Chapter 8: What Arthur Should Have Said
Arthur was dressed when I came back to his room.
Not in pajamas or a robe — dressed.
Dark trousers, a collared shirt, his hair combed.
He was sitting in the chair by the window, not in bed, and when I opened the door he looked at me with the expression of a man who had been waiting to hear a verdict.
"It's done," I said.
"Graves left.
Robert is calling your solicitor now."
Arthur closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, they were wet.
"Julian?" he said.
"Still in the house.
He hasn't left."
Arthur nodded slowly.
"He won't run.
Whatever else Julian is, he's not a coward." He looked out the window.
"He'll fight it.
Through lawyers, through appeals, through every channel available to him.
You understand that."
"I understand that," I said.
"Robert said the forensic report is strong.
The transfers are documented."
"They are." Arthur turned back to me.
"Daniel made sure of it."
I sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
"Arthur," I said.
"Why didn't you tell me the day after the funeral?
You said it yourself in the letter.
You said you should have."
He was quiet for a long time.
"I was ashamed," he said finally.
"I had watched Julian do this for years and I told myself it was manageable.
That I could control it.
That it would never reach Daniel." He stopped.
"When Daniel d*ed, I understood that I had been wrong about all of it.
And I couldn't —" He stopped again.
"I couldn't look at you and tell you that your husband had d*ed trying to fix something I should have stopped ten years earlier."
The room was very still.
"He came to you," I said.
"Before he d*ed.
Daniel came to you."
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
Arthur's hands tightened on the armrests of the chair.
"He said he had found everything.
He said he was going to take it to the board.
He asked me to support him." A pause.
"I told him to give me two weeks.
To let me try to speak to Julian first.
I thought — I still believed I could make Julian stop without destroying the family."
"And then Daniel d*ed."
"Three days later." Arthur's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Three days after I asked him to wait."
I looked at my father-in-law — this old man in his good clothes, sitting upright in his chair, carrying something that had been crushing him for four years.
"Arthur," I said.
"I'm not going to tell you it wasn't your fault.
I think you know what you did and didn't do."
He nodded once.
"But Daniel loved you," I said.
"He came to you first.
Not to Robert, not to the board.
To you.
Because he trusted you." I paused.
"Whatever happened after — he trusted you."
Arthur put one hand over his eyes.
I let him sit with that.
After a while he lowered his hand and straightened in the chair.
"What do you need from me?
For the legal process."
"A statement.
Robert will arrange it.
And your solicitor will need you to confirm the forensic report was commissioned by you directly."
"I'll do whatever is needed."
"I know you will."
I stood up.
At the door I stopped.
"Arthur.
The man on the bus.
Robert.
You gave him my photograph."
"Yes."
"Where did you get it?"
He almost smiled.
"Daniel kept one in his wallet.
I found it when I was going through his things." He paused.
"You and Leo, at the seaside.
Leo was about five.
You were laughing at something."
I remembered the photograph.
I hadn't known Daniel still had it.
I nodded and went to the door.
"Claire," Arthur said.
I turned.
"Thank you for coming.
I know you came because Martha called and said I was dying.
I'm sorry for the deception.
But I'm glad you're here." He looked at me steadily.
"Daniel chose well."
I didn't trust my voice.
I nodded once and went upstairs to Leo.
He was sitting on the guest bed with his shoes on, his small bag already packed beside him.
"Are we going home?" he asked.
"Soon," I said.
I sat beside him.
"How did you know to pack?"
"You had your serious face on when you came upstairs," he said simply.
I looked at my son — nine years old, his father's eyes, his father's careful way of watching the world.
"Leo," I said.
"Your dad was a good man."
He looked at me.
"I know."
May you like
"I just wanted to say it out loud."
He leaned against my shoulder the way he had on the bus, and I put my arm around him, and we sat there for a moment in the quiet of the guest room while the house below us did whatever it was going to do next.
