Damaged Goods

by Helen Black

  He drained his glass and pointed unsteadily towards his host. ‘You’re a shrink, what would you do?’

  Barrows looked thoughtful and uncorked a bottle of port. ‘Since I haven’t even met the girl I can’t give a reasoned view, only my own opinion.’

  ‘Of course,’ said the judge, and reached for his digestif.

  Barrows dug a hole and planted the seed. ‘She’s damaged goods, a danger to herself and maybe to others. Either way, she can’t be unleashed on an unsuspecting public. You need to hear from a properly qualified person before you can be expected to make any decisions.’

  The judge gratefully accepted his life-raft. ‘She needs a psychiatric assessment.’

  ‘Nice gaff,’ said the taxi driver.

  ‘Yes,’ said Lilly.

  ‘North of a mill, I’d say.’

  Lilly shoved a ten-pound note into his hand and got out.

  She’d forgotten all about the party at Penny’s house and had been deeply engrossed in Grace’s autopsy report when Penny rang to say the cab was on its way.

  ‘Just getting ready,’ said Lilly, and flung her work bag over her shoulder.

  Now, standing at the electric gates, hurricane lamps lighting a winding drive in the dusk, Lilly wished to God she was a better liar.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ said Penny, relaxed and gorgeous in pristine white yoga pants and vest, and ushered Lilly through an entrance hall so vast Lilly’s cottage would have fitted inside it.

  ‘Pimms okay?’ Penny brandished a jug.

  Lilly hadn’t drunk it since university when it was unleashed every summer, brown and herby, strawberries bobbing about or, worse still, cucumber.

  ‘Lovely,’ she said.

  The sitting room was ablaze with more lamps and at least a dozen church candles burned in the fireplace. If anyone farted the place would go up like Pudding Lane.

  ‘You know everyone, of course,’ said Penny.

  Lilly nodded and smiled at the women she had studiously avoided for four years.

  There was Luella and her sidekick, Tanya, whose son Daniel had a nose that ran constantly and who attended learning support for his maths.

  ‘He’s really very bright,’ she’d once told Lilly. ‘Gifted, in fact. It’s just that he’s a kinsthetic learner and you know how they are.’

  At the far side of the room, scrolling down her BlackBerry, was Christina. She managed hedge funds and drove a Porsche. Lilly only ever caught sight of her on sports day when she spent the day trying to get a signal in the playing fields. Her kids, two beautiful girls with honey-coloured hair, were looked after by a rather sullen nanny from Azerbaijan who picked her teeth with a match.

  The other women were a blur. Abbey, or Annie someone, husband in banking. Oh, and Lauren, her house was on the common and she was extending it.

  ‘Don’t you already have seven bedrooms?’ asked Lilly and gulped down her drink.

  When Penny finally stopped fussing and settled into a chair each woman reached into her handbag and produced a gift.

  ‘Just a little token,’ said Luella, and placed a Diptyque candle in her lap.

  Just what the place needed, more candles.

  The others showered Penny with a selection of essential oils, perfumed drawer liners and soaps shaped like roses. There was even a small gardening fork and trowel decorated with tiny white hearts.

  Lilly was mortified. How was she to know that she had to bring something? She rummaged in the dark recess of her bag. Among the case notes and autopsy papers she found a Dairy Milk and a Creme Egg, which she placed with great ceremony among the other goodies.

  Tanya and Luella exchanged a look.

  ‘I prefer truffles, myself,’ said Tanya.

  ‘Organic for preference,’ said Luella.

  Lilly opened her mouth in mock horror. ‘But what about your carbon footprint?’

  The two women exchanged a nervous glance. These were the sort of women who went through their trash like Peruvian litter pickers.

  ‘Imagine how many miles chocolate from Belgium has travelled. The CO2 emissions must be catastrophic. Whereas this’, Lilly opened the bar, ‘was made in the UK.’

  She broke off a large chunk and handed it to Luella. ‘Think of it as an act of eco activism.’

