A Place Of Safety Page 19

  Luke tags behind her and vows to find that deposit.

  Lilly dropped her biro as she signed in at the entrance of the Old Bailey.

  Anna took Lilly’s hands in her own and blew on them. ‘You are cold.’

  Lilly smiled. She wasn’t about to admit that she was terrified. Last night she had been through all the case papers and rehearsed exactly what to say. She’d gone to bed having drunk enough Sauvignon to sleep well but not enough to feel it in the morning.

  She was determined to remain calm, and reminded herself that she appeared in court most days. This was nothing new.

  She looked around the Central Criminal Court. The whole place sighed with a thousand life sentences and nausea growled in her stomach.

  She left Anna with Milo and headed for the loos. A barrister was washing her hands, chatting into a Bluetooth headset. She looked so relaxed, as if she belonged.

  Lilly appraised her reflection. Her hair was neat but not severe. Her black suit was freshly dry cleaned and Anna had pressed and starched a white shirt to within an inch of its life.

  Her mother had always said, ‘If it waddles like a duck and quacks like a duck…’

  Well, here was Lilly, waddling and quacking for all she was worth.

  ‘So, get your arse in gear, Donald,’ she mumbled to herself.

  Nothing could go wrong. She was prepared.

  ‘Hello gorgeous,’ called Jez as she came out of the toilet.

  Lilly gave him a weak smile.

  ‘Ooh, someone’s nervous,’ he laughed. ‘It’s only P and D.’

  It might only be a short hearing for Anna to put in her plea and for the new judge to give yet more directions, but it would be in the grim auspices of one of the most infamous courtrooms in the world.

  ‘Who’ve we got?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘Teddy Roberts,’ he said.

  His Honour Judge Edward Roberts. Lilly gulped. ‘Didn’t he once order a solicitor to spend a night in the cells?’

  ‘It was only an hour and she was late.’ Jez put his hand on Lilly’s arm. ‘He’s a pussycat. Nothing can go wrong.’

  They entered Court Four.

  Nothing can go wrong, nothing can go wrong.

  ‘Lilly,’ said Jez. ‘Where’s your gown?’

  Shit.

  Lilly sank onto the bench and wondered what the food would be like in custody.

  ‘Where’s the judge?’ Jez asked the usher.

  ‘Coming down the corridor.’

  Jez turned to Kerry. ‘Do you have one?’

  Kerry nodded and fished in her bag. Lilly snatched it and threw it around her shoulders. It was enormous and looked like a Victorian cape that skimmed her ankles.

  ‘Thanks,’ Lilly whispered and tied the bands that hung like a loose bandage around her collarbone. Everything smelled faintly of toast.

  The usher opened the door. ‘All rise.’

  Lilly struggled to her feet like a black pair of curtains.

  Jez leaned over and whispered, ‘Tell me you didn’t take a lump out of his car.’

  ‘I’m ignoring you,’ she said.

  Judge Roberts entered court and raised a quizzical eyebrow at Lilly’s attire.

  ‘Miss Valentine, thank you for coming at such short notice.’

  Lilly nodded and smiled. Maybe he was a pussycat.

  ‘I have spoken with the Three Counties Observer and ordered them to release your address to no one. I have also made it abundantly clear that if they harass you in any way this court will deal with them most forcefully.’

  Lilly beamed. Definitely a pussycat. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But I should tell you now that I am most unhappy with the situation in respect of your client’s bail.’

  Maybe not.

  Lilly cleared her throat. ‘Your Honour, I know that in these circumstances a defendant would be remanded in custody, but the Bail Act makes it clear that the presumption is always for bail to be given…’

  Judge Roberts put up his hand. ‘Miss Valentine, I have been a judge for nearly twenty years, so you can imagine I’ve come across the Bail Act once or twice.’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour,’ said Lilly. ‘I just wanted to explain how this particular arrangement came about.’

  The hand came up again. ‘Frankly, I’m not interested in the hows and whys. I just want to make it clear that I am not comfortable at all.’

