‘Can’t you check?’
‘But we don’t know exactly what time the call came through.’
‘Gina, I think we need to move on, it’s just wasting time,’ suggested Will.
His wife sighed. Her jaw was clamped firmly shut in an expression of annoyance. She realised she was acting like a police officer requesting that phone records should be checked. She joined her husband at Leila’s desk and slumped down heavily in the chair, in an act of resigned acceptance. She was still furious, and her heart was beating ferociously in her chest.
‘Let me see whether anything new has come into the office in the last day or so,’ said Leila, tactfully. She clicked away, then smiled. ‘I’ll just print this off.’
She handed over a couple of sheets, and Will held them so they both could read the details.
‘This house only came to our attention yesterday. Bridleway Gardens is a very nice area. It’s four bedrooms, finished to a very high standard, and I’m sure you’ll like it.’
Gina looked at the details. ‘It’s a bit more than we wanted to pay as we’re still paying a mortgage on our house in Manchester. Also, we don’t need four bedrooms.’
Leila looked around. ‘Perhaps you could come into the back office, and we can have a word,’ she whispered.
The trio decamped to another room.
‘I shouldn’t really say this, so please don’t repeat it to anyone,’ said Leila, keeping her voice down, ‘but the couple really need to rent this out sooner rather than later. I’m sure they will take an offer on the price on the sheet. I suggest offering two hundred pounds less. But you didn’t hear that from me,’ she winked.
**
‘It’s Sue,’ said Tom, as he handed his wife the cordless phone.
‘Hi,’ said Trish. ‘How are you?’
‘Well, a bit better thanks, apart from being completely bald. I’m hoping it will start to grow back soon.’
‘Oh, Sue, I’m so sorry but has the treatment been successful?’
‘As far as they can tell. Let’s hope after this session, I’ll get a break from it for a while. Anyway, enough of me, how’s life treating you? Still working too hard I bet?’
‘I’m not working at the moment, I’ve not been so good actually.’
‘Oh, no, what’ wrong?’
‘It’s nothing physical, I had a sort of funny turn the other week. It set me back a bit, so I’ve got to take things easy for a while. I’m back on some medication, so I hope I’ll soon be back to my usual self.’
‘Well, as you are free, do you fancy meeting up for coffee? We’ve not seen each other for ages. Have a proper chat?’
‘That would be great! Shall I meet you in town, or you could come here if you want?’
‘Town would be best. I’ve got a few things to do tomorrow, and I’m not driving at the moment. What about eleven on Monday? Or earlier if you want?’
‘Eleven will be fine. Shall we meet in Fenwick, the cafe is big there so we should get a table?’
‘Sounds great. I’ll be wearing a scarf, so I hope you will recognise me.’
‘Of course, I will. See you then,’ said Trish and disconnected.
Their friendship had started at school, and they’d remained in touch on and off for years. For a while, they didn’t see each other very often but when Sue was diagnosed with breast cancer five years ago, Trish had been in touch more regularly. It was the least she could do, and it was an opportunity to help her friend come to terms with her illness and develop some coping strategies. She had been so sad to hear that her cancer had recently returned. Fortunately, the prognosis had been encouraging. Despite the huge toll on her, physically and mentally, she had remained incredibly strong throughout.
‘How is she?’ asked Tom.
‘I’m meeting her on Monday for coffee. She’s almost finished her latest session of chemo, I feel so sorry for her.’
‘It’s dreadful. Give her my love, won’t you.’
‘Of course.’
‘Trish? You won’t take on too much, will you? I mean, don’t offer to help her with counselling if she asks, not on a regular basis.’
‘It’s just a coffee.’
‘Yes, but what if you think she’s a bit, well, not coping.’
‘I think she is coping. Anyway, I’ll find out.’
‘But you understand my concern, don’t you. This break from work is for you to get yourself back on track.’
‘Tom, I wish you could trust me a bit more. Please, I am not going to trigger another attack. You can rest assured that I am taking control of my life.’
‘OK,’ replied her husband, trying to inject some positivity into his voice, yet unconvinced that his wife was as resilient as she was trying to appear.
Chapter 21
After the dreadful start to the weekend, things improved for the Overtons following their appointment at Bridleway Gardens. Chancing their arm, they offered two hundred and fifty pounds a month less than the advertised price, and by the end of Saturday, it had been accepted. The paperwork was being drawn up, and Gina planned to go into the estate agent on Monday to pay a deposit and sign the papers.
‘You’ll be glad to get on the train,’ she said to Will as she drove him to the station. ‘Away from me and all my stress.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I will miss you terribly. What a roller-coaster it was this weekend. I really like the house though. Just think, in just over a month’s time we should be living there!’
‘Yes, at least we can start counting down now.’
‘Even your Mum seemed better yesterday. She was talking about things in the news. She looked very happy there. The staff said she’d been eating more as well.’
‘Yes, such a relief. I won’t do anything about her bungalow for the time being. Not until you’ve moved down and got yourself settled. We don’t want to overload ourselves.’
‘Just drop me here,’ said Will. ‘Oh, I hate this bit, saying goodbye.’
