As Sick As Our Secrets

by Diane Ezzard

  “Please, Steph, I’ve got to go. Can you do this for me?”

  “Well yeah but…”

  “I’ll phone you back when I know what’s going on.” I ended the call. My hands were shaking. I had a notion lurking at the back of my mind that I may know what this was about. I could hope for the best and believe this was about the two thugs who came to my flat. Knowing my luck they knew about my association with Charlie or something far worse.

  As I left my property accompanied by the two officers, I wondered if any of my nosey neighbours had twigged what was going on. If they did, the news would be all over the estate in no time. I climbed into the unmarked vehicle and said a prayer.

  I sat silently in the back of the car. I rubbed my hands together and kept messing with my hair. I felt physically sick. What had they got on me? Why did they want to speak to me? They were chatting with each other about the latest Planet of the Apes film. They asked if I had seen it but I hadn’t and wasn’t interested in engaging in small talk. I bit my lip and shook my head. Why were they being friendly towards me? Maybe they weren’t going to arrest me. It’s hard when you know you’ve done something wrong to look innocent.

  We arrived at the concrete slab of a building that made up the police station. It felt cold and uninviting. An elderly man was sat in the reception area on a wooden bench. No one was in attendance behind the glass frontage. One of the police officers accompanying me stood in front of the dark blue wooden door at the end of the corridor. My insides were quivering.

  He tapped in a code on the keypad then passed through the entrance and beckoned me to follow. Walking down the corridor, all I could hear was the sound of my shoes tapping on the varnished floor. My heart was pounding fast. My throat felt dry. I kept trying to convince myself that I wasn’t in trouble but my mind screamed out guilty.

  I was led into one of the interview rooms. It was a long time since I had been in a police station and the last time I was the victim. I didn’t think that was the case now.

  “Right, Sophie, we need to have a word with you,” the female said.

  “Erm, I’ve arranged for a solicitor to meet me here,” I said nervously.

  “Oh, okay,” she said. “What’s your solicitor’s name? I’ll go and see if they’ve arrived yet.”

  “Er, well, actually I don’t know. My sister’s sorted one out for me.” The detective gave me a look of disdain. My muscles tensed. I sat on my hands and crossed my legs.

  “Fine,” she said and left the room. I wasn’t impressed with her people skills but maybe her attitude was like that on purpose to unnerve me. If that was the case, it was working. I sat there for about half an hour. I kept looking up at the clock. There wasn’t a lot else to look at in the room, a couple of chairs and a table and what appeared to be recording equipment.

  I felt thirsty. My throat felt dry. The tightening in my chest didn’t help ally my fears. A further twenty minutes passed. I thought about doing a Charlie and making a run for it but I didn’t think that was wise. Finally, the door opened and a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase walked in. He held out his hand to shake mine. I pushed my chair back and stood up. I shook his hand. His grip was firm.

  “Hello, you must be Sophie. My name’s Roger Harper from Grimshaw and Partners. I believe your sister has instructed us to act on your behalf.” The voice was commanding.

  “Oh yes, thank you.”

  “Please, take a seat,” he said with confidence as though we were sat in his office. I sat back down.

  “Now then, I’ve spoken with the police and they’ve given me some information about the allegations against you.”

  Allegations against me. I felt the pulse in my temporal artery throbbing. They’re going to lock me up and throw away the key. My limbs tingled. I would be prosecuted and my name would be splashed over the papers. That would be the end of my job. My mind was working overtime.

  “Sophie?” His voice brought me back to reality.

  “I’m sorry. This is very worrying for me. I have never been in a situation like this before. You say allegations?” I wondered if he could hear the quivering in my voice.

  “I have managed to find out what they want to question you about.” Get on with it, I said under my breath.

  “Mmm,” I replied.

  “They believe you may have been harbouring Charles Darcy.”

  “Harbouring him? Oh, oh. I see.”

  “So, is it true?”

  “No, of course, it’s not true. What makes the police think that?”

  “Apparently there’s CCTV footage which shows two people talking. One of them matches Charlie’s description and the other matches yours. Have you got anything you need to tell me?”

  “Oh.” My brain was scrambled. I had to think quickly. What was the best thing to do in this situation?

  My solicitor told me that the interview between us was confidential and didn’t need to be disclosed to the police. He asked me to be truthful with him. He told me what would happen next after our discussion. He said that the police would interview me and ask me questions and that he could advise me whether to comment or not. So we needed to decide whether I should answer their questions, prepare a statement or make no comment.

  I told Roger Harper that I had spoken to Charlie and that he convinced me that he was innocent. I told him that Charlie threatened to harm me if I didn’t help him. I didn’t like being dishonest but my liberty was at stake here and I was in a sticky situation. He asked me to be honest about my relationship with Charlie. I told him there was nothing further to add.

  He asked me more questions but my mind was in a whirl. I wanted this nightmare to be over with. I began pulling at my hair. He took out a file. It concerned me he already had a file on me but I tried to dismiss the thought. He made notes with his Parker fountain pen. I thought it was probably a present from his wife. Finally, he finished writing, and I closed my eyes. I opened them to see him put the pen away in his inside jacket pocket.

