that will tell you I am one hundred per cent sane, rational and in full control of all my faculties. The fact is, I acted alone and with complete knowledge and understanding of both my actions and their consequences. But you go ahead; get this confirmed by someone with a gilt-framed certificate hanging behind their comfy swivel chair, if it makes it easier for you.’
‘It’s not about what is easier for me! Jesus Christ, Kathryn, I can only assume that you’ve had some kind of breakdown and that your actions are the result of some form of madness, temporary or otherwise.’
She laughed then.
‘Temporary or otherwise? I like that. The fact is, Roland, I am speaking the truth and I do so from a lucid mind. Can I tell you something?’
He prayed for some revealing rationale, a fact or piece of trivia, anything.
‘Yes, yes of course.’
‘There have been times over the last two decades when I could quite easily have lost my marbles, times when things felt so bleak and sad that I wondered if it wouldn’t be easier to let myself sink into depression and opt out. Two things stopped me from giving in to that, no matter how tempting. Dominic and Lydia. They have been my reasons for keeping sane and keeping going. I would have been no use to them if I’d gone a bit loopy. It’s been a battle, though, I can’t say it hasn’t. I would stare at my distraught face in the mirror day after day and wonder how long I could keep up the pretence. Turns out for quite a while!’
She laughed in a short, unnatural burst.
Roland stared at her, convinced she really had lost her reason, despite her protestations.
‘I have to say, Kathryn, that as a friend, and not as a chief inspector, I am worried about you, very worried about you.’
Her laugh interrupted him. She sighed, rocking slightly as she retrieved a damp square of kitchen roll from the sleeve of her cardigan and blotted her eyes and nose.
‘I am so sorry, Roland. I shouldn’t be laughing, I know. I’m a tad emotional. It’s been a difficult forty-eight hours.’
Neither of them commented on the gross understatement.
‘The reason I laugh is that I have been wanting someone to worry about me and help me for the last eighteen years. But now, for the first time since the day I got married, I don’t need anyone to worry about me because I am finally safe.’
She placed her palms flat against the table, as if taking strength from its solidity, to emphasise the point that she could stand alone now.
Roland stood and paced the small police-station interview room; his hands were on his hips, his arms sticking out at right angles. He was starting to lose his patience, his frustration level rising in direct proportion to the lack of progress. He had the feeling that their conversation could meander like this for hours and that was time he didn’t have to waste.
‘Okay, Kathryn, I am going to level with you. I find myself in a very difficult position. I don’t mean professionally, but psychologically. I am having great difficulty in understanding what is going on with you. I have known you and Mark for… how long? Nearly ten years?’
Kathryn pictured the arrival at Mountbriers Academy of his daughter Sophie at the age of eight, with her little leather satchel, frightened eyes, freckles and swinging plaits. She was now a confident sixteen-year-old who had not only caught the eye of her own son, but every other boy in the year. Kathryn nodded. Nearly ten years.
‘And in all that time you and Mark have always been seen as a very close couple, a devoted couple. He speaks – spoke – very highly of you, Kathryn, always. So can you understand why this seems…?’
Roland stared up at the ceiling momentarily, steadied himself, and tried a different tack.
‘God, Kathryn, I am struggling to word this politely, so I’m going to stop trying and cut to the chase. Mark is… was… a much-respected and loved member of this community. He was the headmaster, for God’s sake! Only recently nationally recognised, well regarded by all. And you expect me… everyone, in fact… to believe that for the last eighteen years you have been living a life of misery behind those high flint walls and sash windows? When all we have seen is a strong, happy couple who appeared devoted to each other? Do you see why people might have some difficulty