by Penny Grubb
Annie didn’t want to antagonize Kate, but Kate seemed determined to be antagonized by Annie. There was nothing she could do about that. She took in a breath.
‘Thank you for turning up so promptly,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m sure it’s for the best. Whoever he is, he’s on his way and he won’t be back.’
Kate looked surprised, but after a moment she reached out to share a brief handshake with Annie. Another pause, but whatever Kate had been going to say, she thought better of it. With a curt nod, she turned and left.
Annie smiled and pulled the Longs’ file from the desk drawer. Case closed. Good result. As she went to file the papers, she visualized Kate’s battle dress. It had been a very bright shade of red.
‘Ha!’ Just the same red as the red pin on her cork board at home, currently pinning the letter from the blasted horse women. Now was as good a time as any. She looked out the number and picked up the phone. As she listened to the ring tone, a door slammed and the stairs creaked their protest at the heavy tread that began to ascend.
With a rush of relief, Annie heard the answer phone cut in. ‘Hi, Annie Raymond here. About the show on Saturday. No way I can get out to you. Hope it won’t cause a problem. I’ve had a new case come in. Bye.’
She sat back with the feeling of a good job done, as the door opened and Barbara came in.
‘Oh, so you got the message, did you?’ she shot at Annie. ‘It’s a new case, is it? She said she just wanted to talk to you.’
‘What message? Who wants to talk to me? I was just making excuses to get out of something.’
‘Oh … well. That weird woman called for you. The one working for the insurance fraud people. We were going to tell you when you’d done with your clients. The one with the genderchange name. Richard-Louise … Thomas-Martha … I can’t remember. Something like that.’
Surprise opened Annie’s eyes wide. So Pieternel had been in touch and the sisters had kept it from her. ‘You know full well what she’s called,’ she snapped at Barbara.
‘Oh, don’t get your knickers in such a twist. What’s it to you, anyway?’
‘You can be so bloody parochial at times.’
Barbara just laughed and turned to the desk. Annie glared at her back, but only out of habit. There was something far more interesting on the table than squabbling with Barbara.
‘What did she want?’
‘She wanted to talk to you, but she said it wasn’t important.’
‘Did you get a number?’
Barbara shook her head without turning round. Annie thought back over the past couple of weeks. She remembered the feel of a conversation cut off abruptly as she’d walked in on them. And the times just recently when Pat had been at the edge of telling her something. How long had Pieternel been trying to get in touch? No point in asking. She would look out the contact details later and call back when neither of the sisters was about.
She slung her jacket over her shoulder and headed for the door.
‘I won’t be long,’ she said, neither expecting nor waiting for a response.
Chapter 30
The street was uncharacteristically busy. A background rumble of conversation hung in the air with the tang of unburnt diesel. Annie found it hard to get a rhythm into her stride. She didn’t want to dwell on Pieternel’s call, or that the sisters had hidden it from her. Her priority was clear. Wrap up her cases and get ready to leave.
The Michael Walker case was at the point she’d always known she’d reach. Good news for one side; bad for the other. All she need do was get it over. Ring them, have them in one by one, tell them, and write it up for the records.
Who was she kidding? This needed thought. She had to report back to two women, at least one of whom would fight to disbelieve her. She couldn’t make bad news into good, but part of her role was to convince clients who didn’t get what they wanted, that they’d had a good job done, nonetheless.
She rehearsed conversations in her head; felt her way around the awkward edges of the story she had to tell. At the same time, she felt the tug of new ideas, new ventures.
She bought a cheese and tomato sandwich from the shop at the corner and walked back chewing on it as she rehearsed what to say to Nicole and Brittany; made guesses at how they would react. Nicole would be the easier interview for sure. She’d do her first as a practice run.
The office lay empty, but Barbara’s things cluttered the desk top, so Annie knew she hadn’t gone far. She reached for the phone and tapped in Nicole’s number.
‘Can you come in at two o’clock today?’ Annie said. ‘I’m ready to report back on your case.’
‘Oh my God! It’s bad news. I can hear it in your voice.’
‘No, Nicole. It’s actually good news.’
‘It’s not that good, is it?’ Nicole’s tone was flat. ‘It won’t bring Michael back. Yes, I’ll come in.’
After she ended the call, Annie flicked through the file for Brittany Booth’s number, and took in a deep breath before picking up the phone again. Quarter of an hour would be ample to close things with Nicole.
She had expected the call to Nicole to buoy her up, but for a moment had forgotten the reality that Michael Walker had been a real person, a friend to Nicole. And suddenly she couldn’t face Brittany Booth’s arrogant bluster.
She returned the phone to its base unit and turned to the PC where she typed out an email to Brittany.
I’m ready to report back on your case. If it’s convenient, could you come in at three o’clock.
She paused, wondering if she could put Brittany off to another day. She felt exhausted just at the thought of the high stress, high maintenance discussion she would have to have, with Brittany talking through her, raising her voice, challenging every point. But no, the best thing was to get it all over with.
