by Gill Mather
“What about the quiz tonight?” he continued. “You paid to go. You paid for me too. Could I run quizzes? I know….well almost everything. I could easily devise questions. Would people pay to come?”
“I suppose we could think about it. You’d have to persuade pubs to let you put on quiz nights on the understanding you could keep the money.”
“So in this world where everything is worth something, what would they, the pubs, get in return?”
“More punters. More customers.”
“More people to go to the pubs and drink alcohol. Is that a good thing really?”
“Well most people don't have a drink problem. They just enjoy drinking in moderation.”
“Like the cousins and Georgie tonight?”
“Well that’s probably not a very good example. But they only drank the wine because they won it. Well you won it basically. We’d have to get you some other clothes though. Something a bit smarter. If you go round pubs and don't look reasonably smart, they’ll just turn you away.”
“Georgie said in effect that I was a tramp. I don't care about that or what she or anyone thinks but if it stops me from getting some sort of paid occupation, I’ll have to do something about it.”
“By the way, if you know almost everything, maybe you can help me fill in my lottery ticket this week.”
“It wouldn't help. I can't tell the future.”
“It was just a joke actually.”
“I thought jokes were supposed to have punch lines.”
“All right. Maybe not a laugh out loud joke, or even a joke really, it just wasn't meant seriously. You weren't meant to take it literally.”
“As I said, behaviour matters. And being able to understand others’ behaviour as well.” He shook his head. “Thank you for taking me tonight.”
CHAPTER 5
MORE THAN A LITTLE hung over from the quiz night the night before and its aftermath, Orielle was finding it difficult to concentrate on interviewing this fifteen year old girl Pandora whose mother Tiffany had also to be present due to Pandora's age. Pandora was strikingly pretty and looked a lot older than fifteen. In fact mother and daughter looked almost the same age and wore very similar clothes.
"Pandy wants to be a model," said Tiffany. Orielle could believe it but she said:
"Yes of course but we need to try and concentrate on the evening Brad is accused of selling drugs at the school. It's the same school you go to isn't it Pandora? Why weren't you at the disco yourself?"
"It was just a kids' thing. They're all so immature."
"So you were getting guitar lessons from Brad then instead."
Tiffany snorted.
"Yes Mrs. Barnes? Why is that funny?"
"Well, they might have practised but she can play far better than him. As I said, she wants to be a model."
"What are you saying? What has that to do with Brad?"
Pandora answered: "He knows people in the business. Agents and that. He can get me introductions. But first I needed a portfolio."
"So what did you do that evening?"
"He took some photos. He's got all the gear, lights, backdrops, all that. We did use the guitar." She giggled. "For decency."
Orielle frowned. "So actually he was taking photographs of you? Did you know about this Mrs. Barnes?"
"`Course I did. He's a family friend. And she wants to get into the business. I used to model a bit myself." Tiffany preened herself.
Pandora continued: "Obviously it would just be glamour to start with. All tasteful stuff. Underwear and swimwear and that. For magazines. I've already had my boobs done," she said thrusting out her chest, "but eventually I could get into the big stuff, fashion you know."
"Right," said Orielle, "did you tell this to the police? I didn't see any mention of it."
"No," said Tiffany. "I weren't having that lot ogling my baby's tits. So we just said the simplest thing about guitar lessons. He does give them. Like to younger kids."
"So if he used a digital camera, it probably has a record of the date and times. It should clear him in that case without difficulty."
Pandora shifted in her seat and looked uncomfortable.
"What's the problem?" asked Orielle though it wasn’t hard to guess what was coming.
"Well some of them was a bit….you know….full on. I mean very tasteful but…."
"You never let him take pornos of you did you?" squealed Tiffany.
"No….no. They was really nice with roses and confetti, a bridal veil, a garter. All white frilly stuff. Sort of virginal."
"Well you are a virgin. Aren't you still? You are, aren’t you?"
"Yeah `course I am."
"I think we're going to have to leave it here for the moment. I'll see if I can have a word with Dr. Sutherland while you're here," said Orielle without a clue how to handle this or what would be the best thing to do. They couldn't encourage a fifteen year old to lie in Court and stick to the story about the guitar lessons. They'd probably have to see the photos and see how explicit they really were. Maybe just pictures of bare bosoms, say, didn’t rank as pornography these days did they and if mum consented to the session, then perhaps it'd be all right and they could use the photos to exonerate Brad. But if the photographs were more intimate, she assumed it could be a problem with the subject being a fifteen year old girl, with or without mum's consent. She wished she had time to go online to try and research the issue before going and speaking to Hugh about it. She wasn't sure. Sixteen was certainly the age of consent for having sex but what about racy photos especially if they were going to be distributed to agents, or worse posted on some seedy website? Maybe you had to be even older. Eighteen perhaps. She ought to know. It would seem ridiculous if the age of consent for actual sex was younger than the age it was legal to take pornographic photos of someone but perhaps that was the case.
On the other hand, googling for information about child pornography wasn't maybe such a good idea anyway. What sort of idiot would Hugh and the others think she was if she unwittingly got the office raided by a child abuse investigation team or a paedophile unit. No it wouldn't do. If necessary she’d have to do the research the long way round by poring over criminal law sources.
