by Alex Clare
The faces were grainy. Robyn had to get close to the screen. One shape stood a little in front of the central group. ‘There. That looks like the one I had the tussle with.’ A figure appeared from the station and started towards the group, before pausing.
Lorraine leaned closer to the screen. ‘Newman has seen them. They haven’t recognised him yet.’ Someone in uniform had walked out and stood talking to the group. ‘That must be Clyde, not that you’d recognise him unless you knew – we need better cameras.’
Robyn was gazing at the line. She had worked out which one was Julie. On the fuzzy film, she was the one pointing at Newman, her mouth a black hole: she must have been shouting. He was surrounded though what she could see from this angle was that a lot of the protestors hung back, not taking part in the surge. She paused the film. The sick feeling in her stomach now was nothing to do with hunger: she knew what she was going to see.
Lorraine looked round. ‘You OK, Guv?’
‘Look, ah, I think I’ll get a cup of tea before watching this bit.’
‘Why don’t you go home?’ Lorraine waved at the clock. ‘It’s late and you look done in.’
Robyn shook her head. ‘No, this needs to get done. You want anything?’
There was a subdued air in the station, no voices in the corridors and none of the usual chatter. In the canteen, people had pulled together chairs to sit in a rough circle. On the way to the counter, Robyn’s shoes squeaked on the lino.
On the far side of the group, Donna sat with tissues discarded around her. ‘DI Bailley.’ There was a raw note in her voice making it sound as if she’d been crying again. Everyone was now staring at Robyn. It was hard to tell what they thought.
‘Did you all see what DI Bailley did?’ Donna began to clap. A few joined in, then everyone was doing it. In the low-ceilinged room, the noise sounded too loud.
Robyn felt her cheeks colouring. As a reflex, she held up her hands, then dropped them, thinking it must look as if she was showing off her injuries. ‘Thank you. Thanks.’ She kept moving, thinking the quicker she could get her tea, the quicker she could get out of there. ‘Is everyone else all right? I hope no one else was hurt?’ Two along from Donna, Jeremy had already stopped clapping and had folded his arms. The applause took too long to die, Donna continuing alone for a few seconds. ‘Well, ah, well. Thanks.’ She had made it to the counter and grabbed the nearest roll without seeing what was in it. At the till, she added a tea and a couple of bars of chocolate. For one day, the diet could wait.
Conscious of eyes still watching her, she nodded to Donna as she left and was grateful to find the lift waiting. She inspected the roll: it was cheese and pickle which wasn’t her favourite but she was hungry enough to eat anything and the cling film was off before the lift doors closed.
The incident room was empty. The screen was paused on the moment just after Newman had been spotted. Lorraine had zoomed in and Julie’s face filled the screen. She turned away from it and added an extra sugar to her tea. By the time Lorraine returned, the food had gone and Robyn felt more settled. She was even considering whether she could copy the CCTV footage and send it to Becky, to let her see what her mother had done. The thought was followed by more practical questions: she couldn’t ask one of the team to do such a personal thing for her and she wasn’t sure how to do it, assuming it was even legal.
The door banged open. ‘Ah, Guv, you’re back.’ Lorraine hesitated as if waiting for a reaction. ‘There wasn’t much more so I watched it all rather than wait for you.’
‘Good work.’ Robyn tried to keep the relief from her face. ‘What did you get?’
‘There are definitely two lots of protestors and everything kicks off when the second ones arrive. Although there are a lot of people around, the number of people actually involved in the ruck is pretty small. I printed off a couple of bits.’ Lorraine pulled over some photos. ‘On the right, these are the original protestors. Their banners call for justice for rape victims and the big one is professionally printed with a RAW logo. The new lot has homemade signs which are much more aggressive, like Rape is Murder.’
‘Can you see who hurt Clyde?’
‘I checked but no.’ Lorraine shrugged. ‘I mean, I really looked. Realistically we can only bring specific charges against two of them. There’s the one with the sign; we’ve got clear shots of her and with your statement, there’s no doubt. Then there’s this one.’ Lorraine pointed at the screen. ‘She was the one who first spotted Newman and is standing closest to Clyde – if anyone cracked his ribs, it’s her.’ She sat back.
