by Gill Mather
“But Will wouldn't do that. He’s a bit wild but he’s like a lamb. When he gets drunk he just falls asleep.”
“Aye he does that. But try telling that to the police when three people swear he knocked this lad unconscious and then kicked him in the head.” Her mother started to weep. From the other end of the line it sounded copious. She started sniffing loudly, a sort of reverse snorting, and then blew her nose noisily. Several litres by the sound of it. Orielle shook her head.
“Mum. I’ll come up as soon as I can. But with any luck he’ll get bail tomorrow. He’s of previous good character,” it sounded so jargonised “and he’s got a good job. Nothing much else’ll happen for the time being. They’ll get some forensic evidence together. If it wasn't him, and I’m sure it wasn't, the forensics’ll tell.”
“Oh Orie!” And they spent another fifteen minutes comforting each other before her mother rang off by which time Orielle was starting to shed tears and worry about what would happen long term though she expressed none of her fears to her mother. Triss had appeared in the hall and stood watching and listening. Georgie wasn't at home. She usually worked late Thursday evenings.
“I’ll make you some tea shall I?” said Triss, his blue eyes even more serious than usual, his expression full of concern.
“That’d be nice. Did you hear that? My brother’s been arrested for attempted murder!” and she burst into floods of tears. Triss looked at a loss but came over.
“Come into the sitting room and sit down. Caffeine’ll help you to feel better.” She sobbed even louder. Awkwardly, Triss put his arms round her and patted her back. “There, there,” he said. Slightly hysterically, Orielle laughed through her tears at this hackneyed, obvious and normally insincere expression of sympathy. But she knew Triss wouldn't bother to pretend. If he tried to comfort her at all, then he’d mean it and she felt herself relax next to him.
“Thanks Triss,” she sniffed. “That’s very kind indeed.”
“OK,” he said. “We’ll think of something to do. I promise.”
Surprisingly and against all the odds, she found she believed him.
AT WORK THE NEXT day, Hugh, Peter and the others were sympathetic when she told them what had happened. Peter, the father of several daughters, gave her an avuncular pat on the shoulder. Hugh was kind but distant as usual.
“You’ll probably want to go up there I suppose though as you know it’s very busy just now.” It was. She’d been going in at weekends quite a bit as did many of them and couldn't have got through the work without doing so.
“Well there’s not much I can do but commiserate with my mum. I might go up one weekend. I’ll see.”
At about noon, her mother called with the news that Will had been granted bail and that she was waiting with Orielle’s dad for the formalities to be completed so that they could take Will home. Orielle didn't ask to speak to her father. She knew if anything he’d be in a worse state than her mother though in his case being fretful about Will’s future would be vying with the desire to issue bitter recriminations to Will once he got out. You couldn't of course ground a twenty six year old but there’d be bound to be reprisals of some sort. She knew both her parents would be thinking about the victim and his family as well as she had been herself. As if reading her thoughts from hundreds of miles away, her mum said:
“We’ve fixed up a meeting with the other lad’s parents. I mean we don't think for a minute Will did this, but it’s a terrible tragedy for the other family, more than for us really and we think we should try to support them in any way we can. I just hope they’re not too hostile. But we have to try.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Oh, he’s coming out now. I’d better go. I’ll keep you informed.”
“OK. `Bye mum.”
She tried to carry on working but her mind kept straying to her family in Newcastle-upon-Tyne and what would be going on there. She was thinking about contacting Will direct some time soon when Deirdre buzzed her and said there was someone waiting in reception for her and put the `phone down before Orielle had a chance to ask who it was. Typical of Deirdre; she’s such an airhead, thought Orielle uncharitably. She wondered if it might be the Major as she’d been trying to get hold of him but it turned out to be Triss. They stood uncertainly together in reception as Deirdre peered at them with interest wondering no doubt thought Orielle whether there’d be more snippets of information about her brother’s predicament.
“Could I have a word with you,” Triss said at last. He was definitely getting better at expressing himself in a less literal fashion.
“Yes. `Course.” She stood there waiting.
“In private.”
“Oh. All right. Come through then.” She led him out of reception and up the stairs to her small room on the second floor and shut the door. Triss looked around the room and then at her.
Puzzled why he was here, she said, “It’s nice to see you Triss.”
Without preamble he said, “I’ve decided to go up there.”
Orielle’s chin lifted involuntarily and her eyes were automatically drawn to the ceiling. Given his general other-worldliness, it wasn't an unreasonable gesture but Triss looked faintly irritated. He’d started to display more facial expression just lately as well, which, she thought, was a good thing. It must be.
“No. Not up there.” He too raised his eyes to the ceiling. “That’s….not an option. I’m catching the train shortly to Newcastle-upon-Tyne.” Now she noticed suddenly that he was sporting a rucksack with a rolled up sleeping bag bungied to the back of it. Indeed he looked more kitted out for a trekking holiday than a visit to the major capital city of the North East. She couldn't think of anything to say straight away.
