Reluctant Consent

by Margaret Barnes

  While she waited for her client to arrive she took the opportunity to look around Eleanor Hesketh’s room. Unlike the office occupied by Richard Jago, which, to Cassie, fitted the description of a library in a gentlemen’s club, this was tastefully decorated, the walls a fashionable shade of dark cream, the chairs upholstered in beige and red-check wool. The library shelves had the same books as Richard’s, the black bindings of the All England Law Reports neatly arranged against the red of the Criminal Law. There were three etchings on the walls, all by Eric Gill, the simple monochrome shapes emphasised by heavy black and silver frames. Cassie admired the Gills, although she wondered why Eleanor had chosen drawings by a man who had committed incest. Her sister, Amanda had emailed her about going to Manchester to see an exhibition of Lowry’s paintings. Perhaps some day, if she got Silk and if she ever had a room of her own, she would have a print by Lowry on the wall. She loved the matchstick figures and it was one way of reminding her of her roots in the north.

  Cassie’s mobile rang. She checked the screen. ‘Alex, nice to hear from you. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. Cassie, this is a bit difficult. I’m making enquiries about a Roger Hales. He says he’s one of your clerks?’

  ‘The gofer. He’s very junior.’

  ‘How well do you know him?’

  ‘He’s been with us for about six months. Our senior clerk thought we looked a bit too white and he knew Roger’s family. His dad probably played cricket with Jack. He seems willing enough.’

  ‘He was arrested about four weeks ago in possession of a small quantity of cocaine. When we received the analyst’s report it says it was cut with Phenacetin. It’s used because it mimics some of the effects of cocaine. The punter thinks he’s getting the real thing but the dealer makes a lot more money because it’s cheap. The downside is it has some dangerous side effects. It’s carcinogenic for one.’

  ‘Are you saying he’s dealing in drugs?’

  ‘No. When we interviewed him …’

  ‘Did he have a solicitor there?’

  ‘I asked him but he declined. He said he didn’t know what the powder was but more importantly from my point of view he wouldn’t say where he bought it. I’m fairly sure if he provided the information about his supplier we would caution him for this offence.’

  ‘So you want me to talk to him and see if he’ll tell me?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘And if he won’t?’

  ‘I can’t say. He may be charged with possession. It’s only a small quantity. Personal use only.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  They both knew Cassie felt under some obligation to assist Alex and she wanted to help. She knew how dangerous drugs could be and it was worse if they were contaminated. She put her mobile on the desk and sighed. She didn’t really want to speak to Roger, but …

  As Cassie considered how to approach the clerk, there was a gentle tap on the door and Hamish, another of the junior clerks, poked his head round the frame and then ushered Tim Durrant and Montgomery into the room. Cassie’s first impression of her client was of a short, elderly man, older than his age, which she knew from the papers was fifty-eight. He was neatly dressed in grey flannels and a jacket of blue tweed, with a dark blue shirt unbuttoned at the neck and a glasses case stuck out of the breast pocket. There was an air of the military about him, but the most striking thing was how little expression there was in his face; his dark eyes and thin lips gave nothing away.

  Tim Durrant, his solicitor was, as usual, scruffy. His shirt looked like it had not been pressed, his tie hung loose around his neck, and his navy suit didn’t quite fit. His appearance was deceptive, hiding a sharp intellect and sound judgement, which he always used to the advantage of his clients. Cassie liked him even though she could find him irritating, particularly when he gave every appearance of not doing any work on the cases he sent to counsel. She believed he kept his instructions short not because he didn’t have ideas or hadn’t read the documents, but because he found the process of preparing a brief time consuming and he had better things to do. His domestic problems impinged on his time too.

  Tim took a Winnie the Pooh spectacle case from his briefcase and placed a pair of dark-rimmed glasses on the end of his nose, before introducing Cassie to her client. She smiled at Montgomery to try and instil some confidence in him, and then asked him to tell her about the shop on Barlby Road.