The feeling of well-being from the food faded. ‘Lorraine …’ Her mouth was too dry to continue so she took a sip of tea. ‘There’s something you should know.’
‘Mmm?’ Lorraine was searching her handbag.
‘She …’ Robyn pointed at the screen. ‘That woman is my ex-wife.’
Lorraine froze, a packet of mints in her hand, her mouth open. She looked back at the screen, studying the face again. ‘Of course you were – I didn’t realise you – I’d forgotten you were …’ She began playing with her handbag strap. ‘Awkward.’
‘It’s been a long time.’ Robyn tried to shrug, to show how relaxed she was until her chest hurt too much. ‘Her name is Julie Carmichael and she’s Professor of Women’s Studies at Avonbridge University – the old Bristol Avon Tech.’ Robyn didn’t know why she now had a need to say this. ‘She’s always been an activist, into groups like Real Adult Women but never the violent type. She took Becky on a protest march when she was still in her pram.’ The part of Robyn listening to herself was cringing because she must have given the impression she wanted Julie released. ‘It doesn’t change anything. If Julie’s guilty, she’s guilty. I just don’t think it’s appropriate for me to interview her.’
‘No – obviously.’ Mints spilled onto the desk. ‘Bugger. What a day.’ Lorraine popped one in her mouth and offered the tube to Robyn. ‘How long were you married for?’
‘No, thanks.’ Now the fact was out, it was easier. ‘Only three years.’ Robyn took a deep breath. ‘Not long after we had Becky, we moved down to Bristol and Julie started having an affair with the estate agent who sold us our new house.’
There was a second of silence then Lorraine laughed. ‘If I can go out on a limb, Guv, I think you’re better off without her.’ A beep made her glance at her phone. ‘Hope your daughter takes after you.’
The beginning of a smile drained from Robyn’s face. She hadn’t yet responded to Becky’s text. ‘Yeah. There’s something else. What about me?’ It was better to know.
Frowning, Lorraine’s lips scrunched together. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Clyde’s injury – did I cause it? Was it me charging in?’ A splash of heat seared her finger: she was crushing the paper cup in her hand, tea slopping over the top.
‘What? No!’ She met Robyn’s eyes. ‘No, no, no. You can stop worrying.’ Lorraine’s look softened, head cocked to one side, then she stood up and came to stand beside Robyn’s chair. She reached out, hesitated, then rested her hand on Robyn’s shoulder. ‘I saw the moment Clyde went down. It was at least a minute before you arrived. The mob had already started on him. And where you came in was off to the side, nowhere near him. It wasn’t your fault and if you want more proof I’ll show you the film.’
Her hand seemed hot through Robyn’s blouse. Robyn shut her eyes. She wanted what Lorraine was saying to be true, even though she knew she had run straight towards Clyde.
Lorraine’s hand lifted. There was the sound of shuffling, paper or files. ‘Righto. I’d better get ready for these interviews then. Go home, Guv.’ The door swung closed, a click from the latch. Robyn opened her eyes. There were splashes of tea on the desk where her hands had been shaking.
9
She hadn’t stirred the tea properly and the last mouthful was sickly sweet. When Robyn went back to her desk, her phone showed a new message. She hoped it would be from Becky: it was from Khalid.
SE Media running story, sorry.
For a second she stared at the phone. Her life would be exposed again. After a few seconds of panic, she let out the breath in a long sigh. This was after all what she had considered doing herself, albeit only to Becky. The situation would be in the open and people who didn’t share Julie’s views would make up their own minds. With more confidence, she reread Becky’s text. The angry words were a reminder Becky had inherited her mother’s temper: there would be no point in calling while she was still steamed up. Her hands were awkward in the bandages and the text took a long time to type.
Becky, I didn’t ask for your mother to be arrested. She may have hurt somebody, so there was no choice. SE Media have some film of what happened. It would be good to talk about this. Love, Dad.
