by R. G. Adams
Both women described their first contact with Matt. They said he’d come home from work early one afternoon. Kit remembered what Vernon had said about having an open mind and she found the only way she could do it was to tell herself it was a story about someone else, some random man, not the Matt Cooper she knew and had warmed to. She read about how he’d chatted to Nicolette and Steph, treating them like adults, asking about their lives and encouraging them to confide in him. Then he’d driven them home, saying he was worried about two pretty girls walking the streets alone and a bit drunk. He’d dropped them around the corner from their houses, so their parents wouldn’t see. That had become a habit, and then it had started, just as Vernon had said. Kit flinched when Nicolette described the first touch. He’d helped her into the car one day when the drive was icy, his steadying hand on her arm. Just being kind, concerned. But the boundary had been crossed.
Kit stopped reading for a moment. She could see what was coming in this story, and, in her mind, she screamed at the two girls to get away from him, not to get in his car again. Not to take gifts from him, not to drink the alcohol he gave them from his parents’ massive drinks cabinet. But on it went, with a horrible inevitability. The way he’d touched Steph’s knee one day, and the next time, stroking her leg through the material of her skirt. Moving his hand under the material and up the outside of her thigh. Casually, while he was talking about something else, almost as if it wasn’t happening at all or he didn’t realise he was doing it. Impossible, then, to say anything, to be the one to break the spell and draw attention to it. Kit could see how the trap had snapped shut behind Steph that day.
Eventually, Steph had found herself sitting in the Coopers’ living room one Sunday afternoon, in one of the armchairs that were half turned towards the huge window, staring out at the frothing sea, and the chilly, bleak beach. She’d asked herself for years afterwards why she hadn’t walked away right then, before he came to get her. One part of her had known what was coming but another part of her hadn’t believed it, and the non-believing part had won. She was still afraid she might be wrong about his intention. If she made a fuss, how ridiculous would she look then?
Afterwards he’d told her it was a secret. She’d let him touch her so many times, he told her, she must have known what he wanted, and she’d never stopped him. When the girls had spoken about it, they found he’d told them both the same thing: ‘No one’s going to believe a little scrubber like you over me.’ They knew he was right. They’d broken off contact with him and with Katie, and they’d done their best to get on with their lives. They couldn’t see any other way.
When Steph’s best friend had started working in a new residential home and hadn’t been able to stop talking about the fit son who was the financial director of the company, Steph admitted that she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to find out more about Matt’s life. It hadn’t been difficult in Sandbeach. She’d asked around and found out that Katie had moved to London. She seemed to have disappeared; no one was in touch with her. But Steph soon tracked down one of Matt’s old rugby mates, who had his address. She admitted freely that the Coopers were quite right in thinking she’d been to their home. She had gone along and she’d stood outside and taken it all in. The nice home, the smart wife and the girl in a wheelchair. She said that was what had finally convinced her it was time to do the right thing. She’d spoken to Nicolette, whose own interview was full of her struggles with anxiety and self-harm caused by the abuse, and they’d talked it over and agreed to report him. They felt sure that by now things had changed, and they’d be believed.
Kit closed the transcripts and sat for a minute, trying to work out what she felt. It was as if she was looking at two different versions of Matt Cooper. Her mind shifted from one to the other. Which one was real? Her head was spinning and she needed to get out of the cluttered office. Leaving the transcripts on the desk, she said a quick goodbye to Dai and made her escape.
It was lunchtime, but Kit knew she couldn’t eat. She got a coffee in the café near the office and sat at a table in the back for a while, thinking about what she’d read. She hadn’t realised until now that Steph Harman had lived on the Coed. She tried to do the maths in her head – Steph had said she was about thirteen when she met Katie Cooper, and that was seventeen years ago. That would make her about the same age as Jazz. Kit tapped her fingers on the table for a few seconds, trying to stop them from straying towards her phone. Matt Cooper was going to be back home in no time, that much Kit knew. There was nothing to prove he’d done anything at all, no matter what Vernon said about thresholds of proof. But why would Steph and Nicolette make those statements? And why had Steph changed her mind? There was no sense to it, and there were too many loose ends. After a few more taps on the table, her fingers went their own way, found Jazz’s name in her contact list, and sent a text. Seconds later, the reply came.
Yeah – 56 Canning Road
Kit replied to thank Jazz and to deal with the inevitable questions about when she was going to bother to come and see her nephews and nieces. She did feel guilty about them, especially Amber, eight years old and already surviving her family by pretending to be far less clever than she really was. After assuring Jazz that she would be in touch soon, Kit drained her coffee, put thoughts of Steph Harman to one side, and set off back to the office to update Vernon about events.
Chapter 10
As Kit entered the building, Vernon was crossing the reception area, notebook and pen in hand. He gestured at her to follow him into the lift.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked him as he pushed the button for the top floor.
‘I’ve been summoned by the admin clerk.’
‘Why am I coming with you?’
‘Well, unless there’s something you haven’t told me, it’s bound to be about the Cooper case, isn’t it? How did you get on with the transcripts?’