  ‘I can understand your apprehension,’ she said. ‘But if you revoke bail…’

  The hand again. Lilly was beginning to feel like she was a car in traffic.

  ‘Did I say anything about revocation, Miss Valentine?’

  ‘Well, no,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Then let’s move on,’ said Judge Roberts. ‘I’ve made it clear I’m unhappy, but since your client is here today I can hardly complain she’s a flight risk, can I? Now, are you ready to plead today?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour. My client will plead not guilty.’

  ‘On what basis?’ he asked.

  ‘On the basis that she didn’t do it.’

  The courtroom erupted into laughter. Lilly felt her face burn.

  ‘On what legal basis?’ said the judge. ‘Self-defence?’

  ‘I intend to show that my client did not have the mental capacity to take part in a conspiracy to murder,’ said Lilly.

  ‘You have an expert?’ asked the judge.

  ‘Dr Leyla Kadir will say my client was, and still is, suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,’ said Lilly, hoping to God that was what she would say.

  ‘Very well.’ The judge nodded curtly at Anna. ‘Please make your way to the dock.’

  Anna was led by the usher to the wooden box at the back of the court. She stared down the steps and Lilly wondered if she realised they led directly to the cells. The kid looked swamped by her surroundings, like a pixie trapped in the real world.

  The clerk cleared his throat. ‘Tirana Duraku, it is said that on 2 October you did conspire with Artan Shala to murder Charles Stanton. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?’

  Anna looked up at the judge, a semi-circle of white beneath each iris. She opened her mouth to speak when there was a huge bang behind her.

  Lilly gasped and saw that the public gallery had been stormed by about twenty men, all shouting and clapping their hands, nylon sportswear stretched over their beer bellies.

  The judge banged his gavel. ‘This is a closed court.’

  The men continued to jeer until a man pushed his way to the front. He was dressed from head to toe in black: suit, shirt, tie, overcoat. He leaned against the balcony railings and glowered at the judge.

  ‘The public are not allowed to be present during this hearing,’ said the judge, his tone thunderous.

  ‘And why is that?’ asked the man.

  ‘I am not at liberty to explain,’ said Judge Roberts. ‘Now, if you would kindly leave.’

  The man pointed at Anna. ‘Is it because she’s an asylum seeker?’

  ‘Leave my courtroom,’ said the judge, the steel in his voice sharpening.

  ‘Is it because the likes of her get special treatment? Houses, social security, and now protection from the law?’

  The men behind him clapped.

  ‘If you do not vacate the gallery immediately, I will have each and every one of you arrested,’ shouted the judge.

  ‘And I suppose you’ll sling us in the cells while this foreigner gets to live it up with her brief.’

  The men erupted. Cheering, clapping and banging their fists against the balcony railings.

  ‘England for the English,’ the man shouted.

  ‘England for the English,’ screamed the rest, until it became a terrifying chant, each beat punctuated by stamped feet.

  ‘Everyone into my chamber,’ said the judge.

  The usher, clerk, Kerry and Jez made for the door.

  Anna didn’t move. She was like a rabbit caught in headlights, glued to her chair, staring at the men.

  ‘Anna,’ Lilly shouted
above the cacophony. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  But Anna was mesmerised by the sight of ugly and angry men spitting abuse. All directed at her.

  The alarm sounded. The noise was ear-splitting.

  Lilly ran across the courtroom to the dock. Milo followed closely. He stood on her robe, which was now dragging behind her, and they both tripped. Another roar came from the balcony.

  Lilly shrugged off the gown and stumbled towards Anna. ‘Quickly,’ she said.

  Anna didn’t or couldn’t move but continued to stare at the men.

  Lilly pulled her client by the hand but she fell to the floor like a stone. Milo leapt into the dock and carried Anna in his arms towards the back of the court.

  They hobbled towards the door. The men in the gallery dug into their pockets and began hurling the contents. Lilly felt something hit her back. Then her head. Then her cheek.

