by Black, Helen
Funny, but I’ve never been interested in food. Even as a child I just ate enough fuel to keep me going. Crisps and sweeties held no allure. I remember one Easter I received five chocolate eggs. I worked out the cost of those foil-wrapped eggs and what I could have bought with the money. I was furious.
My parents never made that mistake again.
‘Bread?’ I offer a roll to Jack.
He smiles but shakes his head. A few months ago he read that eating carbohydrates after six o’clock is a sure-fire way to get fat and since then he’s stuck to soup and salad.
‘How did it go today?’ I ask.
‘Could have been worse, I suppose.’
‘The forensics are pretty damning, aren’t they?’ I ask. ‘I thought the girl’s fingerprints were all over the knife?’
Jack finishes his soup and puts down his spoon. ‘You always want a confession if you can get one,’ he says. ‘It seals the deal.’
‘What did she say in the interview?’ I ask.
‘Not a single thing.’ Jack leans back in his chair. ‘No comment, no comment, no fecking comment.’
I open my eyes wide. ‘I thought a girl like that wouldn’t have been able to help herself.’
‘Me too,’ he says. ‘She got good advice and followed it to the letter.’
I cock my head to one side. ‘You’ve got enough evidence for a conviction,’ I say. ‘Confession or no confession.’
He nods. ‘Her prints are on the knife and the knife was in her room. Then there’s the so-called defence which she didn’t mention until after the shit hit the fan.’
‘A jury are going to find that very suspicious,’ I say.
‘You can’t count your chickens with juries, Kate,’ he says. ‘And Lilly can be very persuasive.’
‘Oh Jack.’ I slide round the table and sit on his knee. ‘I’ve seen you in court. You have the whole place eating out of the palm of your hand.’
‘Really?’
I put my arms around his neck and kiss him. He smells sweet and salty at the same time.
‘You don’t know how good you are at your job, Jack.’
He gives me a shy smile so I kiss him harder.
‘Now take me to bed,’ I say. ‘And show me just how persuasive you can be.’
The next morning Lilly came downstairs in her smartest black suit and high heels.
David let out a wolf whistle. ‘Very nice, Ms Valentine.’
‘Shut up and pour me some coffee,’ she said.
He poured boiling water into a cup and slipped a slice of bread into the toaster. ‘Shall I take you to court?’
‘No thanks.’ She took the steaming mug from him. ‘Harry’s picking me up.’
‘Mr Keen Bean,’ he said.
She took butter and marmalade from the fridge. She’d been both surprised and pleased when Harry offered to collect her as he left the previous evening. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said.
‘He’s very attentive,’ said David. ‘Clearing up, offering lifts.’
Lilly shook her head and busied herself with buttering her toast.
‘All that smiling and touching you is just business is it?’ asked David.
‘It’s just his way.’ Lilly took a bite. ‘He’s like that with everyone.’
‘You mean he’s a dreadful flirt?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’
David laughed and peeled a banana. ‘Shall I look after the kids?’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘Not at all.’ He looked out of the window. The snow was still deep and unyielding. ‘They’re better off at home, don’t you think?’
‘That’s really good of you, David.’
He looked at her, suddenly serious. ‘Just trying to help out. I do realize how good it is of you to have me here, Lil.’
Actually, she thought, after the initial shock, it wasn’t working out badly. David was showing willing in a way he had never done when they were married. And Sam obviously loved having his dad under the same roof.
‘Just don’t get too comfy,’ she said, nudging him with her elbow.
Lilly hopped through the snow like a robin and bounced into Harry’s car.
‘Good morning,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
‘Sleep well?’
‘Not bad.’ She laughed. ‘You?’
‘Like a baby.’ He pulled off. ‘I really must thank you for last night. Terrific curry.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘How about I reciprocate this evening?’ he asked. ‘Cook for you?’
Lilly considered. Alice was going to Jack’s and Sam would be more than fine with his dad. ‘I’d love to,’ she said.