If that’s not convenient, she ended the email, ring the office to arrange an alternative time.
Annie put her head round the door and heard the murmur of voices from downstairs. It sounded like Barbara was down there for a gossip. She should wait until both sisters were well away from the office, but was impatient to know what Pieternel had wanted, so went back and picked up the phone.
A man’s voice answered and, when she asked for Pieternel, he said, ‘Sorry, she hasn’t worked here for months.’
‘Do you have a number I can get her on?’
‘Sorry, no.’
Annie ended the call and sat back. There was nothing she could do but wait and hope Pieternel would ring again.
The door buzzer sounded bang on time for Nicole’s appointment. Annie clicked the phone to silent as she listened to the guy downstairs let her in.
‘Visitors for upstairs,’ he shouted.
Visitors, plural? Annie went to the head of the stairs to see Nicole and Jennifer on their way up. Jennifer was in civvies; in the garish, too fussy clothes she wore out of uniform.
‘Nicole asked me to sit in with her. Is that OK?’
‘Sure.’ Annie pulled forward an extra chair.
‘Before I start,’ Annie said, ‘I have to tell you that I don’t have any tangible evidence; nothing you can take away and give to the press or anything like that. But I said I’d get the truth and I have. I know the whole story now and I know Michael was wrongly targeted. Joshua Yates went for the wrong man.’
‘But we knew that!’ wailed Nicole.
‘Is there a right man?’ Jennifer broke in. ‘Have you handed on what you know? It’ll be a police matter now.’
‘There is, but he’s dead,’ said Annie. ‘He died a long time ago.’ She injected confidence into her tone, but at the same time wondered if the man who had abused May could still be alive. She’d never checked, but he must have been at least ten years older than May, probably more. She kept any hint of doubt out of her voice as she went on. ‘You know that Charlotte’s mother works as a carer. Well, one of her clients had witnessed the abuse, the things Yates talked about in court, when she was a small chi
ld. Donna overheard her talking about it with one of her old friends and managed to jump to the conclusion it was Michael they were talking about.’
‘But it can’t just be that – an overheard conversation. Surely she wouldn’t have acted just on that?’
‘It got complicated. There was someone called Charlotte involved.’
Annie went through the story of May’s diary; of how Donna had overheard May reading to a friend from it. She avoided mentioning Eliza’s name, or letting slip that Eliza was still alive and lived nearby. She didn’t mention Digby’s name either. There was a story here that the press could make a lot of, and it would get back to Eliza. The diaries were gone. The secret mustn’t come out another way, so she made sure the version she told Nicole had insufficient substance for her to use it elsewhere.
Nicole, who needed no convincing about Michael Walker’s innocence, didn’t press for hard evidence. Brittany Booth would be a different challenge.
‘Donna unlocked the memory,’ she told them, ‘by telling May she had to have the box for Charlotte’s sake. May’s mind was going, but she’d kept that box all those years for a different Charlotte. May must have been frightened, but Donna couldn’t move her. The thing is, she didn’t know where the box was at that point. Whether she’d managed to hide it herself and forgotten, or if she’d had someone else do it for her, I don’t know. In the end, Donna settled for getting her agreement that the box would come to her when May died.’
Annie saw that Jennifer’s mind was at work and wondered if she might follow up with the care agency. Probably not. Susan Gow had never made her complaint official. She told them what Donna had finally said about her conversations with May Gow.
‘It was at that point that May said, “the box is for Charlotte”. That had Donna adding two and two and getting five, so she asked May straight out if the box would come to her, and May said, “Yes, we must protect Charlotte at all costs”. Those were her words.’
‘But the old woman’s mind was going,’ Nicole said. ‘Why would Donna take something like that on trust?’
‘She’s a fool. And she was so obsessed with breaking up Charlotte and Michael. Then May told her daughter, Susan Gow, that the box was for Charlotte.’
‘But didn’t they enquire to see if that was the Charlotte she meant? They knew she’d never met her.’
‘Yes, they did, but there was no other Charlotte in May’s life. She never talked to anyone about the one she’d known as a child.’
Annie thought back to the papers she’d burned; to the story Eliza had told her. May and her gang had almost certainly abandoned the young Charlotte to Digby’s clutches whatever they’d tried to convince themselves about the effect of their walking away. They couldn’t be blamed. They’d been in impossible circumstances. But Annie would bet that May had blamed herself all her life.
‘So it wasn’t ever meant to concern Charlotte Liversedge,’ she said, ‘but because May was insistent it was for Charlotte, and because she’d never spoken of what had happened when she was a child, everyone assumed she must mean Donna’s daughter.’
Nicole sat ashen-faced as this sank in. ‘It was all for nothing,’ she whispered. ‘He’s dead because that insane idiot believed some nonsensical gossip.’
Annie nodded. She’d known from the start this was a case that would never lead to happy clients on both sides. But this outcome, in which she’d felt the professional satisfaction of being right, meant no one on either side would be happy.