  She watched with pure joy as the thinnest woman she had ever met was forced to put at least four hundred calories into her mouth and swallow.

  At last a thickly-set Australian with a train-track brace arrived and set down a vanity case full of swathes of coloured polyester.

  Lilly poured herself another Pimms. ‘I’ll go first.’

  The woman smiled and sat Lilly in front of a huge mirror, a pile of Mongolian shaggy cushions crowding round her like a herd of sheep.

  ‘Now, let’s pull back your hair,’ she said, and dragged Lilly’s curls into a band.

  ‘Instant face-lift,’ said Lilly.

  The woman didn’t smile. ‘And we need to lose the scarf.’

  There was a collective gasp as Lilly’s wound was revealed.

  ‘Cut myself shaving,’ said Lilly, and emptied her glass.

  The Australian draped swathes of material around Lilly’s shoulders, the static crackling like popcorn.

  ‘Definitely not a winter,’ said the woman.

  Several women shook their heads in sympathy.

  ‘I’m sensing a problem,’ said Lilly dryly.

  ‘No jewel colours,’ said Luella.

  ‘And worse,’ said Tanya, her eyes wide in horror. ‘No black.’

  At last the Australian was ready.

  ‘Spring,’ she declared.

  The women nodded their assent. Clearly they had suspected as much from the start.

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Lilly, hoping she could go home.

  The Australian looked grave. ‘You buy clothes only in your palette.’

  Lilly laughed. It was obviously a joke.

  ‘In fact,’ said the colour-fascist, ‘I recommend going further and throwing away everything that is wrong for your season.’

  ‘Throw away perfectly good clothes?’ asked Lilly.

  The woman picked up Lilly’s scarf. ‘This has to go.’

  Lilly snatched it back like a small child. ‘I love that. My friend gave it to me.’

  The Australian smiled at her audience. ‘I see this one needs the full treatment.’

  Lilly held the scarf against her chest. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This lady will come to your house,’ said Penny, ‘and turf out all the stuff that doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘For a fee, of course,’ said the Australian.

  Lilly picked up a cushion and rubbed the fur against her cheek. ‘Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.’

  The next hour passed slowly. Lilly tried to make her escape, but whenever she thought the coast was clear someone engaged her in conversation about property prices and collagen injections. She drank another three glasses of Pimms and ate an entire bowl of designer crisps.

  She was starting to feel queasy and desperate.

  If she could just reach her bag and back out of the room perhaps no one would notice.

  ‘Not leaving us, are you?’ the Australian boomed.

  ‘I’ve got a bit of work to do,’ said Lilly.

  ‘Haven’t you always,’ said Luella.

  Lilly reddened. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  ‘I just think it’s a little rude to rush off when Penny’s gone to so much trouble,’ she said. ‘After all, it’s not as if you do something like Christina.’

  Lilly glanced at the hedge-fund manager now glued to her mobile and felt anger swelling. ‘I may not earn a fortune but I think what I do is pretty important. Certainly more important than having Ten Ton Tessa there tell me I can’t wear blue.’

  ‘If that’s how you feel I think you should go.’ Luella thrust Lilly’s bag towards her, and the momentum, coupled with an unhappy amount of alcohol, sent her off her feet. The contents flew into
the air. Pens, pencils, chocolate wrappers and loose change showered down onto the crudités. Lilly scrabbled to collect them before stopping in her tracks. The autopsy report and pictures were strewn among the polyester, and Penny’s guests were rooted to the spot, each eye wide at the sight of Grace’s dead body on the mortuary slab.

  With as much dignity as she could muster Lilly pushed past the Australian and picked up the photo. ‘I don’t know about you but I’d say she was an autumn.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tuesday, 15 September

  Lilly woke early. Sam had crept into bed beside her at some point during the night and was still fast asleep. Lilly pushed his hair from his face and kissed his warm cheek, breathing in the delicious smell of her son.