Harry beamed at her. ‘I can’t promise you that my food will be a patch on yours. In fact I can promise you that it won’t be a patch on yours, but I can say hand on heart that none of my ex-wives will be present.’
Lilly threw her head back and laughed. ‘I’m sure I’d get along with them just fine.’
‘No doubt about that. In fact I’m sure they’d all love you to bits,’ he said. ‘It’s me they can’t stand.’
Gem gets up late ’cos she don’t feel right. It ain’t that she’s been sick or nothing, it’s more that she’s in a bad place in her head.
It’s that punter who’s done it. Bill. He made her feel proper uneasy with the way he looked at her. Like she weren’t a person. Not a somebody but a something. Gem ain’t a big fan of Misty or nothing, but she ain’t surprised she lost the plot. Who wouldn’t with him coming at you with his balls swinging around?
Mum’s watching telly with Tyler on her lap. He’s laughing at some cartoon.
‘All right, love?’ she asks Gem.
‘I might go into school today,’ says Gem.
Mum’s face drops and she pushes Tyler onto the sofa beside her so she can get some fags from the table.
‘I thought you said it was closed.’ Mum lights up.
Gem shrugs.
‘Anyway,’ says Mum. ‘I don’t want you here when the Slaughter boys come round.’
‘They’re coming round today?’ Gem asks. ‘You never said.’
‘They don’t exactly make appointments.’
Gem puts a hand to her stomach. There’s a fluttery feeling inside. Like a bird trying to escape. She thinks about the money in her jeans pocket. If she gives a tenner to Mum to pay off the Slaughters and buy food and fags and nappies, there ain’t going to be nothing left tomorrow. Then this whole shitty circle will start all over again.
‘It ain’t for you to sort out this family,’ says Mum. ‘That’s my job.’
Gem goes to get dressed. School can wait another day.
The entrance to the courthouse was cold and dark.
‘Power’s gone off,’ said the security guard, blowing on his hands.
‘What about the hearings?’ Lilly asked him.
‘We’ve been told to tell anybody who arrives that they’re bailed for a week, but to be honest most of ’em haven’t turned up,’ he said. ‘I mean they don’t turn up at the best of times, do they?’
‘What about defendants being brought over from the nick?’ she asked.
The guard shrugged. ‘Probably being sent somewhere else. You’d have to check in the cells.’
‘Thanks,’ said Lilly and headed to the stairs, past the silent X-ray machine, Harry close behind.
They strode down the concrete steps and pressed the buzzer to the custody area. There was no answer.
‘Do you think it’s electric?’ Harry asked.
‘Could be,’ Lilly replied and hammered on the metal door with her fist. ‘Hello,’ she called out, without any idea whether her voice could carry through five solid inches. ‘Anyone inside?’
At last there was a clicking sound and the door was opened by a man in his fifties, his teeth the dirty yellow of a committed smoker.
‘Is Chloe Church here?’ Lilly asked.
The guard pulled a piece of line
d paper from his back pocket and carefully checked the three scribbled names.
‘Computer’s down,’ he said, as if the lack of technology might set the process back by hours.
Lilly pointed to the second name on the list of three. ‘That’s her.’
‘Right.’ The guard took out the pen he had clipped to his breast pocket and put a tick next to Chloe’s name.
‘Can we see her?’ Lilly asked.
The guard blew hard. ‘Trouble is there are only the two of us here. No one else managed it. By all accounts, Jim tried to walk, but slipped on some black ice and did for his hip. He’ll be off sick for weeks.’
Lilly hoped her face didn’t disclose her impatience or lack of interest in Jim’s injury.
‘You can imagine it’s a bit tricky,’ said the guard.
Lilly nodded that yes she could well imagine the sheer complexity of the situation.
‘We couldn’t quite decide on the best course of action,’ said the guard. ‘I mean the handbook was no use at all. In the end it was Mike who decided what to do and I’ve gone along with it. Well, someone had to make a decision, didn’t they?’
‘And what did Mike decide?’ Lilly asked.
The guard gave a shake of the head and a smile that displayed gums stained a similar hue to the teeth. ‘We’ve put all three of them in the same cell, that way we can watch ’em more easily.’
