A Place Of Safety Page 20

  They were back in Dr Kadir’s office for the third time in as many weeks, and once again her questions shocked Lilly. The harsh simplicity of the words, the unwavering eye contact, seemed brutal. She had to remind herself that this was not a therapy session designed to heal Anna. This was a diagnosis under the cosh of a court timetable.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Anna whispered.

  If Dr Kadir was frustrated she didn’t show it. Instead, she poured hot water over one of her endless herbal tea bags and filled the air with a strawberry-scented cloud.

  ‘Did you feel dirty?’ she asked. ‘Used?’

  Anna thought for a moment. ‘I felt cold.’

  Lilly sipped her tea. It smelled more fruity than it tasted.

  ‘And Artan,’ said Dr Kadir, ‘was he cold?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘He was on fire.’

  Dr Kadir cocked her head and waited for Anna to elaborate.

  ‘Many times I have seen him angry, but not like this,’ said Anna. ‘He said it was the worst thing that could happen.’

  ‘And what did you think? Was it the worst thing that could have happened?’

  ‘Many, many things have happened, and all are bad,’ said Anna.

  While Anna busied herself with TV Quick, Lilly turned to her expert.

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘I think you are under a lot of strain.’

  ‘What?’

  Dr Kadir smiled. ‘I read the papers, you know.’

  Lilly waved away her concern. ‘What about my client?’

  Dr Kadir’s smile vanished. ‘She is definitely suffering from PTSD.’

  Lilly punched the air. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Hardly a cause for celebration,’ said Dr Kadir.

  ‘The way this case is going,’ said Lilly, ‘I’m almost tempted to throw a party.’

  The doctor pursed her lips. ‘It almost certainly started in Kosovo, but I would say the rape was the defining incident which pushed Anna’s mind into freefall.’

  ‘The straw that broke the camel’s back?’

  Dr Kadir nodded. ‘From that point I think she disassociated from real life.’

  ‘So she wouldn’t have understood what Artan was doing with the gun?’

  ‘Oh, no, she would have understood exactly what was happening.’

  Lilly’s heart sank. ‘But I thought you said she was detached from reality.’

  ‘Detached—yes. Divorced—no.’

  ‘There’s a difference?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘Think of it as a house detached from next door. You are not connected but you can still see your neighbours, hear them shouting.’

  Lilly’s mind was racing; she put her fingers to her temple. ‘Let me get this straight. Anna would have realised what Artan intended to do.’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘But could she have taken part? Could she have had the necessary intent to join Artan?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘It’s possible.’

  Lilly opened her mouth, but Dr Kadir silenced her with her left hand. Lilly noticed she still wore her wedding band.

  ‘It’s more likely that Anna simply went along on autopilot. That she never considered the consequences of what was going to happen.’

  ‘She couldn’t make the active decision to join Artan.’

  Dr Kadir cocked her head in agreement.

  ‘Then Anna couldn’t have committed the offence,’ said Lilly.

  The doctor brought the bone-china cup to her glossed lips. ‘You’re the lawyer, Miss Valentine, you tell me.’

  ‘So?’

  Lilly gazed longingly at Rupinder’s Tupperware box of samosas. She often brought leftovers to work that looked and smelled so much more appetising than a sandwich wrapped in plastic.

  Rupes sighed and pushed the box in Lilly’s direction. ‘So, are you going to tell me where we are?’

  Lilly bit into the pastry and her mouth filled with cumin-scented lamb and peas. ‘These are fantastic.’

  ‘Lilly!’

  Since the débâcle at the Old Bailey Rupinder had insisted on a daily meeting to discuss the Duraku case.

  ‘You’re a conveyancer, you don’t know anything about criminal law,’ Lilly protested.

  ‘And you don’t know how much aggravation I’m getting about all this,’ said Rupes.

  Lilly rolled her eyes. ‘From Sheila?’

  ‘And the other partners,’ said Rupes. ‘They weren’t overjoyed to have our name in the press.’

  ‘Consider it free publicity.’

  ‘And the office being vandalised?’ asked Rupinder.

  ‘It was just a bit of graffiti,’ said Lilly.

