Damaged Goods Read online

  He took her face in his hands and turned it to the side. ‘Take it off.’

  Charlene looked startled and shrank away.

  ‘Your makeup, take it off.’ He held out a bottle of cheap lotion. ‘I need to get a shot of you totally natural. All the top agencies will want one.’

  Relieved at her mistake, she took the bottle from him.

  ‘You’re real cute, baby, but I’m a professional, I don’t take advantage of my position,’ he assured her.

  Predictably, he caught the fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes and whispered, ‘But you can always take advantage of yours.’

  Charlene beamed and removed her makeup to reveal a pasty and pimply complexion.

  ‘Peaches and cream,’ Max purred, and pulled her hair into two pigtails held high and tight on each side of her head. He chose glittery hair-bands to keep them in place.

  Charlene checked her reflection and pouted. ‘I thought I was supposed to be a model. I look bleeding twelve.’

  Max rubbed the top of her arm and smiled in reassurance. ‘You look perfect. You’re just nervous, everyone is the first time.’

  ‘Really?’ she said.

  He pulled out a small plastic bag containing four pills. ‘All my girls need something to relax them before a shoot.’

  ‘I ain’t no junkie,’ said Charlene.

  Max pretended to be hurt. ‘Of course not, baby. These are just for fun, to get you in the mood. Kate Moss and all those supermodels take them.’

  Charlene held out her hand. ‘Kate Moss!’

  Half an hour later the girl was sprawled on the sofa giggling as Max took some Polaroids.

  ‘I thought you’d have a proper camera with a tripod and that,’ she slurred.

  ‘We use those for studio sessions,’ said Max. ‘These are just shots for your portfolio. To get people interested.’

  ‘Do you think anyone will be interested?’ she asked.

  He flashed a smile. ‘Definitely. I know one man who’ll be chomping at the bit.’

  Pleased with this information, Charlene allowed Max to rearrange her arms above her head and didn’t even notice that her pants and one breast were exposed.

  When the girl had passed out Max sat beside her on the sofa. The photographs were good but Max didn’t feel pleased. Disgust was beginning to well in the pit of his stomach, threatening to make him retch. He reached for his pipe. He’d have just a few toots to settle himself. Wouldn’t anyone need it in these circumstances?

  He nodded to himself as he took the first deep breath and finished the whole rock in seconds.

  Now he could look at the last Polaroid and smile.

  ‘Yeah, baby, I know someone who will love this. And when he pays what I ask you’re gonna be in the movies.’ He turned to Charlene. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

  He shook her hard. ‘I said you’d like that, right?’

  She was comatose.

  ‘Jesus,’ he muttered, and pushed her off the sofa. The fall woke her momentarily but she curled foetus like on the dirty carpet and went straight back to sleep.

  Lilly parked outside her house. She staggered to her door and noticed the dent in the left-hand wing of her car. Then she saw that the bumper was hanging off and the headlight was smashed. Clearly she had more than tapped the bollard outside court.

  Part of her divorce settlement was that David would give her a car and keep up the insurance payments, so she would have to call him with the details to make a claim. It was the last thing she needed, far behind having a bath and a bottle of red wine. Thank God that Sam was at karate club and wouldn’t be home for a few hours.

  She poured a generous amount of lavender oil into the stream of the hot tap, its heady yet soothing aroma immediately filling the tatty little bathroom. The doctor had told her to ensure her wound stayed dry, but given her earlier soaking Lilly declared his advice null and void.

  She slipped beneath the unctuous film into the gloriously hot water below. It was enough to make her skin pink and her mind quiet. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  Too soon Lilly’s sanctuary was invaded by an annoying but persistent prickle in her throat. She instinctively rubbed the offending spot and immediately it stung. Whether the problem was the water or the oil was a moot point, but it caused Lilly to leap out of the bath like a scalded cat. In the mirror she could see the wound was red and angry; a steady trickle of blood dribbled down and pooled between her breasts. Even dabbing it with a towel was agony.

  As Lilly searched for cotton wool the phone rang. It was David.

