The nurse clearly wasn’t happy but conceded defeat. ‘Okay, but I’m staying and if I think you’re putting her condition at risk, I’m calling a halt to it.’
Narey led Khalida Dhariwal into the room. The lawyer was immaculately dressed in a sharp, black business suit and open-necked white blouse, her dark hair pulled back but hanging loose in a ponytail. She projected an air of confidence and professionalism, someone to be believed and listened to.
She took up a seat close to Elspeth’s bed. Close enough to be intimate, not so close as to be threatening. She then made sure to ask after the woman’s health, warm and caring.
‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, Mrs Broome. This isn’t easy, for either of us, but I do think it’s very important and I appreciate your time in such trying circumstances. I want to tell you what happened to me. It’s not something I am happy to talk about but I will. I want you to hear it.’
Elspeth didn’t want to hear it, but was won over by the visitor’s honesty and openness. Simple politeness prevented her from sending Khalida away.
‘Okay. If you must. I’m listening.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Broome. I really do appreciate it.’
The lawyer took a deep breath and began.
‘It was nine years ago, two years after I’d graduated in law from Glasgow University. I was with a firm in the city, a good starter job and I was loving it. I had a boyfriend, a car that just about got me from A to B, and good friends. I ran, I sang in a choir, I visited my parents at least once a week. Life was pretty great, Mrs Broome. I was healthy and happy and going places.
‘It was a Thursday night. I’d stayed at home to study even though friends had been urging me to go out. After I put the books away, I spoke with my boyfriend on the telephone for about ten minutes, I poured myself a glass of wine and I watched the Graham Norton show on BBC2. I can even remember who his guests were that night. Ricky Gervais, Thandie Newton and Anastacia.
‘I went to bed not long after midnight. I distinctly remember thinking how I was glad I’d stayed at home, how I’d feel all the better for it the next morning and how I was getting too old for all-night partying. Too old at twenty-five. How foolish we are when we’re too young to know.
‘It was exactly 2.04 when I was wakened by a noise in the flat. I sleep light. I remember sitting up, knowing that the noise was wrong, that even though I’d heard it in my sleep, I knew it was something that shouldn’t have been there. I listened and heard more noise, I was scared but I was also ready to do something about it.
‘I was young, fit and stupid. I had a baseball bat in the corner of my room and I knew the law. If it was just lying there then I could pick it up on the way past and use it to defend myself. Glasgow has a very high ratio of baseball bats to baseballs.
‘I was halfway to the bedroom door when it opened. I got stuck between moving to attack or flee and defend. So, when he came into the room, I was standing there in T-shirt and shorts, legs planted and a bat ready to swing.
‘He was dressed all in black. Black boots, black jeans, a black jacket. And a black balaclava. All I could see were his eyes. They were blue. Startlingly light blue. He was tall and slim, wiry. Strong. I estimated him to be six feet two.’
Khalida paused to let that sink in, to let Elspeth draw breath and consider it all.
‘He rushed me and I swung at him. He ducked it easily and moved to the side. I swung again and caught him on the arm but he charged into me, crowding me so I couldn’t use the bat. He forced me back on the bed and his weight pinned me down. He just held me there, letting me thrash and use up energy. He called me a slag. Said I’d pay for hurting his arm.
‘He licked my face. Licked from my chin to my temple. Maybe that doesn’t sound much given everything else but it disgusted me.
‘He smelled of sweat. Sweat and some musky aftershave. I could feel his breath on my ear. It was as if he thought I’d like it. I didn’t, I really didn’t. I tried to throw an elbow back into him but he punched me in the neck and then the throat, calling me a slag over and over. I was choking but he put something on my mouth, a cloth doused in what I think was chloroform. I fought it but he kept his hand clamped on my mouth till I went under.’
Mrs Broome was following every word. Khalida kept her voice calm, didn’t break down or waver. She used all her training to stay composed enough to simply tell what happened.
