The Dinner Guest by B Walter (best short books to read txt) 📕

articulate it, and terrified by how closely it resembled my own. The sensations, the sudden calm that had enveloped me after the bloodletting was – she was right – an experience to which one couldn’t help but attach religious significance. It was divine, in the true sense of the word, with vengeance and justice coming together to stabilise an imbalance in the world. It was something greater than anything the day-to-day human life encountered, and therefore required such language to even come close to describing it. Those who claim there is no beauty in violence really have no clue.

‘The irony is,’ she says, after a few moments of silence, ‘that I planned to do it exactly the same way as you did. I’d even studied which area of the torso to drive the knife into – an internet history detail which was very useful to the police during the process of charging me. So to find the job already complete, with you sitting there at the table, I must admit I was kind of grateful. I was grateful you’d done what I’d wanted to do for so long. Which made it easy to do what I did next. I knew Titus loved you as a father – someone who had been there throughout his life, unlike me. And I needed to do something to avenge my brother’s death. So confessing to it in court and coming here kept that sense of purpose going; it meant I could pay Johnny back for not spotting the signs of his decline sooner, not succeeding in steering him towards a safer path. Not being a good enough sister, daughter, or aunt. Who knows, maybe after ten years here I’ll feel differently. But for now, you and Titus are free to live your lives.’

We are running out of time, and I get the sense from her tone that we’re coming to the end of our conversation. Just one thing sets off a small warning bell in my mind and makes me look back at her with mounting concern. ‘For now?’ I repeat back.

Rachel considers this for a few seconds, then says, ‘Be careful of Titus. It’s a lot for him to handle on his own. That secret. It has the power to become … explosive. One day, he may need your encouragement to stay silent. If I were you, I wouldn’t get complacent. Or take his silence for granted. Just … be careful.’

Whatever I had expected Rachel to say, this was not it and it throws me off balance. ‘I … what? I don’t think Titus is going to say anything…’

‘Just look after him the best you can,’ Rachel cut across me. ‘For me. That’s all I ask. Do that, and all will be fine. And hopefully, I’ll never have to use this.’ From her sleeve, which she’s kept bunched around her right hand the whole time, she allows me to see something small and silver with a flashing red LED on its side. A digital recorder.

‘Why … how have you…?’ I look around at the prison staff either side. Neither of them seems to have noticed anything.

‘Oh, you can get anything in here, so long as you know the right people. It would have been a bit harder in the first prison I was in, before the trial. A lot hotter on the rules. But this place has rather lax security in comparison, and in the end it’s all just a question of making connections. Honestly, Charlie, for a man of the world, you really are very naïve.’

The call to end the visitation session sounds around us and Rachel starts to get up. ‘Although, you’re not really a man of the world, are you? Just your little world.’

I don’t know what to say to this, so I remain silent.

‘Well, best of luck with your new life,’ she says, with a small smile. ‘All going well, I’ll see you in about fifteen years.’

Chapter Forty-Nine Charlie

Seven months after the murder

The drive back from the prison seems a lot greyer and colder than it had done two weeks previously when I was driving from London to Oxford. My conversation with Rachel continues to echo through my ears. The things she said about Matthew. And Titus. The future, which had felt so bright and idyllic, suddenly seems uneasy and unsure. As if once-still ground is now breaking apart beneath me. It has taken me months to achieve a sense of equilibrium, any kind of stability. And now it has been disrupted.

But of course, all this is just in my head. Nothing has changed. Nothing is different. Rachel’s words don’t have to affect me if I don’t want them to. I could decide just to ignore her warnings. Her suggestion that my position isn’t as safe as I’d like it to be could just be her trying to unsettle me. Things will be just fine, I try to tell myself as I park the car outside the manor and go inside.

I go into the library, pour myself a brandy, and take a sip. I’m about to send a text to Rupert to ask where he is when I hear noises coming from the passageway that leads down to the indoor swimming pool. It sounds like whooping and shouting, as if an entertaining game were being played inside an echoey cave. Sure enough, Rupert, Titus, and Pippa are engaged in some sort of ball-throwing contest, with Rupert apparently taking on two against one. He gives me a big sweeping wave with one of his large hands as I come in, earning himself an inflatable ball in the face for his drop in focus.

I sit by the side of the pool on one of the loungers and watch them for a bit, then unlock my phone and start mindlessly scrolling. The habit to open Instagram still kicks in occasionally, and I find myself falling into its clutches once more, the photos unfurling before me, senseless and bland.