She left the room and trotted down a storey to Hugh's room. He was just shouldering himself into his mack and reaching for a scarf off the coat stand and acknowledged her with a nod.
"Hugh. As you know, I'm seeing Pandora with her mother about that client Bradley Adams. It isn't turning out quite as we might have hoped." She repeated what she'd been told. He looked angry.
"Typical. It's always the freebies that turn out to be toxic."
"Freebies? It's a pro bono then is it?"
"Yes. He's my ruddy cleaner's nephew and I said I'd act for him for nothing. Oh God. Why do I do these things! C'mon. I'll have to have a quick word with them." As Orielle hoped he would.
He dashed upstairs two at a time and burst into her room with her hurrying after him.
The Barnes ladies looked up. Having slumped down a little morosely in their seats, they jointly perked up considerably at the sight of Hugh. Hugh of course failed to notice.
"We were under the impression," Hugh said to Pandora, "that Brad was giving you guitar lessons but now my colleague tells me that he was taking photographs of you. We need to be very clear about the nature of these photos. Obviously we'd have to see them, but can you tell me now what was in the photos. My colleague says you gave the impression that they might be of you naked, perhaps showing your upper body. Is that so?"
"Well. If you mean my boobs, well then yes."
Tiffany cut in, "I don’t see what's wrong with that. You can see any number on any beach in the Med and they’re on page three of The Sun every day."
"Not necessarily for much longer. Tastes have changed. It’s not so acceptable these days."
"You've got to start somewhere in the fashion business you know," said Tiffany. "No-one's gunna come along and sign her up to one of the maj
or fashion houses just like that. She'll have to get exposure where she can to begin with."
"Pandora's would-be modelling career is not the issue here. Why have you told us all this when you told the police the evening was just about a guitar lesson?"
"I didn’t like the way the police was looking at Pandy. One of the younger officers was practically drooling. Anyway, we can just stick to the guitar lessons if you like. No problem."
"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that," said Hugh. Turning to Pandora again he said:
"So there were photos of your bare upper body. Were there any of your lower body, the area between your navel, say, and your thighs."
"You mean her pubes?" said Tiffany.
"If you like to put it that way. Yes"
"Well," said Pandora looking shifty again, "they weren’t rude nor nuffink. But Brad said the agents needed to see my potential."
Hugh looked stony-faced. "Did you have your legs open for any photos?"
"A bit. Well yeah. You have to make sacrifices to get on."
"Well," said Tiffany, "I'd rather she hadn’t a done that but if I say it was with my consent, then surely there's not a problem."
"Mrs. Barnes, regardless of the legalities of the thing, I really don’t think the average middle class jury made up of middle aged people are going to be impressed by a thirty two year old man taking photos of a fifteen year old girl's genitals. I'm sorry. I think we won’t be able to use Pandora as a witness."
"But she might have got on the telly!"
"I doubt it actually but anyway we can't. Orielle can you finish up here? I'll stay for a short time. Can you pop in when you're free. Be quick if you can. I've got to go." He thanked the Barnes's for their assistance and went out, raising an eyebrow to Orielle as he walked past her.
Orielle showed mother and daughter out and then went to see Hugh again. He was sitting at his desk leafing through some papers still in his mackintosh. He looked up.
"You'll have to see Brad again for me. See what he's got to say and then we'll have to try and decide what we're going to do. If he can't make a daytime appointment, don't arrange to see him on your own here in the evening. The man's a menace. Speak to me and we'll see what we can sort out. Perhaps a Saturday morning. There's usually quite a few people in then. Anyway, I'm off. I’ll be back later. If you've got nothing to do this afternoon, see Peter. Bye now."
"OK Hugh. Thanks. Bye." He smiled distantly at her and went out.
AFTER LUNCH SHE went and saw Peter as suggested. He'd obviously been unable to get down to the tasks he landed on her. They had all the hallmarks of jobs saved up until they became desperate. They were at turns monumentally boring or impenetrably hopeless or just downright bizarre. Going over the papers relating to the burglary of a pet store. The owner suspected an ex-employee but all that could be proved to have been taken was a couple of gerbils and the police weren't interested in pursuing it so the owner wanted to start a private prosecution. The other jobs were calling potential witnesses in a case of identity theft and going online to try to find information about extreme slimming aids and the effect some might have on a person’s mental state and actions. The hours that afternoon ticked slowly over but at least the hangover gradually lifted. By five twenty five she felt almost human again when reception buzzed through and said someone was waiting for her. Unusual, she thought. her circle of acquaintances in Colchester wasn't exactly that wide. She bashed away a few notes to remind her later what she’d found out about slimming aids, saved it, closed down, grabbed her bag and coat and rushed out.
“Triss!” she said halting in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”
“You work here.”
“That’s true. But why’re you here. Is everything OK?”
“Everything might be an exaggeration. But I don't know of an immediate problem.”
“So why are you here?”
“You work here.”
