by Nicci French
'He still has nightmares about it.'
'Naomi, listen. You don't know what you're getting into here. Brendan – Ben – he's – there's something wrong with him. Really wrong, I mean.'
'How dare you say that. You, of all people. He's suffered more in his life than anyone has a right to suffer, but it hasn't made him bitter or closed-off. He's even nice about you; he understands why you've behaved like you do.'
'He makes things up,' I said.
'No.'
'He lies, Naomi. But there's more to it than that.' I felt quite sick with frustration and wretchedness.
'I don't want to hear any more.'
She actually put her hands to her ears as she said this. I raised my voice.
'I think you're in danger.'
'You're talking about the man I love.'
'Listen. Just hear me out. Please. Then I'll go. But please listen, Naomi. Please.'
I put my hand on her arm and when she tried to pull away, gripped her harder.
'I don't think she wants to listen. No one wants to listen to you any more, do they? Mmm? Now take your hands off her.'
I turned.
'Brendan,' I said.
'Ben,' said Naomi. 'Oh, Ben!'
She crossed the room and put her arms round him.
'I wonder how you found me? You must have gone to a lot of effort.'
I glanced quickly at Naomi. All I could think of was that, trying to save her, I might have put her in greater danger.
'I'm very sorry that you've been dragged into this,' Brendan said to Naomi. 'I wanted to protect you. I blame myself. Are you all right?'
'Oh, you don't need to protect me!' she said. She gazed at him tenderly and put a hand up to touch his cheek. 'Anyway, it was my fault. I let her in.'
'I'll go,' I said.
'Do that,' said Brendan. He took a few steps towards me, until he was gazing down at me. He had a very faint smile on his lips. 'My poor Mirrie.'
CHAPTER 37
Three days later I got a call from Rob Pryor.
'I thought we weren't meant to talk any more,' I said brightly.
'We need to talk now,' he said.
I felt a ripple of alarm.
'Has something happened with Naomi?'
'No,' he said. 'Nothing has happened with Naomi. I couldn't believe that you'd been to see her. That you were watching her.'
'I had to,' I said. 'It felt like a moral duty.'
'I want you to come and see me.'
'What about?'
'This whole business with you and Brendan. It can't go on like this.'
'I know what you mean,' I said. 'I feel like someone with a disease.'
'We're going to sort it out,' he said.
'When do you want me to come?'
'One other thing first. Miranda, do you have a solicitor?'
'What do you mean?'
'I think it would be useful if you had some sort of legal representation.'
'The only time I've had a solicitor is when I bought my flat.'
The whole idea seemed laughable, but Pryor didn't give up. He asked me if I knew anybody at all who was a lawyer. I thought for a moment and then remembered Polly Benson. The main thing about Polly is that when we were at college she was the biggest party animal of us all, which was saying something. Pryor said it would be a good idea if I brought her along. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea. I hadn't been in touch with Polly for ages. But Pryor was insistent. I began to get suspicious.
'Is there some problem?' I said.
Pryor's tone was soothing.
'We're going to sort this out,' he said, 'but you may benefit from some advice. Talk to your friend, then phone me. We'll make a date.'
I phoned Polly and she gave a cheerful scream when I identified myself. She was so excited. It was so great. We must get together. We must have a drink. What were my plans? I could hear a clatter as she searched around on her desk for her diary. I said that would be great, but first I had something I needed to talk to her about. I asked her if she could come with me to see someone. In fact, a detective, but it wasn't what she'd think. She said sure, no problem, straight away, just as a friend should. I said I would pay her, just like a normal client, and she laughed and said to forget it and, anyway, I wouldn't be able to afford it. She asked me what was up, so I gave her the two-minute version of the Brendan story while she murmured sympathetically.
'What a creep,' she said, when I'd finished. 'But you don't know what's up?'
'Brendan's become friendly with this detective. He may have made some complaint.' I laughed. 'Or maybe he's going to confess to murder.'
