Internment

by Gill Mather

  “I don't think he does actually. He doesn't say much about himself but I think he got a degree in medicine. I suppose he could put BM or something after his name but I don't think he’s bothered.”

  “He can take my blood pressure any day,” said Amanda.

  Ali took a sip of her drink, brushed her long dark hair behind her ears and decided to change the subject completely.

  “Talking of fit, I went to Graham Spellings’ house last night.” And she explained why.

  “You should hear what his ex, or soon to be ex, has to say about him,” said Cathy and winked.

  Ali raised an eyebrow again, this time quizzically. The others were riveted.

  “Well,” said Amanda pausing dramatically and looking around, “she says he couldn't keep his hands off the hired help.”

  “Hmm. I saw one last night and she couldn't have been a day over sixty five!” said Ali laughing. “His tastes are obviously very wide ranging.” The others laughed too.

  “Oh yeah. Very clever.” Amanda was much put out. “Petunia was talking about the stable maids actually. She’s taken her horses and the stable staff away with her, only today apparently. She says Graham tried to stop her - although he doesn't ride - but Barry got his security staff involved.”

  “Do you believe it?” said Samantha. “After all she’s bound to paint the worst possible picture of him isn't she? And the tabloids don't actually portray her as little Miss Innocent do they when it comes to playing around?”

  “Well, Petunia’s legal team are saying it wasn't just the hired help he tried it on with. They reckon Graham was always at it with someone else. He denies it all of course, but Petunia says he was just discreet and managed to charm the other women into keeping schtum.

  “In fact,” continued Amanda, “she’s made some rather sensitive allegations. Rather close to home actually….” But she stopped when Cathy gave her a warning glare. The others were silent, hoping for more.

  “Well,” said Paul, “there’s always been stuff about him in the business world. Although nothing…er…sexual…just astute, some might say ruthless, financial dealings. Nothing actually dodgey though.”

  “I’d better get back,” said Ali looking at the time on her mobile. It was well past 2 pm. If Graham came into the office, he’d want to see her… And of course any other clients of the firm.

  “Oh well. If Professor Clayton-Barratt thinks it’s time to leave, I s’pose we’d all better make a move,” said Amanda archly looking at everyone.

  BACK AT THE OFFICE, it was like a morgue. Mr. Watts had left. Sandra was still acting as temporary receptionist since Tammy the regular hadn't made it in. Sandra was sniffing her disapproval.

  “That girl is so disorganised. Look at the state of this drawer!”

  The others dutifully peered into it. It had to be said that there was little in the way of regular stationery in there. Some magazines, chewing gum and assorted make up items. Plus a pack of condoms and what looked like a pregnancy testing kit.

  “Well really,” huffed Sandra.

  “She’s only 19,” said Samantha trying not to snigger. “And going equipped is just sensible these days!”

  Sandra pursed her lips. “Someone will have to look after the `phones while I go and powder my nose.”

  Ali offered and Sandra was a little mollified. Everyone else cleared off to their assorted tasks and Ali sat and doodled. Sandra didn't come back so Ali started to leaf through the magazines. Just one call came through from Mrs. Green who telephoned at least once a day, usually more. She tried as usual to speak to Mr. Watts but when it wasn't possible, she started on Ali, wanting an update.

  “Actually we’re getting almost no calls in,” said Ali. “There’s been no faxes or emails either. I did try to call the other side this morning but I couldn't speak to anyone who could help. It’s the weather, you know?”

  “Well in my day we didn't let a bit of snow bring the country to a halt….” and off she went. Ali read an article about the female orgasm as Mrs. Green ranted on and finished that she’d expect some definite progress tomorrow.

  At three thirty Amanda walked round and said that Alison, the only partner in the office, had announced that they could all go home.

  Ali spent a few minutes recording a suitable greeting about the weather etc in case there were any more calls by which time everyone had left. She’d no idea that lot could move so quickly.

