Reluctant Consent

by Margaret Barnes

  ‘You know Detective Constable Alex Seymour, I gather, a friend of Cassie’s.’

  ‘We met on the stairs a couple of weeks ago,’ Oscar said. Alex felt flustered as he studied her.

  Stephen looked from one to the other. ‘Ok, well, I’ll be on my way then.’ He finished his beer in one and left them.

  Oscar pointed to the chair Stephen had vacated. ‘Can I sit here?’ He put his glass of wine down and sat facing her. ‘Now, why are you here? Not meeting Cassie, I assume.’

  ‘I remembered seeing you two weeks ago and then yesterday …’

  ‘Yesterday?’

  ‘We’ve been keeping observation in Cotburn Mews. You live there. You were at the door of your house.’

  ‘I wondered why someone was parked up in the street. So why come here?’

  Alex smiled. Oscar leant forward, put his hand on her leg and stroked her inner thigh. She didn’t try to stop him.

  ‘Neutral ground,’ she said.

  ‘You spoke to Cassie about the wrap our junior clerk was caught with?’

  ‘Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘We arrested two men last night delivering two kilos of coke to the print shop. It was one thirty in the morning. You came out into the street.’

  ‘And you think I’m involved. There’s no way I’d get mixed up in anything like that.’

  ‘I hope not.’ Alex took hold of his hand and ran a finger round his wrist. ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private? Your place or mine?’

  ‘I live just off Kensington Park Road. Why don’t you meet me there? Then I can get out of these.’ Alex pointed to her leathers.

  Oscar said he had to go back to chambers to collect some papers and then he would get a taxi. She gave him her address.

  ‘Just in case there are any problems, give me your mobile number.’ She took out her phone and entered the number he gave her. Once she was back at her bike she called DI Saltburn.

  It was a warm evening and the motorcycle outfit had made her hot. She hadn’t intended to go back to her flat, but when he had touched her she had felt a shiver run through her body. Oscar Davenport was an attractive man, but he was a suspect in the supply of contaminated drugs. She decided to keep the assignation and once she got home she had a quick shower pulled on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and sprayed her neck and wrists with her favourite perfume, Jo Malone’s Basil and Lime. She was unsure of what she wanted from him. She poured herself a large glass of whisky.

  Oscar turned up a short while later. He was carrying a large holdall. ‘I’ve not come to stay.’ He dropped it onto the floor in the hallway. ‘Robes.’

  Alex ushered him into the living room and asked if he wanted a drink. He indicated her glass and said he’d have the same. As she poured the whisky, he wandered round the room.

  ‘What made you join the Met?’

  ‘I wanted to do something different. Thought it might be exciting.’

  ‘But it isn’t?

  ‘Sometimes. Definitely when Cassie Hardman is involved.’

  ‘Ah yes, our Cassie.’ He put on a faint Lancashire accent.

  ‘You don’t like her?’

  ‘I don’t really know her. We don’t mix in the same circles.’

  ‘At work?’

  ‘I’ve never co-defended with her. She has a reputation for being a fighter. Jack, our clerk, likes her and he’s pushing her to take Silk.’

  ‘Will she?’

  ‘She probably should but it’s a bit of a lottery. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about her. Tell me about you. What about before you became a police officer?’

  ‘There’s not much to say, private school in Ascot. I’m not academic, so university wasn’t for me. I spent a year or so travelling. India, Thailand and then Australia. I didn’t want an office job. I’d learnt to ride a bike in Oz. Loved it. Joining the Job seemed obvious. And you?’

  ‘Boarding school, Oxford, the Bar. Following in Father’s footsteps. Not enough of a rebel.’

  ‘Not what you wanted to do?’

  ‘I can’t think of anything else. Not everyone loves being a barrister like Cassie.’

  ‘You didn’t want to talk about her.’

  ‘No, I don’t. I can think of better things to do.’

  He sat down on the sofa and stretched out a hand. She let him pull her closer.

  ‘Mind my drink,’ she said.