'Maybe Brendan objects to what you've been saying about him,' said Polly. 'You have to be careful about things like that.'
'I'm a bit worried about needing a solicitor,' I said.
'Then it'll be good that I'm there,' she said.
I wasn't sure if that really answered my question, but I found a time she was free the next day and also a time we could meet for a drink later in the week. I phoned Rob Pryor and that was fine and so – weirdly – the next afternoon found me standing outside the police station talking with one of my old college friends. I had made an effort to smarten up with a dark jacket and black trousers, but Polly had popped out of her office and she was on an entirely different level of looking businesslike. She was wearing a grey pinstriped suit and with her jet black, very straight hair and brown skin she looked stunning. We hugged each other.
'I'm sorry to waste your time like this,' I said. 'We should be in and out in a moment.'
A uniformed officer showed us through to Pryor's office, which seemed full of people. Brendan was there and a middle-aged woman, also formally dressed, whom Pryor introduced as Deirdre Walsh, Brendan's solicitor. She looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if I weren't the person she was expecting or as if I'd said something she didn't understand. I introduced Polly to them and tried very hard not to look in Brendan's direction. Pryor asked if she knew about the situation.
'I filled her in,' I said. 'But I'm not quite sure what this is all about.'
Pryor, Brendan and Walsh exchanged glances. Something was up. Pryor was fidgeting with a file on his desk. He flipped it open.
'At Mr Block's request,' he said. 'This is an informal meeting.'
'What does that mean?' I said.
'You'll see,' said Pryor, picking up a sheet of paper from the file. 'We all know what's been going on, more or less. But it might be worth going through some of the salient episodes.' He pursed his lips and hesitated for a moment before continuing. 'Last year the two of you had a brief, intimate relationship which Mr Block ended.'
'That's not true,' I said.
'Please, Miss Cotton, let me just…'
'No. I'm not going to sit here and nod to a lie like that. It was simple. I caught Brendan reading my diary…'
'Please, Miss Cotton, Miranda, let me go on and then you can have your say.'
I clenched my teeth hard and said nothing.
'According to Mr Block, he ended the relationship. Maybe unfortunately he then began a relationship with your sister and then with a mutual friend
'She was my friend,' I said.
'A relationship,' said Pryor, as if I hadn't spoken, 'which ended tragically.'
'For Laura,' I said. 'Not for Brendan.'
There was a sort of angry sigh from Deirdre Walsh and I saw that she was actually glaring at me.
'Please, Miranda,' said Pryor.
Polly leaned over and put a hand on my arm. I nodded at her. Pryor continued.
'I won't go through all the episodes of tension during the time when Brendan was engaged to your sister. I'll only mention the occasion when you were caught searching through Brendan's possessions in his bedroom.'
I looked round at Polly. I hadn't mentioned that to her. She was looking entirely impassive.
'Mr Block admits that his severing of ties with your sister was a painful process, but he was, at least, no longer connect
ed with your family. However, your erratic behaviour only intensified. There were, for example, the wild accusations you made against him to people… well, to people such as myself. Even when I went to the trouble of showing that the accusations – for example, concerning the death of Laura – were demonstrably false.'
'That's just not true,' I said. 'It all depended on time, and you got the route wrong. I checked it, and if you took the direct route through the council estate Brendan could easily have got there in the time.'
There was a silence. Deirdre Walsh leaned forwards and spoke for the first time.
'I'm sorry, Miss Cotton. I'm not sure I've got this right. Do I take it that you have walked the route yourself and timed it?'
'Someone had to,' I said.
'Excuse me,' said Polly to the others and leaned close to my ear and whispered to me. 'I think it would be better if you didn't respond to these claims point by point until the detective has finished.'
'Why?' I said.
'Please,' said Polly.
'All right,' I said. 'Go on, then.'
Pryor took another piece of paper from his file.
'Do you know the name Geoffrey Locke?'
I thought for a moment. It sounded familiar.
