A Place Of Safety Page 22

‘And the day after that.’

  ‘Good.’ Ronald drained his glass and tamped out his cigar. ‘This is high profile and all eyes are on you.’

  Jez watched Ronald leave, picked up the bill and sighed. If he wanted to join the big boys he was going to have to come out fighting.

  On the train, Jez felt his tension ease as the landscape outside became more urban. He was back on his own territory. He had told Lilly to get a hired gun, the rest was up to her.

  Lilly was still fuming when the kitchen timer pinged.

  She glugged down her wine and pulled the kulfi out of the freezer.

  Jez was being a total wanker.

  She cut off a large block and grabbed a spoon.

  He was trying to undermine her, a tactic used by a lot of coppers. She remembered one interview when a DI had told her she shouldn’t try to comfort her hysterical thirteen-year-old client because it made her look unprofessional. Fortunately she had realised that this piece of ‘friendly’ advice was given in the hope that, without a reassuring arm around his shoulders, the boy would crack and admit to an assault he hadn’t committed.

  She hadn’t fallen for that piece of male bullshit and she wasn’t about to fall for this one.

  She scooped a heap of pudding into her mouth, and the temple-aching sweetness instantly salved her mood. She took another mouthful and sighed. Perhaps Jez had a point. She’d never done a criminal trial in the Crown Court, let alone the Bailey.

  Instructing a silk would be the most sensible thing to do.

  ‘Something looks very good.’

  Anna entered the room in her usual apologetic way. Lilly handed her a spoon and together they demolished the vast dish of ice cream.

  Lilly undid her trouser button. ‘What would you think of me hiring a barrister for your court case?’

  ‘To assist you?’ asked Anna.

  ‘I doubt a silk would see it that way,’ Lilly laughed. ‘He or she would do the speaking for you in court.’

  ‘Who would tell them about my case?’

  ‘I would,’ said Lilly.

  Anna pursed her brow. ‘So you would say to this person what it is they must say?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  Anna shook her head. ‘What is the point? Why don’t you just say it?’

  Lilly sighed and licked her spoon.

  ‘Cases like yours, very serious cases, are normally done by barristers that deal with this sort of thing every day of the week.’

  ‘Lots and lots of cases?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Lilly.

  Anna’s eyes filled with tears. ‘So my case is just one in very big pile, nothing special to them. I am nothing important.’

  ‘Oh, Anna,’ Lilly put her hand over the girl’s. ‘You are important to me.’

  Anna squeezed Lilly’s hand hard, as if she were trying to hold on. ‘Then promise that it is you who will speak for me in court.’

  Lilly closed her eyes. ‘I promise.’

  * * *

  ‘Our children have suffered enough.’

  Mr Lattimer smiled politely. He’d known feelings were running high when he called this extraordinary meeting of governors and parents, but some of these women were almost hysterical.

  ‘Luella,’ he used her first name, hoping to add a human touch. ‘I understand that your concerns lie with your children, but I can assure you I am on top of the situation.’

  ‘You weren’t on top of it when Charlie was shot,’ said Evelyn Everard.

  Mr Lattimer did not allow his rictus grin to slip. ‘I think we all know that that tragedy was unavoidable.’

  ‘Unavoidable?’ Luella was on her feet. ‘You make it sound like an accident.’

  ‘What I meant to say was that no one could have foreseen that something so terrible would happen,’ he said.

  ‘I think some of us could have predicted this a long time ago,’ said Luella.

  ‘I don’t see how,’ he said.

  Luella threw up her hands. ‘How many times do I have to say it? Those people hate us.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s an over-generalisation,’ he said. ‘And anyway, we had no contact with the people at the hostel before this incident.’ He tried not to think about the numerous maintenance men and kitchen staff who the school hired from an agency for less than the minimum wage.

  Evelyn Everard got to her feet. Lord, her son looked just like her, with the same red hair, the same obsessive gleam in the eye, the same ability to take up every available inch of space around them.