  He took the glass from her, placed on the side table next to his own and then he drew her towards him.

  The next morning when Alex woke up, Oscar Davenport was stretched out naked next to her. She admired his slim muscular body as she recalled how turned on she had been last night. She slid out of bed, pulled on her dressing gown and went into the kitchen. Her mobile was on the work surface. She checked her email and messages. There was one from Mel Haskins asking her to call and a text from Cassie saying she had received another email from her stalker. She had to persuade Cassie to report the harassment. She filled the kettle and leaned back. She was pouring water into a teapot when Oscar came into the room with a towel wrapped round his waist.

  ‘That can wait,’ he said, slipping his hand round her breast and letting the towel fall to the floor.

  After they had made love again, Alex got up, went to her wardrobe and selected a pair of black trousers and a grey silk shirt.

  ‘I’m having lunch with my father. He’s just moved into a flat near Nine Elms.’

  ‘And your mother?’

  ‘She’s living in Richmond, Ham actually. They’re separating.’

  ‘Bad news?’

  ‘It’s been on the cards for a while, ever since …’

  ‘Since?’

  ‘My brother was killed in a skiing accident five years ago.’

  ‘The man in the photograph on your dressing table.’

  ‘We were close. We all miss him.’

  Oscar dressed while they were talking. Alex took out a lipstick, looked into the mirror and began to paint her lips. Oscar came to stand behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘We must do this again.’

  Her father’s flat was on the tenth floor of a high-rise block. She stood on the rooftop terrace, a glass of Champagne in her hand, and watched a barge carrying the contents of city rubbish bins edging its way downriver towards the Houses of Parliament.

  ‘Like it?’ her father said.

  ‘Great. The panorama is amazing. Big Ben, St Pauls, the Eye and the Shard. Still, I prefer …’ Her mobile buzzed at her. She checked the screen and tapped to accept the call. ‘Mel, sorry I didn’t call back.’

  ‘That’s ok. I thought you’d like to know Davenport made a couple of calls to one of the guys we arrested last night.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Thanks, thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘We arrested him this morning, as he got home. Spent the night somewhere and by the smile on his face he got his leg over. The governor thought you might want to be in on the interview.’

  ‘It’s difficult.’ She turned away from her father. ‘I can’t talk now. Family problems …’

  ‘Anything the matter?’ her father said.

  She put her hand over the phone. ‘Work colleague. Won’t be long.’ Then to Haskins, ‘Let me know what he says. He won’t cough, will he? He knows the law.’

  Mel laughed. ‘Bit of evidence to explain.’

  Alex’s father took the glass from her hand and repeated, ‘Anything the matter?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll speak to you later,’ she said as she ended the call. And then to her father, ‘No, Dad, I’m fine. Just something’s come up at work. But let’s have that lunch. Did I see some lobster in the fridge?’

  Her father put his arm around her shoulder and led her back downstairs into the living room.

  After lunch Alex made her way back to her own flat and made some tea. She sat holding the mug in her hands, wondering what she was going to do.
If the DCI found out she’d spent the night in bed with a man they were investigating as a possible drug dealer she would be out of the force. What had Oscar said to her boss? Would he have told him about them having sex? She was sure he would not admit being involved in the supply of the contaminated drugs. After several minutes she plucked up the courage to ring Chris Dundy.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ he said.

  ‘At lunch with my father. I gather Davenport’s been arrested.’

  ‘Arrested and released.’

  ‘Interviewed?’

  ‘Sort of. The boss was told to lay off. So he asked Davenport why he was out in the street when the drugs were delivered to the print shop. He said he lives there and was up late working on a case when he heard the noise and went to have a look.’

  ‘And the telephone calls?’

  ‘He buys from time to time. Everyone on the street knows they supply good stuff.’

  ‘We can’t prove anything else.’

  ‘I don’t think we’re going to try. The guvnor is furious, but …’

  Alex let herself breathe more slowly. She hoped Oscar wouldn’t contact her again, but already she knew it was what she wanted.