'Oh, you mean Jeff? I've met him.'
'You phoned him about Mr Block.'
'I wanted to reach him.'
'Have you tried the phone book?'
'He wasn't in it,' I said.
'Leon Hardy?' asked Pryor.
'I've only talked to him on the phone.'
'About?'
'I wanted to get in touch with Brendan.'
'Craig McGreevy?'
'I don't see the point in just reading these names out.'
'You actually visited Tom Lanham.'
'I'm sorry, I don't see the problem.'
I looked over at Brendan. He had the very, very faintest of smiles on his face. It reminded me of the way he looked at me when we first met, when I first suspected that he really liked me. I looked at Pryor. He had no kind of smile on his face.
'You didn't just talk to Lanham. You took property of Mr Block's away with you.'
I looked at Polly again. She didn't catch my eye.
'If I saw him,' I said, 'I could give it to him. That was the idea. He just wanted to get it out of his flat. And if you talked to him, you also know that Brendan skipped without paying rent.'
Pryor looked at his file again.
'Mr Block's grandmother, Victoria Rees, is severely demented. You visited her at her nursing home.'
'Yes.'
'Did you think she would be able to give you Mr Block's address?'
'I wanted to find out about his childhood. For various reasons.'
'And you called on his sister,' said Pryor. 'And you asked offensive and invasive questions.'
'I wouldn't say that.'
'After all the tragedies he has suffered, Mr Block is trying to put his life back together. He has a new relationship. You approached his new partner. You had been spying on her and you threatened her.'
'I did not threaten her.'
'It was agreed with Mr Block and his legal representative that I would coordinate this meeting and speak on his behalf. But I just want to call on Mr Block to say what this has meant to him.'
Brendan gave a cough.
'I'm sorry, Mirrie,' he said. 'I feel sorry for you, I really do. But I've felt…' There was a pause as if this were all too painful to talk about. 'Violated. Threatened. Invaded. Unsettled.'
'Ha! My heart bleeds for you,' I said angrily.
'Miranda,' said Polly sharply.
'I have one more thing to say,' said Pryor. 'Ms Walsh and Mr Block came to see me with this information. Much of it I knew already. I have to say that there is an overwhelming case for dealing with this under the Protection from Harassment Act of 1997.'
'What the hell do you mean?' I said. 'Is Brendan pretending that I've been stalking him?'
'Listen, Miss Cotton,' said Pryor. 'It is my professional opinion that there is no doubt whatsoever that harassment has occurred. I want to say this very clearly in front of you and your legal representative. When I first read through this file, I was minded to arrest you. Your solicitor will be able to tell you that harassment under section two of the act is a summary offence with a penalty of up to six months' imprisonment or a fine of up to five thousand pounds, or both. I would be quite within my powers to arrest you here and now, and conduct a search of your property. I should say that the Harassment Act also allows for a civil remedy.'
I was so dismayed and angry and shocked that I could barely speak.
'That is just such a travesty,' I said. 'I just… Well, for a start, in no way have I harassed Brendan. I talked to friends of his.'
'The harassment isn't defined in the act,' said Deirdre Walsh in a chilly tone. 'If you believe you are being harassed and a reasonable person, such as a magistrate, agrees, then harassment is proved. I must say that I have never seen a clearer case.'
'Ms Walsh is right,' said Pryor. 'It was my view that the case should proceed. I consider you a possible threat to Mr Block. But he was eager to settle the case informally. If this case reached a criminal court, you would be subject to a restraining order. If it was a civil court it would be a restraining injunction. It doesn't matter. They amount to the same thing. Mr Block is willing to accept a personal commitment from you. If you won't make such a commitment, we'll think again.'
'You mean, you'll arrest me?'
'That's right,' said Pryor.
'This is completely insane,' I said. 'If anything, Brendan is the one who has been stalking me. I was the one who broke off with him and then he insinuated himself into my family, into my life. I should take an injunction out against him.'
