I’m cheating a bit—superimposing therapy guff I’ve picked up from Mrs. Me onto what I know of Saint Paula’s personal circumstances, but that’s perfectly legitimate, if you think about it. It’s rather like a doctor being able to diagnose measles because he’s seen measles many times before and knows what they look like. (A livid scarlet bas-relief in the shape of Dr. Andrew Wakefield that covers a Welsh child’s entire body, for the nonmedical among you who are wondering.) Yes, I know that Andrew Wakefield is not officially a doctor anymore—in the same way that Bryn Gilligan is no longer officially a winner.

CHAPTER 10

Monday, July 8, 2013

“CULVER VALLEY EAST WAS your constituency,” Simon said to Paula Riddiough. “Hicksville, as you now call it.”

She had arrived at Spilling Police Station at exactly 10:10 A.M., as promised, dressed in an expensive-looking gray suit, with her hair pulled back and wound into a neat bun behind her head. She looked as if she expected to be given the keys to 10 Downing Street in front of hundreds of cameras, and had winced at the sight of the unglamorous interview room when Simon opened the door and ushered her in.

“I referred to Spilling as Hicksville once, and I’ve been apologizing to bloody-minded former constituents ever since,” she said. “It was a stupid thing to say, especially on Twitter, and I only said it because I knew it would annoy Damon Blundy. He lives here, but . . .” She stopped and corrected herself. “Lived here. But London was his one true love. London was where he belonged.”

“How do you know?” asked Simon. “Did he write that in one of his columns? I’ve not seen it, if he did.”

Paula shrugged, unconcerned. “He must have done. I can’t see how I’d know it otherwise.”

“Why did he move to Spilling in November 2011, if he loved London so much?”

“Why do you think I’d know the answer to that question, DC Waterhouse?” She smiled without warmth. “Do you think Damon might have discussed his house-buying plans with me, in between writing his column one week about what a terrible mother I am and another one the next week about my home-wrecking tendencies?”

“I think he moved to the Culver Valley because you were its MP,” Simon said. “Because you were based here some of the time, weren’t you? He wanted to be in your part of the country. He was in love with you.”

Paula laughed. “If he was, he had a funny way of showing it. And surely if he wanted to be in my part of the country, he should have moved to North or East Rawndesley? Or Combingham, where I lived, and without which no Labour MP would stand a chance of getting elected in the Culver Valley, ever.”