by Black, Helen
The guard raised an incredulous eyebrow, as if she’d suggested riding naked on an elephant to her hearing.
‘They’ll be waiting for me,’ she pleaded.
He sniffed and tapped the conveyor belt of the x-ray machine. Lilly sighed and tossed her bag on. Were they expecting a terrorist attack on a cold afternoon when everyone else had gone home?
She growled to herself when he barely glanced at the monitor as her overstuffed bag passed through and snatched it up at the other side before racing up the stairs. Why did people have to be so bloody difficult? Could they not step outside of their box even in an emergency?
When Lilly threw open the door to the advocates’ room and found Kerry Thomson hunched over her files, she knew she had the answer; some people couldn’t manage a toe outside their little box.
Lilly pasted a smile onto her face. ‘Hello, Kerry.’
‘Hello.’
Lilly tried humour. It had never worked before on Kerry but there was a first time for everything. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
‘I’m a Crown prosecutor and this is a court, it can’t be too much of a surprise.’
Lilly sighed. Over the years she had tried to be nice to Kerry. When all the other lawyers sniggered behind her back, calling her The Whale, Lilly had resolutely refused to join in. And when Kerry had begun to slowly but surely lose weight, Lilly had always managed a supportive comment. None of it had made the slightest dent in Kerry’s cast-iron dislike of Lilly.
‘I’m here for Lydia Morton-Daley’ she said.
‘Your name’s not on the notice.’ Kerry pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘It’s some bloke called Paul Santana.’
‘He’s transferred the case to me,’ said Lilly.
‘You didn’t let anyone know,’ said Kerry.
Lilly pursed her lips together. She didn’t want to say anything she might regret. ‘I’m letting you know now, Kerry.’
Kerry placed the paperwork carefully back in its file. ‘I know it’s old-fashioned to consider such small things important.’
Not old-fashioned, just tediously pedantic. It could not matter one jot to Kerry who was representing Lydia.
‘Do you have anything for me?’ Lilly asked. ‘I’ve only received the arresting officer’s notes.’
‘Speaking of which,’ said Kerry and beckoned to a policewoman hovering outside the door. ‘This is WPC Knight.’
Lilly smiled at the young woman whose pretty overbite seemed vaguely familiar, but she didn’t have time for small talk to place her.
‘Any more documents?’ Lilly asked. ‘I know it’s old-fashioned to consider such small things important.’
Kerry slid a sheaf of paperwork across the desk. Lilly scooped it up. By the thickness of it, Lilly guessed it contained a transcript of the interview with Lydia at the police station. God only knows what the kid had said.
She pushed the door open with her foot. ‘It’s a pleasure doing business with you.’
He hasn’t told her about me.
He hasn’t said he’s told her, or that he hasn’t. It’s one of those things we don’t discuss. But I know he hasn’t said anything by the way she doesn’t give me a second glance.
I’ve seen her before of course. At the police station. But I didn’t know then that she was of any importance. If I had known, I would have paid closer attention.
Once I understood her relevance, I did my research. I’ve read everything on Google. All those articles when her cases hit the headlines. Which they seem to do with uncanny regularity.
‘If anyone likes more attention than Lilly Valentine, I’ve yet to meet them.’
I’d forgotten the fat woman was in the room.
‘Everything she touches becomes a three-act drama,’ the prosecutor continues.
I raise an eyebrow as if I can’t quite believe it of her.
‘Don’t let the suit fool you,’ the woman snorts, a drop of mucus flying from her left nostril. ‘Carnage follows her wherever she goes.’ She pushes herself to her feet with a grimace. ‘And men follow along behind that.’
‘Men?’
‘Wraps ’em round her little finger.’ She holds up, not her little finger, but her index, the nail square and acrylic. ‘She made a real fool of that poor policeman she was with.’
I hold the door open for her, taking care not to breathe in as she passes through.
‘Then there was Jez.’
‘Jez?’ I ask.
‘Jez Stafford. A barrister. Way out of her league if you ask me. Then some interpreter and it wasn’t long ago there was some black guy hanging around. Apparently he was working for her, but I don’t know any other solicitors that have secretaries with a six-pack, do you?’