Lilly wondered why three prisoners couldn’t be watched perfectly well from three cells, given they’d be locked in them.
‘The trouble is of course, now we’ve got ’em in together, it’s a bit of a risk getting them out,’ said the guard.
‘Why’s that?’ Lilly asked.
‘Think about it,’ said the guard. ‘If we open the door to release one of them, there’s nothing to stop the other two rushing out as well. We’d be outnumbered, see.’
‘Right,’ said Lilly.
‘Thinking about it, banging them up together might not have been the best idea,’ he said. ‘But there were no guidelines see. Nothing in the handbook.’
‘Could I at least speak to Chloe through the grille?’ Lilly asked.
The guard paused for a second, clearly weighing up the risks involved. ‘Give me a mo.’
With that he clanged the door shut, leaving Lilly and Harry in the semi-darkness.
‘Do you think he’s gone to check the handbook?’ Harry’s shoulders were heaving with laughter. ‘Maybe there’s a section devoted to the opening of security flaps in inclement weather.’
‘Stop it.’ Lilly jabbed him with her elbow.
‘Section thirty one, subsection six and I quote, where a power cut or similar act of God prevents a solicitor or other adult from having an interview with their client in the allocated facility, said interview may take place through the security flap of the cell providing the solicitor or other adult stands at least twelve point five centimetres from the cell door.’ They were both cracking up now. ‘However, if at any time the officer feels security is being in any way impaired he may terminate the interview at his discretion and without consultation with Mike or indeed Jim.’
When the door clicked open once more, Lilly gave Harry another dig in the ribs and straightened her face.
‘We think it should be safe enough for you to have a chat through the flap,’ said the guard. ‘Providing you keep a reasonable distance from the door.’
‘Twelve point five centimetres,’ Harry whispered in Lilly’s ear.
Lilly followed the guard into the custody area, ignoring the sniggering behind her. Once inside the main area, it became substantially lighter and she noticed the overhead strip lights were working.
‘Emergency generator kicked in,’ the guard told her and led her to the desk where a second man, presumably Mike, was nursing a bottle of Lucozade. Without a word he thrust a sheet of paper at Lilly.
‘Put your details on there,’ said the first guard. ‘Plus your time of arrival.’
Lilly did as she was told and slid the sheet back to Presumably Mike.
‘This way,’ said the first guard and led them to a cell at the far end of the corridor. Lilly couldn’t begin to understand the thought processes that hadn’t chosen the nearest cell. ‘Number nine,’ he said, pointing to the number painted on the cell door.
Lilly nodded her thanks and put out her arm to open the security flap.
‘Not too close now,’ said the guard. ‘Can’t be too careful.’
It occurred to Lilly then that perhaps there was a dangerous offender in there. The sort that might make a grab for her hair or face. In which case she needed to get Chloe out ASAP.
Nerves began to kick in as she unlocked the hatch and lowered the flap.
When she looked inside the cell, her reaction was instant: laughter. Chloe was seated on the bed to the left-hand side, listening intently to the man perched next to her. He was at least eighty years old in his stockinged feet and hadn’t a tooth in his head.
‘My piles are the size of cherry tomatoes,’ he told her with a gummy grin.
At their feet, another octogenarian had made a nest out of scratchy police-issue blankets and was sound asleep. She snored loudly, her lips reverberating like an engine. Perhaps she had heard the old guy’s tales one too many times.
‘Husband and wife team,’ said the guard, as if he were describing Bonnie and Clyde.
‘So I see,’ Lilly replied.
God alone knew what they’d been picked up for, but whatever it was, Lilly was pretty sure that neither one of them was about to make a desperate bid for freedom. Frankly, Lilly doubted either of them could make it to the door unaided.
‘Hi, Chloe,’ she called through the hatch.
Both girl and man looked up. The old woman didn’t stir so Chloe struggled to her feet and stepped over her. If she slipped, the woman would be crushed.
‘How are you?’ Lilly asked.