‘When I came round and saw the clock, it was 5.28. I remember putting my hand to my face because it hurt and when I brought it back into view, it was bloody. It took minutes to remember what had happened earlier. When I did, I was scared, terrified. I had to creep into the next room and the next to make sure he was gone.
‘When I looked in a mirror, I saw my nose was probably broken, my face had been punched. I knew I’d been raped. Probably more than once.
‘Do you know what the temptation was, Mrs Broome? To go back under the covers of my bed, curl up into a ball and go to sleep. To stay there till I healed enough that no one could see what had happened to me. Maybe to pretend, even to myself, that nothing had happened.
‘But I picked up the phone, dialled 999 and told the police I’d been raped. I need you to know how difficult that was. I need you to know how difficult it was to tell my parents. How difficult it was to tell my boyfriend. Then, a few years later, to tell the man who was to become my husband. My boyfriend at the time? He dumped me when I needed him most because he couldn’t cope with it. He thought it had happened to him.’
Tears began to form in Elspeth Broome’s eyes. Khalida leaned forward and place a hand gently on the old woman’s arm. But she wasn’t finished.
‘My wounds healed pretty quickly. I think I was luckier than most because he didn’t have to punch me into unconsciousness. What didn’t heal was trust. That took a long time. It took forever for the fear to go away and it probably still hasn’t. Noises in the night spook me. Men approaching suddenly, men who look at me because they’re attracted to me, sometimes just men who have the height and build of the man who raped me. Dozens of times, I’ve seen tall men with light blue eyes and wondered, was it him? That’s so unfair on them and on me.
‘I’m strong, Mrs Broome. Strong and smart with good family and friends and someone who loves me. I hate to think what that rape would have done to someone without those things because I know how hard it’s been for me.’ Khalida paused and held Elspeth’s gaze. ‘Mrs Broome, my photograph was found in your son’s photo collection.’
Elspeth let her head sink back onto her pillow as she looked at the ceiling and blinked back tears. When her eyes closed, it was with a sigh of relief that it was over. Except it wasn’t.
Narey’s voice came from across the room. ‘I’m sorry Mrs Broome, but we’re not finished. There are others.’
The dark-haired nurse looked at Narey, concern clear on her face, but this time she made no objection.
‘I’ll give you a few minutes, Mrs Broome. I know this isn’t easy. It’s not easy for anyone.’
She left the ward and made her way to a waiting area round the first corner. Khalida was already there, a comforting arm round a young woman who was clutching a soft toy and fidgeting very nervously.
‘Are you ready for this?’
The woman closed her eyes and blew out breath. ‘No.’
‘Come on, let’s do it.’
She reluctantly got to her feet, took a final hug and a whisper of good luck from Khalida, before following Narey into the room.
By the bed, she stood behind Narey, practically hiding. She saw the old woman, battered and half-dead, and was immediately assaulted by flashbacks of her own. She took half a step back but then steeled herself and took a pace forward, then another. Narey smiled at her and nodded in approval.
‘Mrs Broome, this is Leah Watt.’
CHAPTER 57
Leah cried. So too did Elspeth Broome. Their tears were the same yet different.
One laid out every painful moment of the night when the other�
��s son destroyed her life. The other had to listen and endure.
Narey knew what it took for Leah to do it and she was proud of her. Still angry at her, still fearful for her, but in the moment, nothing greater than pride that she’d found enough in herself to talk to Broome’s mother and try to help put an end to this.
Leah was nearly at the end of the first part of her story. The end of the beginning.
‘I woke covered in my own blood. Nearly passed out when I saw my face. But I’d seen his face, that much I was sure of. I don’t think he knew, though. I surfaced somewhere in the middle of it and saw him. Then saw another punch.
‘It was five weeks later, living at my mum and dad’s, when I saw his face in the newspaper. Completely by chance. William Broome. Your son. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I went to the police and started things that couldn’t be stopped.’
