The One Hundred Years of Lenni and Margot by Marianne Cronin (e reader books txt) 📗

their own. Unable to find or free the mice, they scrawled a demand to end the medical testing across the wall of the lab in red paint. They ransacked the office, opened the window so it wouldn’t appear to be an inside job, collected me and returned to the group’s unofficial HQ at Meena’s bedsit, where we toasted the mission with a bottle of warm red wine. It had bits of cork floating in it.

If I was being completely honest, I didn’t do it for the mice, much as I cared about their little lives. I did it for Meena.

I didn’t sit on the bed in the cell once; I kept pacing, working over and over in my mind what I would say. I knocked on the door twice and called out to ask for some water, but nobody came. What was left of my saliva had formed a slime across my tongue.

It was a Sunday morning. In another life, I would be sitting beside Johnny and Thomas within the cold echoing walls of St Augustine’s Church. I would be bored and trying to amuse myself by counting all the swirling flowers painted on the stained glass windows. I would be trying to see if I could remember the hymn lyrics without looking at the hymn book. I would be giving Johnny the eye, for kicking Thomas in the shins for singing loudly and off key on purpose in Johnny’s ear. I would be rubbing my gloved hands together to try to keep them from going numb. But in my current life, my new life, I stood alone in a prison cell. Alone in the cell, but alone in the trouble too, because something told me Catherine Amelia would never allow herself to be pinned down for long.

I tried to imagine what the people at church would think of me if they could see me now. Associating with people I had no business being lucky enough to associate with. Having the kind of fun I had no right to be enjoying when I was supposed to be in Scotland, grieving.

The slot on the door opened and I saw a pair of eyes stare in at me. ‘Margot,’ the police officer said, pronouncing the T. ‘You’re up, love.’

I was relieved to the point of tears to see that there was a glass of water waiting on the table in the interview room. I drank from it greedily and had to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. The two policemen who’d arrested us were gone and instead there was a harried, overweight inspector in a brown suit. His shirt was straining at the buttons and I could see his hairy stomach peeping through the gaps. Beside him was a much younger uniformed officer who looked like a rabbit.

‘Lydia?’ the fat inspector asked.

‘No,’ I said, ‘sorry. I’m Margot … Docherty.’

I stood up to leave, but he waved at me. ‘Sit down, sit down.’ The interview room was small and smelled of feet.

‘Margot, Margot, Margot,’ he said under his breath, shuffling the stack of paper in front of him. ‘Isn’t that a song?’

‘I think so,’ I said, desperate to agree with him. If there is a song, I still haven’t heard it.

‘Right,’ he said, pulling out a piece of paper covered in scribbles. ‘Yes, the university break-in.’ I could feel my heart thudding. He pressed ‘record’ on the microphoned machine.

‘What do you know about the recent break-in at the medical school on Edward Street?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I answered. My mouth was dry again.

‘Yes?’ he said, irritated.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘What was the question?’

‘Where were you last night?’

‘Where you think I was.’

‘And where do I think you were?’ The inspector leant forward in his seat and the bare bits of his tummy touched the table.

‘There. At the medical school.’

‘Uh-huh,’ he said. Then he waited and I waited. ‘Go on.’

‘I was on lookout.’

‘Lookout? You didn’t do a very thorough job.’

Then he laughed and the rabbit officer, noticing, joined in with a fake laugh too.

‘I jest,’ the inspector said, wiping his eye. ‘The break-in had all the hallmarks of your lot. Shabbily done, unsuccessful, but in this case, operating on information that only someone who had insider knowledge could know.’ His tone had changed into one of mock surprise. ‘Which led us to the charming Miss Houghton, who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting several times, and what do you know? She actually works as a typist for the head of the medical school. And here we are.’

I didn’t know if this was a question.

‘So you admit that you were part of the group operating under the organization of Miss Houghton?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you accept that this admission implicates you in a criminal act?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you acknowledge that you have damaged the property of a place of education?’

‘I didn’t do that bit,’ I said. He seemed annoyed, so I added, ‘But yes.’

The inspector leant back in his chair. ‘Did you enjoy your time in the cell today?’

‘No.’

‘Do you appreciate that if this case went to trial, you could face a jail sentence of up to seven years?’

My heart seemed to be racing faster than I could keep up with. I tried to breathe.

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said in a small voice.

He wrote something on the paper in front of him and handed it to the officer. ‘Luckily for you and your band of merry men, the head of the medical school has requested we take this matter no further.’

I didn’t know exactly what that meant.

‘You need to sign these statements; we’ll take your prints for our file and you’ll be released with a caution. Understand?’

I nodded. ‘Yes.’

Then he looked me square in the eye and said, ‘Let this be the last time we meet, Miss Docherty.’

The rabbit officer rose to lead me out of the interview room.

‘It’s Mrs. I don’t know if that mat—’

‘Hang on,’ the inspector said. ‘Mrs? Who’s your husband? Was he part of this?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Why not?’

‘He’s … I don’t …’ There