  Rupes glared at her. ‘Do you know how much it cost to get that filth removed?’

  Of course, Lilly didn’t so she changed the subject.

  ‘These meetings are just a waste of time,’ said Lilly. ‘Time you and I could spend earning fees.’

  But Rupinder was not to be diverted. ‘Think of it as bonding.’

  Lilly swallowed the last bite of samosa. ‘There’s nothing much to report.’

  ‘No smashed windows at home? No journalists hiding in dustbins?’

  ‘Everything’s been quiet.’ Lilly smiled. ‘The judge was pretty clear that anyone overstepping the mark would have him to deal with.’

  ‘The Three Counties still ran the thing about the skinheads at the Bailey.’

  Lilly shrugged. ‘There’s not a fat lot he could do about that. The reporter didn’t come anywhere near me or Anna and the photo was taken outside court.’

  ‘Where do you think this Dee woman is getting all her exclusives?’

  Lilly paused. She’d given this a lot of thought. Someone was definitely feeding her information. Luella? Or one of the other sour-faced parents up at the school?

  ‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘But another story is bound to break soon. The Prime Minister will be found in a gay ménage à trois and we’ll be yesterday’s news.’

  Rupinder allowed a small smile. ‘And your defence?’

  ‘Looking much stronger,’ said Lilly. ‘Dr Kadir will say Anna couldn’t have taken part in the conspiracy that she was incapable at the time.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ asked Rupes.

  ‘It’s great,’ said Lilly. ‘But I’m still going to have to convince the jury that Anna is basically a decent person who wouldn’t ordinarily go around the countryside waving a gun.’

  ‘Do you think you can win?’

  Lilly laughed. ‘I bloody hope so. What with me taking a shit shower and David threatening to kidnap Sam, I’d better get something out of this.’

  Anna popped her head around the door. ‘I’ve finished cleaning your desk, Lilly, so I make tea, yes?’

  Lilly’s eyes pricked with tears. ‘That would be lovely.’

  If she was going through trauma, it was nothing compared to what Anna was going through.

  Rupinder put her hand over Lilly’s, her bangles jangling like sleigh bells.

  ‘Sometimes we have to make sacrifices to do the right thing.’

  Lilly smiled. ‘Tell that to Jack.’

  ‘Not a happy camper?’

  ‘Let’s just say he’s counting the seconds until the trial,’ said Lilly.

  ‘And until then you’re not allowed to see one another?’

  ‘The Chief Super made it very plain that the photo in the paper was the last straw and that Jack should have no contact with Anna or me until this is finished.’

  Rupes pressed the lid down on her box. ‘And you’re sticking to that, are you?’

  Luke has a plan.

  He’s given it a lot of thought. In truth, he’s thought of little else. It’s amazing how much time he used to waste thinking about stuff that doesn’t matter: what’s on telly; will Arsenal win the double; does Lindsay Lohan give good blow jobs?

  Although his current life is less comfortable, in many ways it’s easier. It’s as if he’s cut through all the crap and knows what’s important. />
  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he says.

  Caz doesn’t look up from the phone she’s just bought from Long Tall Sally. ‘Steady on, soft lad, you’ll give yourself a nose bleed.’

  ‘I mean about this,’ he says. ‘Us.’

  She jabs at the buttons with a blackened nail. ‘If this is your way of proposing then stop where you are. I’ve already said yes to Teardrop Tony.’

  ‘I don’t mean getting married,’ he sighs.

  But what does he mean? He wants them to make a different life for themselves, him and Caz. Maybe to her that sounds as ridiculous as a wedding.

  ‘Do you ever wonder about what will happen to you?’ he ventures. ‘To me?’

  ‘This is fucked,’ says Caz, and throws the phone to the ground. ‘She’s robbed me.’

  Luke picks it up and takes a look. ‘Do you ever think about where we might all end up?’

  ‘I can tell you where that thieving cow will end up,’ she spits. ‘Six foot under.’

  Luke opens the back of the phone and wipes the SIM card against the leg of his jeans. ‘Because we can’t just live like this for the rest of our lives, can we?’

