February, 27th

Daniel:

Every last Saturday of the month I meet with friends for a game of poker. It's a riot, I reckon, to play for money with the very people who would bust on you if you were doing exactly the same thing, although Paul "Fender Bender" Henderson would brush it off adducing something sounding very vague or generic, like the right to breathe in a room full of people. I suppose that people who put their bodies and lives when on duty should, at least, have some leniency when the purpose is harmless.

John is not big on cards but he's come a time or two, and he's always welcome with the jolly chaps of the Met. He came with me tonight and he's been eyeing Simon MacGregor ever since he set foot in the building. After Simon and I get out of the round we join him in the kitchen, where he's fulfilling bartender duties tonight.

I admire John Thornton, I really have to. He laughs and jokes, but he actually corrals Simon with the cunning and agility of a feline. John's wearing black head to toe and he makes me think of a big panther - or a very menacing acolyte of Lucifer, promising eternal damnation if things go awry. Simon rogers the message: until there's solid proof against her innocence, better stay away from Miss Hale. No more interrogations, no more surprise callings. Forget she exists unless a new piece of evidence links her to the case.

Not many questions are asked from any party, and I guess Simon knows enough about John to take his, ahem, suggestion into account. I am, as well as John, aware that he'd be a fool to hide or tamper with evidence but he may choose to focus on other leads for the time being.

Sounds like a good plan, I think.

Still, being found among the contact list of the biggest drug dealer and pimp operating this side of Manchester is no good calling card for any lady. It's no wonder John's been in foul mood for days.

March, 1st

Richard:

My longtime friend Adam West announced he'd come visit in a few days, and it's like the first ray of sun after a long, dark and cold night. Margaret helps me have our home in order for this visit - we don't expect him to sleep on an inflatable mattress under the stairs like Frederick does. We disassemble the master bed, arrange a small service room to be used as a bedroom, and put the bed frame and some of my late wife's belongings in storage.

I have a really hard time saying Maria's name, confronting the non-negotiable reality of her death, that she's not gone on a trip or living in another country. That in spite of it being nearly half a century, my time with her is irrevocably over. Whenever I feel I've made progress, the lump in my throat is back and I have to pause and gape for air. It's been only two weeks since she died; sometimes it feels like two minutes, and sometimes, like two decades.

John is back for his lessons and, in spite of the pause, we're still on schedule for his exam. I'm glad he comes, he might not be a widower but he knows more about life than my daughter. There are things I can speak to him that she wouldn't understand.

March, 3rd

Margaret:

Things didn't go well with Bessy asking Mr. Thornton for a job, and I'm sad to find my friend's chances in the job market are diminished by the fact she's a single mother - the very same fact that makes a job so necessary! I also feel guilty... Bessy knew better than to ask for her job back; she must have felt humiliated and it's all my fault.

I invite her for dinner to the Black Dog and she accepts, but we won't go until Friday or Saturday. She comes pick up Phil and tells me not to worry, her smile reassuring me that she's not broken.

March, 4th

John:

My mind is spinning and the culprit is, as it couldn't be otherwise, Margaret Hale. She's under investigation for links with a drug and prostitution ring, and that's just... horrible. It's beyond my comprehension how could this be, how she could find herself in such predicament. I'm helping the only way I can, this is, trying to milk some sway from years of being a good (and relatively prominent) citizen. I'm not sure it'd help at all, to be honest, and I'm even afraid it backfires.

I know the prostitution ring operated in luxury hotels, providing escorts to foreign businessmen. Did she... God, it pains me to form the words, did she fall for that? Was she one of the recruits? Or a madam? I don't know what to think and my mind picks trains of thoughts of its own, driving me insane. Did she need money for something in particular? Like jewels, or clothes, or trips? I've never seen her wearing nothing out of the ordinary, never thought she would want to. The Hales are obviously not rich but they never struck me as desperate. Why, God, why?

I school myself not to jump into conclusions but the drug ring doesn't look like a better option either. I cannot think of one reason to justify it, that would match the image I have of her. It's just too awful.

I have the nagging feeling that nothing of this would have happened if I had acted differently after the attack. That, had I had more tact and waited, she would have trusted me instead of putting herself at risk, instead of doing... whatever she did.

I go to my class and I see her from the corner of my eye. She's sitting with a kid that comes often to this house; they're reading aloud from some school book. Mr. Hale tells me this kid's mother is friends with Margaret, that she's unemployed and Margaret believes the child is at risk of falling into bad habits if he fails in school.

The irony of it all just blows my mind.

Notes:I'm not sure anything Daniel says here could be true - I guess policemen interact with each other in a particular way but playing cards? Not sure at all. I just made it to echo the original, where cronism is even more blatant.

Richard Hale's views on becoming a widow are based on the book "Until there was you" by Kristan Higgins. His being able to prepare students for their exams sounds like the biggest licence I took and nobody questioned it. Hmmm...

In the original Mr. Thornton bemoans the loss of "Margaret's pure and exquisite maidenliness"; in my version Mr. Thornton bemoans almost the same thing. Some things haven't changed all that much, don't you think?