  She crept downstairs to fill the kettle and gazed out of the kitchen window while she waited for it to boil. The temperature had risen overnight but the air was still fresh at this early hour.

  She sipped her coffee and watched the garden come to life.

  Manor Park had an assessment day and Lilly had booked the day off work to spend with her son. There was nothing she could do for Kelsey since the prison would not let her visit without twenty-four hours’ notice and the Crown Court’s lists were full. All in all, she was reassuringly impotent.

  Sam appeared silently in the doorway and rubbed his eyes. ‘Can I have hot chocolate?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Lilly.

  ‘With squirty cream?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘And coco sprinkles?’

  ‘With M&Ms, extra fudge sauce and a bag of crisps if you like, big man.’

  The pair spent the morning playing football in their pyjamas, and when it got too hot they made strawberry ice cream and ate the lot straight from the freezer box.

  Sam pointed to the fresh dressing on Lilly’s throat. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Only a bit,’ she said.

  ‘You won’t do anything like that again, will you, Mum?’

  ‘I’ll try not to.’

  ‘I mean, if you died I’d have to go into care, wouldn’t I?’

  Lilly was shocked. ‘Of course not! Your dad would look after you.’

  ‘I don’t think Cara would want me.’

  It stung Lilly to hear Sam articulate her own greatest fear. For whatever David said and however much he defended her, it was obvious that Cara did not love their son.

  Lilly chose diversion tactics and the rest of the afternoon was spent discussing Christmas, a perfectly legitimate activity in mid-September.

  When Sam was tucked up in bed Lilly checked her emails. She knew she shouldn’t but the urge was too strong.

  To: Lilly Valentine

  From: Rupinder Singh

  Subject: Kelsey Brand

  I did as you asked and faxed an application for bail. When I rang the court to check they’d received it I chatted up the man who answered the phone and voila, he listed it tomorrow at 2 p.m.

  You should try being a bit more charming.

  I’ve booked a barrister and said you’ll meet him at court at about 1 p.m.

  To: Lilly Valentine

  From: Rupinder Singh

  Subject: Kelsey Brand

  Forgot to say it’s been listed at CCC.

  Lilly groaned. She should have known that a case this big would be listed at the Central Criminal Court but she didn’t relish the prospect. Of all the courts diametrically opposed to the cosiness of Luton Youth Court, the Old Bailey was the worst.

  Barrows had sent three text messages to Max, all demanding a meeting with Charlene.

  Max smirked as he reread them. As if that pervert was in any position to give orders. Max would make him pay double and make him beg.

  He put his phone away and looked up at the window of Barrows’ clinic. When he’d first seen it he’d been impressed by the tinted windows and the embossed sign, but now he knew it was just an office where Barrows listened to the whining of well-dressed women.

  What problems could they have? They didn’t know they were born compared to the likes of him and Grace. Max doubted that any one of Barrows’ patients could have survived life in a children’s home. The bullying, the negligence, the abuse.

  These people needed to learn to put the past behind them or make it work for them. Max had embraced this as a concept even if it meant he had to mix with filth.

  He had thought Barrows was evil and that made the man strong. Now Max could see that in fact it made Barrows weak. His depravity ruled him and Max had turned it to his own advantage. Their roles had reversed and it felt good.

  What the hell was he playing at? The stupid little black man must have seen the last patient leave so why was he still hanging about outside?

  Barrows breathed deeply and tried to contain the rage. It was always like this just before, his anxiety rising, his impatience bubbling. During the act itself he could barely register what was happening, let alone enjoy it, so overwhelmed was he by his need. But afterwards came sweet release and relief and the endless hours of joy reliving the moment on film.

  He knew the latter feeling would soon be his, but for now he was locked into the anticipation that bordered on desperation, and anyone who stood in his way at this time would have to suffer the consequences.

  At last Max appeared.

  ‘You took your time,’ snapped Barrows.

  Max shrugged. ‘I’m a busy man.’

  Barrows gritted his teeth. He would not allow this idiot to see the storm inside him.

