The Look of Love (38 page)

It was a
man.

He was about
average height and slightly overweight. Although he was probably
only in his mid thirties, his brown hair was already receding. He
had a large box wrapped in brown paper under his arm.

Although she
had never met him, Victoria knew instantly that this was David
Williams, Rosanna’s husband. As he walked up the hallway, she
walked the rest of the way downstairs, and they met at the bottom.
Victoria couldn’t help being curious.

“You’re Dave,
aren’t you?” she asked hesitantly.

He smiled at
her. “And you must be Victoria.” He glanced at her bags and
suitcase. “Leaving?”

She nodded.
“And you?” she indicated his bulky package.

“Ah! Toaster,”
he replied. “I thought I’d pick it up and get it home so Rosie can
use it when she gets back. She’s probably still out shopping, so I
just have enough time to unpack it and fit a plug before she gets
here.” He paused a moment as he looked at her more closely. “Have
you and Louise split up?”

His question
was unexpected, and Victoria snapped at him.

“That’s none of
your business!”

She knew she
had over reacted as soon as she spoke. It unnerved her and she
quickly pushed passed him and walked towards the door.

David turned
and said, “You’re perfectly correct, of course. If you want to do
something very stupid it is totally your business.”

Without really
knowing why, Victoria stopped at the door. Without turning she
said, “Why am I being stupid?”

David took a
few steps towards her. “Because you’re throwing something very
valuable away. And once done, it’ll be lost forever.”

Victoria turned
to face him. “What’s it to you?” she asked. “What gives you the
right to comment?”

David smiled.
“Experience. You see, Rosie and I have been married for over ten
years. During all that time, we’ve always made sure that we tell
each other ‘I love you’ at least once everyday. That isn’t to say
we haven’t had our fights. Sometimes quite bad ones, too. But we’ve
always made up; because we both know that we love one another. And
that’s the secret. Love. Not sex, or money, or power. Just love.
The problem is, most people don’t recognise it until it’s too late.
They think sex or money are more important. They’re not. Love is
the most valuable thing you can receive in life.”

Victoria stared
at him. His eyes were blue, and he was smiling at her. His look and
manner were very disarming, but something about those eyes and that
smile made her feel that he was looking right inside her head. Why
was he telling her these things? Why did he have to come home
now?

“Thanks for the
advice,” was all she could say. She turned to leave, put her
suitcase down and reached out to grasp the front door handle.

“Does your
boyfriend love you?”

Victoria paused
at his words but didn’t reply.

“Do you know
how to tell?”

Still no
answer.

“It’s the
look,” David went on. “When someone loves you, you can see it in
their eyes. It’s a sort of yearning. You don’t realise how to
recognise it until you’re older, sometimes much older. Some people
never recognise it, or if they do, they don’t care. If you can
recognise it when you’re young, then you are indeed fortunate. But
what counts is doing something about it. Being loved by someone is
one thing, catching it and nurturing it is another.

“If someone
loves you, and you know it, you have to respond in kind. You have
to give love to go on receiving it. It has to be mutual, shared.
And the more you give, the more you get back. If you don’t do that,
if you don’t give back the love you receive, then eventually it
dies. Some people chose not to do that. They are selfish with their
love; they keep it for themselves, and steal more from others. They
say ‘I love you’, but they are just lies. They take without giving,
until the love of those they take from turns into hate.”

David began to
walk towards her as he spoke. “Others give love to those who don’t
want it. They heap more and more on the object of their desire even
in the face of rejection. But this is also fruitless, and
eventually their love also dies and turns to hate.”

Now he was
right behind her.

“People get
married all the time. They think they’re in love, but they’re not.
For them it’s merely sex, and when the lust fades they’re left with
nothing. After a few years they split up. Some don’t even get that
far. And that’s because sex and lust have no future, in marriage
they merely become repetitive. A true relationship is built on
love, a love that’s above sex and lust, a love that’s given in
response to love that’s received. Love that’s selfish isn’t love,
and love that isn’t returned is only an obsession. Mutual love,
shared love, this is the only thing that counts.

