The Cinderella Plan

by Abi Silver

  ‘I was just trying…’

  James stared at Toby and then he beckoned him over. Toby sat down opposite James.

  ‘I do appreciate the thought you have given this, and your obvious loyalty, and I see where you are coming from,’ James said. ‘But people have died and I don’t understand how or why. So that’s what I want to know. That should be our focus. And I am really not interested in anything else.’

  Toby nodded and James leaned forward onto the desk and smiled reassuringly.

  ‘Listen, we haven’t had any problems with the 2016 model, have we?’ he said. ‘Anything, however small? I don’t care if you didn’t tell me about it at the time.’

  ‘No. Nothing. I mean, obviously the radar is updated on the latest model but that’s all.’

  ‘Good,’ James grunted.

  ‘Do you need anything else?’

  ‘I want to talk to Juan, about Connect. That might provide some clues. And I’ll need a new phone. As soon as you can. The police kept mine.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And if you see or hear anything – anything which might shed some light on how this happened – you tell me, you tell me straightaway.’

  33

  A NURSE BROUGHT Therese’s dinner; poached cod with mashed potatoes and green beans and a saucer of vanilla ice cream. Therese waited patiently, her face a blank canvas, till she had exited the room before speaking.

  ‘Take it away,’ she demanded.

  Neil stared at the food and then at Therese.

  ‘I’ll get you something else,’ he said, as he picked up the tray and shifted the portable table to the foot of the bed, out of her reach.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Nothing else.’

  ‘Tay. You have to eat something.’

  ‘No. I don’t have to do anything.’

  She closed her eyes. When she opened them, Neil was sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached for her hand and she withdrew it. He shrugged.

  ‘I’m going to take five minutes to get some fresh air,’ he said.

  ‘That’s fine. Take longer. There’s not much excitement round here.’

  He hesitated, half standing, half sitting.

  ‘What is it?’ Therese asked, less abruptly.

  ‘It’s all over the news about the car which hit you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It wasn’t a normal car.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It was one of those “drive itself” cars. You should see what it looks like. It has radar on the roof. There’s loads of photos of it, bit like something from an old sci-fi movie.’

  Therese was silent, but her face contracted into a frown.

  ‘I called the policeman, Inspector Dawson and he confirmed it was one of those cars.’

  ‘What’s the difference? It still hit us.’

  ‘He said it’s all a bit tricky, whether they’re going to charge the driver or not. He says it will take a few more days till they know what happened.’

  Therese’s face returned to its earlier impassive expression.

  ‘They need to see if he was driving, if the car was driving, if something failed on the car, that kind of thing,’ Neil continued.

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said finally.

  ‘But you must care,’ Neil said. ‘This guy destroyed our lives, our family. How can you not care?’ He stood up now and loomed over her. ‘He deserves to go to prison. You told the inspector, when he came. Remember? How he drove too fast and was looking at his phone. He’s a menace. He shouldn’t be on the roads.’

  Therese’s eyes blinked lazily.

  ‘I remember what I said,’ she said. ‘But I don’t care what kind of car it was or if something failed. Georgia and Bertie are dead. They’re gone, never coming back. Finding out what happened doesn’t change that.’

  ‘You called him a murderer. You said he should be punished. Nothing’s changed.’

  ‘I’m very tired.’

  ‘Do you remember anything else about the accident? If the police are getting cold feet, we need to help them nail the guy.’

  Therese closed her eyes again.

  ‘Leave me,’ she said. ‘Go for your “fresh air” and just leave me alone.’

  34

  THE BRUISE ON James’ left cheek ached. Perhaps one of his teeth had been knocked loose in the collision. Now the pain relief was wearing off, he was becoming aware of parts of his body he had never previously noticed.

  He flicked through his emails and saw that, true to his word, Bruce had sent him details of a number of criminal lawyers. Immediately below Bruce’s message were three separate emails, each requesting a statement from SEDA about the crash and asking for reassurance that SEDA’s cars were safe. There were also enquiries after his health, one from a manufacturer friend in Germany and another from France.

  Gazing out of the window, he saw Martine’s car flash past from the overflow car park at the rear. Three minutes later she was in his office.

  ‘How long have you been here?’ She breezed in, her cork platforms squeaking as she crossed the floor. ‘The doctors said you needed at least another day in bed and I thought you’d sleep for hours. If I’d known what you were planning, I would have hidden all your clothes.’

  ‘Since when did doctors know anything about running a multinational company? How did you know I was here?’

  ‘I checked in with Jane and Carol on reception, to see if there had been any difficult calls.’

  ‘Toby’s been handling those.’

  ‘He’s so young. I thought I would make sure.’

  ‘You don’t need to park around the back, you know,’ James said, ‘like you’re hiding. You are my wife. I could arrange for you to have your own space if you wanted.’

  Martine swallowed. ‘It was full, earlier…’

  ‘Really? There was hardly anyone here when I arrived.’

  ‘Maybe they’ve all gone now.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  Martine walked over to the window and looked out across the empty car park.