I say nothing.
‘God alone knows what they all see in her.’
I let her waddle ahead of me, shocked at my error. Clearly I’ve under-estimated Lilly Valentine.
Lilly was still fuming over Kerry’s pettiness as she checked outside courtrooms three and four for Lydia.
The afternoons were usually reserved for a handful of trials or any case requiring an expert, and even those were finished by this time. Only one young woman remained, seated in the far corner, mumbling to herself and scratching her hand with enough violence to draw blood. When she caught sight of Lilly, she made a noise an animal might make if it were cornered.
Lilly put up a hand to show that she meant no harm and the woman turned her back, keeping up her whispered litany.
Lydia was lucky to be safe in the Grove. Far too many of the mentally ill ended up in the criminal justice system, spending terrified hours in police custody or prison. Too long for comfort, but not long enough to receive any useful help.
Lilly wasn’t surprised not to find Lydia. The Oil Slick wouldn’t have thought to inform the staff at the Grove that she needed to attend court. Hell, he probably thought personal embossed invitations were sent from the magistrates, together with spacious transport.
It wasn’t ideal, but once she had an opportunity to explain what had happened, it shouldn’t cause any real problem. She stopped at the courtroom door to wait for Kerry and caught the WPC staring at her. The young woman blushed and quickly looked away. Lord knows what Kerry had been telling her. Probably that she was the worst solicitor on the local circuit.
‘After you.’ Lilly held the door open and let the other two women pass. The WPC smelled of lemon, Kerry of damp jumpers.
They took their positions at the front of the courtroom. Lilly and Kerry alongside one another, though ten feet apart, the WPC just behind. It was usual for the advocates to chat while they waited, but Lilly really had nothing to say to Kerry.
The silence was broken by the opening of the inner door between the magistrate’s chambers and the courtroom.
The usher came through it. ‘Court rise.’
Lilly got to her feet, grateful to get things moving. She was less grateful when she saw the magistrate shuffling into court. Andrew Manchester. He looked as old as Yoda and as bony as Gollum. His dislike of the young people that came before him was matched only by his dislike of their solicitors.
‘Miss Thomson.’ He gave Kerry a small nod. ‘Miss Valentine.’ He gave Lilly only a cold stare and sat down. Then he turned to his clerk. ‘I cannot help but notice that we are missing someone.’
The clerk handed Mr Manchester a sheet of paper.
‘Do you have anything to say, Miss Valentine?’ He tapped his ink pen against the paper. ‘A reason why I should not sign this warrant for your client’s arrest?’
‘Indeed, sir,’ Lilly replied.
‘Then please address me. I am, as they say, all ears as to what could be more important than attending court.’
‘I’m afraid she is in hospital, sir,’ said Lilly.
‘And what is wrong with her?’ Mr Manchester’s tone made it clear that he would take a dim view of anything less than a terminal complaint.
‘She has been sectioned under the Mental Health Act,’ Li
lly told him.
That made the old bugger sit up straight. He even put down his pen.
‘Following her arrest, my client’s parents sought psychiatric assistance for their daughter,’ said Lilly. ‘It was decided that Lydia should be kept at the Grove hospital for her own safety.’
Kerry let out a curdled sigh.
‘Problem?’ Lilly asked her.
Kerry pulled herself to her feet. When her arse left the plastic chair it made a sound like a soft fart.
‘A rich girl steals and crashes a car, putting goodness knows how many lives at risk, and suddenly she needs urgent help,’ said Kerry. ‘No doubt paid for by her parents.’
‘Are you suggesting the psychiatrist in charge of Lydia’s care has behaved unethically?’ Lilly asked.
Mr Manchester put up a finger. ‘Miss Thomson has done nothing of the sort. She has simply showed a degree of scepticism at the timing. A scepticism which frankly I share.’
‘I’m sure I can provide the court with confirmation from the Grove that Lydia’s current stay in their closed unit has everything to do with her mental health and nothing to do with avoiding a court attendance,’ replied Lilly.