  When they passed into the chamber they stood panting. Anna was still in Milo’s arms.

  Only then did Lilly realise that all three of them were covered in dog shit.

  Steve Berry looked at the image of the skinheads being bundled into a police van and let out a hard rasp of a chuckle.

  ‘Posh,’ he said, ‘this picture is genius.’

  Alexia shrugged as if it were nothing.

  ‘I still don’t know how you got this.’

  Alexia tapped the side of her nose. ‘Instinct.’

  She wasn’t about to admit she’d received an anonymous tip-off. That morning, a woman had called. She said she’d just seen Valentine and the kid heading into London. ‘Are you sure it was them?’ Alexia had asked.

  The woman tutted. ‘Of course I’m sure, and I should say by the way they were dressed that something is interesting is going on.’

  It could have been a crank, but something in the way the woman spoke told Alexia to investigate. The woman wouldn’t give her name but there was something about her voice—she couldn’t place it but she’d definitely heard it before.

  Alexia called Luton Youth Court and was told the case had been transferred. She called the Crown Court who confirmed the same.

  Then she got a call from the Bailey telling her in no uncertain terms that if she impeded the defence case again she would be arrested. Bingo. She knew exactly where the case had been transferred.

  Alexia had grabbed her coat and jumped on the next train. She knew the hearing would be closed but she might get something. She’d need to be careful—she didn’t want to end up in court herself. However, once she arrived and saw the racists filing in, she knew that it was going to be another bonanza news day. The top judge himself could try to arrest her but Alexia Dee was going to get this story.

  * * *

  Lilly had cried, thrown up and cried some more. Finally she ran a bath. It was time to wash the crap out of her hair.

  She’d shaken the biggest lumps out and washed it as best she could at a sink in the ladies’, but she could still smell it.

  The police, to be fair, had been lovely. They’d driven Milo, Anna and Lilly all the way home and promised that the thugs would be charged. But it didn’t stop Lilly feeling humiliated.

  She held her nose and dunked her head under the surface. Had this been what it was like for Anna in Kosovo: had she been made to feel less than human? She hadn’t spoken since they’d got back and had locked herself in the main bathroom. God knows what memories this had brought back.

  A tap came on the bathroom door. ‘Is anyone alive in there?’ said Jack.

  He opened the door, padded across to the bath and put his arms around her. She relaxed into his embrace, her hair dripping down his leather jacket.

  ‘Are you still mad at me about the picture of you in the paper?’ she said.

  He didn’t let her go. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Are you in trouble about being here with Anna?’

  He buried his nose in her neck. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Oh, Jack, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yep.’

  They stayed like that, clinging on to one another until the water grew cold.

  At last Jack let her go.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll survive.’

  ‘It’s been a rough day.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Pretty shitty.’

  They both laughed, and Lilly pulled herself out of the bath.

  ‘Here,’ said Jack, and patted her shoulders with a towel. ‘Let me.’

  ‘Do you do this for all your women?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘Only those attacked by marauding mobs.’

  He put a squirt of lotion onto his hand and began massaging it into her back.

  ‘I could get used to this on a daily basis,’ said Lilly.

  ‘So, why don’t you?’ he asked.

  She turned to him. ‘What are you saying, Jack?’

  He opened his mouth to speak when Sam waltzed in and pulled down his trousers.

  ‘Sorry, Mum, but Anna’s in the other bathroom and I’m dying for a poo.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Sam,’ Lilly said, and covered herself with a towel. She put on her dressing gown and looked at Jack. ‘Let’s continue this conversation downstairs.’

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ called Sam.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Dad’s here.’

  If Jack was prepared to put his anger aside, David was not. As soon as Lilly entered the sitting room she could sense the dark cloud above her ex-husband. The sight of him pacing reminded her of the bad old days.

  ‘The rug’s already threadbare,’ she said.

  ‘Very droll,’ he replied. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Can it not wait?’ asked Jack. ‘She’s had a terrible shock.’