  ‘I’m glad it’s you,’ she said.

  ‘It’s nice to speak to you too.’

  ‘No, no, I’m not glad because it’s you per se,’ she said, ‘but I’m glad because I need to speak to you.’

  ‘Whatever, Lilly, I’m just glad you’re glad.’

  There was an awkward silence which David eventually filled. ‘So what did you need to speak to me about?’

  Lilly swallowed her pride. ‘I pranged the car.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Lilly stepped outside and surveyed the damage. ‘It’s quite bad, well, not really bad, but bad enough.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘I’ll need to make a claim.’

  ‘Who are your insurers?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know, you’ve got the paperwork.’

  ‘Why would I have it?’

  Lilly wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse but his tone sounded genuinely baffled.

  ‘You sort out the insurance, so everything comes to you. I probably have a copy somewhere but I can’t put my hand on it,’ she said.

  ‘We talked about this a couple of months ago, Lilly. I can’t afford to keep up the insurance payments.’

  Lilly nodded, she remembered the conversation, one of a million they had every week about money or the lack of it. ‘You said you’d ask Cara to shop around for something cheaper but I guess she was too busy having her toes waxed.’

  David sighed. ‘She called umpteen other companies but they were all as expensive. Perhaps if you didn’t have quite so many accidents …’

  ‘Well, she didn’t call me,’ Lilly interrupted, in no mood to discuss her checkered motoring history.

  ‘Ah.’

  Lilly pulled the towel around her. The air felt cool on her wet skin.

  ‘What the fuck does that mean, David?’

  ‘You don’t need to swear.’

  ‘Yes, actually, I do.’

  Another maddening silence; again it was David who cracked. ‘Since we couldn’t find anything more economical, I reverted to the premise of the original conversation.’

  ‘Which was what?’

  ‘That you would have to pay it yourself.’

  He coughed in embarrassment and Lilly finally understood what he had done.

  ‘You bastard! You total, utter bastard! You cancelled my insurance.’

  ‘I couldn’t afford it, Lil,’ he said.

  Lilly raised her voice to a roar. ‘I’ve been driving around in an uninsured car.’

  ‘Cara was supposed to tell you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she cares that I’m ferrying around my son, your son, in an illegal vehicle. That, I imagine, is low on her list of priorities.’

  ‘That’s not fair, she hasn’t been feeling a hundred per cent.’

  ‘Nothing too trivial, I hope.’

  ‘Actually, she’s pregnant.’

  This time the silence was broken by Lilly hanging up.

  The doorstep was hard and cold. It was almost five and Lilly was still sitting motionless, gazing at the state of her car. She adjusted the damp towel that was wrapped round her and took a sip of wine from the glass in her right hand and a bite from the Snickers bar in her left. She tried to ignore the throbbing in her throat and concentrated on the damage. Even on the cheap it would cost more than a month’s salary to repair.

  Tears stung Lilly’s eyes but she didn’t swallow them, she let them roll down
her cheeks and drip off her chin. Soon, her shoulders heaved.

  ‘Whatever’s the matter?’

  Lilly looked up and saw Penny at the gate.

  She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Thanks for the welcome,’ Penny laughed. ‘You seemed in a bit of a state this morning so I thought I’d just check everything was okay.’

  ‘If the mothers have been twittering behind my back you can tell them not to worry. I’m not having a breakdown.’

  Penny laughed again. ‘Don’t be so suspicious, Lilly. This isn’t a delegation. I just wanted to know you were okay.’

  Lilly instinctively felt uncomfortable that someone saw her as anything other than tough. She fought for something funny to say to deflect Penny’s concern but nothing came to mind.

  ‘Everyone needs a friend from time to time,’ said Penny.

  Lilly’s eyes welled again. She had friends, didn’t she? She wasn’t lonely, was she?

  Lilly gasped between sobs, ‘I crashed my car.’

  Penny surveyed the damage and prodded the wing with the toe of a pristine tennis shoe. She sat down next to Lilly and put her hand on Lilly’s knee. ‘Now why don’t you tell me what’s really wrong?’