There was quite a long, awkward silence.
'You're going about it in an unconventional way,' said Pryor. 'And now I think you might like a few moments with your legal adviser. We'll leave you alone together.'
The three of them stood up and walked past me. I had to stand up to leave space for them. Pryor closed the door behind him, but the inside wall of his office was entirely transparent. I saw them walk across towards the coffee machine, a group, speaking. Deirdre Walsh glanced back and I looked away too late. Polly was staring down at the carpet.
'That isn't exactly what I was expecting,' I said.
She turned to me. Her face was drained of colour.
'I'm not sure if I'm right for this,' she said. 'You may need someone more senior.'
'I just want your advice, Polly.'
She bit her lip.
'Is this true?' she said. 'Did these things happen?'
'They're not exactly false,' I said. 'In themselves. But… I mean, for example, the point about being caught looking through Brendan's bags. He was staying in my parents' house at the time, so it wasn't as if I were breaking and entering. And all those phone calls, it was a matter of A saying phone B, and B saying phone C, and so on. I was just trying to find him. The idea that I was stalking Brendan is grotesque. I think he's dangerous. What was I supposed to do?'
Polly stood up. She seemed reluctant to meet my gaze.
'I shouldn't have agreed to this,' she said. 'We know each other. It's not professional. I didn't realize… But look, Miranda, I think – apart from everything else – you should see someone.'
'If you mean a therapist, I have been talking to someone.'
'You didn't tell me that,' said Polly. 'Among other things.'
'I was talking to her about my feelings after losing my brother and my closest friend.'
'You should have told me.'
'So you could have discounted what I said as some psychological symptom?' Polly didn't reply, but she didn't deny it either. 'I'm not going to accept this.'
Polly shook her head urgently.
'No, Miranda, stop that. They are being generous with you.'
'Let them prove it in court.'
'Miranda!' Polly grabbed my arm with a
grip that almost made me cry out. 'If you go to court you will lose. Let me tell you, you do not want to be cross-examined on what that detective read out from his file. You will be convicted, I promise. If you have the wrong judge, you could spend four months in Holloway. Is that what you want, for the rest of your life, every time you fill out a form, every time you apply for a job or a visa?' Polly was looking at me with a pity that revolted me. 'I don't know what's happened, but I'm so so sorry. Miranda, let me be your lawyer for five minutes and we'll just accept whatever they're offering. Whatever it is, they're letting you off easy. Will you let me ask them back in?'
I could hardly speak. My skin felt hot and clammy, while my mouth was dry.
'All right,' I said.
On the way out I caught sight of Brendan in the corridor. He was in conversation with Rob Pryor. He caught my eye and then he smiled. He raised his right index finger and wagged it slightly at me, like a teacher reproving a pupil. Then he passed the finger across his neck. Around the neck. What did that mean? Was it like a knife across a throat? Was it Troy 's noose around the neck? Was this a warning? Don't mess with me.
'Did you see that?' I said to Polly.
'What?' she said.
Nobody but me ever seemed to see.
Afterwards, back on the steps outside in the sunshine that made my eyes hurt, Polly said I should be very relieved. I had signed an undertaking drafted by Deirdre Walsh according to which I promised not to approach or contact Brendan or his friends or members of his family. Polly also said on my behalf that I was sorry and that I'd been under a lot of pressure and that I was already receiving psychiatric help. Before we parted, Polly held out her hand.
'I don't mind any of this,' I said. Polly looked puzzled. 'It's all crap. Brendan was always going to outwit me at something like this. If you're as good a liar as Brendan is, you'll always make someone like me sound like she's lying. I think you gave me good advice. I had to sign that document. So I should thank you for saving me from going down in flames. But I need to ask one thing: do you believe me?'
Polly seemed unwilling to speak.
'Well, do you?'
She made an unhappy gesture.
'How can I be sure?' she asked.
'Because you're my friend,' I said. 'If you were a real friend, you would know me and you would trust me.'