Elspeth couldn’t look her in the eye. She listened, hung on every word but with her stare fixed on the ceiling.
‘You were in court. I remember seeing you there and wondering what kind of woman would produce a son like that.’
That stung. Elspeth jumped as if electrocuted but said nothing.
‘I went there to see your son. To face him. To see him before I’d have to give evidence against him. It was all supposed to be simple but it didn’t work out that way. It felt like everything was going wrong. The photographs he’d taken, all those women, they were taken away, taken out of evidence. I was so scared. It was like I had no control of anything. Then your son spoke to me.
‘It was very quick. Just a few words in the middle of all the chaos that broke out. But it was enough. He told me my parents’ address. Told me he’d already come to me once and he’d come to me again. That was all he said but I saw the look in his eyes as he said it. You’ve maybe seen it too. It was terrifying.’
Elspeth looked like she was trying to burn a hole in the white ceiling above.
‘That look on his face. I saw him, what he’s really like. His eyes were like an animal’s. I’ve never seen anyone else with that look. It was like he could kill and not care. I saw it when he wore the balaclava, when he raped me. And I saw it in court.
‘I ran, Mrs Broome. I don’t mind admitting I ran and I hid. I know what people thought. What you probably thought. That I was a liar, that I’d made it all up. Well, I didn’t. I only lied when I said I didn’t recognise him and I only did that because I was scared your son would kill me.
‘I’m not running any more though. I’m done with that. This has to stop, Mrs Broome. In the name of God, it has to stop.’
Anna Collins came in. Helen Scanlon too, all the way from New Zealand after multiple emails. DC Kerri Wells was there too, offering logistical and emotional support. Witnesses paraded in the court of one woman’s opinion. The procession was slow and traumatic for all involved. Narey could see the attendant nurse was on edge, battered by the information she was trying to process and torn between that and her patient. When she finally stood and said that it had to stop, it suited Narey fine. It left the impression the line was long.
‘You’re right, Mrs Broome has heard enough, I’m sure.’
The old woman didn’t reply. Her eyes were firmly closed. Narey moved nearer.
‘There are other women out there like these. All raped, all beaten. All by your son. We don’t know how many but we are trying to find them. We don’t want there to be any more. We need to bring an end to this. Will you help us?’
Elspeth tried to speak but broke down. The nurse got to her feet and gave her water, shooting warning glances at Narey, who ignored them. The patient managed to raise a hand just enough to shoo the nurse aside and wheeze out a reply.
‘Inspector, it’s a mother’s job to protect her child. To do anything, everything, to keep them safe. That job never ends, no matter how old they get or how old you get. It’s something you have to do. You say you’ve got a child, Inspector, so you’ll know. You’d do anything for them.’
‘But Mrs Broome, surely—’
‘I’m not finished.’
Narey heard the unsaid words. The shift in the tone. She shut up and listened.
‘It’s also a mother’s job to bring her child up. To teach them the right thing and to teach them the wrong thing. A mother can shape her child, make them some of the person they turn out to be. I know what I’d think of another mother whose son did these things. So, I know what I have to think of myself.’
Elspeth broke off to gulp air and compose herself. ‘I didn’t do my job. I ignored things, told myself they weren’t what they looked like. Right from when he was young, there were things explained away as accidents or just a flash of temper. Sometimes people got hurt, sometimes animals did. I always thought it couldn’t be William’s fault, just couldn’t be because he wasn’t like that. Well, he was. He is like that.’
Narey had to resist the temptation to respond, to push it. Her pulse was racing and the defining questions were fighting to leap from her. She had to let Elspeth say it.
‘He’s my son. I love him, Inspector. You’ve got to understand that.’
‘I do.’
‘It’s my fault. Some of it. Maybe all of it. But I’m sure he did those things. The things these women have said. I know what he’s like. I know now.’
The question couldn’t be held back any longer.
‘Mrs Broome, do you know now because of what happened to you? Did your son do this to you?’
The old woman spoke with her eyes closed and tears streaming from them.