  For nearly an hour Lilly set out Kelsey’s case. How she had been adamant that Max had killed Grace, but now couldn’t even be sure that Kelsey hadn’t killed her mother. She admitted that the uncertainty was tormenting her and the responsibility weighed too heavily on her shoulders. She mentioned Jack and her feelings for him. She doubted he would ever forgive her if he found out about the letter. Indeed, Lilly would never forgive herself if Kelsey went on to hurt other innocent people.

  Finally, she admitted how shocked she had been on hearing of Cara’s pregnancy.

  ‘It’s not that I want him back but I still feel hurt. For all the crap that went on between us we still had this special bond because of Sam, and now he’ll have that bond with someone else as well.’

  Lilly hung her head, embarrassed to have said so much. ‘God, I am so pathetic.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, everyone thinks you’re dynamite,’ said Penny.

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘A single mum holding down a hugely demanding job, I should say so,’ she laughed. ‘In fact I’m quite relieved to see you in this state and know you’re human after all. No one likes a Percy Perfect, do they?’

  Penny delved into her handbag and pulled out a packet of Marlboro Lights. She lit one and blew smoke contentedly into the air.

  The two women sat in companionable silence, one drinking, one smoking. Eventually Penny took her last drag and ground out the end under her heel.

  ‘Look, Lilly, I’m no expert in the law – or anything else for that matter – but from what you’ve told me it’s pretty obvious that Grace was killed by a mad client and not her daughter.’

  Lilly nodded without conviction.

  ‘And you can’t hand the letter over even if you wanted to,’ said Penny.

  ‘It’s protected by client confidentiality,’ said Lilly.

  Penny smiled. ‘There you are then.’

  ‘I could breach it.’

  ‘That’s not an option, you’d be struck off and you have to think beyond this case.’

  ‘Do I?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘Absolutely. You can’t jeopardise your livelihood on the basis of what may or may not have happened to one prostitute.’

  Lilly winced.

  ‘I’m sorry to sound harsh,’ Penny said, ‘but it’s a fact. As for this Jack, he’s a professional so he’ll understand. Business, as they say, is business. He wouldn’t really expect you to hand over information to the police, would he?’

  Lilly shook her head. Of course he wouldn’t.

  ‘So that just leaves the ex and his new tart. Again, I’m going to be harsh and tell you to get on with your own life. You’re divorced and you shouldn’t be relying on him for anything. Obviously he has a responsibility to his son, but you should cut yourself off from him entirely, lead your own life.’

  Lilly knew she was right. What the hell had she been doing allowing David and his silly girlfriend to sort out her car insurance?

  Finally, Lilly walked Penny to her car, which was parked in the lane beyond Lilly’s gate.

  ‘Thank you so much.’

  Penny shrugged, as if giving advice on murder cases was commonplace. ‘You can do me a favour.’

  ‘Name it,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Get me some information on how to become a foster carer.’

  ‘You want to apply?’

  Penny shrugged again. ‘I’m thinking about it. Getting to know you has made me think about how privileged we all are and I’d like to spread a little good fortune if I can.’

  Lilly was both shocked and impressed.

  ‘So wash your face,’ said Penny, ‘and be at my house for eight.’

  ‘Actually, you can do me another favour,’ added Penny.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘For God’s sake don’t tell Luella that I smoke.’

  William Barrows looked around the table and drank in the faces of his wife’s dinner guests. He hated each one of them, with their delusional self-importance. One of them made a joke and the braying of the others hurt his ears. He supposed he should pity their mundane lives, filled only with ego. Not one of them would ever know the beauty and the joy of the hobby.

  The photograph was burning a hole in his pocket so he excused himself and made for the bathroom. The horrid black man had posted it through his letterbox earlier today with a letter demanding twice the usual amount, but written in his usual poorly educated slang ‘… as things is tricky, what with the police and that.’

  Barrows’ first reaction had been to laugh in the other man’s face and tell him to keep his little bitch, but then he had seen the girl giggling into the camera in the way only children did and he knew he had to have her.