  Ali hadn't noticed Alison leaving. Presumably she was still there. Good. Ali wasn't sure how to set the alarm in spite of having had it explained to her quite a few times now. She checked that Alison was still in her room then got her things together. Just as she was walking towards the exit, the door flew open and Hugh almost fell in.

  “God’s truth! The bloody weather out there’s atrocious! I’m nearly frozen to death.”

  Well if he would go out in just a suit with no coat or scarf.

  He stomped past Ali and off to his room without taking any more notice of her.

  Ali hesitated. He was obviously in a bit of a mood but she thought she’d go and ask anyway if she could shadow him the following day, Friday, as all the completions had been put off to the following week and she had nothing to do.

  She found him already sitting down dictating away and he didn't look up when she went in.

  “Er Hugh?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I was wondering, if you’re working tomorrow…”

  “I think it’s a fair bet I will be.”

  “Yes. Of course you are. Well could I shadow you tomorrow because there’s nothing to do at our end…The weather’s stopped people from moving.”

  Hugh was poring over some papers and not responding.

  “Er. Even Graham Spellings’s purchase isn't going through.”

  Why she’d picked that case in particular she didn't know. Just because Graham was so well known presumably.

  “He…um…I have told him. I called in yesterday evening when I was walking home because we couldn't get hold of him on the telephone.

  “He was OK about it,” she blundered on. “Some clients have gone berserk when they’ve been told about the delay. There’s no post coming in and nothing to do so …”

  Something seemed to catch Hugh’s attention. He looked up sharply and stood up.

  “Did you say you went to Graham Spellings’s house last night?” He barked.

  “Er yes. Yes. We couldn't get hold of him on the….”

  “Yes, yes, I heard. That wasn't very sensible was it!”

  “Wasn't it? Why?”

  Hugh looked momentarily non-plussed.

  “Well it wasn't. Er…It’s a bit remote. I hope you told someone you were going there!”

  “Well no not really. It was a spur of the moment thing. But it’s all OK. He….”

  “All OK? Are you mad? Going to a strange man’s home in the middle of nowhere at night and not telling anyone!”

  Visions of Mrs. Bennet asserted themselves, though come to think of it, wasn't her sense of propriety somewhat lacking if it meant one of her daughters getting off with a wealthy young man?

  “I’m not a teenager, you know,” Ali said crossly, “And he’s a client of the firm. Trusted client I suppose.”

  “Yes. But he’s been arrested for sexually assaulting one of the stable maids at his place on Tuesday evening this week. Allegedly. I’ve just spent most of this afternoon at the nick with him being questioned.”

  Hugh was looking at her keenly. Ali could only stand there gawping.

  “Yes. His estranged wife got the horses and stable staff out of the place today and then the stable maid felt safe enough to make the allegation to the police. Well that’s the story.”

  “I…I don't know what to say.” Her tone hardened. “You sound as though you believe he did it. Surely there can't be any definitive evidence already. Not forensic evidence.”

  “Haven't you read the firm’s code of conduct. It expressly forbids staff from visiting prem
ises or meeting someone without telling someone else.” Hugh sighed. “I’m just trying to point out that it isn't sensible…or safe. Graham’s obviously OK, but you can't go wandering around in the dark on your own and if this thing did happen to the stable maid then there might be someone lurking about in the area.”

  He was looking down at her frowning, serious blue grey eyes full of concern, thick fair hair still covered in unmelted snowflakes. Despite the way the others went on about him, Ali hadn't really taken a good look at Hugh before. Actually he has quite a sensitive face she decided. In fact, quite girly looking if you ignored the broad shoulders and five o’ clock shadow. Maybe he wasn't such a cold fish after all.

  “Yes you’re right of course. I wasn’t thinking. But surely you don't think he did it do you? You’ll be trying to get him off won't you? What does he say about it?”

  “He denies it. Obviously. Look he’s my oldest friend. We grew up together. I know him back to front. I don't think there’s any question that he didn’t do it. But somehow or other this has happened and just being charged with something like that can be enough. Anyway of course I’ll do my best to avoid a charge or get it dropped if he is charged, otherwise obviously we’ll certainly be defending it.”