  The phone springs to life and he hands it back to Caz. ‘We can’t stay here, can we?’

  ‘I’ve no intention of staying here.’ She pockets the phone with a toothy grin. ‘I’m going to Peckham.’

  Luke shakes his head and laughs. Caz might not be able to take it in, but he’s got a plan for them. They’re not an item, not even dating, but someone’s got to look after Caz. He’s going to get them somewhere to live.

  ‘Got anything for me, Posh?’

  Alexia sighed.

  She knew what he wanted, but he knew as well as she did that the story had run cold. No new evidence, no different angle to run.

  They’d rehashed the hearing at the Old Bailey in at least ten different ways. They’d had comments from the local Chief of Police, councillors, human rights activists, and anyone prepared to give their tuppence ha’penny. Everyone had been forced to sit up and listen to the Three Counties Observer but now they had nothing else to say.

  Alexia spent hours on The Spear of Truth. There was a lot of traffic, a lot of rhetoric, but nothing specific. Snow White had gone to ground.

  ‘How about a piece on gun crime?’ she said. ‘We could get the stats. Ask an MP for a quote.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ he replied.

  ‘Something on local gangs, then,’ she said.

  ‘I’m beginning to suspect you’re a one-hit wonder,’ he answered.

  As she turned to flip him the finger, the phone rang.

  ‘This is Snow White,’ said the woman’s voice. ‘I have an invitation for you.’

  In many ways the secrecy made things more exciting, and Lilly was flushed with anticipation as she dropped Anna at the hostel.

  ‘I don’t know what is making your cheeks pink,’ said Milo, ‘but it suits you very well.’

  Lilly blushed even deeper. ‘Just in a hurry.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Milo. ‘A meeting at your office.’ He checked his watch. ‘Eight o’clock at night is a very strange time, no?’

  ‘A client,’ said Lilly. ‘He works in the day so I agreed to meet him out of hours.’

  Milo raised a suspicious eyebrow. ‘So committed.’

  Lilly waved and ran into the night to her car.

  The office was in darkness, everyone having gone home hours ago. Lilly dropped her keys as she fumbled with the lock.

  ‘Shit.’ She felt around the step for it and then saw Jack coming out of the gloom.

  ‘Can I ask what you’re doing?’

  ‘The limbo,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve dropped my key.’

  He fished in his pocket and pulled out a pencil torch.

  ‘Aren’t you a good little boy scout?’

  He shone the beam around the step. ‘Dib, dib, dib.’

  The key was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘I’ll have to find it in the morning,’ said Lilly.

  ‘What will we do in the meantime?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Have you got your skeleton key with you?’ asked Lilly.

  ‘I can’t use that, woman,’ said Jack. ‘I’m in enough trouble as it is.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Let’s call this off and go home. You to yours, that is, and me to mine.’ She patted her bag. ‘What a shame you’ll never find out what I have in here.’

  ‘A nurse’s outfit?’

  ‘Better than that.’ Lilly leaned close and whispered in his ear. ‘A lemon and almond cake.’

  ‘Sold,’ he said, and opened the door.

  * * *

  ‘You’d be in heaps of bother if the Chief knew you were here,’ said Lilly.

  Jack sat on her desk and chased the last crumb of cake around a plate with his finger.

  ‘Indeed I would.’

  ‘Am I worth it?’

  He looked up at her, his gentle brown eyes twinkling in the dark. ‘More than you know.’

  Lilly smiled at her own stupidity. Jack was the man for her. It was typical of her that she’d only discovered the fact once they couldn’t be together.

  ‘I can’t do this very often,’ she said.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I have to get Sam looked after by David, and Anna looked after by Milo.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It’s a bloody nightmare.’

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘Which is why we have to make the most of the time we’ve got.’ He leaned over and kissed her. ‘I’ve always wondered where defence lawyers keep their briefs.’

  ‘This is a closed meeting.’

  Alexia had arrived at the Turk’s Head, a shabby pub in Tye Cross, the red-light district in Luton. Outside the pub, one buttock on a bar stool, was a hulk of a man with a bald head that seemed to melt in folds over his collar. He was eating a doorstep sandwich that dripped mayonnaise down his pink chin.

