The Victim

by Jane Bidder

  ‘But have you heard from the Fraud Squad?’ her friend persisted.

  ‘Every now and then. They’re still making investigations apparently.’

  It was true. Amidst the pile of post she’d had to wade through upon getting back, had been a letter to this effect. But what if they found out that Vanda and Jonathan were behind the theft from her husband’s account? And had Vanda been telling the truth that she’d had nothing to do with her own missing money, which still hadn’t been returned? It was all too complicated …

  ‘That’s modern living for you,’ said the computer man when he came to sort out another problem the following week (something to do with a password that kept popping up and demanding to be confirmed). ‘I don’t do banking online any more.’

  He flashed a sympathetic look. ‘Not after what happened to you.’

  Weeks went by. They turned into a month. Then two. Every now and then, Sam emailed. They were always to the point. He was paying the bills by direct debit but she was to let him know if she needed anything else. Was the roof all right in the storms he’d read about? How was the dog?

  Practical. Emotionless, apart from that question about the dog and a reference to the fact that he rarely heard from Nick. Join the club. Still, maybe the time to worry was when they were always with you.

  Then there was Lyndsey. Lyndsey whom she thought she’d lost. It was a mark of true friendship, they told each other, that they could pick up again, just like that. She’d had to tell her husband, of course. ‘I gave him a sanitised version,’ her friend said quickly. ‘Something about you changing your name for a fresh start. He accepted that. After all, he knew your mother had been horrid to you for most of your life.’

  ‘And your dad?’

  Georgie couldn’t bear the idea of that kind man thinking the worst of her.

  ‘I told him you’d been accused of something you didn’t do.’ Lyndsey’s voice tried to make light of it but Georgie knew her all too well.

  ‘Everyone will know when the trial comes up, won’t they?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  But they both knew that wasn’t true. More importantly, Lyndsey’s treatment seemed to be working. She looked better than she had for a long time. Georgie’s phone was also beginning to ring again. Old clients wanted to update their old look. New ones responded to her ads in the paper. And – irony of ironies – the new buyers for Vanda and Jonathan’s home wanted ‘a complete overhaul’.

  She told them – truthfully – that she was booked up for the next six months. The thought of going back to the place where her life had begun to tumble down was all too much.

  ‘It is weird though, Mum, isn’t it?’ said Ellie when they talked about as they so often did. ‘Your bag turning up like that at home … You know, I still think Dad doesn’t believe I had nothing to do with it.’

  Georgie felt a rush of love. ‘But I do,’ she said, squeezing her daughter’s hand. ‘And that’s what’s important.’

  The phone call came when she was least expecting it. Bang in the middle of redesigning a conservatory for some new neighbours of Jo’s. (The latter had recommended her, perhaps as a sign of forgiveness.)

  ‘Georgie?’ said Mac’s voice, distantly down the line.

  Georgie froze. ‘Will you excuse me?’ she said to the new client; a small mousey woman who hung, rather gratifyingly, on her every word.

  Hand shaking on her mobile, she went out into the garden for some privacy.

  ‘They’ve fixed a date for the trial.’

  ‘So soon? You said it would take months.’

  ‘That was before the latest tidy up.’ Mac’s Australian twang belied the severity of the situation. ‘The government is having a crackdown and is bringing everything forward. We need you out here next week.’

  Next week! That was ridiculous. ‘But I’ve just started working again,’ she began to say, before stopping. This was her sister they were talking about. Their chance to nail her killer.

  ‘But what if they don’t believe me?’ she faltered. ‘Supposing I go back and they put me into prison.’

  They won’t, she expected Mac to say. But instead, there was a short pause. ‘I guess that’s the risk you have to take.’

  For a minute, Georgie stood looking at her client’s lovely garden with its beautiful copper tree shining in the autumn sun. If she went back, she might lose all this. The police were corrupt. Mac had told her that. They might reject her evidence. Put her in prison.

  Or else they might send Joshua there instead.

  That man had to pay for her sister’s death. She owed it to the real Georgina Peverington-Smith.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ she said simply.

