Living with Shadows (9 page)

‘Help yourself. By the way, is it Jim or James?’

‘Oh definitely Jim . . . Jim Stuart. I eventually dropped James after endless jokes and bad impressions.’

Helen laughed. ‘I can imagine. Though James Stewart was a fine actor. I loved his films, especially Vertigo. I’m a Hitchcock fan. It comes from being brought up by grandparents.’

‘Can’t say I’ve seen it.’ Jim poured his coffee, remembered his manners and offered to pour Helen’s.

‘I have the DVD somewhere. I’ll dig it out for you before you leave.’ She waved a hand over her cup as he held up the sugar bowl. ‘Anyway, you haven’t come here to talk about films. You need some working capital.’

Jim cleared his throat. ‘If I could just have enough to cover materials, that would be a great help.’

‘And what will you live on?’

He threw her a puzzled look. ‘Things aren’t as bad as that. There’s Kate’s wage . . .’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to justify yourself. Just tell me what you need and I’ll see you have it.’

‘Well, I’m not exactly sure off the top of my head.’

‘You’re starting Monday, aren’t you?’

‘If I can get hold of the materials, I should think so.’

Helen got to her feet and went out of the room. She returned with a cheque in one hand and a DVD in the other. ‘Let me know what you think of it.’

‘Yes, sure.’ He hadn’t finished his coffee but it was plain he was dismissed and so he took the items and pushed them into his pocket without looking at either of them.

‘I’ll see you Monday, then. What time?’

‘Eight OK?’

‘Fine. Eight it is.’ She closed the door softly behind him and went back into the kitchen. Workmen usually smelled of their trade but not this one. Helen breathed deeply of the lingering smell of aftershave as she gathered up the cups and wondered what Kate did for a living.

God, he could be so condescending at times. Kate was still seething at Jim’s careless remarks. He had little compassion for ‘inadequate’ people.

As soon as he’d gone, she read the rest of Michael’s letter, conscious that Jim had also read every word. She could understand how he might get the impression Michael was looking for sympathy. Anything written was open to interpretation but having met the writer, Kate felt she was better equipped than Jim to judge Michael’s intentions.

Whatever Jim thought about it, she knew she had to respond to Michael’s letter, but how could she? It would be impossible to talk to him in class—too many prying ears—yet she couldn’t just ignore it. He’d written so much.

Kate read through it again and jotted down some of the mistakes. She could go through these with him, but just correcting his English wasn’t enough. She would have to say something about the content. The only thing she could do was put it in writing. Besides, she was curious. Why had he never told anyone about what was happening to him when he was a child? Surely there must have been someone he could have turned to, a family member or neighbour, priest or vicar?

She considered Jim’s warning but chose to ignore it. It would be heartless just to give Michael a list of corrections without any reference to the very personal things he’d told her. Of course, she would have to give careful thought to whatever she put in a letter. She wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea, or anyone else for that matter should they get their hands on it. It needed to be somewhere between friendly and formal, sympathetic yet hopeful.

Well,
Michael,
I
was
really
surprised
at
the
amount
of
writing
you
did
for
me.
The
account
of
your
life
before
you
came
into
prison
appears
to
have
been
very
unhappy
for
the
most
part
and
I
was
quite
saddened
by
some
of
the
terrible
things
you
suffered
when
growing
up
in
Belfast.
The
bullying
you
endured
as
a
child
must
have
been
dreadful.
I
can’t
imagine
what
it
must
have
been
like
for
you
living
in
constant
fear
of
people
in
your
neighbourhood,
not
daring
to
go
out.
Even
your
teacher
was
brutal
to
you.

From
what
you
say,
it
seems
that
things
went
from
bad
to
worse
and
even
though
you
tried
to
escape
from
the
bullying,
you
ended
up
finding
more
disappointment
in
your
life.
No
wonder
you
don’t
trust
people!
I
expect
it
was
difficult
to
know
who
to
turn
to.

I
can
understand
your
wanting
to
meet
your
father.
If
you
hadn’t,
you
would
probably
have
always
wondered
what
he
was
really
like.
It
doesn’t
matter
what
other
people
tell
you,
it’s
something
you
need
to
find
out
for
yourself.
(I
know
this
from
experience.)
All
the
same,
it
must
have
been
a
big
disappointment
to
meet
him
and
discover
he
wasn’t
the
person
you’d
believed
him
to
be.

As
for
your
holiday,
I
wonder
if
you
really
would
have
been
happy
living
in
Greece.
A
holiday
is
one
thing
but
I
imagine
living
there
would
have
had
its
problems,
like
understanding
the
language
or
finding
decent
employment.
Still,
I
realise
how
disappointed
you
must
have
felt
having
your
dream
of
starting
a
new
life
dashed
again.
It
was
obviously
the
last
straw
for
you,
and
so
I
can
understand
why
you
tried
to
end
your
life.
However,
I
don’t
believe
that
is
the
answer
to
anyone’s
problems,—for
one
thing
too
many
people
would
be
hurt
and
I
believe
that
no
matter
how
bad
life
gets,
you
can
turn
it
around.

I
know
it
must
be
difficult
for
you
after
all
you’ve
been
through,
but
perhaps
you
ought
to
think
about
what
you’ll
do
when
you
get
out.
There
are
lots
of
training
courses
in
prison,
like
painting
and
decorating,
car
maintenance
as
well
as
studying
for
exams.
It
might
make
life
in
here
more
bearable
if
you
have
something
to
aim
for.

I
hope
you
aren’t
offended
by
my
asking
this
but
there
was
something
you
wrote
that
made
me
think.
You
say
you
were
‘shocked’
at
what
you’d
done
after
stabbing
the
man
on
the
street
and
that
you
‘thought
you
knew
you
were
doing
the
right
thing’
in
giving
yourself
up.
At
that
point
you
didn’t
know
he
was
going
to
die
and
no
one
saw
you
attack
him.
Do
you
think
you
would
still
have
gone
to
the
police
if
you’d
known
you’d
killed
him?
You
don’t
have
to
answer
that
if
you
don’t
want
to.