by Simone Leigh
“Upset?” she hisses. “Upset? I’ve been brought here under false pretences.” She glares at Richard. “Nothing was said to me about any attempt to attack James. And if you think I’m going to help with that, you can all go to Hell!”
I have never seen Charlotte like this; utterly enraged, red-faced and panting. It seems so unlike her.
But is it?
The lioness defending her pride?
My husband interrupts her. “Charlotte, please accept my apologies. I did not know of this either. And I would certainly not have had any involvement in it if I had known.”
Corby breaks in, his tone officious. “Mr Haswell, I am simply doing my job…”
“No, you’re not.” says Richard, flatly. “This is not what was discussed as subject matter for Charlotte’s interview. Excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”
“I really want to talk with Charlotte here…”
“Well you’re not going to. Now, sit down while I make my call.” He jabs a finger at a chair.
He picks up his phone, taps a key. “Francis, could you get hold of Will Stanton for me please; ask him to call me back urgently. Yes, immediately if possible.”
At the mention of the Police Commissioner’s name, Corby looks suddenly uneasy. Richard puts down his phone, addressing him.
“Charlotte is quite right to be ‘upset’. The circumstances of how she and James met are well known to us all, and there are no outstanding issues. It is strictly a private matter between the two of them. You were invited here to interview her regarding the Blessingmoors investigation, a topic which she finds very difficult to discuss, and it was only with reluctance that she agreed to it. You have gone well past any possible remit you had, in what you have done so far.”
His phone rings. “Hello? Ah, yes Will. Thanks for calling back.... Yes, she’s here. Yes, so is he. We’re having some difficulties I’m afraid….” He holds Charlotte’s gaze for a moment, then alternates to James’. “I understood that the object of this interview was to learn anything that Charlotte could offer regarding the Blessingmoors’ investigation. Instead, it’s opened with an attempt to blacken James Alexanders’ name regarding the business with the auction house.… Yes, that’s right… Yes… I’ll pass you over to him.”
He passes the phone to Corby, who puts it to his ear, then recoils as a voice blasts down the line at him. Pale faced, he turns to Charlotte. “It seems that Commissioner Stanton prefers that I only question you regarding Blessingmoors…”
Charlotte says nothing, simply staring him down.
“Perhaps we could return to the other room and continue our discussion?”
“No.” she says. “I’m not discussing anything with you. Or with anyone else, for that matter. I want an assurance that no attempt is being made to damage James, before anybody gets another word out of me.”
Richard raises his eyebrows, but hands steepled under his chin, says nothing.
Corby protests. “Miss Conners, I assure you….”
“Forget it.” she snaps. “And I want it in writing. And until I have that, you’ll get no cooperation from me.” She nods to Michael and James. “C’mon. We’re leaving.”
My husband calls her. “Charlotte, wait…. Please.”
She looks at him, her face lowered, but there is nothing subservient or submissive about her. Regarding him from under lidded eyes, she softens a little. “Alright, Mr Haswell. Since it’s you….”
He tilts his head in acknowledgment, then turns to Corby.
“I’d like you to leave, now. We’ll rearrange the interview for another day, and with another officer.”
Tight-lipped, Corby gathers his papers from the conference room and leaves.
Richard pauses, weighing up his words, then turns to Charlotte. “I promise you that I knew nothing about that.”
She nods. “I believe you, but you can’t give the guarantee I’m looking for, can you?”
He shakes his head, glancing over at James. “No, I can’t.”
She shrugs. “As I said, they’ll not get a word out of me right now. I don’t know where the Police thought they were going with that line of questioning, but until I have something in writing regarding James, that’s it.”
Richard nods thoughtfully. “Fair enough. I’ll get back to you when I’ve had a word with Will.”
__________________________________
Charlotte
My Master’s phone rings. “Yes? Oh hello, Richard. What can I do for you?” His gaze slips over to mine. “Yes, she’s here.… I’ll pass you over.”
Wordlessly, he hands me the phone, then stands, arms folded, eyes downcast, but obviously listening in.
“Hello, Richard.”
“Hello, Charlotte. Listen, I’ve been talking with Will Stanton about what happened the other day. He’s not very happy, but there are protocols he must follow. The business with Jasmine Hardacre and her treatment after the auction opened a whole can of worms. Regardless of what the auction house promised regarding protection of the girls involved, clearly it didn’t happen, and the paper-pushers have responded by trying to attack anyone who had any involvement at all.”
“So…?”
“Will has your document prepared, guaranteeing immunity to James regarding the matter, and he is happy to give it to you, but he wants to talk with you first, face to face, so that he is covering himself. If he can discuss it with you in person, and you reassure him that James did nothing wrong, did not in any way abuse you, I don’t think there will be any problem. Are you prepared to do that?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good. In that case, I was going to suggest that, rather than an ‘interview’, we all simply meet at my home, say for dinner, and make it all much more informal. Will can ask you whatever he needs to, and you will have James and Michael, and for that matter, me and Elizabeth, on hand, if you need moral support. How does that sound?”