“Here,” he said handing her a piece of paper. “I’ve bought a cheap mobile and this is the number. Can you give me yours so that we can keep in touch.” Silently she rang the number and he saved hers to his mobile and she saved his to hers.
“But Triss,” she said at last, “what can you possibly do? Where will you stay? I don't think my parents would….”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find somewhere. And as to what I can do, I’ll find out who really did it and make that person give themselves up to the police and the witnesses tell the truth.”
“But….but….Triss,” she stammered, “that’d be impossible. And you don't know anything about my family, my brother, where they live. I just….”
“I do know. I know already. I knew of you too before I came here though I never imagined….what er….how I would….how nice you’d be.”
Orielle stared open mouthed at him. Then she shook her head. “But how would you make these people do these things? You couldn't.”
“I could. People are extremely suggestible. I’ll be able to do it. Anyway, I’ve got to go. The train leaves in half an hour. I’ve borrowed the spare laptop. I hope you don't mind. Goodbye. Don't worry.”
“But Triss. What about money? What about…..”
But he was gone. She heard the receding clatter of his shoes on the stairs. She just sat there immobile for a time but, suddenly coming to life, she rushed to the window and watched his long legs striding purposefully down the street until he disappeared from view. She felt tears spring into her eyes. What had he said? He had known of her already. She knew she’d miss him terribly. What if he never came back?
ORIELLE SPENT A LOT of the afternoon wondering what to tell Georgie about Triss’s sudden disappearance. That he had gone off to Newcastle to try to change, she hoped not pervert, the course of justice seemed outlandish. In the end, though she hated to lie, she settled on the story that Triss had heard about some job suited to his talents and that he’d gone off to pursue that.
“Really!” said Georgie archly when she told her that evening, and the fact that Georgie hadn't asked for any more information made it fairly clear that she didn't believe it anyway. Obviously Georgie knew about Will’s arrest. She gave Orie an “I wasn't born yesterday” look and went off
to make their dinner while Orielle sat and fretted. It was extremely unlikely that she’d get an “arrived safely” text or similar so she didn't worry when she of course didn't.
She tried to watch the news but couldn't concentrate. What was it he’d said? He’d never imagined she’d be so nice. She realised he was doing this just for her; taking himself off to Newcastle to try to help her. And he’d known about her before he said. The notion entered her head that he might be some sort of sophisticated stalker. He might have come across her at some point and developed some sort of unhealthy obsession for her and had managed to enter her life on any pretext. He was certainly unusual. But was he unbalanced? It didn't seem like it. And to invent a background for himself that suggested he wasn't of this planet at all wasn't something you would immediately think might be guaranteed to win over a woman and her house mate. Though actually it had worked hadn’t it. He was ensconced here now, or had been until his departure that afternoon so perhaps it was all a ploy to get into her life. But he hadn't tried anything with her and you would think that anyone with an obsession might have done that by now after a couple of months. No, she decided. It was too far fetched. She would stop thinking along those lines and just hope that Triss could achieve something. And unaccountably, she really actually felt that he might.
She toyed with her food which Georgie pointedly ignored. Normally she would have chided her for failing to eat up her supper. Then she went to bed early and as a result got up early and was first into work for a change. As it was Saturday, she considered going up to Newkie but decided against it. There wasn't time and one would-be saviour from the South was probably enough for the time being.
Triss’s first contact came quicker than she thought it would. He called her mobile half way through the morning and asked if she could get any prosecution statements that were already available. Could her brother maybe authorise his Solicitors to scan and email them to her so he could have access to her emails and see the statements. He said he had an idea already who was responsible which seemed incredible to Orielle, but having the statements would, he said, speed things up.
So she called Will who wasn’t at work it being a Saturday but he was in shock anyway, not so much about the prosecution and the real prospect of a long prison sentence, but at the possibility that he might have actually done this thing to this other man. She persuaded him to get his Solicitors to email the statements to him and would he then forward them to her. She said she wanted to help in any way she could and Will thanked her profusely. She thought the Solicitors wouldn't be so keen to send information direct to another lawyer, even a relative of the accused. They’d worry she was going to start interfering with what they were doing and giving Will a second opinion.
A Solicitor’s lot being an overworked and under-appreciated one, the statements duly came through that Saturday afternoon from Will’s Solicitor via Will and after briefly reading them and printing them off she signed off her email account and texted Triss that the statements were ready for him to look at. She heard nothing more. She tried calling Triss but the calls went to voicemail.
On Sunday, she was moping about at home in the later afternoon when her mother called for moral support and a general chat. Her mother said that they’d been to see the victim’s parents and they’d behaved a bit oddly.
“They seemed nice enough but they were really cagey. There was this funny atmosphere. We couldn't make it out. I’m not sure I want to meet them again. We didn't find anything out anyway.”
They talked some more and they’d nearly said all they could several times over and were about to say goodbye when she said:
“Oh and there’s been this strange young man hanging about near the house since yesterday.”
“Really? Er, what does he look like?”