  David glared at Jack. ‘When it comes to children, things can’t be put on hold. You’ll understand that one day when you have a son of your own.’

  Lilly saw Jack wince. He loved Sam and had a great relationship with him, but he wasn’t his father.

  ‘I’ll be off,’ he said to Lilly, and pecked her on the cheek. ‘Call me later.’

  When she heard the door close she rounded on David.

  ‘There was absolutely no call for that.’

  David held his back straight. Elsa would have said he had a pole up his arse.

  ‘I think there was every call. When I need to discuss my child with his mother, I won’t be deterred by every Tom, Dick and Harry you’ve taken a shine to.’

  ‘Jack’s not just anyone, he’s…he’s…’

  ‘What, Lilly? What is he? You’re not married, you don’t even live together, and as far as I can tell you’ve no plans for either,’ he said. ‘Not when you still want to flirt with your Bosnian friend.’

  Lilly was stung by the unfairness of the comment. Yet was he so far from the mark?

  She sighed and sank onto the battered old sofa. ‘Let’s not fight, David.’

  ‘I need to know our son is safe.’

  ‘He is,’ she said.

  David shook his head. ‘You’re making a lot of enemies with this case, and I won’t allow Sam to get caught in the crossfire.’

  ‘He’s fine,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Fine?’ David shouted. ‘Journalists have been stalking you, Lilly, taking pictures of you outside the house. Sam’s house.’

  ‘The trial judge has taken care of that. Warned then to stay away,’ she said.

  ‘And you think they’ll listen when this story is getting hotter by the day?’

  ‘If they come anywhere near me or Sam I’ll call the court.’

  ‘Well, make sure you do.’ David dropped his voice. ‘Or I shall have to take steps.’

  Lilly felt her heart begin to thud. ‘What steps?’

  ‘Sam will have to come and stay with me.’

  ‘You can’t take him away from me,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll do whatever I have to,’ he replied, and left.

  Lilly stared after him, shaken by a mixture of fear and rage. Who did he think he was, making threats about Sam? Li
lly wouldn’t let him come to any harm. He was everything to her and David knew that. Hadn’t he been so jealous of her fierce love for her son that he’d needed to seek attention from Botox Belle in the first place?

  As for the stuff about Milo, well, she had been acting like a fool. There was an attraction between them, a spark at most, but nothing compared to what she shared with Jack. He was the one who had stood by her through this nightmare of a case, despite how much he had to lose. He was the one, she reminded herself, who had stood between her and a bullet. And if she wasn’t completely mistaken, he had just, in his own inimitable fashion, asked her to live with him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dear Headmaster,

  We are sure you share our concern that Charles Stanton’s murderer is being represented by the mother of Samuel Valentine, a pupil in the preparatory school. Under normal circumstances we would be of the opinion that a parent’s mode of employment should be of no interest to anyone but themselves. However, no doubt you will agree that the current circumstances are far from normal, and it would be in everyone’s best interests if Samuel Valentine were asked to leave Manor Park. We should be grateful if you would bring this matter before the governors with the urgency it deserves.

  Mr Lattimer looked at the list of parents who had signed the letter. The usual gaggle of overprotective helicopter mothers.

  Mr Lattimer reread it and sighed.

  …a parent’s mode of employment should be of no interest to anyone but themselves…

  If he and the governors didn’t apply that strict rule across the board there would be no annual garden party, which was sponsored by a publisher of several racy magazines including Pearl Necklace and Bottom Love. Ditto the new drama studio, which had been paid for by the CEO of a cigarette company.

  Mr Lattimer prided himself on his pragmatism.

  He folded the letter and placed it in his top drawer. This issue wouldn’t go away but he could try to ignore it, at least until he had called Johnny Philips’s mother and asked for a donation towards the cricket pavilion. She was the author of several trashy thrillers and always good for a few hundred.

  ‘Tell me how you felt after the rape.’