She read the message and added. Please come down, I really want to see you. She wavered over whether this was too sentimental, then added. It’s been such a long time. She pressed send before she could change her mind.
Her plan had been to read through the statements from Shazia’s family and friends but she was too restless to settle. After a couple of minutes, she stepped out to the lift and pressed the button for the basement. Once she was through the security door, she took a breath of warm air: the interview corridor had to be the warmest place in the police station. Behind the desk, Martha gave her a rare smile.
‘Can you tell me where Lorraine is?’ Robyn was already sweating.
‘Interview room three. She’s talking tactics with the Inspector.’
‘Matthew’s taking the interview himself?’ Robyn saw Martha’s attention flick over her shoulder. A skinny man had appeared from the lift, tight trousers finishing an inch above his ankles.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Evening. Duty lawyer for …’ The man checked his file. ‘Jocasta Caldicott.’
‘The prisoner requested a female lawyer.’ Martha checked the file in front of her. ‘I can’t even send you in to see any of the others – they all did.’
‘I know but it’s me or nobody.’ The man pushed a pair of horn-rim spectacles back onto his nose. ‘Ruth was supposed to be on call tonight and she needed to swap because her baby was sick or something.’
There was a pause. The man pulled the strap of his satchel over his head. ‘Well, I’m all she’s got.’
‘Cell four, follow me.’ Martha pushed up the desk’s flap.
They were back within a minute. ‘She wouldn’t talk to me alone.’ The lawyer didn’t sound upset. ‘OK, let’s get it over with.’
When the woman was brought down, Robyn watched her pick up her bare feet between each step as if she were some sort of bird. The big boots she’d been wearing must have been taken away for analysis. Tiny between the two uniformed officers, she sniffed the air in the interview room suspiciously, snapping her head left and right. The bib of her dungarees was falling forward; from her position in the corridor, Robyn could see the woman’s bare chest. Under the angular clavicles, the skin was as flat as hers. The chair next to her lawyer was rejected and the woman squatted on the floor, feet crossed. At a sign from Matthew, the officers picked her up and placed her on the chair. The second they let go of her, she dropped to the floor again, this time with her back to the wall, arms wrapped around her knees.
‘Are you quite comfortable down there, Ms Caldicott?’ Lorraine sounded as if she was trying not to laugh.
‘You can’t do this. You’ve got to respect my beliefs. I might be a Muslim. You couldn’t bring a man in then, could you?’
‘Are you a Muslim?’ Matthew sounded as though he was speaking through gritted teeth.
‘I follow the spirit of the earth.’ Caldicott’s voice was a childish sing-song.
‘We’ll begin then.’ Lorraine pressed the button to record and went through the caution. ‘You are here because about ninety minutes ago, you tried to assault a man with a wooden stake. You then attacked a police officer. Can you tell me why you did these things?’ There was a pause. ‘OK, let’s try an easier one. Were you part of demonstration outside this station earlier?’
The woman had buried her head between her knees. ‘For the tape, the defendant said “no comment”.’ Lorraine picked up a pen. ‘We’ll try and find something you can comment on. Are you a member of any organisations? Like The Sisters of Rage, for example?’
This time Robyn heard the ‘no comment’.
‘Perhaps you could explain why you had one of their badges on your top when you were arrested?’ Lorraine waited only a second before continuing. ‘I’d also be interested if you agree with their view that rapists should be castrated?’
‘Why are you asking the question?’ The lawyer looked up from his case sheet.
‘It is our belief Ms Caldicott attacked the man because he was suspected of rape. I want to find out your client’s views on the subject.’
The lawyer glanced down. ‘Yeah, OK then.’
‘Ms Caldicott, what are your views on rape?’
Robyn guessed Lorraine had made the question crass to provoke a response. The woman yawned, jaw fully open, making no attempt to cover her mouth. ‘Women are oppressed. Those attacked have a right to defend themselves.’
Lorraine looked down at her. ‘Your defence is you believed you were being attacked?’
There was no response. Lorraine frowned. ‘If you only say “no comment”, Miss Caldicott, then you don’t have a defence. I’ll try again. Do you have an answer to the charge of assault?’ Her fingers were tapping on the table.