  “He may be a bit of a lad by all accounts, but actual assault! I’ve only met him once but….well….I wouldn't have thought he’d need to resort to assault.”

  Ali immediately regretted that last bit. Hugh looked sardonic with a touch of exasperation.

  “Your assessment is very valuable Ali. I’ll bear it in mind. And the answer’s yes.”

  “What? Sorry?”

  “To your shadowing me tomorrow. And next week. I’ll need the help if I’m to put the hours into Graham’s defence. Watts’ll just have to pull his finger out and heave his carcass into the office and do a bit of work himself. See you at nine.”

  And Hugh turned his attention back to his papers again. Ali felt duly dismissed and crept out into the now raging blizzard. Then a thought struck her. That comment about Watts getting some work done must mean that at least Hugh had noticed how hard Ali was working.

  She unconsciously stood up straighter, thrust out her chest and pulled her shoulders back but immediately lost her footing. She only narrowly missed going arse over tit as Samantha would have said. She peered around furtively to see if anyone had noticed, but there was hardly anyone about and those that were had their heads well down. Sensible them.

  CHAPTER 4

  DARREN SUMMERS WAS eyeing up Ali from the other side of the desk. He’d turned up early. Ali had been twirling around in Hugh’s big leather chair and tinkering with the expensive fountain pens on the leather-covered desk (only there for show, she knew - Hugh always used a cheap Parker) when Tammy had burst in and said that Darren had arrived and was demanding to be seen immediately, he had such a full schedule that day. Tammy was obviously impressed by such masterfulness and her bosom was heaving.

  So Ali had to comply. She’d had no time to read the papers and had to go through them as she interviewed Darren.

  Her job was to take a statement from Darren about his speeding charge. He had been clocked doing 130 mph down the A12 at eight thirty one evening. Hugh had already determined Darren couldn’t get off the charge and so the job was to try and stop him losing his licence.

  Darren was an estate agent and very much fancied himself. Ali had seen his new Beemer ostentatiously parked outside the front of the agents’ office even though they had a big car park at the back. Mr. Watts automatically hated Darren and his company and indeed all estate agents. In the good old days, Summer Homes had put a lot of business the firm's way in return for just an invite to the New Year’s party and a bit of other entertainment throughout the year. Watts had secretly hated the agents even then but at least they’d had their uses.

  But now a few short years later, Summer Homes had expanded and opened a string of offices over Essex, Suffolk and Hertfordshire and now did what all the agents did that hadn't set up their own conveyancing outfits. They demanded huge fees from solicitors firms to “recommend” solicitors to house buyers ands sellers. Mr. Watts refused to pay the fees and developed a reputation instead for high standards and dealing with the high end of the market. He tried to look loftily down on the likes of Darren. It worked up to a point but the ups and downs of the market and fluctuating income had shattered Mr. Watts’s nerves.

  Darren for his part looked down on solicitors who, as far as he could see, tried to bugger up transactions by raising stupid enquiries and rejecting his schemes to save stamp duty as illegal. But his strategy was to try and keep on the right side of everyone so he threw Wattsey a few crumbs of conveyancing cases occasionally and certainly if he wanted a decent solicitor for his pet clients on big transactions, he still sent them to Watts.

  Anyway Darren wasn't going to be bossed about by this slip of a girl. She was quite pretty he thought. In fact very pretty but dark and earnest-looking. Not his type at all. He went for blondes with high heels and short skirts and large boobs. Like his Sharon. Pity Sharon was 15 stone now after having the kids. He’d hoped she’d go back to work and smarten herself up now that Perry had started school and Larry went to nursery school. But there wasn't much sign of it Darren thought morosely.

  “Well? Did she?”

  Darren realised the girl was asking him something again.

  “Sorry I didn't catch that.”

  Ali sighed. “You said you’d been on your way home because your wife had telephoned you and was worried about an intruder. Didn't she think to `phone the police?”

  “Oh. No. She was too het up.”