  He locked the door and pulled out the Polaroid. Though unprofessional, the image was crisp and clear, the girl’s skin white and hairless against the grubby leather of the sofa on which she lay. He brought the photograph to his face and kissed the girl’s breast, which she clearly did not know was exposed.

  He sighed, the soft hiss of a grass snake, and stroked his erection. How would she smell, this woodland elf? Would her laugh be the sea lapping pebbles? Would she smile as he penetrated her or would she cry like the rest?

  ‘Bill, have you fallen asleep in there?’ came a voice from outside.

  Barrows cursed the interruption. ‘Just a second,’ he laughed through gritted teeth.

  ‘Hermione’s on the telly, you don’t want to miss it.’

  Barrows placed the photograph safely in his wallet and rearranged his penis. When he opened the door he was surprised to see the woman who’d spoken was still there. Her name was Margaret and she was something or other to do with PR for the party. Her husband was a High Court judge, which made them a heavy-hitting couple, in Hermione’s eyes at least.

  ‘She’s been very clever to manoeuvre herself into this position.’ Margaret’s eyes glittered seductively and she took his arm. ‘I suspect your sticky fingers in it.’

  Barrows thought for a moment. Apart from the initial introduction, he’d had no part to play. As strange as it seemed, Hermione had grasped the wheel in both hands and steered the ship exactly where she wanted it to go.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘She’s her own woman.’

  ‘Then you’re a very lucky man, Bill. You don’t mind me calling you Bill, do you?’

  Barrows loathed it. ‘Of course not.’

  When he and Margaret entered the room, arm in arm, deep in private conversation, Hermione gave the beatific smile of a wife with nothing to fear.

  Margaret feigned embarrassment. ‘We were just saying how clever you are, Hermione, weren’t we, Bill?’

  Hermione raised an amused eyebrow.

  Barrows knew the woman’s flirtations meant nothin
g to his wife. How could they? He opened his arms magnanimously. ‘My wife knows everything about everything.’

  They had excluded Margaret so perfectly that Barrows could see she now felt genuine unease. He enjoyed her discomfort and imagined his wife did too.

  ‘Oh Hermione, you look wonderful,’ exclaimed Margaret, rescued by the sight of the politician on the television.

  ‘The television does make one look so fat,’ said Hermione.

  ‘You do not look fat,’ Margaret replied.

  Next was a shot of Valentine, the daughter’s lawyer, standing in the torrential rain and sounding off at the police as her makeup slid down her face.

  Margaret shrieked in delight. ‘My God, it’s the exorcist.’

  ‘Poor thing,’ said Hermione, but giggled all the same.

  Barrows’ attention was brought back to the table by Margaret’s husband helping himself to his seventh glass of Burgundy. Glasses clanged and wine spilled onto the cream table linen.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ roared the man, and dabbed ineffectually at the stain.

  ‘Not a problem, Hugh,’ said Barrows. ‘This case has unnerved everyone.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s confidential,’ said the judge, ‘but I’ve been given the nod that this blasted affair is going to make it onto my list.’

  Margaret wagged a chiding finger as if he were a child telling tales out of school. ‘Hugh.’

  He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m sure Hermione knows more about this damned nonsense than I do.’

  ‘I owe it to those involved to be well-versed,’ she said.

  ‘Do you really believe that?’ asked the judge.

  ‘Passionately,’ she lied.

  The judge slurped his wine. ‘I’m not sure I want to know anything about it.’

  ‘It’s good to have these high-profile cases,’ said Margaret.

  ‘Humph.’

  ‘Perhaps Hugh feels their responsibility too gravely,’ suggested Barrows.

  The judge burped. ‘Not really, old boy, I just hate the press sniffing around, watching my every move. The case is bound to come up soon for a prelim and the defence are bound to make an application for bail. Lord knows what I’m going to do. I can release the girl and take the heat from the justice lobby or keep her inside and get it in the neck from the liberals. Can’t bloody win.’