‘Why did you not provide such confirmation in advance?’ Mr Manchester narrowed his eyes. ‘A lot of time has been wasted today.’
Lilly knew she had to be honest. ‘I would have informed the court as to my client’s whereabouts had I known about today’s hearing, but unfortunately it was only brought to my attention –’ Lilly checked her watch ‘– less than an hour ago.’
‘Less than an hour ago?’ Mr Manchester shouted. ‘This case was listed in December.’
Lilly opened her arms. ‘That may be so, sir, but when it was listed I was not representing the defendant. The notice was sent to Lydia’s previous solicitor.’
The magistrate shot a look at his clerk, who ran her finger down her case file, before nodding that Lilly’s assertion was correct.
Once again Kerry got to her feet. ‘If Miss Valentine had served the paperwork informing us all of the change in representation things might have moved a little more smoothly.’
Lilly refused to even look at the other advocate. There was absolutely no reason for Kerry to land her in it. She was point-scoring to no other purpose than scoring points. Jesus, she really must hate Lilly.
Instead, she focused on Mr Manchester and awaited the inevitable tirade, but as the old man prepared to crank himself up to cataclysmic proportions, a noise from the back distracted them all as someone entered the court and gave a polite cough.
‘This is a closed session,’ Mr Manchester growled.
Lilly turned to discover Harry stood in the doorway.
‘Huge apologies for the interruption, sir.’ Harry held up a hand to the magistrate. ‘I need to speak to Miss Valentine urgently.’
Lilly’s mouth fell open. Kerry couldn’t contain a snigger. All holy hell was about to break loose.
Mr Manchester thumped his desk. ‘We are in the middle of a case!’
‘I’m aware of that, sir,’ said Harry.
‘Then wait outside before I have you removed.’
Harry took a step into the courtroom. His voice was a study of calm and authority.
‘I’m Lydia’s psychiatrist and I have information that pertains to this case, sir. Information that needs to be conveyed to Miss Valentine immediately.’ He paused. ‘If this were not an emergency I wouldn’t have left my patients.’
Mr Manchester was still incandescent with rage, but Harry’s demeanour brooked no argument. Reason and intelligence oozed from him. The two men stared at one another for a moment, Harry still smiling, the magistrate almost purple.
‘Very well.’ Mr Manchester waved a dismissive hand. ‘I will adjourn for five minutes.’ He pointed at Lilly. ‘Then we shall proceed come what may.’
Lilly nodded as Mr Manchester left for his chambers. She caught Kerry rubbing her hands with glee. The WPC, who frankly she’d forgotten about, had her head cocked to one side as if Lilly were something quite unfathomable. She ignored them both and grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him into the corridor.
‘I’ve no idea what you’re doing here, Harry, but you saved my arse,’ she told him. ‘I could cheerfully kiss you.’
He held her gaze for a second too long, until Lilly felt the heat of embarrassment seep up her throat and had to look away.
‘How did you know I was here?’ she asked.
‘A Mr Santana called the Grove,’ he replied.
‘Wow,’ said Lilly. ‘The Oil Slick wasn’t as useless as I thought.’
‘What?’
‘Lydia’s old solicitor.’ Harry clearly had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Never mind.’
Harry put a hand on Lilly’s arm. ‘There’s no other way to tell you this,’ he said. ‘So I’m just going to come out with it.’
‘Come out with what, Harry?’
He was still touching her, but lightly, so she could hardly feel the weight of his fingers. ‘Lydia is dead.’
Gem don’t know what she’s even doing here.
The café is virtually empty. A couple of black girls from the Clayhill are in the corner, all tongue studs and hair extensions. One of them is flicking her lighter against the bottom edge of the menu, making the plastic coating go black.
‘Carry on with that and you’re out,’ says Dirty Mick, from behind the counter.
The girl kisses her teeth at him and gives him the finger.
‘Don’t think I won’t call the police,’ he says.
‘Fuck you,’ says the girl, but she throws down the lighter.