  ‘I’ve been asked to attend,’ said Alexia.

  The hulk raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so, love.’

  Alexia was unsure of what to say next when another man appeared in the doorway. He was smartly dressed, in a well-cut black suit. His shirt, also black, was double cuffed. But something about him didn’t fit. It was as if he were trying far too hard. As if he would feel far more comfortable in a nylon tracksuit.

  He put a hand on the hulk’s meaty shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Bigsy.’

  Alexia squeezed past, close enough to smell the filling in the bouncer’s sandwich, and followed the other man into the belly of the beast.

  ‘Don’t mind him, he’s there to keep out troublemakers.’

  Alexia looked around the dingy interior of the pub, packed with more tattoos and England tops than a Wembley final, and wondered who on earth they had in mind.

  Men and women of all ages filled every inch of the saloon. Young skinheads at the back, top to toe in denim, laughing with their girlfriends over pints of Stella. Middle-aged men nodding their Burberry caps as they propped up the bar. Pensioners around the tables engrossed in games of dominoes.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Miss Dee.’ The man led her to the front of a makeshift stage. ‘The Pride of England have been very impressed by your reporting on the Stanton boy’.

  ‘I’ve tried to be fair,’ she said.

  He pointed to a chair that had been kept deliberately free with a well-thumbed copy of Pride and Prejudice.

  ‘Take a seat,’ he said, scooping up his novel, and he took his place on the stage.

  He tapped the microphone. ‘Testing, testing.’

  The noise of the crowd began to quiet in anticipation, and Alexia slipped her hand into her pocket to turn on her tape recorder.

  ‘Good evening.’ His voice was low but clear. A homemade banner with the club name ‘Pride of England: Luton and Dunstable Branch’, daubed in red, hung behind him. Next to it was a surprisingly well-drawn outline of a Briti
sh Bulldog. ‘How are we all tonight?’

  It reminded Alexia of how the stand-ups at Jongleurs warmed up their crowd, and she half expected a joke about George Bush. But this wasn’t comedy.

  ‘I know most of you know me.’ He laughed at the whistles that rustled through the audience. ‘But for those of you that don’t, I go by the name Blood River.’

  Alexia shivered.

  ‘I assume that most of you have come to show your solidarity against the terrible murder of Charles Stanton.’ Blood River waited for a mumbled assent before continuing. ‘And the even more shocking treatment of his killer.’

  ‘Scum,’ someone shouted from the back.

  Blood River put up his hands. ‘I know all of you here ask yourselves every day why foreigners get everything they need when most ordinary, working-class whites face low wages and poverty. The question on each and every lip is why do we, the British people, allow that?’

  ‘We’re fucking mugs.’

  Blood River chuckled indulgently. ‘Let me tell you why. White Britons are basically a decent and generous bunch, so when the government tells us some poor souls are in trouble our instinct is to help. After the Second World War the Jews and the Russians came here, and we smiled and made room, never mind that the country was nearly bankrupt from fighting the Nazis. Then the Jamaicans and the Indians arrived by the boatload, so we budged up some more and nobody mentioned the decline in industry or the rising unemployment figures. And on and on it’s gone, until day by day the incomers have taken over.’

  ‘Scroungers!’

  Blood River held up his hands again. ‘To be fair, it’s not their fault, is it?’

  ‘Too fucking right it is.’

  Blood River shook his head. ‘No, lads, we asked them to come, bleedin’ begged them to come. And you can’t blame them, can you? If you were living in some shit-hole and one of the richest countries in the world, one of the kindest countries in the world, said all right then, come and live with us, we’ll give you a job, a house and a good school for your kids, what would you do?’

  A skinhead girl with a feather-cut and a ring through her lip stood up. Alexia wondered if it could be Snow White.

  ‘The trouble is they’ve stayed, haven’t they?’ said the girl, but her voice was unfamiliar to Alexia.

  ‘You’re right.’ Blood River nodded. ‘What the government wanted was a short-term solution to labour problems, but what they’ve got is long-term social problems.’