The lawyer looked down. His face when he turned back to Lorraine was a mixture of bemusement and exasperation.
‘Could you give us a moment? I’d like to talk things through with my client.’
Lorraine stood up. ‘Of course.’ She began to gather her things.
Matthew rose to his feet. ‘While you talk to her, you might want to discuss this.’ He placed on the table a CCTV still of the moment the woman had raised the sign above Newman’s prone body. ‘Five minutes be enough?’
Lorraine closed the door behind her. ‘Oh, hello Guv, were you watching? How did I do?’
Robyn smiled. ‘When a client plays dumb it’s always going to be frustrating.’ She nodded to Matthew as he passed, getting a brief acknowledgement. ‘You could get her lawyer on your side a bit more – show you share his frustration, get him to realise it’s hopeless.’
‘Righto, Guv.’ She turned to watch the lawyer, now holding the photo down in front of the woman’s face. ‘Even though the photo was fuzzy, he’d have a job arguing it wasn’t her when we’ve got your statement as well.’
The lawyer left the room, slinging his bag strap over his head. ‘She’s sacked me.’ He did not look very upset about it. ‘Apparently, she has someone who will take care of things.’ He was mimicking a posh accent. ‘Are you intending to charge her tonight?’ He squiggled a finger across his mobile.
‘Yes, we were planning to.’ Lorraine smiled at him, all teeth. Robyn thought she’d taken her advice a little too much. ‘Can you stay while we –?’
‘Sorry, she made her wishes very clear. She’s someone else’s problem. Bye.’ He turned for the lift, phone already to his ear. ‘Hi sweetie, good news … hello?’
Robyn glanced into the room, then felt a flash of panic as it appeared to be empty. Pressing her face against the glass, she could now see Caldicott, lying in a foetal position on her side, under the table.
‘Even though she’s not co-operating, we should check if she needs help.’ Robyn’s breath steamed up the window.
‘What makes you think she needs help? I had a look at her record. Her family home is an Elizabethan manor in the west country worth a couple of million quid. She’s got the family solicitor on speed-dial and plenty of money to bail her out. I’m sure she makes her parents proud.’ Lorraine dropped her voice. ‘Expelled from a posh school for vandalism, this will be her third assault conviction. You can imagine one day she could get carried away and kill someone.’
Caldicott refused to move from under the table, so the charges were repeated, to ensure she’d heard. When the officers came to take her back to her cell, it required two to physically lift her out.
‘Ah, Guv? What about the other one?’ There was a pause. ‘She’s in cell six.’
‘We go on the evidence. Does the CCTV give a clear shot of Carmichael assaulting Clyde or Newman?’
Lorraine’s lips were pressed together. She blinked. ‘No. What we can see is that she identifies Newman and is the closest person to Clyde once the crowd closes in.’
‘Clyde mentioned he bashed heads with someone. Unlike the incident with Newman, there is the possibility his injuries were not caused deliberately.’ Robyn breathed in, out. ‘I’m no fan of my ex-wife or her lunatic-fringe friends but we can’t create offences where they may not exist. Fell wants this closed tonight. We’ll charge Caldicott with assault and the rest with affray and threatening behaviour. They’ll all get bail: it’s the best we can do.’ She paused. ‘Matthew, do you agree?’
‘I’ve missed something here – ex-wife?’ Matthew’s jaw clenched. ‘OK, not tonight. I agree, if we can’t see the crime, we can’t use it. Could you finish off please, Lorraine.’
Lorraine looked between them. ‘Yes, sir.’ She turned away.
10
After everything had been entered onto the computer system, Robyn walked out into the sodden evening. Unable to keep a grip on the steering wheel, she kept her speed low as she drove home, thinking about nothing. It was only when she was settled on the sofa she remembered the morning’s shopping which was still in the boot of the car. The experience seemed a very long time ago.
Her mobile rang. She took a deep breath before answering. ‘Chloe, how are you?’
‘I’m OK, Guv.’ Chloe’s voice sounded brittle. ‘There’s something you should know.’