“It sounds fine, Sir. I’m quite happy to do that.”
“Good. Pass me back to James please.”
I return the phone to my Master, who nods a couple of times, then gives me a squeeze around the shoulders. “Tomorrow night, their place. Six pm.”
_________________________________
Elizabeth
We all sit over one of Ross’ excellent dinners. After the hash made of Charlotte’s ‘interview’ by the paperclip counters in the Police Department, Richard believes that an informal setting will be much more likely to produce a positive response from Charlotte….
And I agree with him.
Charlotte, seated at the table, obviously enjoying Ross’ starter of immaculately cooked sea bass with buttered caper sauce, is flanked to either side by Michael and James, on one long side of the table….
….Ye gods… but that girl’s got something. Her living arrangements might be unusual, but when I see James, with his aggressively alpha, protective stance, and Michael, with his angelic blond hair and glorious blue eyes, I can see why she has chosen it.…
And, glancing at Michael, that ‘Angel’ has a dirty halo…. He holds my eyes for the briefest of moments before looking away.…
….some of the possibilities do fairly boggle the mind.
I keep my smile to myself, placing my hand on Richard’s.
Will Stanton, Police Commissioner, and Richard’s friend of some years, sits at the head of the table, where he can command the scene, but not sitting directly opposite Charlotte, is not too confrontational.
Over perfectly presented roast lamb in mint, he starts the conversation.
“Hello, Charlotte. I’m Will Stanton. I’m an old friend of Richard’s here, and firstly, I wanted to apologise for what happened the other day. It was not done by my authority.”
She nods a, slightly frosty, acknowledgment.
“For the record, although when the business of the auctions first came to light, Richard here was….um… economic with the truth,” He glances askance at Richard, “…. about the identity of
someone he knew, being one of the girls involved; since then, we have spoken at length on the subject, and it appears to me, that in your case, all went well and there are no criminal charges to pursue…”
Charlotte says nothing, her face flat, expressionless. Dinner plate forgotten in front of her, she sits bolt upright, arms folded. James is similarly blank-faced.
Will appears to realise that he has some ground to cover before getting much response from her. He continues. “May I ask you some questions regarding the circumstances, and the outcome of your involvement in the auction?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“You entered the auction of your own free will?”
“Yes.”
“You were in no way coerced?”
“No.”
“Why did you choose to enter the auction?”
“Because I needed the money, and it was a better rate of pay than standing on street corners.”
Richard looks suddenly away, hiding a smile. James apparently finds the portraits hanging over the fireplace deeply interesting. Only Michael doesn’t bother to hide his grin, apparently delighted at Charlotte’s modus operandi.
After a deep intake of breath, Will continues. “And after the auction, you were contracted to one James Alexanders? Who if I am not mistaken, is sitting next to you right now?”
“That’s right.”
“And he did not abuse you, or take advantage of the situation?”
Charlotte pauses. “He had paid to take advantage of me, but he in no way abused me, and at all times, he was very clear that I could stop anything that was happening by simply saying so.”
“What would have happened if you had drawn a halt to proceedings?”
“Um, I suppose the contract would have been void, and the money would have reverted to him.”
Will pauses, I think, finding the interview difficult. “Charlotte, for the avoidance of doubt, you were happy with the outcome of the contract you entered into, and you have no complaint to make relating to it?”
“That’s correct.”
He nods, pencilling a note, then, producing a large brown envelope, slides it across to her. “You will find the immunity document you requested in here.”
She opens the envelope, taking out the document, examining it carefully, then, passing it to Richard, says “Mr Haswell. I don’t have a lot of experience with legal documents. Does that look okay to you?”
Richard looks startled, but takes the paper, looking it over carefully for a couple of minutes, then passes it back to her. “Yes, Charlotte. That looks fine to me. James is covered against anything relating to the auction house investigation.”
She nods, relaxing a bit, unfolding her arms. Will regards her, chin resting on his fist.
“You don’t like the Police much, do you Charlotte?”
“Not much, no.”
“Why not? I think there’s more to it than this misunderstanding over James.”
The folded arms are back. “Because on the half dozen or so occasions I ran away from Blessingmoors, every single time, the Police caught me and took me in, and regardless of anything I tried to say to them, delivered me right back there to have shit beaten out of me.”
Will rubs his lower lip thoughtfully. “So, why did you agree to help us at all?”
“Because Mr Haswell asked me to.”
Will looks startled. “Mr Haswell? Richard here?”
“Yes.”
“What has he to do with it?”
“I owe him.”
Richard doesn’t look up, instead, paying close attention to his lamb in mint.
Will continues. “And you pay your debts?”
“I do.”
“Do you think this pays your debt to Richard?”
“Nope. I reckon I owe him a bit more than this.”
Will pulls a document wallet from his briefcase. “So, Charlotte, about Blessingmoors, I have your file here, taken from the records on the premises at the time it was closed down….”
She looks uneasy, shuffling in her chair. Michael’s hand snakes out, taking hers.
