Common Murder

But there was a change in attitude since Lindsay had first encountered the peace women. It was noticeable that far more women were advocating stronger and more direct action against what they perceived as the forces of evil. She could see that Jane and several other women who’d been with the camp for a long time were having a struggle to impress upon others, like the headstrong Nicky, the need to keep all action non-violent and to minimize the criminal element in what they did. Eventually, the meeting was adjourned without a decision till the following afternoon.

The rest of the day passed quickly for Lindsay who spent her time walking the perimeter fence and picking up on her new friendships with women like Jackie. Lindsay appreciated the different perspectives the women gave her on life in Thatcher’s Britain. It was a valuable contrast with the cynical world of newspapers and the comfortably well-off life she shared with Cordelia. Jackie and her lover Willow, both from Birmingham, explained to Lindsay for the first time how good they felt at the camp because there was none of the constant pressure of racial prejudice that had made it so difficult for them to make anything of their lives at home. By the time Lindsay had eaten dinner with Cara and Deborah, she knew she had made a firm decision to stay. By unspoken consent, Deborah took Cara off to spend the rest of the night with her best friend Christy in a bender she shared with her mother Josy. When she returned, she found Lindsay curled up in a corner with a tumbler of whisky.

“Help yourself,” said Lindsay.

Deborah sensed the tension in Lindsay. Carefully, she poured herself a small drink from the bottle on the table and sat down beside her. She placed a cautious hand on her thigh. “I’m really glad to be with you again,” she said gently. “It’s been a long time since we had a chance to talk.”

Lindsay took a gulp of whisky and lit a cigarette. “I can’t sleep with you,” she burst out. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Deborah hadn’t forgotten the knowledge of Lindsay that six hectic months had given her. She smiled. “You haven’t changed, have you? What makes you think I wanted to jump into bed with you again?” Her voice was teasing. “That old arrogance hasn’t deserted you.”

Outrage chased incredulity across Lindsay’s face. Then her sense of humour caught up with her and she smiled.

“Touché. You never did let me get away with anything, did you?”

“Too bloody true I didn’t. Give you an inch and you were always halfway to the next town. Listen, I didn’t expect a night of mad, passionate lovemaking. I know your relationship with Cordelia is the big thing in your life. Just as Cara is the most important thing in my life now. I don’t take risks with that, and I don’t expect you to take risks with your life either.”

Lindsay looked sheepish. “I really wanted to make love with you. I thought it would help me sort out my feelings. But when you took Cara off, I suddenly felt that I was contemplating something dishonest. You know? Something that devalued what there is between you and me.”

Deborah put her arm around Lindsay’s tense shoulders. “You mean, you’d have been using me to prove something to yourself about you and Cordelia?”

“Something like that. I guess I just feel confused about what’s happening between me and her. It started off so well-she made me feel so special. I was happy as a pig. Okay, it was frustrating that I was living in Glasgow and she was in London. But there wasn’t a week when we didn’t spend at least two nights together, often more, once I’d got a job sorted out.

“We seemed to have so much in common-we liked going to the same films, loved the theatre, liked the same books, all that stuff. She even started coming hill-walking with me, though I drew the line at going jogging with her. But it was all those things that kind of underpinned the fact that I was crazy about her and the sex was just amazing.

“Then I moved to London and it seemed like everything changed. I realised how much of her life I just hadn’t been a part of. All the time she spent alone in London was filled with people I’ve got the square root of sod all in common with. They patronise the hell out of me because they think that being a tabloid hack is the lowest form of pond life.

“They treat me like I’m some brainless bimbo that Cordelia has picked up. And Cordelia just tells me to ignore it, they don’t count. Yet she still spends great chunks of her time with them. She doesn’t enjoy being with the people I work with, so she just opts out of anything I’ve got arranged with other hacks. And the few friends I’ve got outside the business go back to Oxford days; they go down well with Cordelia and her crowd, but I want more of my life than that. And it never seems the right time to talk about it.

“About once a fortnight, at the moment, I seriously feel like packing my bags and moving out. Then I remember all the good things about her and stay.”