Some old boy on the next table shakes his head in disgust as he makes his way through a plate of food, cutting through each chip with his knife and putting one half into his mouth. Then the next. He’ll be there all bleeding week.
Apart from that, the place is empty and Gem takes a table in the window.
‘What can I get you?’ Mick shouts.
Gem’s stomach growls. ‘A Coke.’
‘That it?’
Gem nods and sits down. Whatever happens she’s got to get Tyler’s nappies. Mum will have a fit that Gem took this long.
Mick slams the Coke on the table. ‘Last of the big spenders.’
She pulls the ring on her can and takes a drink. Five minutes and she’ll leave. She was a total mug for coming in the first place.
She’s almost ready to leave when a woman comes in. Her skin is toffee-coloured like Herika, but she ain’t wearing one of them scarves on her head.
She stands by the table. ‘You Gem?’
Gem nods.
The woman sits down. She’s got a silver ring on every finger. Even her thumbs.
‘You hungry?’ the woman asks.
Her accent makes the ‘h’ sound more like a ‘j’.
Gem tries not to think about the chips she left at home.
‘’Course you are,’ says the woman. ‘Teenagers are starving all day long, no?’ She grabs the menu, flicks it over, then flicks it back again. ‘Burger?’ she asks.
Before Gem can answer she turns to the counter and waves at the owner. ‘Burger, chips, cup of tea.’ She checks what Gem’s drinking. ‘And another Coke.’
The man nods. Considering he’s not overrun with paying customers he’s not exactly friendly.
‘I’m Feyza,’ says the woman.
‘Hello,’ says Gem.
The woman drums her fingers on the tabletop. The rings flash like little fish. It reminds Gem of them foot spas where people put their feet in a tank full of them and they nibble off all the dead skin and that. Proper gross if you think about it.
The man arrives with the food and plonks it down in front of them without a word.
‘Eat,’ says Feyza.
Gem tries to eat as slowly as she can. She doesn’t want Feyza to think she’s a pig with no manners. But she’s so hungry, it ain’t easy.
Feyza pours some sugar into her tea and stirs it slowly. Round and r
ound. Then she brings the cup to her lips. But she don’t drink. She just lets it hover there, her mouth millimetres from the dark brown liquid, watching Gem.
‘You in care?’ Feyza asks.
Gem shakes her head.
Feyza frowns and puts down her cup. She still ain’t even taken a sip. ‘But you need money?’ she asks. ‘You need to earn money, yes?’
Gem swallows her last chip. She was right. Nobody gives something for nothing, but earning it is different. ‘You’re offering me a job?’ she asks.
The woman gets up and makes her way to the counter to pay. She hands over a ten-pound note. ‘You won’t speak to me, but you take my money, hey?’ she asks Mick.
He grunts and slams down her change.
‘You are prick,’ Feyza tells him and slides the coins into her purse.
She doesn’t go back to the table, but makes for the door. For a second, Gem thinks she’s going to leave without her, but then she turns and puts one hand on her hip.
‘Come,’ she says to Gem. ‘I show you what we do.’
The warmth of Lilly’s blushes evaporated, replaced by a chill that made her shudder. ‘Dead?’ she asked.
‘You’re shaking,’ Harry said. ‘Come and sit down.’
Lilly allowed Harry to lead her to the nearest bench and flopped into it.
‘What the hell happened?’ she asked. ‘Did she kill herself?’
A place like the Grove would be careful. Suicide was something about which they were mindful. All drugs were carefully locked away. Belts were removed. Yet for patients as damaged as Lydia, there was always a way.
‘We don’t know what happened,’ said Harry. ‘The police are at the unit now. I should be there, but I thought you needed to know and I wanted to tell you in person.’
‘That was kind,’ said Lilly.
He gave a rueful smile. ‘I wanted to get out of there too, so not entirely selfless.’
Lilly nodded. Harry was clearly dedicated to his patients. A failure like this would be painful.
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ she told him.
He gave her hand a squeeze, then left without another word. Lilly watched him go, knowing there was nothing she could say to make it better. Today another young life had been wasted.