  ‘It was my father’s shop, Miss Hardman. He’d bought it just after the war. We lived in the flat upstairs when I was a kid. Dad stayed there after Mum died. I’d joined the navy by then. Eighteen I was. I helped him out when I was on leave. Then when he retired, this Indian guy, something Singh, I can’t remember his first name, took over the shop. He paid rent and that was my father’s pension, like. He got a lump sum for the goodwill and he bought a little flat out at Hayes. He died about four years ago. I’d left the navy a couple of years before and got a job in a builders’ merchants at Park Royal, stock control, same thing as I’d done in the navy, only bricks and plumbing fittings instead of munitions.’

  ‘How long have you been running the shop?’ Cassie asked.

  ‘We’ve only been there about eighteen months. Mr Singh left, gone back home I assume. Never had much to do with him – he gave me a month’s notice and was gone. I’d been made redundant a couple of months before that and at my age, well, it’s hard to get another job, too many foreigners taking them.’ He paused and waited. He was trying to provoke her, she thought, but she didn’t respond and he carried on. ‘I, well, me and Val …’

  ‘Val’s your wife?’ Cassie said.

  ‘Yes, Miss. There’s just the two of us.’ Cassie nodded at him to continue. ‘Well, we thought it would be a good idea to take over the shop and run it ourselves. A bit of income to add to my pension and there was the flat over it. No rent to pay either. I used my redundancy money to restock it, and to sort out the upstairs rooms, new kitchen, new bathroom. That kind of thing.’

  ‘Does the shop make much money?’

  ‘No way.’ There was a bitter edge to his voice. ‘I soon realised why old Singh had left, crafty he was – got out while the going was good. Been there about seven years I guess. Things had changed in that time, were changing before that. A lot of the old houses had been knocked down, and council flats built, social housing. Then the site by the canal became a supermarket selling newspapers and sweets. We couldn’t compete on price. I tried to be a bit different – trade on being old fashioned, sweets in jars instead of packets. Tried to start delivering newspapers, but couldn’t get the lads to do it for the money I could afford. These black kids would rather sell drugs.’

  ‘But you got the schoolkids coming in?’

  ‘Yes, cigarettes, that was what it was about. If they bought some sweets or something, I’d sell them cigarettes. I knew I shouldn’t, but if they said they were for their mums or dads, usually it was mum, I’d let them have the fags.’

  ‘Was this the first incident with boys from St Colomb’s?’

  ‘No. It started almost straightaway. At first it was little things, like dropping a drinks bottle on the floor so that it spilt and then refusing to pay for breaking it. Looking at magazines and pulling them apart was another favourite. Then they started stealing, picking up an extra bar of chocolate as they left, that kind of silly petty theft. I’d yell at them asking them to bring it back, but they’d just ignore me.’

  ‘Was it always the same boys?’

  ‘I don’t think so. They’d come in in groups. I’d be watching one and then the others would start. It was impossible to tell them apart. All big lads. Black lads. I knew what to expect when they started coming in.’

  ‘Did you call the police, go to the school?’

  ‘Police, they were bloody useless. Tell them someone’s stolen a fifty pence bar of chocolate and they don’t want to know. Bigger fish to fry, I suppose.’

  ‘Did you do anything, a CCTV camera or something like that?’
r />   Montgomery looked puzzled. ‘I thought you would have seen the recordings. The police took them.’

  ‘No,’ said Cassie. Then to Tim, ‘Do we have DVD recordings taken at the shop?’

  Tim said he hadn’t seen any, but he would check the schedule of unused material and ask the CPS for them.

  Cassie turned back to Mr Montgomery. ‘When did you put the CCTV in?’

  ‘About six weeks before. It’s quite expensive and I’ve only one camera at the back. It moves all the time, catches people in different parts. You never get a complete picture. The kids soon cottoned on to it and would duck down behind the central gondola, or wait until it moved round to another part of the shop.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But you can see their faces clearly on the screen.’

  ‘We’ll get hold of the discs. I hope I can identify the right boys.’

  ‘I think it’s probably the last few minutes. I stopped it just after I rang for an ambulance. Didn’t want it to delete the recording. It does that if it’s left running. They were the only ones in the shop.’

