Don't Say a Word

by A. L. Bird

  What?

  Why?

  It can’t be right. The file of photos of the wraps of cocaine, the confessions, the photo of Rhea. The meetings. Instructing Dan.

  Dan. Does Dan know? Is he in on this charade?

  Is it even a charade, though? Who goes to all that trouble? There’s an objective way to verify this; there must be. There’ve been hearings, haven’t there? Think back to what Dan said: he was brought in after the committal stage. There’s just a note of it on the file. By Tim. The photo of Rhea. It could be a photo of anyone. I’ve not had any phone calls or emails or correspondence that hasn’t been filtered by Tim.

  This is crazy. I flick back through the file for the notes of the committal hearing, and pick up the phone to the Magistrates’ Court.

  ‘Hi, I need to check something in relation to a hearing that took place earlier this year?’

  I give them the details.

  ‘No, sorry – we don’t have any record of that. Can you check your details and try again, please?’

  So it doesn’t exist. What? I can’t get my head round it. Who the fuck makes up a case?

  Who the fuck is Tim? He’s a lateral hire; no one really knows him that well. He’s not into playing football with the firm, would rather stick to playing squash, doesn’t go drinking – except for that time with me and Dan. No one really knows anything about him at all, do they?

  I call up the firm’s website and look at his CV. All very impressive-sounding. Acted in this case and that case, twenty years’ experience, respected criminal law practitioner, etc etc.

  It doesn’t make sense.

  ‘Jen!’

  A voice behind me makes me jump.

  I turn. It’s Lucy.

  ‘I need you to do a transfer form for me,’ she says.

  I look at her blankly. There’s no way I can do that.

  She tuts. ‘What, you’re too busy with your criminal work? And what’s this?’ She leans into my screen. ‘You’re googling your hero Tim, are you? Well, I can tell you, I don’t think he gets all his criminal practitioner experience from the court!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask her.

  ‘Oh, you know, he’s a bit rough round the edges, our Tim,’ she says.

  ‘Rough round the edges? How?’

  ‘Oh, you know …’

  ‘No, I don’t know. Lucy, this is important. Please, tell me.’

  ‘What’s up? Has he got himself into trouble?’ There’s a sort of glee in her voice as she says this.

  ‘Yes, and maybe the firm. Maybe we’re all in trouble. What do you know about him, Lucy?’

  Lucy starts looking anxious. ‘I did tell Bill we shouldn’t take him on. Didn’t listen to me. They never do listen to women, you know, Jen. It’s important you learn that.’

  ‘Lucy, please, it’s important.’

  ‘Well, I heard his cousin was involved in some gang thing. Tim said it was nothing to do with him. And besides, he said his cousin was innocent. And Bill took him at his word. Honestly, that man! So naïve. Can you imagine, hiring someone who has family in prison!’

  It’s enough. It’s all I need for now. I don’t need the links. Somewhere, there are links. I’ll find out later.

  Now, I need to go. I need to go back to my son.

  My son who is in the care of a child minder recommended by Tim.

  By Tim, who left the office in a hurry to a non-existent client.

  Fuck. Josh. Josh. Josh. I’m sorry.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Lucy calls after me. ‘I need that form!’

  ‘I quit!’ I shout. Because I do. I quit. I quit everything except Josh and me. If Josh is still there. If he still exists.

  Dan took his car, so I have to wait for a bus. It’s excruciating. I call Louise. No answer. I call the flat. No answer. Dan. Still no fucking answer.

  I could call Tim.

  And say what? I can’t say anything to him. Presumably this is all some mad attempt to what – take me towards that Chloe confession? I can’t believe I was so close to that – forgive me, Chloe. Is this all meant to help Mick prove his innocence of the only thing in his life he didn’t do? Or is it revenge? Fuck my life over? Get me put in prison? Take Josh away? Or more mad? More deadly?

  Come the fuck on, bus. Please.

  And finally, finally it arrives. There are seats, but I can’t sit down. I try, but I have to keep standing up again, pacing, looking out the window. The driver has to know I’m in a hurry. He has to understand I can’t simply wait to get to my destination. And what the fuck will be there when I reach it? Josh, I hope!