  “Obviously it took you some time to get home after being pulled over by the police. What did Sharon do when you didn't get home straight away?”

  “I don't know.” Darren sounded exasperated as though he expected her to make up his story for him.

  “Darren I’m sorry but this is your evidence. You have to tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t know,” he barked. “The babysitter had arrived and Sharon had gone out by the time I got back.”

  Darren thought about the sixteen year old babysitter’s firm young breasts showing through her jumper and her sweet unlined young face looking at him while he’d regaled her with riveting facts about the housing market as they waited for her dad to come and collect her and take her home.

  “No. It was late by then. By the time I got home.”

  “How late?”

  “I dunno. Eleven or something.”

  “The police report says they’d finished with you by nine o' clock. So what did you do in the meantime?”

  Darren thought. “Well after popping back home and seeing everything was OK I went back to the office and shuffled some papers about. Y’know.” Worker to worker!

  “Weren't you worried about Sharon?”

  “Well, she didn’t `phone again so I reckoned everything was OK.”

  “Will Sharon back up your account of calling you about a suspected intruder? Would she go to court and give evidence?”

  “Leave it out! I’m not getting her involved. She’d be…she wouldn't want to appear in court.”

  “OK. Then will your home `phone records show she called you before you set out for home earlier on?”

  “She called me on her mobile.”

  “It should be possible to access the mobile `phone company records.”

  Darren looked uncomfortable. “Look can't we just go with my evidence. I was dead worried when she called. My kids, everything. Sharon’s…not very strong…mentally. Lots of things upset her. She probably just imagined she heard someone, you know?”

  “You said she’d gone out when you got back. Where did she go?”

  “Round her mum’s. It’s not far. That’s why we live around there. So she can be near her mum.”

  Ali was going to query the cost of a babysitter just so that Sharon could visit her mother which she could do at any time but looked at Darren’s large
showy Rolex, expensive suit and haircut and his faintly bored expression and thought that the cost of an evening’s babysitting would be peanuts in Darren’s household.

  “OK then. How’d you get to work and get around generally if you lost your licence?”

  “Easy. I’d get one of the girls to give me a ride. No double intendre intended.” Darren laughed.

  Ali felt mentally winded. Wrong answer. He’d lose his directorship. His company would collapse. He’d go bankrupt. Those would have been good answers.

  “Sorry Darren,” she said. “But we’re going to have to go over it all again.”

  “BLIMEY, THAT WAS an effort,” said Ali to Tammy once Darren had left the office. “How these agents make so much cash is beyond me. You’d think the man wanted to lose his licence…but perhaps he does then.”

  “What was the story?” Tammy wanted to know.

  After Ali had gone over the interview for Tammy, she thought about it some more and put forward the theory that Darren couldn’t care less if he lost his licence. He was just trying to put up a case to satisfy his wife Sharon that he doing something about it. Secretly though he might find it a positive advantage to have to depend on an office floozy to drive him about. If Darren was in the habit of playing around, which it sounded as though he might be, he could use the excuse to Sharon that he couldn’t get home at such and such a time because he hadn’t got a driver until later, leaving Darren free to pursue other…er…. activities.

  “Fine,” said Tammy warming to the subject, “but if he just wanted to lose his licence, why didn’t he just get himself done for drunken driving? It’d be a cert then.”

  “I suppose,” Ali thought about it. “But the thing about that is that you could drive around half cut for months, years even, and never get caught. And into the bargain you might injure or kill someone. Now that wouldn’t be good for business. Not at all. While losing your licence when you were driving a good car on a relatively empty dual carriageway and didn’t actually harm anyone if anything might get sympathy. The story about rushing home to your vulnerable wife and family! Certainly it’ll get publicity…and you know what they say about that. I don't suppose he’d planned to get stopped but now that he’s in danger of losing his licence, well it may seem quite attractive in many ways. And it’d only be temporary. Hmm. We’ll have to keep an eye on our Darren. Perhaps he’s not as thick as he seems.”