‘Fine,’ Chloe replied.
‘Did you get any sleep last night?’
‘Oh yes.’
Lilly appraised her client. She definitely looked rested and at ease.
‘I’m going to try to get you out of here,’ Lilly said.
Chloe’s face tightened. ‘I don’t want to go back to the Grove.’
‘I know.’
‘You can’t let them take me, Lilly.’
Ignoring the guard’s warning, Lilly stepped up to the plate. ‘It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I’ve spoken to Harry and he’s got a plan to keep you safe.’
‘No,’ Chloe shouted. ‘I won’t be safe at the Grove.’
‘I know you’re frightened, but hear me out, Chloe.’
The girl’s eyes were wide with fear but she nodded.
‘You can be moved to a locked room and no one except Harry will have the code,’ said Lilly.
Chloe shook her head. ‘What if they guess the code?’
Lilly looked to Harry for help and he moved next to her.
‘I’ll make it impossible to guess,’ he said.
‘Like what?’ asked Chloe.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘How about the date of birth of Lilly’s baby? No one at the Grove even knows she has a baby.’
Chloe leaned forward so that her face filled the gap. A rectangle of pink flesh, with eyes.
‘I promise I will keep you safe,’ said Harry.
Chloe gave a solemn blink of acceptance.
Gem dragged the Hoover down the hallway. Feyza calls it Henry and it’s got a face. Gem supposes it’s meant to make cleaning up fun or something.
Somebody’s brought a load of crap in on their boots and tramped it into the carpet so Gem has to move the handle as fast as she can.
Gem don’t actually mind. It ain’t like it’s hard work, is it? And it’s nice to see dirty things come up clean. If only everything in life were that simple.
‘Can I have word, Gem?’ Feyza shouts from the desk at reception.
Gem knocks off Henry with her foot and looks up at her boss. She�
�s counting up a wodge of twenties, licking her finger between each crisp note. There’s got to be hundreds of ’em in the pile.
‘Come over here, Gem,’ she says, placing the money in a metal box.
Gem leaves the Hoover and wanders back to reception.
‘Sit down.’ Feyza nods to the sofa that the punters wait on. It’s squashy from all them fat arses.
Gem sits down and Feyza locks the box with a key she keeps on a long chain around her neck and tucked inside her blouse.
‘You like to work here?’ Feyza sits next to Gem.
‘You ain’t sacking me, are you?’ asks Gem.
‘Don’t be silly.’ Feyza pats Gem’s hand with the tips of her fingers. ‘Why I do that?’
Gem shrugs. People don’t need proper reasons to do shitty stuff, do they?
‘You welcome here as long as we open,’ Feyza tells her. ‘How long we open, I can’t say.’
Gem don’t know much about business but she don’t think Feyza needs to worry. Plenty of punters. Plenty of cash.
‘You see, Gem.’ Feyza stretches out her legs. ‘What we do here not legal.’
Gem nods. Well, she ain’t stupid. Everyone knows brothels ain’t legal.
‘Police leave us alone because we don’t cause problem out on street.’ She points vaguely at the door. ‘And we let those boys have free service here sometimes. Understand me?’
Gem nods.
‘Bill here yesterday for this,’ says Feyza.
Gem ain’t that surprised. A slimeball like Bill would make a good copper.
‘He not happy with Misty, I tell you,’ says Feyza. ‘Which very bad. He can make lot of trouble for us if he want.’
‘Does he want to?’ asks Gem.
Feyza pats her hand again. The nails are painted with black and silver crackle. ‘Lucky for us, no. He just want free service.’
Gem looks down at her own nails, bitten so short they often bleed. ‘Not with Misty, though,’ she says.
Feyza snorts. ‘Misty must stay well away from Bill.’
‘Who then?’ Gem don’t know why she’s asking. She knows the answer.
‘He want you, Gem,’ says Feyza, confirming what Gem already knew.
‘I ain’t a working girl,’ says Gem.
‘I know this,’ says Feyza. ‘I not even ask you if it was other punter. I just tell them piss off. But …’