  Chapter 38

  Cassie had difficulty sleeping, the Sadler trial haunting her. She got up early and walked to Portobello Market, not the southern end where the stallholders would be setting up their pitches. The antique stalls and shops were for the tourists and wouldn’t be really humming until later. Instead she made her way to the section of the street where fruit and vegetables were stacked up for sale. She made a few purchases – strawberries, olives and bread. As she wandered along the street a voice called her name and she looked round. Standing by his stall was a man she knew as Sammy and he was holding out a bunch of rosemary. ‘For remembrance,’ he said.

  She felt herself blush; he had been kind to her in the past and she frequently bought vegetables and herbs from him, but today she was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she had forgotten to seek him out. Sammy was still wearing a dirty green Barbour with a brown corduroy collar over his bulky figure.

  ‘Sammy, how are you?’

  ‘Bit better now it’s warmer.’ He held up his hands, the fingers twisted with arthritis. Cassie looked at his weather-stained face, his grey hair and the eyes which had a roguish twinkle. ‘But you’re looking a bit down in the mouth. Witness problems again?’

  ‘You could say that, but …’ She shook her head. ‘Nothing I can do. I’m not hunting for an alibi witness this time.’ While she was speaking a man with a small child came to the stall and Sammy turned his attention to his customer, pushing the rosemary towards her.

  ‘Thanks, I need to get on.’ She walked away quickly; she didn’t want to explain to Sammy what was going on.

  A couple of hours later she was back in her flat with nothing to do for the rest of the day.

  She pulled her blue notebook from the library shelf by her desk and leafed through the pages, looking for the notes she had taken of Emma Gilbrook’s evidence. The page began with Emma’s name underlined and then the numeral ‘20’, her age. She had written a description: ‘Innocent, pale, no make-up, scraped-back ponytail.’

  The difference from the woman Sadler had photographed in the restaurant was extreme. She could have been fifteen. Without eyeliner or lipstick she had looked irreproachable. Asking her questions about her behaviour with Sadler had seemed almost like sacrilege, but she had to do that. She was relieved that the screens protecting Emma Gilbrook from her client had prevented him from seeing her. Cassie knew he would have been livid at what he would have seen as a deliberate deception. At least she had been able to get copies of the photograph for the jurors. They showed a different Emma Gilbrook; one whose eyes sparkled with laughter, whose make-up enhanced her natural beauty, and whose hair was loose and curled across her forehead.

  She began to read the summary. She was sure she had not asked any questions that were not necessary. She hadn’t needed to cross examine about Emma’s previous sexual history. She tried to remember the questions she had asked. Her notes were very sparse; it was hard writing when one was standing and asking questions.

  First Meeting – talk music – work – clothes. Light-hearted.

  Second Meeting – work again –that week’s incidents. Physical contact – held hand crossing road. Kiss on cheek said goodbye. + kissed on lips few times.

  Looking forward to dinner, enjoyed company, made me laugh.

  Not nervous – didn’t want to have sex.

  Then Cassie had noted a change in Emma’s demeanour. Stiffened. She remembered that she had asked Emma if she found the defendant attractive and she had said, ‘Most women would.’ There had been a ripple of laughter in the courtroom, quickly squashed by a frown from the judge.

  There was a name written down which Cassie couldn’t read, but it was the name of one of the jurors. The juror, a pretty woman with a kind of golden glow to her round cheeks, had smiled at the defendant prompting Cassie to make the note. It was a reminder to make eye contact with her and try to establish some rapport.

  The next thing she had recorded was No change in behaviour – good time. Lovely meal.

  Cassie knew the restaurant Emma and Sadler had gone to. It was usually crowded and noisy – not the sort of place one would choose if the aim of the date was seduction.

  Suggested friend’s flat – wanted continue – not for sex.

  Thought Anita there – not surprised when not. Had key.

  If there have coffee – if not I’d make coffee.

  Cassie remembered Emma had said something about knowing where the coffee was and that had caused another outburst of laughter. Emma became upset, blinking, tears beginning to roll down her cheek.