‘Every time he punched me, he called me “slag”.’
Narey and Wells looked at each other, daring to hope.
‘He punched and called me a slag. Punched and called me a slag. Same as with the women you brought in here. My own son.’
It was close. Narey could feel it. Enough that it scared her. She took a deep breath and asked. ‘Mrs Broome, will you—’
‘Yes. God forgive me but yes, I will. I’m not doing this for you, Inspector. I’m not even doing it for those women, even though my heart bleeds for them. I’m doing it for my son. I’m doing this for William’s own good.’
I don’t care why, Narey thought. I only care that you do it. Don’t tease me. Say it. End it.
‘I will press charges. I will name him. I will go to court and I will identify William as the person who did this to me. The rest of it is up to you.’
CHAPTER 58
Broome and his lawyer walked into the interview room with the air of tourists who’d just seen one castle too many. He’d been here before and wasn’t much impressed the first time.
He had to know this was different, though. Not least because there had been no cosy arrangement, no deals on what could and couldn’t be asked, no provision for him and Constance to leave when the going got tough.
This time, he’d been detained for interview.
He and his lawyer sat at one side of the table, Narey and Wells on the other. Formalities were taken care of, the tape started and the interview begun.
‘We have a statement from one of your mother’s neighbours, Mr Martin Naysmith. He saw you enter the house at around 8.30. He didn’t see you leave but another of the neighbours did. Mrs Pauline Stewart was taking her son to Newlands Park at approximately 9.15 and saw you drive off. She described your mood as “agitated”.’
There it was. The edginess. The air of doubt that Narey wanted to see. It was in his eyes.
Constance, on the other hand, was still collected. ‘Agitated? We’re all agitated in the mornings, Inspector. Stresses of work, of getting there on time, of dealing with elderly parents, of being harassed by the police. There are no end of perfectly valid reasons for anyone to be agitated. You know as well as I do that will carry no weight, even if this were unlikely enough to get to court.’
Narey looked at her papers as she murmured a noncommittal response, not seeming to care what the lawyer had to say on the matter.
‘The time you were at your mother�
��s house is entirely consistent with the time she was attacked, as suggested by her injuries.’
Constance jumped in again. ‘As I’m sure is an hour earlier or an hour later. That’s a very imprecise science, Inspector, and in evidential terms an unreliable one.’
She didn’t lift her head, didn’t look at or respond to the lawyer. She thumbed the papers some more.
‘The person who attacked Mrs Broome would have been covered in blood. The spatter would have been extensive and unavoidable. A person in that position might have thought it expedient to hide from public view. Just as you did, Mr Broome.’
‘My client had already explained his absence even though there was no compulsion on him to do so.’
‘When Mr Naysmith saw you arrive, you were wearing a jacket but no coat. When Mrs Stewart saw you leave, you were wearing a coat. Perhaps the sort of thing someone would do if they had to cover their clothing.’
‘Really, Inspector. This is getting more and more ridiculous. If you don’t have anything more substantial than what you’ve offered then I fail to see how you can justify detaining my client any longer.’
Narey levelled Constance then Broome in turn with a measured stare. She saw Constance blink and his client swallow hard. They knew that if she had an ace, then it was to be played now.
She slid a sheaf of paper across the desk to the lawyer. He and Broome watched it skim to their side of the table as if it was an approaching army.
Constance began reading the top copy but swiftly flipped to the end, seeking confirmation of a name and a signature. A frown creased his forehead as he read it. He turned to Broome and authenticated it with a curt nod.
Broome snatched it from his hand, disbelieving, scanning it to his own dissatisfaction.
‘That slag. That fucking slag.’
The irony of his words were lost on him as he scraped back his chair and got to his feet, his arms waving aggressively. Narey didn’t flinch.
‘Sit down please, Mr Broome.’
‘My own fucking mother. She’s insane. Certifiable. That will never stand up in court.’
The Photographer Page 27