  ‘An Inspector Dawson called just five minutes ago, Jane said to tell you,’ she said. ‘He asked if you could go to the police station tomorrow morning at ten. She’s sent you the details. He said there will be a lawyer there for you, if you don’t have your own.’

  James nodded stiffly.

  ‘Does that mean they think you did something wrong?’

  ‘I don’t know but I suspect I’ll find out pretty quickly.’

  ‘I’ll come with you?’

  ‘No. If I have a lawyer, I’m sure I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Will you take Bruce?’

  James allowed the tips of his fingers to meet in front of his face, before answering.

  ‘Bruce doesn’t want to handle this one. He’s not a criminal specialist.’

  ‘He’s always been your lawyer.’

  ‘Not this time.’

  ‘But he has found you someone good, someone who can explain that it’s all a big mistake?’

  ‘Yes. I think so. I hope so.’ He sighed and fingered his sore ribs. ‘Look, this isn’t going to go away any time soon.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘I’m just being realistic. And it couldn’t have happened at a worse time for SEDA, for the whole industry. It’s like Bruce said. Either the crash really was my fault, in which case, I may go to jail and the company will fold without me and the cars will be scrapped, or the car malfunctioned. If it was the car, then I can blame it on SEDA, if my conscience will allow me, that is, but that’s still my fault, because it’s my company. I put the cars out on the road. I told people they were safe. I thought they were safe. I would have staked my own life on it, your life, our own boys.’

  ‘Your cars are safe. You have to tell the police that. Y
ou have to tell the newspapers.’

  ‘And what kind of person am I then? Those poor children. That poor family. And I’m thinking about myself.’

  Martine stood behind James, bending down to kiss the top of his head.

  ‘Do you remember anything about the crash?’ she whispered.

  ‘Nothing at all.’ He reached for her.

  ‘Bruce’ll get you a good lawyer,’ Martine said, pulling away. ‘We’ll get hold of all the pictures and they’ll show it wasn’t your fault. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I just don’t understand,’ James’ hands trembled. ‘I don’t understand what could have happened.’

  35

  CONSTANCE MET James at Hackney police station. She had emailed to offer to meet him earlier, when he hadn’t returned her phone call, but he had insisted he couldn’t spare the time.

  ‘Mr Salisbury,’ she took the plunge, marching forwards as he approached the desk, waiting for an appreciative response, but the eyes which met hers were searching and sceptical.

  ‘I’m Constance Lamb,’ she said, ‘your lawyer.’ She shook his hand and he grunted. ‘Are you still unwell?’ she asked.

  ‘That depends on how you define “well”,’ James said. ‘Everything works. Is that well? Is there somewhere we can go to speak privately before I’m subjected to my interrogation?’

  ‘Room one,’ Constance said. ‘It’s this way.’

  Once inside the interview room, Constance removed her jacket and switched on her tablet.

  ‘Have you come straight from the hospital?’ she began.

  ‘No. I discharged myself on Wednesday. I had so much to do. Am I being arrested?’

  ‘No,’ Constance replied. ‘The police just want to ask you some questions.’

  ‘But I might be…arrested, that is?’

  ‘Yes. It’s possible.’

  ‘Until then, until I’m arrested, I’m free to carry on working?’

  ‘You are, yes. But I don’t think they’ll want you going overseas.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘They’ll be worried that you’ll abscond.’

  ‘Abscond? I have a business worth millions, a wife and two children and I don’t think I’ve ever had a parking ticket. Why on earth would I abscond?’

  Constance sighed. ‘They might not say anything and I won’t mention it if they don’t. I was just advising you of what might happen.’

  James nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said curtly. ‘So what happens now, Miss…?’

  ‘Lamb, but I am happy for you to call me Constance, please.’

  ‘Constance. What happens now? Do I answer the policeman’s questions? Or do I say nothing, like you see on television.’

  ‘How much do you remember about the accident?’

  ‘Very little. I remember getting into my car. I was at a meeting in the City. Then nothing…till I woke up in hospital and was told I had killed two children and injured their mother. They said she might not walk again.’

  ‘Do the doctors know why you’ve lost your memory?’

  ‘I hit my head pretty hard, they said. Concussion. “Not life threatening”. They made a point of telling me that.’

  ‘And when will you start to remember things?’

  ‘They don’t know. I have to go back in a week. I…I still can’t actually believe this has happened to me. You do understand that. It’s like the most terrible nightmare. Will the police tell us what they know?’

  ‘I’ll be asking them what they have. The crash was on a street called Common Lane, just coming in to Tottenham from Haringey. Do you know the area?’

  ‘Yes. Major thoroughfare. Low-level housing each side. Red route and bus route. It has these funny little feeder roads running parallel, for access to the houses.’

  ‘You have incredibly good knowledge…’

  ‘One of my regular suppliers is down that way. I’ve been along that road many times.’

  ‘And before then?’

  ‘I worked at home till around nine, then left for the meeting.’

  ‘Your car, registration number SAL1 2016.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I understand it’s specially modified.’

