these questions, but I can’t be of much help. I can’t compare our marriage with others, give it some sort of rating, because you don’t know how other people are getting on unless they choose to tell you. We had been together twenty-three years, raised two children, and there was no question of a divorce. That should tell you something. We got on reasonably well — perhaps better than that.’
    And perhaps much worse, thought Percy Peach. But you’re not for telling us that. He said, ‘Did your husband seem at all disturbed when you left him?’
    ‘No. Perfectly normal. He went out of the house and back into college at two o’clock, saying that he’d see me on Monday. Things were exactly as usual, as far as I can recall.’
    ‘Thank you. Now, another unwelcome question, probably. But obviously a necessary one, in these circumstances. We need to know of any enemies your husband may have had.’
    She smiled, with a touch of real amusement. ‘My husband had made his way through the academic rat race to a post many people would covet. You make enemies along