  He said it was my decision what I did but that his advice would be to make a statement telling them what I had told him. He said they would probably be able to put me at the scene anyway with mobile tracking. I agreed to do whatever he advised and he got the pen out again and a form and began to write. I wondered why he didn’t use a laptop in this age of technology and thought maybe he wanted to show off his pen.

  After we completed the form, and I signed the document, he left the room. I closed my eyes and began counting randomly. I didn’t want to think about my fate. He returned to with the two police officers from earlier. The policewoman introduced herself as Detective Constable Harriet Pearson. She may have already told me previously. My mind was all jumbled. She only seemed about the same age as me. She had a pale complexion and red cheeks. Her light brown hair was cut short.

  “Can I get you a drink, tea or water?” she asked.

  “Tea, please.” She left the room to sort my order out. I wished I’d asked for water as I was only prolonging the agony of waiting to see what they had on me. The minutes ticked by. The room felt stuffy. The other police officer had introduced himself. His name was Detective Sergeant Sam Whittle. He was in his late forties and had straight dark hair. He didn’t smile.

  The door opened and in walked DC Pearson carrying a tray of drinks.

  “I believe you have made a statement.” I nodded. “We need to read through what you have written and see if there is anything else we need from you at this stage,” DS Whittle said.

  There was silence in the room whilst the detective read through my paperwork. I bit at the skin around my little finger. When he had finished reading both officers walked out of the room for a short time, then returned.

  “What happens now?” I whispered to my solicitor.

  “There’ll be back in a moment and may want to ask you some questions based on your statement. I’ll try to discourage that.”

  I had hoped that the statement would be enough. I didn’t like being subjected to this t
reatment.

  The two officers returned and told me they would be introducing themselves formally again to me for the benefit of the tape which was turned on by the policewoman.

  She spoke first, “Sophie Brown, you have a right to silence. Whatever you say can be used against you in a criminal case in court. If you don’t mention something now which you mention later a court might ask you why you didn’t mention it at the first opportunity.”

  As she spoke, my mind went into a blind panic. I stuck to the story I had given my solicitor but had a moment of dread. What if they were already searching my place? They would find the pay-as-you-go phone I used to speak to Charlie. That would blow my story. I wasn’t concentrating on what they were saying. The pains in my chest were intense. I wiped the sweat from my brow with my hand.

  “Are you alright, Sophie? Do you want to take a minute?” My breathing was shaky as was the rest of my body.

  “I’m fine.” I wanted to cry and say, you win, lock me up but I didn’t. I kept up a bold front and brazened it out.

  Their questions continued, and I kept looking over at my solicitor. He said nothing. When was this going to end? The torture of the experience seemed to go on forever. It was a test of my endurance for sure.

  Finally, after all the questions, and a lot of time where I had to sit there with my thoughts, a decision was made what they were going to do with me.

  My solicitor had been out of the room talking with the police officers. He walked back in.

  “I’ve got good news,” he said eagerly.

  “Oh?”

  “You’re being bailed.” I didn’t think that was good news. Maybe it was for him as it meant he would have to fight my corner and make wads of money. I didn’t look very pleased whereas his face was beaming.

  “No honestly that’s great news that they haven’t charged you,” he said. “They obviously haven’t got enough on you.” I hoped they weren’t going to get enough but if they found Charlie it was anyone’s guess what he might say. He could land me in it like I had with him. The solicitor explained to me that I was being bailed to attend the police station at a later date, pending their enquiries. He said that at that time, a decision would be made whether I would be charged with harbouring a criminal. My foot was tapping constantly as this statement sank in.

  The police had left me in no doubt as to how much trouble I was in and that I could go to prison for a very long time. I felt physically sick. This had been a nasty experience, and I didn’t want to repeat it if I could help it. The problem was, I was in this up to my neck. My movements would probably be watched now by the police so I had to be on my best behaviour. I prayed that if they were going to tail me that they didn’t start until I managed to get rid of the pay phone. I was grateful at that moment that Charlie had made that suggestion as they had taken my iPhone and I knew they would be scrutinising my records.

  As I left the police station, I said goodbye to my solicitor and had one thing on my mind, getting rid of the phone. I walked out of the building with my shoulders slumped and my head looking down at the ground. Yet again I had brought shame and worry on my family. In the past though I hadn’t done anything wrong other than choose unwisely went it came to partners. This time I had to admit that I had been foolish.

  I arrived home. I was still shaking. I ran to the kitchen drawer and opened it. I felt a sense of relief when I saw the mobile was still there. I kept looking about me as I placed the incriminating item in my pocket and left the flat. I hadn’t thought what I was going to do with it but I needed to get away fast. I checked around to see I wasn’t being followed. I was about to get in my car then thought about APNR.

  I couldn’t believe myself. I was even thinking like a criminal now. Thankfully, I had watched lots of police dramas so knew I might get tracked on the automatic number plate reader cameras so I travelled by bus. I didn’t know where I was going but hopped on the first bus that came along. I kept looking behind me.