  ‘This is incredible,’ murmured Ellie beside her, gazing out at the green fields where a woman sat astride an elephant. ‘Such a mixture of … of everything! That shanty town we just passed through. So basic compared with last night’s hotel.’ Her lips tightened. ‘It doesn’t seem fair.’

  Her daughter had insisted on coming with her. (‘You’re not going out there alone, Mum.’) Of course she’d tried to talk her out of it, but deep down, Georgie was relieved to have the company. She also suspected Ellie might have an ulterior motive …

  Sam had expressed disapproval through a text but had failed to offer to accompany her himself. So here they were. Heading for Joly’s hotel.

  If Sam didn’t like that, it was too bad. She felt different now, Georgie told herself. Any feelings she’d had for Joly in that direction were gone now. It was justice she needed. Justice for her sister. Justice for herself.

  ‘You came.’ He was waiting for her outside the hotel, his eyes taking in Ellie at the same time. Georgie felt a jolt of alarm. ‘This is my daughter,’ she said, putting an arm around her.

  Joly’s eyes expressed an interest that made Georgie feel decidedly uneasy. ‘Very good of you to offer support.’

  Ellie’s face was blank. ‘She’s my mother.’

  Thank goodness. So Ellie hadn’t been taken in by his charm.

  Mac was waiting for them inside. ‘The trial starts in two days.’

  ‘It’s been brought forward?’ gasped Georgie.

  ‘Probably to throw us,’ intercepted Ellie.

  ‘My daughter’s reading psychology,’ added Georgie, feeling the need to explain.

  Mac’s face showed he was impressed.

  ‘I don’t know if you’ve been to a trial in the UK …’

  Georgie shook her head.

  ‘Well, it’s very different here. More informal. People shout out.’ His fingers began to drum the table. ‘You’ll have to be prepared for that. All we need you to do is tell the truth.’

  He looked at her. They all did.

  ‘Can you do that?’

  She nodded.

  ‘There’s just one other thing.’ The fingers began to drum faster. ‘The DNA on the hair …’

  Joly visibly winced, as did she. The blonde hair … her sister’s hair…

  ‘The lab results aren’t as conclusive as we had hoped.’

  Both men looked at her. ‘That’s why your testimony is so important,’ said Joly softly. ‘If the jury don’t believe you, we’re stuffed.’

  The court wasn’t what she’d expected. After Joshua had given evidence, his supporters from the side began applauding him. Someone close to Georgie spat at her. This was awful.

  Mac’s face was grim. ‘Welcome to the third world.’

  Joshua’s mother was speaking now. Angrily in a language that neither Georgie nor Ellie could understand. But from Mac and Joly’s faces, it didn’t look good.

  ‘She says you’re trying to pin the murder onto her son,’ whispered Mac. ‘That you killed Georgie because you were jealous of her.’

  Georgie felt the old fear pass through her.

  ‘But what about the hair and the DNA?’ whispered Ellie. ‘Don’t they count for anything?’

  ‘Their lawyer had discredited it, just as we feared.’ Mac’s mouth was
tight.

  Suddenly there was another roar from the gallery. ‘It’s your turn now.’ He placed a hand on hers. ‘Just tell them the truth.’

  Her heart pounding in her ears, Georgie walked across the court floor. Someone threw a banana at her. It hit her cheek. Desperately, she looked back at Mac and Joly and Ellie sitting where she had just been.

  ‘You can do it,’ mouthed her daughter.

  She had to. For her family. She had to persuade this hostile jury if she was going to return for the children. She had to get justice for the real Georgina.

  The shouting was getting louder. For a moment, Georgie froze. Then she reached inside her bag and brought out the photograph. The black and white photograph which the nursing home had found for her in her mother’s private possessions, when she’d written the other month. She held it up.

  ‘This was me and my sister when we were babies,’ she said.

  The shouting dropped. The crowd appeared to understand. They were bemused. What did this have to do with a murder? ‘Georgina was my sister.’