  ‘What matters here is not what has gone before,’—the same voice that demanded to be heard—‘but what happens now.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he said.

  ‘And we parents feel that Mrs Valentine’s presence at this school cannot be tolerated while she is representing the chief suspect in this murder.’

  ‘I thought Sam was being brought in by another parent.’

  ‘Yes, me.’ Penny Van Huysan raised her hand.

  ‘Well then,’ said Mr Lattimer.

  Luella almost threw herself over the chair in front. ‘Penny’s only doing that to spare the other children’s feelings. I think she’d rather not do it.’

  ‘Mrs Van Huysan?’

  The woman blushed. ‘It’s pretty difficult.’

  ‘If Penny were ill, what then?’ Luella shouted. ‘Or if Sam hurt himself? Lilly would have to come in then.’

  ‘Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?’ asked Mr Lattimer.

  ‘We are simply being practical,’ said Evelyn Everard.

  Luella jabbed her finger at the headmaster. ‘The best thing for all concerned would be to ask Sam to leave Manor Park.’

  ‘The pupil in question has done nothing wrong,’ he said.

  ‘That’s not the point,’ said Luella. ‘His presence here is putting all our children in danger.’

  ‘Is that what you want?’ added Evelyn Everard.

  Mr Lattimer sighed. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then why won’t you take action?’ Luella shouted.

  ‘If I thought it would help, I would,’ said Mr Lattimer. ‘But I can’t see how the action you’re suggesting will have any positive effect.’

  Luella pointed at Mr Lattimer. ‘If the press were to discover that the murderer’s solicitor had free rein to swan up here whenever she felt like it they’d have a field day.’

  ‘I have taken every possible step to ensure that the good name of this school has stayed out of the gutter press.’

  Luella gave a theatrical laugh. ‘What about those stories in the Three Counties Observer?’

  ‘Those were unfortunate indeed,’ said Mr Lattimer, ‘and showed none of us in our best light.’

  At least Luella had the decency to redden.

  ‘Are you afraid of what the papers might say?’ asked Evelyn.

  Of course Mr Lattimer was anxious to avoid any adverse publicity that might dissuade parents from enrolling their children.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘I am merely upholding the time-honoured tradition of facing adversity with dignity and restraint.’

  ‘Because that will be nothing compared to the mass exodus you’ll face if nothing is done about this,’ said Luella.

  Mr Lattimer gulped. The crunch was already being felt. Four pupils had left to attend the excellent grammar school only four miles away.

  Mr Lattimer glanced at the governors. They blinked blankly back at him.

  He collected his papers into a file. ‘I’ll see what can be done.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jeremiah Stafford was not a bad person. He recycled the Sunday papers, tipped fifteen per cent in restaurants and visited his father once a month, even though the old folks’ home invariably smelled of cauliflower cheese. Not a saint, obviously, but if pushed he would describe himself as essentially decent. Which was why he felt so uncomfortable making Lilly’s life difficult.

  He sighed and poured a handful of coffee beans into the grinder. They rattled like s
hiny black jewels and filled the air with the wonderful aroma of Jamaica.

  He’d always liked Lilly. She was funny, clever and sexy. A single mum who spent a good deal of her time helping disadvantaged kids. What’s not to like? Admittedly, she was also opinionated, difficult and pig-headed, but no one was perfect, were they?

  He’d tried to make her see reason, to get an experienced barrister on board, but he should have guessed how she’d take it. Sheba had advised him against it. ‘Come on, little brother,’ she’d laughed, ‘this is Lilly Valentine we’re talking about. Not some dozy little tart who hangs on your every word.’

  ‘But this case will get very messy and I don’t want to hurt her.’

  Sheba had barked a gravelly laugh. ‘I think she can give as good as she gets.’

  He took a sip of his espresso and lit a Marlboro Light. The twin pleasures of caffeine and nicotine cleared his head of the swamp caused by last night’s whisky. Sheba was right. Lilly was expecting a fight, and would feel patronised by anything less. The fact that reducing her to mincemeat would seal his bid for promotion was just an added bonus.