  I ended up in Phillips Park in Whitefield. I walked down to the bottom of the park over the motorway bridge, constantly looking around. I turned off onto one of the walking paths I remembered venturing along as a young child when we used to go blackberry picking. I continued to watch my back. A branch snapped and my body jerked. Probably just a bird. I kept looking around and when I was convinced that no one was about, I took the phone out and stamped on it. I kept jumping up and down on the misshapen metal. I was taking my frustrations out on it, then, I buried the remains. When I finished I sat down on a tree stump and began to cry. I think it was more out of relief than anything.

  Travelling home, I thought about this new world I seemed to have entered, where I was beginning to feel like a criminal. I didn’t like what was happening to me. As I walked around the corner into my road, the first thing I noticed was a police car parked outside my door. I thought about turning around and keeping out of their way. I had experienced enough of the police after my time at the station. Were they coming to arrest me?

  I felt I better stay and face the music. I was in no mood for a police chase. I didn’t think my heart would be able to stand the stress. Two policemen were stood outside my door. I didn’t smile when they greeted me and neither did they. They had a warrant to search my property. I gave a sigh of relief knowing what I had just done.

  Chapter 8

  SOPHIE

  After the police left, I sighed with relief. They had found nothing incriminating as far as I knew. I had managed to remove the phone just in time. It didn’t make me feel any better about the situation though. My foolhardy ways meant that I could end up going to prison. I made a decision not to tell my employers anything about this for now until I knew how much trouble I was in. I was glad I’d come clean with Steph and she’d organised a solicitor for me. I knew from her reaction it wasn’t going to be easy telling Dad. I decided to go and see him rather than speak to him over the phone.

  I turned up unannounced. I didn’t want him worrying. It was Wednesday. Dad didn’t go out Wednesdays because there was often football on. He could be relied upon to keep to his routines, so I knew he’d be in. He enjoyed going to tea dances at the British Legion and the Longfield Suite in Prestwich. He normally went out Tuesday daytime and Thursday and Saturday evenings. I felt sure I would find him in any other time.

  I was glad he had an active social life since splitting up from Mum and her subsequent death. He had made some wonderful friends at his dances and seemed to be happy with his lot. He enjoyed gardening when the weather was fine and he grew vegetables. He was very proud of his range and I ended up with an endless supply of carrots, potatoes and onions, perfect for making a tater hash. That was normally what Dad made when I went over on Monday evenings.

  Every time I went to see him, I ended up going home with a present. It was common to see me lugging five pounds of spuds down his drive after a visit. On other occasions, it would be a bargain he’d bought from the supermarket. It was never anything I needed, but I didn’t have the heart to refuse his offerings. I tended to visit him at his house rather than him come to mine. Although he still drove, he didn’t like driving at night when darkness descended. So I only had the occasional visit from him to mine in the summer months. I didn’t know what he would make of me turning up unannounced.

  When Mum died, he moved from Whitefield into a smaller place in Prestwich. The house was a little two-bedroomed semi off Bury Old Road close to Simister Lane. There was still something of a community spirit locally and he loved the fact there was a chippy on the corner he could walk to on a Friday night. Fish and chips had been a tradition in our family that I could remember from being small.

  Now, Dad was on the mend from his heart attack, he had got back into his routine of helping others. Even though Dad was approaching seventy, he went to a few of his neighbours and offered to keep their gardens ship-shape. He mowed the lawns for an elderly lady, Vera who lived across the road from him. He also helped Jim next door who was partially sighted. Dad ti
died his garden and did some shopping for him.

  I drove over to Dad’s after work that evening. I parked the car in front of his house and spotted him at the window. It looked like he was about to shut his blinds. I waved at him then took a big gulp. I had an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I twisted the ring I wore on my right hand and watched as he waved back. He opened the front door before I could knock.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Sophie?”

  “Erm, I’ve got some news you’d better sit down to listen to.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.”

  “You’re not pregnant are you?”

  “No, no, nothing like that but it is bad news I’m afraid.”

  His smiling face changed in an instant.

  I proceeded to tell him about my police interview and what had gone on. I’d decided to tell the truth. I thought it would be easier that way.

  When I finished talking he said, “Oh dear Sophie, when are you ever going to learn?” His tone was abrupt.

  “I know Dad, I’m sorry.” My head drooped.

  “Does our Steph know?”

  “Yes, I phoned her from the police station. She organised a solicitor for me. Although I was being truthful now, I was still being economical with what I told both him and Steph. I kept to myself the part about my damaged property.

  “So can I help in any way?”

  “No Dad, I just wanted to let you know.” Dad shook his head.

  “One of these days, you’re going to come here and you’ll have some happy news for me. You know you’re too soft for your own good, our Sophie and you never think things through. I don’t half worry about you.” His voice was raised. It reminded me of the lectures I got off him when I was a schoolgirl. I rubbed my forehead and bowed my head.

  “I know you do Dad and I’m sorry. I don’t do any of this on purpose.”

  “Do you want something to eat now you're here?” Dad’s solution was always to feed me in times of trouble.