  Someone offers me a tissue and I realize I must be crying. I take the tissue, but it’s shredded in seconds. Such an idiot. Such an idiot. Why did I go to work? Not today – just ever? Why didn’t I just move somewhere to the country with Josh and hide? Hide from all of this. Or make them move us abroad? Abroad where there would be so little chance of cousins randomly turning up, defending family honour? And why weren’t the witness protection service doing their job? Why didn’t they vet each new person who joined Bill’s firm? Why didn’t they check? Why didn’t he check? Or did he see himself as the Good Samaritan, giving the benefit of the doubt to each no-hoper who crossed his threshold? The homeless probable junkie. The man with a mafia family. Idiot. Stupid naïve idiot.

  Finally, finally, the bus pulls up at the stop across from Dan’s flat.

  I race across the road and look in the bag for my key. Where is it, where is it? But of course, I gave it to Louise! The child minder Tim talked me into. Oh for the love of God, I’ve had a lobotomy! When did I become so stupid? I ring and I ring and I ring on the doorbell. And I slam on the door.

  It opens. It opens and I see Josh.

  I hug him and hug him and hug him.

  ‘Mum, what’s wrong, what’s wrong?’

  Then behind him is an adult figure. In fact, not one. Three. Tim, Louise, and Dan.

  Chapter 35

  I straighten up.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask.

  I look at Dan.

  And then I look at him again. How do I tell? How do I know if he knows the Rhea Stevens case is made up in my honour?

  I reach out and grab Josh. We should go, now.

  But Dan is quicker than me. He pulls me into a hug that separates me from Josh. Then he shuts the door behind me. Locks it, and puts the key in his pocket.

  ‘Tim just dropped round on his way back from the hospital. Isn’t it awful about Rhea?’

  ‘Isn’t it,’ I say.

  Josh is being shepherded between Tim and Louise towards the living room.

  So. I have to pretend. To keep him safe.

  ‘And how is she?’ I ask Tim, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

  He shakes his head. He sits down, next to Josh. Louise drapes an arm round Josh’s neck.

  ‘Not so good I’m afraid,’ Tim says. ‘Touch and go whether she’ll make it. If only she had something to live for.’

  ‘She has her daughter,’ I say. I still want to believe in Rhea’s daughter. But she must be part of the myth, specially created for me.

  Tim nods. ‘They’re so important, aren’t they, children?’

  Louise’s grasp tightens almost imperceptibly on Josh’s neck. He wriggles a little.

  Fuck. What are they doing here? What is their game? What are they trying to get me to do? How do I make them leave?

  ‘What do you think will help her – and her child?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Dan says. ‘We need to find someone who knows something. A third party, who can shed light on it. Like you said.’

  Christ. Christ, he is in on it, isn’t he? But he’s just saying that in normal tones. Louise and Tim are sitting grinning at me like possessed vampires – they want to suck a confession out of me, there and then, make me dob in Chloe.

  But they will use my words! I bet this whole thing is bein
g recorded. I might win Josh back for a few minutes but then he’ll be taken from me for ever. I’ve got to stall, but let them think they’ve won. Let them laugh inwardly at how horribly, horribly naïve I’ve been.

  ‘I think that, if there is anything someone else knows, they’ve got to come forward. I can’t imagine anyone keeping it to themselves after hearing – this news.’ I make my voice break a little. Let them think they’ve got to me. That I’m going to crack.

  ‘Are you all right, Jen?’ Tim asks. ‘You sound like you’re burdened by something. Would you like to share?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not just now, Tim. I’ve got a lot to think about. On the case. But I think, tomorrow, I will have a way forward. That’s best for Rhea.’

  Tim nods slowly, his smile even more vampiric. Why did I ever trust him? Now I know it’s all a charade, he seems so obviously manipulative, duplicitous scum. Who could read me like a book. Or knew someone else who could.

  Dan looks at me too. There’s an awestruck smile on his face. ‘That’s brilliant, Jen. Well done. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve got in mind.’

  I look away from him. I can’t bear to imagine that he might be in on this. But how could he not be? He’s seen so many more cases than I have. How wouldn’t he have got suspicious before? How could he not be the one feeding them titbits to help?

