2nd Culprit: A CWA Annual of Crime Stories (1994) by Liza Cody Michael Z. Lewin

Author:Liza Cody, Michael Z. Lewin [Liza Cody, Michael Z. Lewin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Turning Point

ANTHEA FRASER

If I hadn’t been so vulnerable, it wouldn’t have happened; but Clive and I’d been having one of our periodic bad patches, and to add to my misery Jamie, our youngest, had just started boarding-school. It seemed I was at one of life’s turning points, and needed to stop and consider what lay ahead.

On the face of it, it didn’t seem promising. I’d given up my job when we married; Clive’s income was more than adequate, and as I’d always been a mother-hen rather than a career girl I was only too happy to stay home. In any case we’d started a family almost at once. Now, though, with all three children away at school and Clive busy with trips abroad and business entertaining, time would hang heavy. I needed an interest of my own.

And then, coming out of the library, I saw the poster. In a blaze of red and gold, it announced an exhibition in a nearby town by the artist whose biography I’d just finished reading.

Fate! I told myself, little realising the danger in submitting to it. For here was a chance to get away for a few days and sort myself out. My mind raced eagerly ahead. I’d find myself a b. & b., visit the exhibition, and, since Sandham was on the coast, perhaps spend an hour or two on the beach. And maybe by the time I came home I’d have some idea what I wanted to do.

‘I’m going away for a few days,’ I said casually over dinner that night.

Clive looked up in surprise. ‘To your mother’s, you mean?’

‘No, to Sandham, actually. There’s an exhibition on by a Mexican artist, Sancho Perez. I’ve just read his biography, and I’d like to see it.’ He regarded me suspiciously. ‘Is this tit-for-tat? Because I’m off to Brussels?’

‘Nothing so childish. I simply need a break and you’re not free to come with me. And you’re not interested in art, so it wouldn’t-appeal to you anyway.’

‘When are you going?’

‘Tomorrow; it’s only on this week.’

‘So you’ll be back at the weekend?’

‘I don’t know; I might stay on a few days, since you’ll be away.’ Clive shrugged, losing interest. ‘Fine, if that’s what you want.’ And he reached for the cheese.

So the next morning, quite excited at the prospect, I packed swimming things, jeans, an assortment of shirts and sweaters, and a solitary dress in case I visited a restaurant. I also tucked in some paperbacks as insurance against loneliness. Thus provisioned, I reckoned I could last up to a week in Sandham if it took my fancy. And if I didn’t like it, I’d come home.

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