  Someone yelled out. Someone else told that person to shut up.

  ‘I didn’t know that at the time. But I do now. It was one of those strange coincidences. But even if I had known it, I would never have hurt Georgina.’

  For a moment, the courtroom blurred. ‘She was the kindest, nicest person I have ever known …’

  ‘Then why did you sleep with her boyfriend?’ yelled out a voice.

  Georgie nodded. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t have. But who here hasn’t done something they shouldn’t have done?’

  There was a brief silence. She had their attention now. ‘It didn’t mean I killed her.’ She looked directly at Joshua. ‘When I found Georgina that day, she was already lying on the ground.’

  She closed her eyes, gripping the flimsy rail for support. ‘Her chest was bloody. She’d been stabbed … By the boy who was standing over her. That man.’

  She jerked her head at Joshua. Immediately there was a tidal roar.

  ‘He tried to stab me too but I grabbed the knife.’

  Every minute was coming back to her. ‘I cut him. That’s why there’s a scar on his cheek.’

  ‘Prove it. Prove it.’

  The chant was getting louder now. Mac and Joly were looking increasingly worried. Fear was written all over Ellie’s face.

  ‘It’s true,’ continued Georgie desperately.

  A man jumped up. Joshua’s lawyer, Mac had pointed out earlier, although he too was in shirt sleeves. ‘She’s lying. This rubbish about her sister is a lie. She is saying that to gain sympathy. This is the woman who should be imprisoned. Not my client.’

  The crowd surged forward. They were going to lynch her. Someone had to do something.

  ‘Joly!’ she called out.

  Then, all of a sudden, as if someone had switched off a light, the noise stopped. Hardly daring to look up, Georgie was aware of a different atmosphere around her. A presence.

  Four men were entering the courtroom. Two she didn’t know.

  The other two, she did.

  Rufus. And Sam.

  FIFTY-ONE

  My lawyer.

  My barrister.

  When you’re Inside, you notice men using these words as though these people work just for them and no one else.

  It’s like it gives them false airs of pretension.

  But you’ve got to have that, see, ’cos you need hope in prison.

  You need to wake up every day, thinking that this is the one when they’ll tell you that you can launch an appeal or that they know you didn’t really do it.

  Not all of us are guilty, you know.

  When I was Inside last, we had two men who were always in the library. Always poring over books to prove they were innocent.

  We used to take the piss out of them.

  But it turned out they were right. They found stuff in those law books that their own lawyers didn’t find. Precedents, they called them. Don’t ask me what that means.

  All I know is that those men walked free.

  The rest of us had to serve our time.

  Then, when you get out, no one will give you a job ’cos you’ve got a record. No one wants to rent you a room in case you don’t pay the rent. Friends won’t even give you a corner to sleep in case you nick their stuff. And your old lady doesn’t want to know because she went off with someone else long ago. Your kids are that bloke’s kids now.

  So what do you do? The only thing you can. You take other people’s things. Strangers’ stuff. And you hope no one catches you. But if they do, at least you know you’ll have a roof over your head.

  Some of us get caught on purpose. Just so we get fed.

  And then all we want to do is get Out.

  Don’t make sense, does it?

  FIFTY-TWO

  ‘They’re here,’ breathed Mac.

  His relief was palpable.

  But Georgie only had eyes for Sam. Her husband was here, in a stiff tweed jacket that looked out of place but curiously comforting. He’d come to support her after all! Initial relief was replaced by fear. He wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, his head was down as he sat in the public gallery as though he didn’t want to be there.

  ‘Dad,’ breathed Ellie. ‘So he did it, after all.’

  Rufus was gesticulating. Mouthing something. Then she realised. He wasn’t making signs at her. He was making signs at Mac.

  ‘We request an adjournment,’ he said leaping to his feet.

  The judge sighed heavily. ‘Is this really necessary?’

  At the same time, Joshua’s lawyer began jumping up and down like an impatient child. ‘He’s buying time,’ he yelled. ‘Don’t give it to him.’