  ‘Tomorrow, hey?’ Tim asks. ‘So you’re probably going to work on it tonight? I’m sure Louise wouldn’t mind sticking around here for a while, help look after Josh.’

  I shake my head. ‘It’s OK. I would like to enjoy this night with Josh.’ I say it like I think it might be my last. Which is not difficult.

  Tim nods again. His eyes have a disgusting twinkle in them.

  ‘Well, enjoy, then. And Dan, keep her happy.’

  ‘Aye aye, Cap’n,’ says Dan, and rolls his eyes at me.

  Louise and Tim get up from the sofa. Louise pinches Josh’s cheeks like he’s a little baby. It makes him flush with colour, and mine drain of it. ‘See you tomorrow, handsome. We’ll spend a whole lot of time together.’

  She lets Josh go. He looks at her quizzically and rubs his cheeks a little.

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ Tim says. ‘And I hope for the sake of Rhea and her kid you’re going to come up with the goods. Morally, we all owe her something, don’t you think?’

  I nod mutely, like someone who was going to confess and mess up her world would nod. Very similar to how someone who realizes her immediate boss and her child minder are going to ruin her life and her son’s if she doesn’t do it herself.

  Dan shows Tim and Louise to the door. When I’m sure none of them can see me, I rush over to Josh and take his hand. ‘We’re getting out of here, OK?’ I whisper to him. ‘Tonight or first thing. Don’t tell Dan!’

  He looks at me wide-eyed, but before he has time to reply, Dan comes back in. I keep hold of Josh’s hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I feel Josh squeeze my hand. ‘I get it,’ the squeeze says. ‘And I trust you.’ I squeeze back, and then I drop his hand.

  ‘Hey,’ I say to Dan, and stretch my arms out to him.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, giving me a kiss. I return it as best as I can, even though my tongue feels like it’s weighed down with a stone.

  ‘So, bad news about Rhea, then,’ he says.

  I nod. ‘Really bad. But I’m hoping I can save the day.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know what you have in mind.’ Really, Dan? Do you really not? Or are you another tool in their arsenal? Have you taken me to bed so that if this Rhea business doesn’t work you can seduce me out of my secrets? ‘But whatever it is, I sure hope it works.’

  ‘Have you ever met Rhea?’ I ask him.

  He shrugs. ‘Nope. I’ve left that to Tim.’

  ‘Bit unusual isn’t it? Don’t you think you should have stepped in?’

  Dan frowns at me. ‘Hey, what’s going on here? Your big idea isn’t to get me done for professional negligence, is it?’

  ‘No, of course not. I just had a funny thought earlier – what if Rhea Stevens doesn’t actually exist?’

  There’s a beat.

  Crap, what am I doing? Just get the keys and get out. Don’t play games. It doesn’t matter if Dan is part of this. Doesn’t matter if I thought he was something special.

  ‘Why would you say that?’ Dan asks, frowning. ‘Why would you tell Tim you’ve got a solution, then ask me whether I think my client exists? Is this all about that prison phone call thing? Because we can call Tim now and put that all to rest.’

  He pulls out his mobile.

  ‘No. No, it’s fine,’ I say. ‘I was just being silly. Don’t call Tim. Let’s just enjoy our evening, hey?’

  ‘OK.’ He puts his phone away. ‘But don’t go scaring me like that.’

  Dan bustles round cooking dinner, while Josh and I sit on the sofa. Dan tells about his day – an annoying clerk at his office who tries to keep tabs on his whereabouts.

  ‘I mean, look – I’m self-employed. If some clerk thinks I ought to be doing nine to five he can sod off, right?’

  ‘Right,’ I say.

  ‘Because I need to come home and keep my Jen and my Josh happy, right? Safeguard them. And that doesn’t work with a nine to five.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t.’

  As he speaks, I try to work out whether these are the words of an affectionate new boyfriend or a corrupt associate of a dodgy lawyer whose cousin beats up women. Whether he’s been told to keep me ‘safe’ i.e. in the one place to be targeted easily.

  I can’t work it out.

  So I have to carry on pretending to be an attentive new girlfriend, indebted in gratitude to her saviour of a man. Takes me back. Oh, Mick, why did I ever talk to you outside that Pret?