“If your
boyfriend loves you, if he has the look of love in his eyes when he
sees you, then go to him. But if he doesn’t, then remember what you
leave behind.

“Rosie has told
me all about you and Louise. From what she says it’s quite obvious
that Louise loves you. But I don’t need to tell you that. You’ve
seen her eyes when she looks at you. You know. As for gender, well,
love transcends gender. It always has. Only society puts
limitations on love. You just have to have the courage to break
those limitations. Love between two people isn’t about society, or
about gender. So if you’re worried about other people, about what
they say, or what they think, then remember this: Everyone and
anyone can tell you how to live your life. But when tragedy
strikes, it is you that suffers and not them. And when your time
runs out and your life is over, none of those who were so quick to
advise you will climb into the coffin and take your place.”

There was a
deafening silence when David had finished speaking. Victoria let go
of the front door handle and turned slowly and stared at him in
amazement.

“Where did you
get all that from?” she asked in a whisper.

David smiled.
“Burt Bacharach and Reader’s Digest.” He turned quickly and walked
to the door of his flat. A moment later and he was gone.

Victoria stood
by the front door with her bags in her hands. She looked up the
stairs at the door of Louise’s flat. She hesitated a moment, as if
undecided. Then she slowly turned and opened the front door.

Outside, Zach
was leaning against the garden wall. He was not alone. There was a
young girl with him. She couldn’t have been much over sixteen or
seventeen. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a short, light blue
cropped top. The outfit left her stomach and midriff exposed. Over
the short top she wore a black denim waistcoat. She was very
pretty, with short light brown hair.

Zach was
talking to her. Chatting her up more likely. Victoria couldn’t hear
what he was saying. The girl laughed. Zach must have told her
something funny. As she laughed, Zach reached out and pulled on the
bottom of her cropped top. He must have said something else that
was funny, because the girl laughed again, and this time, Zach
slipped his hand on to her side, squeezing her waist and
stomach.

She had
probably just been passing by.

Neither of them
had noticed Victoria, so she quietly closed the door and turned to
lean against it.

“Oh, bollocks!”
she announced, and dropped her bags.

Shawcroft
returned to the Headly house that afternoon, and found Henry
Billing waiting for him. As before, Scott and his father refused to
let Shawcroft and the three uniformed men he had brought with him
across the threshold. But this time they were far less vocal and
hostile in their resistance. Shawcroft noticed other subtle
differences too. This time Max was in the hallway with Billing. He
looked very frightened. Next to him was Mrs Headly. She also looked
frightened, but her expression also held a stern and resigned
look.

As the pushing
and shoving started, Billing held out his hand and shouted, “Give
me the warrant!”

Shawcroft
handed it over, glaring at Scott who was nose to nose with him.
“You’ll find everything is correct this time,” he said.

Scott glared
back at him. “Who are you after this time? Me, or Max?”

Billing
answered him. “Both.” He glanced at Mrs Headly and nodded. She
immediately whimpered and put a hand to her mouth.

It was like a
signal of defeat. Scott and Mr Headly immediately backed off, and
Billing said, “We’re all coming with you. I will accompany Max, but
I must insist that no questioning of either brother takes place
unless I am present.”

And that was
that. Max and Billing went with two policemen in one car while
Scott went with Shawcroft in another. Their parents followed in
their own car.

Shawcroft
looked across at Scott as they drove to the police station. They
were both sitting on the back seat of the police car, and neither
of them had spoken since leaving the house. Shawcroft stared
forward again.

“I’ve been to
the Shere Khan,” he remarked.

“I’m not
answering any questions,” Scott quickly replied.

“I’m not asking
any, I’m telling you answers. Max made a big impact at that
restaurant. He was angry and vocal. The waiters remember him. They
even remember what he was saying.”

Scott was
unmoved. “Pity you can’t get him in a line up, then, isn’t it?” he
said.

