The Sentence Is Death

‘How did the book group begin?’ I asked her as I carried them across.

‘It was my idea. I put an advertisement in the local library. We’ve been going now for almost five years.’

‘Has Hawthorne always been a member?’

‘Oh yes. Absolutely! From the very beginning. I met him in the lift, you know. He lives on his own upstairs.’

We were interrupted by a soft whirring sound and, looking around, I saw Kevin appear at the doorway, wheeling himself in. He seemed pleased rather than surprised to see me standing there with his mother, but then of course it was he who had been responsible for my invitation. He had not only recognised me in the lift, he had also known who I was visiting – which meant that Hawthorne must have told him about me. I wondered what he must have thought of my going all the way back down to the ground floor like that. He quickly let me know.

‘Hello,’ he said. He had quickly recognised me and smiled knowingly. ‘Have you been up and down and up and down in any more lifts?’

‘It’s nice to meet you again, Kevin,’ I said. ‘How are you?’

‘Fairly terrible. Mustn’t complain.’

Lisa cut in. ‘The book group is about to begin, my dear. Is there something that you want?’

‘Are there any samosas left?’

‘Of course.’

‘And can I have a Coke?’

She went to the fridge, took out a can and opened it for him. She added a straw, then placed it in a holder on the side of his wheelchair. She arranged three samosas on a plate and rested it on his lap.

Kevin looked up at me cheerfully. ‘I flick them into my mouth,’ he said, answering a question I hadn’t asked. ‘Like tiddlywinks.’

‘You know that’s not true,’ his mother scolded him. ‘And you shouldn’t tell jokes like that! Kevin has Duchenne muscular dystrophy,’ she explained to me, barely taking a breath. ‘But he still has some movement in both his arms. Enough to eat.’ She waggled a finger. ‘And he eats too much.’

‘It’s your fault. You shouldn’t be such a good cook.’

‘You’re going to be too heavy for that wheelchair and then where shall we be?’

‘Bye, Anthony!’ Kevin grinned and spun round. The kitchen was designed, like the rest of the house, so that there was plenty of space for him. We both watched him as he wheeled himself back down the corridor, the electric motor humming. There was a door open at the end but I couldn’t see anything of his room. He disappeared inside.

‘His arms are getting weaker,’ Lisa said, more quietly. ‘And there will come a time when he won’t be able to eat either. After that it will just be liquid food. We both know that but we try not to talk about it. That’s the trouble with Duchenne. It’s one thing after another, really.’

‘I’m very sorry,’ I muttered. I was embarrassed. I wasn’t quite sure what to say.

‘You don’t need to be. He’s a lovely boy. Handsome, like his father. I’m very lucky to have him.’ She was beaming at me. ‘Of course, he gets depressed sometimes and we ask ourselves how we’re going to cope. We have our up days and our down days. But your friend Mr Hawthorne has been an absolute godsend. He’s a remarkable man. From the moment he entered our lives, it’s hard to explain the difference he’s made. He and Kevin are best friends. They spend hours together.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I do sometimes think that Kevin might have given up, actually, if it wasn’t for him.’

I glanced into the living room. Hawthorne was engaged in conversation with the South American man and had forgotten about me. ‘But Kevin helps Hawthorne too,’ I said.

‘Oh yes. Mr Hawthorne is always asking for him.’

‘What exactly does he do?’

I do think Lisa Chakraborty was about to tell me but at that exact moment Kenneth Brannigan put his head round the door. ‘All set and ready!’ he announced.

‘I’ll just bring the coffee.’

It was already made. Lisa brushed past me, carrying it out. I followed her, aware that I had just missed an opportunity to open a back door into Hawthorne’s life. At the same time, I now knew where Kevin’s room was to be found and already a plan was formulating in my mind. The evening wasn’t over yet.

Everyone had sat down in a rough circle around the coffee table, which was now scattered with copies of A Study in Scarlet that had appeared from nowhere. There weren’t quite enough seats so several of the guests were crushed together on the sofas while the twins were cross-legged, in identical positions, on the floor. An upright chair had been left free for me, next to Hawthorne. I went over to it and sat down.

‘Where were you?’ he asked.

‘I was in the kitchen. With Lisa. I met Kevin.’ I watched his eyes when I said that but he showed no interest.

‘Don’t talk about the case,’ he muttered darkly.

‘Do you mean the murder of Enoch Drebber in Lauriston Gardens?’ I asked.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I’ll do my best.’