Guilty Thing Surprised by Ruth Rendell

his wife up there the same evening.’
    ‘His
wife?
’ Wexford almost shouted. ‘But he’s only been married a year.’
    ‘No need to blow your cool, dear old boy. His first wife. You weren’t joking when you said you didn’t know anything about these people, were you? His first wife, June, a most …’
    ‘Look, don’t let’s get on to her yet,’ groaned Wexford. ‘Why was Villiers so upset when you said his sister was here?’
    ‘I asked myself the same thing at the time, but we were all together quite a lot after that and it was plain they couldn’t stand each other. Odd when you think how sweet Elizabeth was to everyone else. Frankly, Reg, she acted towards him as if he’d done her some injury, and as for him … The man’s rudeness to her was beyond belief. But you mustn’t lay too much stress on that. Denys is foul to everyone except Quentin. He’s quite different with Quen and, of course, Quen adores him. But Elizabeth and Denys were never friends. As children they were always quarrelling. Even now I can remember Mrs Villiers and my poor wife discussing it, how trying it was, you know, and how helpless it made Mrs Villiers feel. But if you want to know why they carried on with this feud of theirs, I can’t help you. Elizabeth never discussed her brother if she could help it, and if she didn’t confide in me, whom did she confide in? We were very close friends, intimate, you might say’
    ‘Might I?’ said Wexford thoughtfully ‘Might I indeed?’ He fixed Marriott with a searching look and would have pursued this further but for the entry ofHypatia, bathed, perfumed and dressed in gold trousers and a black and gold tunic.
    She had a cool smile for Wexford, a maternal one for Marriott. ‘Still nattering? Pam and Ian are here, Leo. I’ve just seen their car turn into the alley’ She said pointedly to Wexford, ‘Must you go?’
    Wexford got up, shaking off Marriott’s restraining hand. ‘Will you be having another party tomorrow night, Lionel?’
    ‘Really, Reg, I’m not a complete sybarite. Tomorrow night I’ll be utterly prostrate after my tussles with the sons of yeomen, burgesses and those of the better sort. Spots before the eyes no less.’
    ‘In that case,’ said Wexford, grinning, ‘I’ll pick you up from school and give you a lift home.’
    ‘Lovely,’ said Marriott, showing for the first time a vague uneasiness. He escorted Wexford to the door, let him out and admitted two bright elderly people. ‘How marvelous to see you, my dears. You’re looking good enough to eat, Pam darling. Now do let me …’
    Wexford slipped quietly away.

7
    T he Burden children were going back to school and from the bungalow bathroom came the sounds of retching. Pat was always sick on the first morning of term. Her parents stood in the kitchen listening to these sounds with the helpless misery of people who are just beginning to realize that their children are human beings as well as their children and that there is a point beyond which they cannot help them. This child would vomit on the first day of every term, before every interview for a job, probably too on her wedding morning.
    ‘Oh, Mike,’ said Jean Burden, ‘ought we send for Dr Crocker? Sometimes I even think about sending her to a psychiatrist.’
    ‘When you know she’ll be as right as rain as soon as she sets foot in the classroom? Keep a sense of proportion, love.’
    ‘I just wish I could help her. We’ve never beennervy. I never thought we’d have a child who was a mass of nerves’
    ‘I’m not nervy,’ said John, coming in with satchel and shining morning face. ‘If I ever have kids and they go on like her I’ll give them a right walloping.’
    Burden looked at his son with distaste. His children, though only two years apart in age, brought up by loving and happily married parents in a solid middle-class background, had never got on. From quarrelling ever since John was a toddler and Pat able only to scream at him