  He pulled out his laptop and cobbled together an email. Then he swallowed down the bitter dregs of his coffee as his finger pushed ‘send’.

  Strawberry black cherry apricot and ginger. Kerry’s fingers hovered over the pots of jam in her fridge.

  Each morning she ate four slices of toast, each with a different topping. It was the first thing she did and her stomach growled in anticipation.

  As her toast popped, her computer gave out its familiar ping. Email.

  Kerry felt excited. Apart from spam and outstanding balances on her many catalogue purchases, Kerry received few messages. She waddled from the kitchen to her living room, a slice of toast dripping butter down her doughy fingers, and squealed when she saw who had got in touch.

  From: Jez Stafford

  To: Kerry Thomson

  Subject: The gloves are off

  Up until this point we have, I feel, been very fair to Anna Duraku and her lawyer, but it occurs to me that we should perhaps push a little harder.

  While I do not intend to bully either lady, I am most certainly prepared to put up my most able fight.

  Experience has taught me that in the law, as in boxing, preparation is everything, and so I propose that we go through the evidence page by page to ascertain any chinks in our opposition’s armour.

  Perhaps we could meet later for a working lunch to discuss how best to proceed?

  Regards, Jez

  Kerry squealed again. The most handsome barrister she had ever met was taking her out to eat. She scurried through to her bedroom, wondering what she should wear. Lilly Valentine had obviously fallen from favour; he hadn’t even mentioned her by name.

  She filled the basin with warm water and grabbed a clean cloth without a second thought for the rest of her uneaten breakfast, turning cold and hard in the kitchen.

  The rape was the key to the case. Dr Kadir had confirmed it. Anna had suffered trauma in Kosovo, but ‘…the rape was the defining incident which pushed Anna’s mind into freefall…’

  To make a jury believe that Anna was incapable of murder, Lilly would need to show how pivotal the rape had been. To make them understand that such a thing would have been terrible for any woman, but for this girl it was the final assault that broke her mind.

  She stretched her feet out under her desk, unaccustomed to the space Anna had made by returning Lilly’s legal books to the firm’s library. She kicked off her shoes, wiggled her toes and sighed.

  In her years of experience she’d seen many witnesses giving their accounts of rape. She recalled one teenager telling the court how her attacker had left her to die in a canal. That she had dragged herself out and walked three miles to the nearest police station. The girl’s quiet dignity was so appalling that Lilly had wept openly. She’d seen crime photos that had made her vomit and read doctors’ reports listing injuries so severe she hadn’t slept for days.

  Sad as it was, these were the cases lawyers dreamed of.

  On the other hand, Anna was probably the least jury-friendly victim she had ever encountered. Her recollections of both the genocide and the rape were hazy, with important details missing. What she could remember, she delivered in such a deadpan manner it was as if it had happened to someone else. Lilly knew this was partly due to the PTSD, but it didn’t help their defence.

  Anna opened the door with her foot, a tray in her arms laden with tea and biscuits.

  ‘We need to go through the evidence,’ said Lilly.

  Anna placed a mug on Lilly’s desk without looking up. ‘I must take the drinks to the others,’ she said.

  Lilly reached for the plate of ginger snaps. ‘This is more important.’

  ‘The partners are waiting for tea,’ said Anna.

  ‘Sit,’ said Lilly, her tone brooking no argument.

  Anna slid into the chair opposite.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Lilly. ‘I know going over this must be terrible, but we have to get it straight. The prosecution will go over and over the paperwork with a fine toothcomb. If there are any inconsistencies, Jez will find them.’

  ‘He is a very nice man,’ said Anna, a small smile playing on her lips. ‘He likes you.’

  ‘Lilly snapped a biscuit in two, showering the desk in crumbs. Any friendly feelings he harbours for me will not be enough, trust me.’

  Anna nodded that she understood.

  ‘The boys you met on the high street,’ said Lilly. ‘Had you met them before?’

  ‘No.’

  Lilly nibbled on the rough edge of the broken biscuit. ‘So why did you go with them?’