  And I have to proceed on the basis that, whenever we can, Josh and I are going to leave.

  ‘Josh, remember you’ve got that sports thing tomorrow – why don’t you go and get your kit ready before supper, hey?’

  Josh nods at me sadly. He gets the hint. He goes off to his room to pack up his sports kit. And everything else.

  ‘What sport thing is that?’ Dan asks, between mashing potato. Thud, thud, thud. He’s a strong guy. ‘Josh didn’t mention anything about it.’

  Fuck. Is Dan going to be on the phone to Tim?

  ‘Oh, it’s a kind of triathlon thing. Same date every term. Etched on my memory.’

  Dan nods. ‘Cool.’

  ‘He hates it.’

  ‘Can’t you phone him in sick again?’

  I scrunch up my nose. ‘Not so much,’ I say. Even though that’s exactly what I’m going to do, just for a different reason.

  ‘I saw your text over the Lego gift from Louise. Glad that one got sorted out!’

  He laughs, so I laugh too.

  ‘Yeah, I can have a bit of an overactive imagination sometimes can’t I? Clients not existing, Lego gifts meaning my child’s about to get kidnapped – what am I like, hey?’

  I think I might have missed casual and hit frenzied.

  Dan stops cooking and looks at me, the mirth gone from his face.

  ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Stop that. Don’t paint yourself as neurotic and silly. You’ve been through a lot. I get that. Whatever tomorrow brings, remember that.’ He comes over and kisses me, then wraps me in a hug.

  For that moment, I don’t care who he’s in league with – the Stupid Barristers Association, or the Tim and Mick Show.

  ‘I need to put myself first, right?’ I ask.

  ‘Right.’

  And he kisses me.

  ‘And for the record, Rhea Stevens does exist. I’m not idiot enough to be working on a made-up case. Such a funny idea. I’ve half a mind to text Tim and tell him!’

  Is that a threat? And there we are – back to the uncertainty again.

  ‘Don’t. It’s embarrassing, and I don’t really mean it,’ I tell him. ‘Since when were you and Tim
such good mates, anyway?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, we’ve worked on a few cases together over the years, you know? He makes me money. I have to treat him nice.’

  ‘Is that what I’m for? Part of that – keep Tim’s juniors happy, keep Tim happy?’

  It’s too close to the wire but I can’t resist.

  Dan shoots me a dirty look. ‘No, of course not. You know that’s not true.’

  I don’t know anything any more, pet.

  ‘Although …’ Dan continues.

  ‘Although what?’

  ‘It was Tim who first suggested I ask you out. When he heard we’d had a stalled date a while back. Said I should give it another go. That he’d help me out, put in a word.’

  ‘He wants us to spy on each other, that’s what it is,’ I say. ‘Or burn the midnight oil on this case, put our great minds together.’

  ‘I tell you what I’d like to put together …’ And he comes back over to me again and starts nuzzling my neck.

  Josh walks into the room and stops, uncertain. I feel myself blush. What must he think of me? That I’m prostituting myself to someone we’re about to leave? Or that I want a quick sex fix before we take off?

  I break away from Dan. ‘Come in, sweetie. It’s fine.’ And then, just in case he thinks I mean, ‘It’s fine, we’re not leaving,’ – look, you can see his little face brightening – I add, ‘All packed for tomorrow?’

  His shoulders sag. ‘Yes. All packed.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Josh!’ says Dan. ‘The triathlon will be fine. You’ll nail it. Spear it even!’

  Dan laughs at his joke so we join in too.

  Dan puts the dinner on the table and starts to eat heartily. It’s a lovely warming shepherds’ pie but I can’t taste it. The sheep might as well have kept roaming on the hills. Josh seems to feel the same way. He is pushing the food round the plate, not eating it.

  I don’t know when we’ll next have a square meal, I want to tell him. He should eat up, but so should I.

  ‘I was thinking,’ I say, again aiming for casual. ‘Would it be possible for me to borrow the car tomorrow morning? I’d like to take Josh in early for the triathlon, give him time to warm up. It’s kind of a tradition.’

  ‘I thought Louise was picking him up?’ Dan asks.