Hugh’s girlfriend Amanda was sitting in reception waiting for Hugh, listening to the exchange, as was Deidre the receptionist. Conscious of their stares and the absurd circular nature of the conversation she said quickly:
“This is Tristram. Well. I’m leaving now. Come on.” Hugh came out just then and went straight up to Amanda who got up and he took her hand.
Orielle said goodnight and hustled Triss out.
“I wanted to see what work was like,” he said as they walked along the pavement.
“Well why didn't you say so in there?”
“Should I have?”
Orielle sighed. You couldn't win. “Never mind. D’you mind hurrying or I’ll be late for salsa classes.”
“Of course. Salsa is dancing. That’s right?”
“Yes. South American.”
“I know. At least I thought it probably wasn't the sauce called salsa. Could I come?”
“I don't know. Would you like it?”
“I’d like to learn something new in practice.”
“The sessions are eight pounds each.”
“Oh. As you know I have no money. I’ll just come and watch then. I can learn from that just as well.”
“Sorry, I would pay for you but I’m hard up at the moment until pay day.”
They were part way through the park when there was a clattering of heels behind them and Georgina caught them up.
“Triss is coming to watch our salsa classes,” Orielle said.
Georgie’s face fell about five miles. “Oh. Hurrah!” she said.
“Your Dr. Sutherland has been very unhappy in the past,” said Tristram ignoring Georgie. “You remind him of that time Orielle. So has the woman Amanda been unhappy but not for the same reason. And he and the woman Amanda have been mating.”
“Hmm. There are other ways of putting it but very likely they have.”
“No I said mating because Amanda is gestating a small human.”
“Well it wouldn't be a small hippopotamus or a small wildebeest,” said Georgie.
“What? You mean she’s pregnant?” said Orielle.
“She doesn't know it yet. Hugh suspects it but isn't sure. I suppose it’s Hugh she’s been mating with. I can't say for certain but he certainly thinks it was his spermatozoa. It’s a boy child.”
“How can you possibly know all that? You’re just guessing right?” said Orielle.
“I’m only imbued with the knowledge I had when I came over. Some properties linger but I fear they’ll dissipate too as time goes by. And this human brain isn't going to be able to retain memories indefinitely.”
Georgie went cross-eyed, slackened her bottom jaw and made screw loose signs. Orielle nudged her to stop.
“I know what she means,” said Tristram. “She’s indicating that I have insufficient brain cells or some mental impairment. I know she thinks that about me. I don't care. Even if it were true, it couldn't be a criticism. If I suffered from mental impairment, it wouldn't be my fault therefore no-one could criticise me for it. But making faces like that when you can help it, suggests a lack of open-mindedness, a dogmatic fixed view of things. That in itself probably means that she’s of lower intelligence than, say, you Orielle.”
“You really are a piece of shit,” said Georgie growing angry.
“Profanity and anger are certainly the preserve of the lower orders.”
“Oh piss off,” said Georgie and marched off ahead of them muttering.
“So,” Orielle sighed, “what have you been doing today?”
“I walked to the university and sat in the science section of the library for about five hours and then I walked back and came to your office.”
“So what? You were reading yeah?”
“Ninety nine percent of it’s wrong but it’s still remarkable that you people have even got as far as you have in the field of theoretical physics.”
“Won't salsa seem a little mundane after dwelling on the secrets of the universe all day?”
“I’ll be bored if I stay at your home. Speaking of your home, I ho
pe I’m not proving to be a drain on your financial resources. I’ll leave if I am.”
“No. You hardly eat anything. It doesn't cost anything to put you up on the settee. Apart from a few points on Georgie’s blood pressure of course. It’ll be getting really cold soon. You can't sleep outside. Er…I suppose….nothing’s come back to you yet?”
“What are you thinking might have come back to me and from where?”
“Your memory. Have you remembered anything?”
“I’ve told you. I haven't lost my memory as you’d call it. I simply don't come from anywhere around here or have anything of relevance to this place. To here. There were no names where I come from. They weren't needed. Like homes weren't needed. Or clothes. Or money. Or buses. Or cars. Or universities. Or trees. Or heat. Or food. Or light. Or….”
“Oh dear,” said Orielle.
“Tomorrow when I go to the university, I’ll go to that place on the way. What was it you called it? A clothes bank. And get some more clothes if it’s going to get colder.”
“Triss. You can't keep doing that. It’s theft. You might get prosecuted. You know taken to court. By the police. And if you’ve got no ID documents, no name etc they may think you’re an illegal immigrant and contact the Home Office or whoever and try to get you deported or put in some holding facility or something.”
“But people just leave clothes there. If they don't want them, why shouldn't people take them who do?”
“Once they’ve been left, they, the clothes I mean belong to whoever owns the clothes bank. So it’s theft if you take them. The clothes get used by charities or sent off to places where people don't have anything.”
“But I don't have anything. And in fact I don't want anything, but I don't want to be cold either.”
“We’ll go to a charity shop at the weekend. I’ll have been paid by then. The clothes are cheap there. I’ll buy you some stuff. And the next time I go home, I’ll see if my brothers have got any clothes they don't want. They can't even be bothered to put stuff out for washing. They just leave dirty clothes all over their bedroom floors and go out and buy new stuff all the time.”