  The notes continued. May have said Anita would be out.

  Not sure why went into bedroom — hold of hand. Pulling a little. Could have refused. Didn’t say anything. Afraid? Not sure.

  That section was heavily underscored. To Cassie it had been a turning point in the case. If she wasn’t afraid of Sadler, why had she let him lead her into the bedroom? Why not say she didn’t want to go with him or say something to show what she thought.

  Kissed him. Thought no further. Didn’t say no.

  Didn’t get up when went for condom. Don’t know why not.

  Helped with condom. Knew going to happen – protection.

  That had been a difficult moment. If Cassie remembered correctly Emma had not answered her question at first. Had she blushed? Bitten her lip? It didn’t matter … the jury would draw their own conclusions.

  Had sex again. Could have got up. Didn’t.

  Didn’t know what to do. Held my arms and rolled me over on top. No bruising.

  Afterwards got dressed.

  Anita came. Introduced them. Chatted for a few minutes. May have been fifteen. Paul said at work first thing.

  Didn’t say anything to Anita. Embarrassed – at her flat when she not there.

  Went home – bed. Overslept. Mum cross – angry. Not the first time – missed work.

  Mum rang police when told her.

  Cassie could picture Emma Gilbrook as the young woman standing in the witness box, her eyes wide like an animal caught in headlights. She didn’t enjoy cross examining her. It brought back memories of her ex-husband Tony. Not that the incident had been the reason for her leaving him, but it had been the precipitating factor. She had not reported it to the police, not least because although she was certain she did not want to have sex with him, she wasn’t sure whether she had consented or not. If she wasn’t sure, then how could a jury be. He would have said he believed she had consented and she had come to the conclusion he would be believed. So often their arguments, and there had been a lot of them, had ended with Tony, holding her in his arms, nuzzling her neck, kissing her and telling her to stop arguing. She would struggle with him, hitting his chest with her hands and saying no, but always she had given in to him, it was easier. Further, if he had
been convicted he would have been sentenced to six or seven years in prison and she didn’t want that. She didn’t hate him that much.

  She was lost in her memories when the phone rang. ‘What did you think about the meeting last night?’ Stephen said when she answered.

  ‘I thought it got a bit acrimonious at times, but nobody wants a split in chambers, and as soon as the money comes in again, it will settle down.’ She paused. ‘Although I do think we should be looking at our expenses more carefully.’

  ‘I know you get on with Jack, but some members of chambers don’t get the same service as you do. He sees you getting Silk so he’s supportive, gets you good work.’

  ‘Stephen, I know that, but I don’t think I’m in a position to do anything. What happens really is down to Richard and Eleanor. My guess is they’ll sort something out in the next few weeks. Eleanor is very good at getting her own way and Richard will have sensed the mood in chambers is for some changes.’

  ‘And the warning about the drugs.’

  ‘He couldn’t say much more, could he?’

  ‘Nobody seemed surprised.’

  ‘I guess not. I suppose too many use recreational drugs for it to shock. Apart from me.’

  ‘Getting old, Cassie. Out of touch.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  After lunch, a salad of spinach leaves, blue cheese and toasted walnuts tossed in a vinaigrette of balsamic vinegar and olive oil, she wanted to leave work behind her. Looking out, she could see the sky was the bright metallic blue of a hot afternoon. She thought about the domestic chores and decided she wasn’t going to do any of them, not even cook. She would go out to Kensington Gardens, take a book and spend the rest of the day doing nothing. She was determined not to think about the Sadler case anymore. He had pleaded not guilty, she had represented him as any other barrister would, she had cross examined the witnesses with skill and consideration, perhaps more sensitively than many; the verdict was the responsibility of the jury, not her.

  She returned home in the late afternoon and turned on her computer with the intention of downloading a film for the evening. As she searched through for something she wanted to watch, a pop-up notified her Ben was online and a few moments later she heard the ring of the Skype programme. She accepted the call and the screen came to life with Ben smiling at her.