Kit tried to find a way to answer, but it was too complicated. ‘I’ll tell you later. Let’s get this over with first.’ They had arrived at the top floor, where Cole’s secretary showed them into his office. He wasn’t behind his desk. Instead he was waiting for them at a table in the corner.
‘Ah, Kit, good, glad to have you here. Take a seat, both.’
They sat on the other side of the table and Vernon opened his notebook.
‘This won’t need minuting, Vern, it’s just an informal chat.’
‘What’s it about?’ Vernon asked.
‘The Cooper children.’
‘Then it needs minuting. I’ll take a note and attach it to the file if that’s all right with you, Cole?’
Cole Jackson didn’t like it, but he had no grounds to disagree. ‘Right, I’ll get straight to the point. I understand that Mr Cooper’s been cleared?’
Vernon shook his head. ‘No. The criminal case is not proceeding. That’s not the same thing at all.’
‘Isn’t it? Vernon, help me out here. Where do you propose going with this now there is no criminal case?’
‘We need to see whether we have any grounds for care proceedings. In fact, that’s where Kit has been this morning, taking a look at the transcripts. To see if we can go any further.’
Cole Jackson looked at Kit. ‘And can we?’
‘I’m not sure. The accounts were very convincing. We could be putting the Cooper children at risk if we close it too soon. I need a bit more time to check things out.’
Cole Jackson sighed. ‘With respect, Kit, that is an awful lot to construe from reading a couple of statements, isn’t it? Especially statements that have now been withdrawn.’
‘Only one of them has been withdrawn.’ Kit was looking at Vernon for support out of the corner of her eye but he was busy doodling on his notepad, leaning back in his chair and looking remarkably relaxed. Cole Jackson was continuing as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Right, well, in any event, I’m under some pressure to make a decision abo
ut all this. The Cooper family have been very patient. We argued for more time to make an assessment and they’ve borne with us this far. When is this likely to be finished, Kit?’
‘I’ve got another visit to do, to see the children again, especially Lucy. Plus some phone calls, to the schools.’
‘Is all that really necessary?’
‘Yes.’ Vernon’s voice was firm. ‘She needs to tie it up properly.’
‘Well, all right then. I think I can perhaps hold them off for that long. But our legal have been on to Mandy Bruce today to say that, as soon as Kit’s done, we will give a date for Mr Cooper to move back home.’
Vernon’s head came up at high speed. ‘Who have you spoken to in Legal?’ he demanded. ‘Because Sue is dealing with this personally.’
‘Sue’s fully aware and she’s on board with my plan.’
Vernon paused, seeming to need a moment to gather himself. Kit guessed that Sue Sullivan had been his trump card, and the reason he had been taking the whole thing so casually up to now.
‘Right, well, as I said, Kit still has to finish off. If anything comes to light that concerns us during our last inquiries, we’ll have to think again. And Mr Cooper does not move back into that house until Kit gives it the OK.’ It was a surprisingly weak comeback; the news that Sue was not behind him had undermined Vernon completely.
‘Thanks, Vern. I’ll speak to Sue now and make sure the Coopers understand. You need to get over there and do the visit straight away, Kit. Councillor Palmer is keeping an eye on this and she is going to want to know it’s all finished with as soon as possible.’
‘OK.’ Kit stood, and Vernon followed her. As he did so, his jutting stomach brushed the edge of the table and knocked his notebook onto the floor, where it lay with the top page clearly visible, showing a drawing of Cole Jackson’s head sitting atop a body formed out of a giant paper clip. Cole was standing too; he glanced over to see what had caused the noise and made a move to pick the book up. With an awkward sideways leap, Kit managed to get around to the other side of Vernon where she scooped it up. Cole took a step backwards, alarmed by her sudden movement. Kit tried to smile and look relaxed as a searing pain shot through her calf where she’d banged her leg against the table. She left the office hurriedly, with Vernon following after her. They didn’t speak until they were in the lift.
‘Thanks, but no need for the acrobatics. I wouldn’t have cared if he had seen it,’ Vernon grumbled, taking the notebook from her.
‘Grow up, Vern, for God’s sake. You really have to stop that. It’ll get you the sack one day.’
‘No chance. Besides, it relieves my feelings.’
‘What’s gone on then? Why would Sue and Councillor Palmer have backed off?’
‘Len Cooper no doubt. He’s a powerful man.’
‘So everyone keeps saying, but I still don’t get it. He’s wealthy, so are lots of people.’
‘But not the people we usually deal with. That’s the point. Len Cooper’s known for his charity work, plus he’s involved in lots of business deals, big role in the regeneration scheme, local boy made good and wants to put something back into his community, all that. So now, Len’s son has brushed up against social services and Len gets a listening ear from some influential people, which most of our families definitely would not get. I’m not saying anyone would stop us taking action if we could come up with something definite on Matt Cooper – even Cole wouldn’t go that far. But they’re not cutting us any slack either. We are right on the boundary of what we can legitimately do, and Sue and Desiree both know it. They’ve seen the writing on the wall. If we can’t find anything to prolong it, we’ve had it with this one, I’m afraid.’