Shawcroft
shrugged. “Don’t need to,” he said. “You see, they all remember
John King, too. He’s on the scene, by his own words, and by
witnesses. He even paid the bill with his credit card. And all the
waiters remember him arguing with someone called Max.”

Scott glanced
briefly across at Shawcroft. “They were mistaken,” he said without
much conviction.

Shawcroft
turned to face Scott. He could see that his remarks had shaken him.
It was obvious that the use of his brother’s name in the restaurant
hadn’t occurred to him. But its consequences now did. Shawcroft
pressed on.

“We’re going to
put you both away, Scott. Your brother for murder, and you for
perverting the cause of justice.”

Scott refused
to give up. “Keep dreaming,” he said stubbornly.

Shawcroft
smiled. “John King,” he said simply.

Scott was
puzzled. “What about him?”

“He isn’t as
tough as you, Scott. You should see him sweating when we interview
him.”

Scott looked
even more unnerved. “John will be alright. You can’t pin anything
on him and he knows it.”

“Oh, but we
can,” Shawcroft said, nodding. “John King is the only one we can
categorically prove was at that restaurant that night. He knew what
Max was upset about. Christ, he could see Joanne across the road in
the other restaurant as plainly as Max could. He must have known
what Max was going to do. For all we know, he may even have been
there when it happened.”

“He wasn’t!”
Scott insisted, his voice raised for the first time.

Shawcroft kept
his cool. “Doesn’t matter,” he said calmly. “Even if he was totally
oblivious to what was going to happen, once Joanne’s death was
known to him, he became an accessory after the fact. An accessory
to murder.”

“It wasn’t
murder!” Scott insisted. He was getting angry.

Shawcroft
leaned towards Scott and spoke in a grim voice. “One of you left
that restaurant, waited for Joanne, and killed her. That makes it
premeditated murder. And when John is facing going to prison or
telling the truth, he’s going to crack.”

“John won’t
change his story!”

“Why? Max isn’t
his brother. Do you really think he will let you both walk free on
a technicality while he goes to prison?”

Scott’s
expression hardened and he turned in the seat to face Shawcroft.
“You’re just pissing in the wind! This is all just guesswork! You
can’t prove a thing and you know it!”

Shawcroft sat
back. “That’s true. Not against you and Max, not yet. But John King
is another matter. He said it was you with him that night. But the
waiters all heard him call his friend Max. So either he was
deliberately using the wrong name that night, or he was lying when
he made his statement. No matter how you look at it, there’s a lie
in there somewhere. So whether it was you or Max doesn’t matter,
we’ve already got John King. And when the waiters at the Shere Khan
all identify Max as his dining partner, John King is going to
crack. And when he cracks, you all crack.”

Scott was
silent for a moment. He sat back in his seat.

“I killed her,”
he suddenly announced.

Shawcroft
raised his eyebrows. “Confessing are we?”

“Yes. I’ll even
sign a statement.”

“Can’t accept
it.”

“Why not?”

“Two reasons.
First, any brief worth his salt will have it thrown out of court
before the ink is dry. And second, because we both know it’s a
bare-faced lie.”

“It’s the
truth!” Scott shouted.

“Is it?”
Shawcroft shouted back. “Is that what your mother believes too? Is
she happy that it’s you and not Max? Or did you finally tell her
and your father the truth after my visit?”

Scott finally
lost his rag. He sat forward on his seat and began to push at
Shawcroft, shoving him back. “You leave my parents out of this!” he
shouted angrily.

Shawcroft
grabbed Scott roughly by his collar and pushed him back in his
seat, slamming him hard against the door of the car.

“How can I?” he
shouted back. “You didn’t! You involved them with your lies! You
lied to us, and you lied to them! It was you they heard coming back
early that night, not Max! But they didn’t see you did they? And
when Max told you what happened, you knew what to do!”

Scott looked
mesmerised as Shawcroft pinned him against the door of the car. But
the policeman hadn’t finished yet.