‘Me too,’ replied Gina. Tears were threatening to spout from her eyes. She tried to control her emotions. They hugged, and Will alighted, collecting his bag from the back seat.
‘I’ll see you next weekend. Two weeks is too long. Four nights and then I’ll be back with you. It doesn’t seem so bad if I think of it like that.’
‘Love you,’ she called through the open car door.
Will blew her kisses and waved her off. She drove around to her chambers and parked there instead of driving back to the flat. Checking her watch, she saw that there was an hour before she was due at the inquiry, which meant she could have some time to prepare her questions without interruption.
**
Gina was in the process of adding some reminders to her notes for the morning session of the inquiry when there was a knock at her door.
‘Come in!’
‘Sorry to disturb you but this was delivered by the post van.’
Gina looked up and flinched. Carly stood holding a small box, about the size of a plastic lunch box and it was wrapped in plain brown paper. Her stomach flipped, and she felt nauseous.
‘Ms Overton, are you OK?’ asked Carly who was still holding the box, awaiting instructions.
‘What? Oh, yes, sorry, I was just concentrating on something,’ replied Gina, recovering her poise. ‘Thank you.’
Carly stepped over to the desk and proffered it to the barrister.
‘No! Don’t put it there, sorry, I mean, could you put it on the side table?’
Carly had jumped slightly at Gina’s outburst. ‘Yes, of course. Can I get you anything, tea? Coffee?’ she asked, uttering her usual phrase as she turned to leave the room.
‘No, thank you,’ said Gina, staring at the box.
‘Oh, God,’ said Gina to her office. She got up and looked at the box. Her name was written in capitals, along with the address. Using a pencil she lifted the edge of the box and could tell it was a very light package. Should she phone Will or open it? Or take it straight to the police s
tation? But there wasn’t time before the start of the inquiry. How could she possibly concentrate this morning with this distraction buzzing around in her head? She sat at her desk, closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Her hands were sweating, and as she brought up her son’s number, the phone leapt out of her hands and skidded across the desk and bounced on the carpet.
‘Shit, shit, fuck!’ she shouted. Gina rarely swore, but she was being pushed to the limit.
Was Marcus sending her another present? It was always possible. She speed-dialled him, willing the call to be answered.
‘Mum? Hello, you are early this morning, is everything OK?’
‘Yes, darling, just a quick question. Have you sent me anything in the post?’
‘No, why? Oh, God, have I forgotten your birthday?’
‘No, silly, that’s not for a couple of months. No, I was just checking. We had something delivered, and the name was a bit washed out, something must have spilt on it.’ Gina listened to herself, and realised that her story sounded rather lame.
‘No, nothing from me. Perhaps you have an admirer?’
‘Ha! Well, it’s probably for one of the other staff, I just wanted to check.’
‘OK, well, bye. Hope the inquiry is going well.’
‘Thanks, love you.’
‘Bye Mum.’
Gina simply had to phone Will. He answered, and she could hear him speaking, but her hands were perspiring and she fumbled with the phone, which had taken on the characteristics of a wet piece of soap, and she cut off the call.
‘What are you doing?’ she screamed as her phone vibrated with Will’s incoming call.
‘Will, there’s been another one! A box! What should I do?’ Her voice was shaking along with her whole body.
‘Gina. Calm down! Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Tell me again. What’s happened?’
‘I’ve just received another parcel in the post. I don’t know what to do! It’s unnerved me.’
‘Oh, no. I think you should take it to the police.’
‘I can’t, not now, there isn’t time!’
‘Well, leave it until later.’
‘But I’m not going to be able to concentrate. Then if it’s nothing in particular, I’ll look a complete fool when I go to the police.’
‘Well, open it then but use gloves.’
‘Gloves! I’m not in CID, I don’t just carry a pair of gloves in my pocket in case I visit a crime scene, you idiot!’
‘Gina, I know you are upset but please don’t speak to me like that.’
‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s just I’m in a complete state. I’ll try to calm down.’ She ended the call realising that they were likely to start bickering again. She tried to think logically through the situation. She needed to know what was in the box. Not knowing would be worse and too much of a distraction. There was little chance that the outside would have any useful forensic information as it had been handled by so many people. Like Pandora, she had to open the box.
Taking two tissues from the box on her desk, she used one to hold the package, whilst she used her scissors to cut the sellotape. Then, using another tissue she opened up the paper which revealed a small cardboard box, again sealed by sellotape. This was the moment of truth. She slit the adhesive strips, and the lid faced her seductively, beckoning her to unveil the contents. Where was the drum-roll? Where was the dramatic music like on a game show where the contestant waited to find out whether they had given the correct answer?
Using a pencil, Gina opened the flap and peered at the contents. For a few seconds, her body didn’t react. The messages from her eyes had to travel to her brain to be processed into an image, and this biological process was being slowed down for some inexplicable reason. Finally, the images fell into place, like the tumblers in a lock mechanism and Gina slowly backed away, reaching for her chair so she could sit down before her legs buckled. She remained immobile, staring at the package, sweat pricking in her armpits with her breakfast churning in her stomach, inducing a feeling of nausea.