Will continues. “I have to say that it doesn’t look too good. It says here that you were in trouble numerous times for all kinds of petty crimes…. shoplifting.”
“I’m not a thief.”
“That’s not what it says here.” Will waves the file he is holding.
“It’s still not true. How can I have been a shoplifter when they never let us out?”
“So, you’ve never stolen anything from a shop?” Will raises an eyebrow, looking sceptical.
“Well, yes, I did, but it was when I was trying to run. I was a kid. I had no money. I had to eat…”
He says nothing, simply nodding as he writes a note in the margin.
“Drugs….”
“I’ve never touched drugs.”
“Not ever?”
“Not ever.”
He leans forward. “It is known Charlotte, already, that Blessingmoors was rife with drugs. No-one’s going to hold it against you.”
“It hardly matters. Yes, they were there. And no, I never used them.”
He sighs, then scribbles in the margin.
“Assault on a warden? On several occasions?”
“Um, yes, that bit is true.” She hangs her head, looking shamefaced.
“What were the circumstances?”
“Sometimes they were trying to… you know. Other times, it…. just kind of burst out of me.”
“When you say, ‘You know’…. you are implying sexual assault?”
“Um, yes. But I always fought back, and…. I didn’t look like much then. It always ended up with one of the other girls.… or boys.… getting it instead. They’d just lock me up for a couple of weeks.”
“I also have it here, that you were reported earlier this year for assaulting a customer in ‘Francesca’s’ tea rooms in the City? Although the charges were later dropped….”
“Yes, that did happen, but….”
Richard interrupts. “On that occasion, Will, I know personally of the circumstances. Two drunken louts were trying to…press their attentions on Charlotte and my wife. Charlotte put up a spirited defence on Elizabeth’s behalf.”
Will says nothing, but pencils in another note.
“Your school records have you listed as disruptive, and a bad influence…”
Now my Master interrupts. “But Charlotte loved school. She’s told us about it herself…”
“Er, that was the school when I was with my foster-family. Yes, it was great there. The school at Blessingmoors, no, I didn’t do very well.”
“Why not?” asks Richard.
“Um, bored really. They had no books to speak of, and never tried to teach us anything beyond basic reading and writing. I’d got all that by the time I was six or seven, so after that they were just trying to make me sit in a classroom, staring into space all day.”
Again, Will writes a note. “And the last thing I need to ask you about Charlotte, is that according to our records, you now co-habit with two men, Mr James Alexanders and Mr Michael Summerford?”
She flushes. “I don’t see what that has to do with anyone else?”
Will sighs. “The point Charlotte, is that I am trying to establish if you are a credible witness.”
“Sorry?”
“If we take your testimony and it leads to anything, we will have to go through the courts. The people we are dealing have a great deal of money from their…. trade… and can afford the best of legal representation. If you have the kind of character that a lawyer can simply discredit in the eyes of a jury, then we are wasting our time, and I might as well not put you through a lot of pain.”
There is violence in her eyes at his words, but her voice is level.
“And you think I am a non-credible witness?”
“I’m not sure. If you can eyeball a solicitor and say that you only stole because you were a child, and you were hungry. Or that your personal arrangements a
re none of his damn business, then you should be okay. Do you think you can do that, or would you be intimidated?”
“If I have to, yes, I could do it…. Mr Stanton?”
“Yes?”
“Is there anything else in that folder?”
He glances at it. “Like what?”
“Anything earlier?”
He stares at her for a minute. “Yes, there is. You would like to see it?”
She whispers, her eyes big. “Yes.”
He pushes the file to her, sliding it across the table. “Here, take a look through it while I talk to Richard here.”
She picks up the file, Michael’s eyes following her all the time.
_________________________________
Charlotte
I look through old papers, riffling through, seeing snatches of words, phrases…’Ward of the court’….’, …taken into care….’, ‘…single parent deemed unfit…’
….and stapled to the paper, an old photograph, tiny, curled up at the corners and badly creased.
A woman looks out at me; young, pale skinned and red haired. Her eyes are badly shadowed. She looks ill. On the back, a name, “Michelle Conners.”
_________________________________
Elizabeth
After a few minutes of talking quietly with Richard, Will turns back to Charlotte.
“Charlotte… Miss Conners?
She holds a small, very dog-eared photo in her hand, her eyes glossy. “Yes, Mr Stanton? And it’s okay. It’s ‘Charlotte’.” Her former antagonism has vanished.
Will hesitates, looking at the photo in her hand. “Thank you, Charlotte. And it’s ‘Will’.”
She nods, smiling. He continues. “Charlotte. I can’t give you that file, but there’s no reason I can’t have it scanned and copied for you, including the photo, if you would like?”
She sucks in her lips, her voice small. “Yes. Please.”
“Do feel able to talk some more?”
She nods. I notice Richard nodding, discreetly, to Ross, a quiet gesture telling him to fill Charlotte’s wine glass. Michael’s hand, I notice, is back, holding hers.