  ‘I won’t pay double.’

  ‘Sure you will,’ said Max.

  ‘There are plenty more girls.’

  Max nodded nonchalantly. ‘And there are plenty more freaks like you. I’ll take her to one of them. Ain’t no skin off my nose, man.’

  The men stared at each other, their mutual hatred plain.

  Suddenly Barrows smiled. ‘What the hell, you can have your money, I’m a rich man.’

  He threw an envelope at Max, ensuring it fell short so he would have to pick it up from the floor. ‘Set it up,’ he ordered.

  ‘We’ll have to be careful.’ Max scooped up the envelope. ‘The Bushes is bound to be buzzing with the filth cos of Kelsey.’

  Barrows saw his chance to re-establish the hierarchy. ‘She’s not there any more.’

  ‘Where’s she gone?’ asked Max, too quickly.

  ‘Didn’t you know? She’s in prison, and not likely to get out any time soon.’

  Max cursed himself for letting the other man steal the advantage, but he had been so shocked to learn that Kelsey was banged up he couldn’t hide it.

  Poor, poor baby. Jail was no place for a kid like her. Still, shit happened.

  He fingered the envelope, reassuringly fat with notes. This was it. One last job, his ticket to a better place. The US of A and a career in real films beckoned. He could smell success, women and chilli dogs. What the hell were they anyway? Hot dogs with chilli sauce, he supposed. Maybe he’d stick to McDonald’s.

  He was heading for the good life, the sweet life. And nothing was sweeter than making that pervert pay for it.

  Yes, he would spend some of the money on a plane ticket and live off the rest when he got there until he got himself sorted. In the meantime he’d celebrate with a couple of high-quality stones and half an ounce of skunk. After all, he had plenty to spare.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Wednesday, 16 September

  Rush hour had long since passed and Lilly was left with a choice of seats on the train from Harpenden to Blackfriars.

  She watched the landscape change from green to grey as the train raced towards London and felt a nostalgic well of excitement as the city approached.

  She and David had spent three happy years in a small flat on Ladbroke Grove watching Polish films at the NFT and eating salt-and-pepper squid in Chinatown. When Lilly fell pregnant they had felt superior to those prudish couples who moved out to the suburbs to give their children bigger gardens. Theirs would be an urban child, immersed in the multi
-culture of the most exciting city in the world.

  But Sam had not liked his nursery above the bus depot at the end of Notting Hill High Road and screamed during Saturday trips to the Tate. He was frightened of the underground and soon developed asthma.

  A decision needed to be taken and was accelerated by a shooting in the local park. A country village near a direct train line beckoned.

  Lilly had loved her new life from the outset. She relished the peace of their shabby cottage and her heart soared at the sight of Sam poking snails with a stick in the lovely meadow garden. She planted herbs outside her kitchen window, their scent pungent and earthy, and taught her son how to cook. She had found a job with a small local firm run by a patient woman who seemed happy to leave her staff to their own devices and found vicarious fulfilment in Lilly’s work with children. Rupinder was equally as grateful to have Lilly on her payroll. Her work colleagues and neighbours alike seemed so sure of their right to comfort that it made her feel, dare she say it, greedy. Lilly’s work with the disadvantaged children was a necessary antidote to the affluence of Harpenden, a way to give something back, and she treated Lilly as a friend as well as a colleague.

  All in all, Lilly was content.

  David, however, was restless. He hated the commute to work and railed against late trains and road works. He stayed in London overnight whenever he could, claiming to find it less stressful. He grumbled that life in the country was tedious and that he needed more stimulation.

  A year later Lilly discovered what exactly was stimulating her husband. Her name was Cara.

  Lilly didn’t regret her move away from the city but still loved the buzz it gave her when she occasionally dived back in.

  She got off the train and benignly handed a fifty-pence coin to a beggar sitting cross-legged at the bottom of the escalator nursing a can of Tennants.

  ‘Tight fucker,’ he said.

  Indeed, Lilly did not regret her move to the country.