  ‘They seemed nice.’

  ‘You didn’t think it might be unwise to go to a deserted park with three strangers?’ asked Lilly.

  Anna shrugged.

  God, this was like pulling teeth.

  ‘What did you do when you got there?’

  ‘At first we talked very nicely,’ said Anna, ‘but one was getting too close, touching me.’

  Lilly swallowed dry crumbs. ‘Did you tell him to stop?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What then?’ Ginger stung Lilly’s throat, or was it that she knew what was coming next?

  ‘He pulled me to the ground and had sex with me.’

  There it was—the horror of it—bald and simple. And yet Lilly knew it wouldn’t be enough to convince a jury not nearly enough.

  ‘Did you fight him off?’

  ‘He is very big,’ said Anna.

  Lilly nodded. ‘But did you try?’

  Anna shrugged.

  ‘And the other boys, did they…’ Lilly coughed, trying to clear her throat, ‘did they have their turn?’

  Anna shook her head. ‘There was one very drunk, very frightened, I think.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘The one who is dead, he held my arms so other one could do it.’

  ‘So you must have struggled,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Must I?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lilly. ‘Or why would they need to hold you down?’

  ‘Anna nodded slowly. And I screamed so he put his hand over my mouth.’

  ‘What was he like? The one who raped you?’

  Anna wrinkled her nose. ‘Very big, with orange hair.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘He has an ugly mouth, with a gap here.’ Anna pointed to her front teeth. ‘Horrible skin flap is peeping out.’

  Shit. It was a bloody good description of the cocky so-and-so who had spoken at Charlie’s service. And that lad was a dead ringer for his mother, one of the most prominent parents at Manor Park. If Anna’s attacker was the son of Evelyn Everard, things were about to get a whole lot worse.

  ‘The trouble is, people like her are little better than animals.’

  Alexia cringed inwardly.

  ‘She’s from a part of the world where life is cheap,’ Blood River continued, ‘so one more death is nothing to h
er.’

  Alexia nursed a warm tonic water and considered the man opposite. Once again he was impeccable. Head to toe in black. Even his cufflinks were onyx, and glinted in the harsh strip lighting.

  He appeared supremely confident, at ease in his world. A joke with the barman as he ordered a Coke. A smile to one of the regulars, already worse for wear at lunchtime. Yet his eyes told Alexia that this man wasn’t at peace. They darted at every movement around him like those of a hunter. Or were they those of the hunted?

  ‘In a way I feel sorry for her,’ he said.

  Alexia raised a cynical eyebrow.

  Blood River chuckled. ‘I’m not a man of stone, you know, but you’ve seen for yourself how feelings are running high.’

  Alexia wondered how much of the emotion was being stoked by groups like the Pride of England. The people at the meeting had indeed been inflamed, but would they simply go back to their ready meals and Big Brother without Blood River’s manipulation and stirring words?

  ‘I owe it to our members and the wider community to take their concerns seriously,’ he said. ‘Much like yourself.’

  Alexia nodded. She couldn’t care less what the residents of Luton thought, but she knew what sold papers.

  ‘Will you continue to support us, Miss Dee?’ Blood River asked.

  ‘The Three Counties Observer doesn’t take political positions,’ she said. ‘You know that.’

  He chuckled again, but his eyes stopped wandering and focused entirely on Alexia. She felt the heat being drawn from her body.

  ‘You’ve been sympathetic to our cause this far,’ he said. ‘I was just asking if you’ll continue in that vein.’

  Alexia was nervous. She didn’t like the idea that her stories had been overtly racist, and she didn’t like the way his eyes bored into her.

  ‘I’ll report the news as I see it.’

  He nodded and broke eye contact, clearly satisfied with her reply.

  The oily anchovy lay on its side, curled into a tiny ‘c’.

  Kerry poked it with her fork. It looked like a dead earwig.

  She’d fancied the hot ciabatta with melted brie, but when Jez had ordered a Caesar salad she’d followed suit.