  What was going on? Georgia felt as though she’d wandered into a weird fairy story where her very existence depended on the uncertain outcome. She didn’t know much about legal proceedings apart from the odd drama on television. She didn’t understand how, having come in as a witness, she was now being treated as a suspect.

  But something told her that if Mac didn’t get his adjournment, all might be lost. Besides, an adjournment would give her time to talk to Sam.

  ‘Please,’ she said, leaning forward so her eyes met that of the judge’s. ‘Please.’

  For a minute, he faltered. It was enough. Quite why, Georgie never knew. Until then, she’d been certain that he was against her; choosing instead to side with Joshua.

  ‘Very well.’ He nodded, giving Georgie a tight ‘You owe me’ smile. ‘Two hours for lunch, everyone.’

  ‘That means three,’ hissed someone behind her but Mac was already on his feet.

  ‘Take her to that bar on the square. The quieter one. Ellie, come with me if you don’t mind. You might be needed.’

  None of this was making sense. ‘But what about my husband?’ She shot a pained look up to the gallery where Sam was still sat, head bowed.

  ‘Trust me,’ said Joly quietly for the first time. ‘He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.’

  She stared at him. ‘You knew he was coming?’

  Joly moved closer. For a minute, she thought he was going to hold her in his arms. No! That wouldn’t do. Not in front of Sam. Or in front of anyone else, for that matter. Any feelings she’d had for him in the past had gone. Especially now she knew Sam cared. He must do, mustn’t he? Otherwise, why else would he be here?

  ‘Go, now,’ added Mac, almost pushing them out.

  So they went.

  It seemed ridiculous that Sam had come all this way and yet here she was, sitting in a bar only a few feet – potentially – from her husband without any sight of him.

  ‘You’ve got to see it his way,’ Joly said to her, buying her a large glass of orange juice while knocking down a stiff whisky himself. ‘Men are proud creatures. He’ll think you’ve been having an affair with me.’

  He said it in such a smug way that Georgie wanted to get up there and then. ‘No. Stay. Listen. You want to know why he’s h
ere? Because he still loves you and – more importantly – good old Rufus has come up with something. I knew he would when I emailed him.’

  ‘You emailed him? Why?’

  But even as she spoke, Vanda’s words came back to her. Know it through Rufus … at school with Jonathan … Close-knit circle …

  ‘Because Rufus, despite being as thick as two short planks, knows people.’ Joly, despite the severity of the situation, tapped the side of his nose, knowingly. ‘He put out feelers in Bangkok, where young Joshua had been holing up since his last attack.’

  Attack?

  Joly looked around furtively. ‘They were just rumours. Unsubstantiated rumours. But unless I’ve read Rufus’ face wrongly, I think we might just have the evidence we need.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ she said suddenly as a crowd of men came in, jostling and hustling their way to the bar.

  Joly’s eyes sharpened. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘You’re wrong about what you just said.’ Her eyes were on the men, who had begun to point loudly in her direction. ‘More importantly, you said. More importantly, Rufus has come up with something.’

  She moved towards the exit. ‘The most important thing for me – whether they try and convict me instead – is that Sam is here.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Joly sharply, jumping up. ‘You can’t just go like that. It’s not safe …’

  But she was already threading her way through the crowds, searching, scouring the sea of faces for a pale European one. A tall, dark-haired man who, despite his former ex-pat life, looked lost in this world so far removed from Devon.

  Yes. There he was. Sitting by the river. Only a place like this could have a stinking river bank running behind the courthouse with young boys fishing.

  ‘Sam.’

  She sat next to him.

  He said nothing. Sweat poured down his face. The heat? Or the strain? Both, perhaps.

  ‘You’ve got to believe me.’ Her hand stole out towards him but then retreated, knowing this wasn’t the right time or place. ‘I didn’t have an affair with Joly.’

  Still silence.

  ‘It’s you I want. Not him.’

  At last. His face was turning towards her. Instantly, she wished it hadn’t. His expression was black. Furious. Just like he had been when Ellie had admitted to doing drugs.