They walked back to the office together, dejected. Vernon glanced at Kit. ‘You look a bit peaky. The transcripts, was it?’
‘Yeah, I think so. I’m a bit muddled now.’
‘I had noticed. Go on then, you’ve got loads of time owing. Go home, call your mates, get a bottle of wine or something.’
‘All right. I’ll call the schools first, get their views on the Cooper kids, then I’ll go.’
Kit smiled at him gratefully. It was true that she couldn’t concentrate. And she didn’t want to be on her own. She’d text Tyler and see if he could come over. She still couldn’t get over the novelty of being able to do that, and the fear he would turn up drunk or high still lingered, but, so far, he was doing OK, she had to admit.
Kit made the phone calls, quickly becoming bored as the head teachers of both schools gave her the usual account of how fantastic the Coopers were. The head of Lucy’s school was particularly effusive. Once that was done and she’d entered the recordings into her assessment, Kit gathered her stuff and started for the stairs, sending Tyler a text as she went. He replied at once, and she arranged for him to come over to her flat later. On the way past the reception she passed Older People’s Services. She paused, and after a second or two of arguing with herself, opened the door and looked around for the duty desk, finding it at the back of the room. Here a pleasant-looking middle-aged man was fielding calls on his headset. Eventually, there was a pause and he pushed his headset down to hang around his neck and smiled at her.
‘A visitor from Child Services. To what do I owe this honour? Has Vernon sent you down looking for a row?’
She laughed. ‘Actually, I’m after a bit of info.’
‘Go on.’
‘Len Cooper. Does the name ring a bell?’
The man made a face. ‘Oh God, yes. He owns Cartref Residential Home, that new place on the business park.’
‘And?’
‘Mystery to me how it hasn’t lost its registration. All modern and clean but it’s huge and there’s never enough staff on. We’ve had complaint after complaint. Why do you ask?’
‘My auntie was thinking about it.’
‘I’d warn her off if I were you. Place is rigged up like the Starship Enterprise.’
‘You what?’
‘I mean, we’re a bit concerned about his use of assistive technology.’
Kit tried to look knowing.
‘You’ve got no idea what that is, have you?’
‘No. Sorry.’
‘You know, sensors and cameras and so on. Great in its right place, to keep older people safe, but no substitute for care from a real person, and can be intrusive, if not used properly. We’re not sure he’s always getting valid consents either.’
The thought of Len Cooper monitoring his residents’ every moment made Kit’s skin crawl. ‘Thanks. I’ll tell my auntie to look somewhere else.’
‘No problem.’
Kit started towards the door but found she couldn’t leave it alone yet. She turned to see the man picking up his headset again.
‘Where did you say it was?’ she called out.
‘On the business park. Monument Way.’
‘Thanks. I’ll pop over and take a look myself.’
That address didn’t seem quite right to Kit. In her mind’s eye, she’d seen the home as being somewhere else, but she couldn’t recall why. She waved her thanks at the man, whose headset was buzzing again, and went out to get into her car. Monument Way was almost on her route, only a small diversion. She was curious to get a look at part of the Cooper empire. It only took her a few minutes to reach Monument Way, which was a surprisingly modest location given Len Cooper’s ostentatious tendencies. Slowing to a crawl, she passed a row of new office blocks, a car showroom or two, a Costa, a Burger King and a KFC. About halfway along the road she spotted a big building, almost indistinguishable from the office blocks to either side, but with a sign telling her it was Cartref Residential Care Home. She pulled up outside. The building was four storeys high and brand new, covered in a smart grey and blue cladding. Kit wondered about making an excuse to go in, but she spotted the CCTV cameras over the main doors and thought it
would not be good for her to be caught on film having a nose around Len Cooper’s premises. She thought about what the duty worker had said. It fitted with a satisfying snap. Len Cooper seeing an opportunity to cut corners on care and make even more money. Greedy, not to mention a bit creepy.
Glad to have found what felt like further confirmation of her view of Len, Kit drove home, parked the car and walked down to the corner shop to buy some lagers. Back at her flat, she put the cans in the fridge, drew a deep, hot bath and soaked in it for a while. After she got out, she lay on the sofa and immediately fell asleep, waking with a start when Tyler rang the doorbell.
‘State of you.’ He looked her up and down, taking in the damp towel she’d wrapped herself up in and the strands of wet hair clinging to her face.
‘I suppose I’m allowed to have a bath in my own flat.’ She let him in and went to dress while he ordered their food. When she came back, he was going through her DVDs, making a pile on the floor for her to choose from, which she did at random, not caring, just wanting the distraction. When their pizza arrived, they settled on the sofa and Kit did her best to focus on the film for a couple of hours.
As the film ended, Tyler eyed her draining another can. ‘And you nag me about my drinking,’ he said, smiling at her.
‘I know. But I need it.’
‘Don’t tell me. Another bad day at work?’
‘Yeah. And don’t you tell me it’s my own fault. I know it.’
‘I don’t know why you didn’t stick to the café.’
‘I couldn’t do that for the rest of my life, though, could I?’
‘Why not? Easy job, plenty of time for swimming.’