“Well I don't know. Just youngish and a bit scruffy and…I don't know.”
“Well what colour’s his hair for example? What’s he wearing?”
“Why’re you asking? Do you know who it is? Who is it?”
“No it’s not that. Of course not,” she said quickly. “I just thought it might help with Will’s defence if he….er could be identified.”
“Well he’s quite tall. He’s fair-haired I think. That’s about it. I haven't got a clue what exactly he’s wearing.” She sounded as though she’d turned away from the `phone. “He’s not here at the moment.”
“Oh well it’s probably not connected with Will at all.” She crossed her fingers. “OK then. Let me know if anything happens.”
“Will do. `Bye.”
As soon as the line was free, she called Triss’s number again and this time he answered. He sounded pleased to hear from her. You could always tell when someone was smiling at the other end.
“Are you OK Triss? Where are you staying?”
“In a cybersquat.”
“A squat? What sort of squat?”
“Cybersquat. They’re quite common. The people here write software and they’re expert hackers.”
“Hackers?” She really had to stop repeating everything he said. “But that’s illegal!”
“They don't do it for profit. Anyway they know what’s going on around here. I can sort things out quicker from here. And I needed somewhere to stay.”
“Oh. Of course.” She then launched into the real purpose behind her call. “Triss, what are you doing hanging around my parents’ house? They’ve noticed and I think they’re a bit worried.”
“Well it looks to me as though the people responsible are watching the house themselves so I’m going there to watch them. I think the beating up was some sort of gangland incident. Revenge or something.”
“Oh Triss. Be careful then. If they think you’re spying on them, they might hurt you.”
“I’ll be all right. I’m doing it on purpose. I want to make contact with them.”
“But they’ll hurt you. The gangs are ruthless. You wouldn't be able to…..”
“Don’t worry. I can look after myself in that way if I have to. I have to get to the bottom of what happened. You do want the prosecution against your brother dropped don't you?”
“Yes but….”
“Well the surest way for that to happen is to find out who really did it and get them prosecuted instead.”
“Right. I suppose so,” she said wanly, worrying more about him than she could express. Having lived most of her life in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, she’d heard countless tales of murder, torture, blackmail, all sorts emanating from these gangs. Forcing herself to focus on the mundane she said, “So is it comfy where you’re staying?”
“Yes,” he smiled, “it’s very nice. My sort of place entirely.”
“But you will come back?” she said, regretting the words or at least her urgency almost as soon as they were out.
“When it’s sorted out yes of course.”
“Really?”
“Of course I will. Colchester’s a….wonderful place. The source of everything that’s….worth having.”
“Oh. Good. Well let me know what happens. And be careful.”
“Don’t worry Orie. I’ll have to go. They’re serving up dinner here now.”
“Right.” She felt unreasonably insanely jealous that he’d fitted in just like that.
“People talk a lot during meals here. I might find out something useful. I’d really better go.”
“OK. `Bye.” She disconnected the call.
SHE HEARD NO MORE for five days. She tried calling and texting Triss but there was no response. She kept thinking dramatically “in deep cover” and such like to console herself. On Friday afternoon however when she was nearly giving up hope, her mother called her.
“Orie!” Orielle could tell by her voice that there’d been some major development. All sorts of bad things passed through her mind.
“Tell me. Tell me! What is it?”
“The charges are being dropped. The police say they know who did it now and the witnesses have changed their stories. It’s a m
iracle. It was a gangland revenge attack. The police say they suspected it from the victim’s identity but they say it’s unheard of for witnesses to agree to testify against a member of these gangs, let alone for the perpetrator to own up to the crime. We’re…..you can imagine Orie. I do wish you were here. We’re taking the boys out for a meal tonight with some of our friends to celebrate. Oh, Orie!” And she started to cry helplessly at the other end of the `phone.
“That’s wonderful news mum. I’m so pleased.” She didn't risk asking any more about how this unbelievable result had come about.
“Oh,” her mother sniffed. “And the other lad’s off life support. It looks like he’ll get better. Though with these gangs, who knows what’ll happen to him in the long run!”
“No. No I suppose not. Well thanks mum.”
She called Georgie and told her. It was nearly five and while she was doing so, Hugh came in to ask her to arrange to see a witness in a case. He heard the tail ends of her conversation and drew the obvious conclusion.
“So your brother’s in the clear. How about us all going out for a quick celebratory drink then. We could combine it with a toast to the fact that Amanda’s coming to work here in the New Year.” Hugh had announced to the office a day or two ago that Amanda was going start work as the office manager after Christmas.
“Well that would be great. Where to? I’ll tell Georgie. Oh and Triss in case he….can make it.”
“Sod `n` Shovel I should think.”
A half hour later and they were all fairly merry when Triss walked in and came over. For a second as she looked at him, time stood still. He accepted a glass of still water and she whispered her thanks to him. “I don't know how you managed it but I’m so grateful.”
“I’m glad to see you happy,” he replied and that was all anyone got out of him.