  ‘Right. I just want you to tell me in your own words what happened that day. What time was it?’

  ‘I think just after three thirty, after school had finished. These three black lads came into the shop. They’d been in before. They started playing up, throwing magazines about, stealing sweets and then demanding cigarettes. I’d had enough of their behaviour and told them to get out.’

  Cassie stopped him. ‘Did you swear at them. Can you remember what you said?’

  ‘I told them to get out. I probably told them to bugger off, called them black bastards or something like that. They were calling me names and one of them said I was a paedophile. That was it. I’d had enough of them. Told them to get out. They were sneering at me. I got a golf club from behind the counter. Swung it around at them. They ran out. I followed. They’d stopped just outside the shop. I was in the doorway. They were still shouting at me. One pulled a knife. I saw it – something metallic in his hand. It was a knife. He began swinging it around in front of him. I told him to drop it, but then he lunged towards me with it and I thought he was going to stab me so I swung the club down towards his arm. Suddenly there was this other lad there. I must have caught him on the head. He went down. I was shocked – he’d come from nowhere. And then a much younger lad ran over to him, knelt down, and then ran towards me shouting I’d killed his brother. The little ’un began to hit me. I had to push him off. I ran inside and dialled 999 for the ambulance and police.’

  ‘You’re sure there was a knife?’

  ‘Yes, absolutely. I saw a knife in one of the buggers’ hands and he was threatening me with it. They may be schoolkids but they’re all over six foot, and I knew they were going for me. You’re a goner, I thought. Three onto one and this knife as well.’

  ‘Were you still in the door?’

  Montgomery paused. ‘I may have stepped forward. A step. They were pushing at me.’

  ‘The golf club was in the shop?’ Cassie asked.

  ‘Yes, I found it, by the canal. It had been thrown away with a load of other bits and pieces, part of a washing machine and a toddler’s cycle, I think.’

  ‘These boys had left the shop, but you followed them outside, didn’t you?’

  ‘A step, at the most, I wanted them far enough away from me that I could shut the door. I wasn’t going to turn my back on them.’

  ‘Are you sure there was just the one blow?’ Cassie said.

  Montgomery looked down as if searching through his memory. ‘I’m not sure. I may have caught the lad with the knife on the arm. But he still had it in his hand, so I’m not sure.’

  ‘Ok, that’s all I want to ask you at the moment. There is just the question of a junior. Has Mr Durrant discussed that with you?’ She saw he looked puzzled, so she added, ‘It’s usual to have two barristers rather than one in a case like this, and we need get someone instructed fairly quickly.’

  ‘I’ll have anyone you and Mr Durrant choose, Miss, but I’d rather not have some darkie. Don’t like ’em.’

  ‘It would help your case if we did. I can’t emphasise enough how much better it would be if we choose someone of Afro-Caribbean descent like these boys. Not only would it show you weren’t prejudiced, it would give us more insight into their behaviour in court.’

  ‘No. Not having anyone who’s black. I’m not having it. The shop was a nice little earner, now it’s nothing, worth nothing. Surrounded by wogs I don’t like them over here. I’m not having it. That’s final.’

  She wanted to scream at him about his prejudice but her instructions were to keep him sweet, prevent him sacking her as he had his previous counsel, so she said nothing and instead sucked in her lower lip. Tim intervened. ‘Ok, David, we’ll find someone suitable and let you know in a day or two. I want to have a word with Miss Hardman about a couple of technical matters so if you want to get on your way, I’ll be in touch.’

  Tim got to his feet and opened the door for Montgomery who left without a word to either of them. As soon as Cassie heard his footsteps moving away she said, ‘I had to tell him what I thought was best for his case, but if he doesn’t want a black barrister, we’ll have to accept it. Have you any ideas about a junior? I thought about James Callan, at least he’s Irish.’

  ‘And a redhead.’ Tim laughed. ‘But it’s not a bad idea. I’ll ring Jack tomorrow and get that fixed.’