  ‘Look. This is what I tried to explain to the police officer who visited me. It’s an autonomous vehicle. It drives itself. It is fitted with cutting-edge technology; cameras, lasers, radar, other sensors, advanced braking mechanisms, innovative steering. It is a whole different beast from a conventional car, a new species. And it doesn’t crash.’

  Constance looked up and her eyes met his. She turned the screen of her laptop around, so he could see the image of his car at the scene; windscreen shattered, bodywork battered and at least one tyre punctured. Before he could look too closely, she rotated it back.

  ‘I know. I’ve already seen it,’ he said, ‘but it feels all wrong. It must be wrong. You know how they say that you can make photographs do anything you like these days.’

  ‘The police attended at the scene. This is what your car looked like after the accident.’

  ‘I’m certain that if we can get the footage of the accident, from my car, then this will all be sorted out in a second. Do you know where my car is? It’s vitally important that the police don’t tamper with the EDR, the event data recorder. My technicians will need access to it, to de-code the data.’

  ‘I’ll ask Inspector Dawson, the officer in charge. Have you met him yet?’

  ‘Yes. At the hospital. Friendly guy. He was the first to deliver the good news.’

  Constance made a note.

  ‘Is there anything you remember about the accident, anything at all?’

  ‘Nothing. I wish I did.’

  ‘All right. So, next steps are that Inspector Dawson will ask you some questions, but I’m assuming you will tell him that you don’t remember. That’s a perfectly valid response, if that is the case.’

  ‘And you’ll ask him about my car, the data?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will anything happen today?’

  ‘It’s unlikely. But you need to show you are taking this seriously. You can be firm but always be polite, try very hard not to get angry, and my advice is that you don’t tell him that “it’s impossible” for your car to crash. It will just annoy him.’

  ‘I understand,’ James said. ‘God!’ He laughed hollowly. ‘This is probably the one time I wish I didn’t have to rely on technology. I just want to remember what happened.’

  ‘And that’s why I’ll be trying to persuade the Inspector to give you, to give us, more time. So that you can recall everything about the crash. But anything you remember in the meantime, however small, you need to tell me. Is that clear?’

  ‘I bet you’ve never had someone like me to defend before, someone who can’t remember what happened.’ James managed a smile.

  ‘Each case has its own…challenges,’ Constance replied. ‘Can I get you something, before the Inspector comes in. A cup of tea?’

  ‘No thank you. I doubt the tea here is up to much.’

  ‘Some water then? For the interview.’

  ‘Yes please. That’s thoughtful of you.’

  His voice cracked and the low laugh he emitted, to cover it up, turned into a cackle, before disappearing into his throat.

  ***

  Dawson was sitting in his office, flicking through a paper file, repeatedly checking his watch. He sat back at Constance’s light tap and turned the file face down.

  ‘Hello Constance. I saw your name in the book. Is Mr Salisbury, saviour of the universe, ready for us now?’

  ‘Why do you call him that?’ she asked, entering but not sitting down.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so prickly. You should read some of his speeches. That’s what I’ve been doing. He thinks his cars will save the world. Did his hal
o fit into my interview room?’

  ‘Where is his car?’ Constance lowered herself into the chair opposite Dawson.

  Dawson’s eyes flicked towards the glass which separated him from the rest of his team, before returning to Constance.

  ‘It’s in a secure garage. Why?’

  ‘I’ll want access and a specialist technician to extract the data from the EDR.’

  ‘The EDR?’

  ‘The data recorder. It holds the record of how the car was being driven, immediately before the accident. If you tamper with it, you risk all the data being lost.’

  ‘How many car crash cases have you defended before then? Listen to you with all the lingo.’ Dawson fiddled with the file on his desk again. ‘I can’t see any reason why we would give access to your client before we’ve taken a look ourselves, although you can try to persuade me.’

  The beginning of a smile flickered across his lips and was quickly gone.

  ‘The EDR belongs to Mr Salisbury,’ Constance began. ‘It’s a part of his vehicle. If you won’t agree, I may have to issue a court application for access and I will ask for costs. And if you touch it, now I have alerted you to the dangers and the data is compromised, I will ask for the case to be thrown out, on the basis that my client cannot hope to have a fair trial.’

  Dawson frowned. ‘You’re jumping ahead a little aren’t you, talking about cases and trials? Today is just a friendly chat. Has your client got a guilty conscience then?’

  ‘The data on the EDR may be key to determining what happened, although I am assuming you have other sources of information, like CCTV?’

  Constance waited.

  ‘We might.’

  ‘So, I have to take steps to ensure it’s properly preserved. That’s all. I assume the family of the deceased children will want to know what happened, regardless of any prosecution. I would, appreciate it, please, if you could give me that reassurance, pending further enquiries being carried out.’

  Dawson turned the file over and Constance saw the words ‘Haringey Crash Report’ scribbled on the top. He lay the palm of his hand across it.

  ‘Now you’ve asked me nicely, I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you. Are you proposing to charge Mr Salisbury with anything today?’