Chapter 22
Gina had taken five minutes before the start of the session to update Dame Margaret about her mystery mailings, but the experienced judge did not feel that they in any way prejudiced the inquiry, as there was no evidence to suggest they had been sent by one of the witnesses. However, she did agree that it was worth notifying the police and at least logging the incidents, should there be any escalation in the level of intimidation.
Broaching the subject had helped Gina’s state of mind to some degree, but it seemed as if the Fates were conspiring to make life difficult for her. In addition to her own personal distressing start to the week, the day had been mired with problems. Firstly, there had been a fifteen-minute power cut caused by workmen who were renovating the cathedral. One of the relatives of a resident of SEKare had been so nervous when he gave evidence that they had to keep stopping to allow him to compose herself. Dame Margaret did everything to foster a supportive environment and eventually, the witness relaxed and the trembling became less noticeable.
‘Mr Gorton, please tell us your impressions of Stour View and the concerns you had about it,’ began Gina.
As the witness stumbled through his testimony, Gina felt like taking over and simply reading out his statement. However, the written report had lacked some detail, and there were points which she wanted to clarify and be minuted. All through his replies, her mind tried to stray back to the recent events, particularly the most recent one. Her life seemed to be travelling along a sine wave, once she reached a position of equilibrium at the top of the crest, she soon found herself on a downward trajectory. It was too late to turn back now, and she personally refused to be cowed but just at that moment, her confidence had deserted her. Someone had her within the cross-hairs of their sight and appeared to be ramping up their pressure upon her. It was an uncomfortable feeling and not one she had experienced before.
‘Thank you, Mr Gorton, you have been most helpful. That is all I wish to ask you.’
Gina had completed the questioning of the witness and was conscious that it was perfunctory and not up to her usual standard but her capacity for compassion that day was being severely tested, as she felt irritable and unable to stop her mind from replaying the opening of her parcel.
The inquiry had resumed after the mid-morning break, then after only ten minutes, the attendees had to evacuate to the courtyard, due to the fire alarm activating. Though it was a false alarm, they still had to wait for what seemed like an age for the fire inspection team to certify that the building was safe to re-enter. Thus, another thirty minutes was wasted.
‘Mrs Fagin, here is your witness statement,’ said Gina, handing over the pages to the rather overweight, middle-aged woman from the Care Quality Commission. The woman’s plumpness was emphasised by her hair which was pulled back from her face and fastened tightly in a bun on top of her head, exposing her double chin and fat neck.
‘You are the senior manager responsible for the monitoring of Social Care across the south-east including residential care homes. Please, could you summarise the problems you encountered upon your inspection of Stour View.’
‘We visited Stour View on 23rd April 2018....’ Mrs Fagin continued, her account being delivered in a professional manner. She required only an occasional prompt from Gina, which was fortuitous as the barrister’s mind continued to wander from the subject in hand. Her thought processes were analysing the account she was going to give to the police. A few seconds pause from the witness brought her back rudely to the present time, and she quickly moved on to the next question.
‘Finally, Mrs Fagin, perhaps you could take us through the CQC’s five-year plan, 2016-2021, with particular emphasis on how it relates to care homes and the elderly and vulnerable.’
‘I prepared a document for circulation and submitted it to the inquiry,’ said Mrs Fagin.
Gina’s memory had suddenly deserted her.
‘Ms Overton?’ asked Dame Margaret.
‘Please, would you circulate the sheets to the inquiry. I think it will help us to have the document to consult.’
Gina fumbled with the piles of papers on her desk. ‘Julius, where are they?’ she whispered.
‘I gave them to your chambers last week.’
‘My apologies,’ said Gina. The wait seemed interminable then she spotted the necessary folder. For some reason, her mind had changed the colour of the enclosure she was searching for.
‘Here they are,’ she said, feeling acutely embarrassed.
After another thirty minutes of discussion about Mrs Fagin’s testimony led by Gina accompanied by interjections from Simeon Fairbrother, the afternoon session was over. Gina’s public presentation had been lacklustre, to say the least, and although it might not have been noticeable to others, she wasn’t satisfied at all in her performance. As she collected up her belongings, she imagined that the murmurings from the relatives would be criticism of herself. Of course, they were doubtless discussing mundane matters such as the traffic, bus times or whether to visit the shops. Without saying goodbye to her legal team, she headed straight out of the auditorium to collect the parcel from her office and walk across the city to the police station.
**
Trish was waiting in Fenwick rather later than initially planned, as she’d received a text first thing in the morning from Sue telling her about a burst pipe. Their meeting was now for an afternoon cup of tea rather than morning coffee.
‘Hi, Trish,’ said a voice from behind as she was looking at the bedding, which was on the second floor, the same as The Eatery Restaurant.
‘Oh, hi, you crept up on me! I’ve been keeping an eye out on the escalators.
‘I got the lift. Sometimes I feel a bit dizzy on escalators. You look well,’ she said, appraising her friend. ‘I, on the other hand, look about ninety.’
‘No you don’t, you look just the same.’
‘You wouldn’t say that if I whipped off this scarf! I look like a golf ball.’
‘Well, what would the golf ball like to drink? Tea or coffee?’
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