  After Tim had left, Cassie picked up her papers and looked carefully at Eleanor’s desk, hoping everything was where it was meant to be. Down in the clerks’ rooms she checked her pigeonhole; she was hoping that any fees paid to her over the last couple of weeks had been processed. She knew she was owed quite a considerable sum for a trial she had completed about five months ago. There was a thin white envelope waiting for her, the type in which the cheques were usually placed. She opened it, but instead of cheques or the notice of a transfer to her account, there was a postcard with a Lowry print on the front. A typed note was stuck to the back of the card. ‘I’m still waiting to hear from you. Delaney.’ A tremor went down Cassie’s spine. How did this man, whoever he was, know she had been thinking about owning a Lowry print?

  Chapter 9

  The postcard from Delaney was not only menacing, but she was puzzled as to who he was. She didn’t remember anyone with that name involved in the Sadler case. The trial had only finished some six weeks ago and she was sure she would still have the file relating to the case on her computer. It didn’t take long to open it. The list of witnesses was short.

  Cassie scanned the statement of the forensic scientist. He had examined the swabs taken from Emma and the semen in the condoms found in the flat, and compared the DNA with samples taken from Sadler. There was no dispute her client was the man Emma Gilbrook had named as her assailant. The scientist’s evidence had been agreed. The medical examiner’s statement made her smile. They always had a sentence that said the witness had found the use of the speculum to examine the complainant’s vagina uncomfortable. Some prosecutors would say that was a sign that intercourse had been forceful. Hugh prosecuted often and was fully aware the same instrument was used when a cervical smear was taken in tests for cancer and most women found it uncomfortable. He knew she would ask questions along those lines and what the response would be so he had agreed to leave out that part of the doctor’s evidence.

  Her aversion to defending in rape trials came back to her. She hadn’t wanted to do this case, but she had warmed to the defendant and she really liked Lee Shaw. She hoped they would continue to work together. Lee described Sadler as a very attractive man, charming too. He didn’t fit the ‘fair labelling’ description Marcus Pike had talked about.

  Cassie found the transcripts of interview. The first one on the day of his arrest was short. He had said he didn’t want a solicitor to begin with but had changed his mind and the interview had stopped. In her instructions Lee noted Sadler felt he was being bullied by the male officer, DI Nigel Crawford. Cass
ie had listened to the original recordings of the interview. She had wanted to hear the tone the officer had used. But even from the transcript it was clear the interviewing officer did not believe Sadler’s account.

  DI Crawford. Tell me how you came to meet Emma?

  Sadler. I’d seen her at Holland Park Tube station so I sent an email to the Rush Hour Crush column in the Standard, or is it the Metro.

  DI Crawford. And?

  Sadler. Look, I don’t know what she’s said, but we had sex at her friend’s flat. She took me there …

  Sadler must have been angry as the DI had said, ‘Ok, Ok calm down.’

  Sadler. She was quite happy about it. Consented.

  DI Crawford. Really. That’s not what she says.

  Sadler had been quite emphatic that he and Emma had consensual sex. The officer, DI Crawford, had noted the age difference and his questions continued to probe Sadler about it.

  DI Crawford. She was quite young, wasn’t she?

  Sadler. She didn’t look that young.

  DI Crawfod. Quite a bit younger than you?

  Sadler. She wasn’t under sixteen. Was she? I’m sure she wasn’t. She told me she was twenty-four. She couldn’t have been under sixteen. She was working – left school must have been sixteen. She seemed to know what she was doing. She helped me put a condom on. We both wanted it.

  DI Crawford. Are you sure?

  Sadler. Yes. I am.

  After that Sadler refused to answer any more questions. The female officer, DC Leanne Pomfrey, asked him if he wanted to see a solicitor. Sadler said he did, so the interview was terminated.

  The DI wanted to make further enquiries and had released Sadler on bail. Cassie thought there was sufficient evidence to charge her client at that point. He didn’t, hoping, no doubt, further enquires would provide more evidence on which Sadler could be questioned. Preferring charges may have prevented that.