Nicole looked down as though trying to digest Annie’s account. Jennifer laid her hand on her friend’s arm. Annie wasn’t sure what else she should say; maybe nothing. She listened to the sounds of someone being let in downstairs; heard the usual call, ‘Visitor’, and registered footsteps pattering lightly upwards.
A second too late, her mind made the match and she leapt to her feet to divert the caller, but, as she did so, the office door opened and Brittany Booth walked in.
Annie saw Nicole glance up at the intrusion, her expression forlorn, uninterested. Then she saw realization dawn.
Nicole was on her feet, her face blotched and angry. ‘You cow! You stupid murdering cow!’ she screeched, leaping at Brittany. ‘It wasn’t him. It wasn’t ever him!’
Totally unprepared for the attack, Brittany backed off, hitting a shelf, sending a cascade of pens and paperclips clattering to the floor.
‘No, Nicole.’ Jennifer leapt up and grabbed her now sobbing friend before Annie could reach her. ‘Come on. We’ll go. Any paperwork that needs sorting can be done later, OK?’
She glanced at Annie who gave her confirmation in a brief nod, wanting more than anything to have Nicole out of the office before Brittany had recovered enough to realize who she was or the implication of what she was saying. This was not the way for Brittany to hear the result of the case.
Annie helped ease Nicole out on to the landing, mouthing, ‘Thanks, speak later’, to Jennifer.
Stepping back into the office, she clicked the door closed behind her and snapped at Brittany, ‘You’re early.’
Brittany, visibly shaken by Nicole’s outburst, snapped back, ‘So? He told me to come upstairs. It wouldn’t matter if you had a proper office with a waiting room.’
Behind the belligerence was a hint of tears, and Annie relented. ‘Sit down. I’m sorry about that. Do you want a drink?’
Brittany shook her head to the drink but sat in the chair Annie indicated. ‘I just want to know what you’ve–’ She clapped her hand to her mouth and stared up at Annie. ‘Who was that woman? What was she saying?’
No option now but to dish out the tale ungarnished. ‘She was a friend of Michael Walker. I’m afraid Joshua didn’t bother to check his facts. He listened to an allegation from someone who had a grudge, and he believed it.’
Brittany gaped up at her, and Annie realized that Nicole’s outburst had saved her a lot of time. Its raw emotion unmistakable, it had taken Brittany away from the angry disbelief that Annie was sure would have been her first reaction.
‘But no, that can’t be … No, I won’t believe it.’ Brittany tried for indignation but her voice was swamped in uncertainty. ‘He told me he knew for certain … that it was absolutely certain … that there just wasn’t the proof.’
‘Vigilantes always say that, Brittany, because it’s a lot to live with to face the fact they got it wrong.’
Brittany jumped to her feet and shouted, ‘You think he’s mad!’
Annie remained seated, and kept her tone neutral. ‘Who am I to judge? I’ve never met him.’
‘You think he’s mad though, don’t you? You think the same as they’re all saying about him. You’ve never given him a chance.’
She fired the words as though at random, needing to stay in control while control leaked away. When Annie didn’t answer, she repeated, ‘Admit it. You think he’s mad.’
‘If I do,’ said Annie, ‘I’m not the only one.’
Brittany looked away, clasping her hands together. ‘I know what you’re saying. If he’s insane, I am, too. He’s wrecked my life.’ She swung round to face Annie again. ‘Is that what you’re saying? Do you think I’m mad?’
‘Of course not,’ said Annie, though looking into Brittany’s eyes, she was nowhere near as sure as she tried to sound. ‘Be thankful you’re free to walk away. Forget about him. Go and get on with your life.’
Brittany gaped down, utterly deflated, with nothing left to say. Slowly she shook her head and half opened her mouth, but no words came out. Annie realized that more by luck than good judgement, it was over. Short, sharp and painful for Brittany, but the job was done.
‘Right then.’ She took on a blunt no-nonsense tone, talking Brittany through the loose ends of the paperwork that would conclude the job, leaving her no opening to mount any rearguard action in support of Yates.
In a few minutes, they were done. Annie put out her hand as she said goodbye, and Brittany took it in a limp handshake as though unaware of what she was
doing. Then she aimed a fierce glare at Annie, went as though to speak, thought better of it, turned on her heel and left.
Annie stood by the door and watched as Brittany descended the stairs, half convinced she would change her mind and come clattering back up again to harangue her about Yates. Maybe the facts, pushed in Brittany’s face, had unlocked something she’d known deep within herself, something that had been glaringly obvious to the wider world all along. She would come to be thankful for her escape. But for Annie, in the end, wrapping up this case had almost been too easy.
Once sure Brittany had gone, she turned the phone back on. Its voicemail light flashed at her.
‘Got your message,’ yelled a robust voice, making Annie jerk the handset away from her ear. ‘Shame. The kids were looking forward to showing off their ponies to you. I’ll line up a stand-in judge for you, but turn up if you can.’
Annie hit the delete button.
Half an hour later, she was tidying the last of her paperwork when she heard the downstairs door followed by creaks and groans as the fabric of the building matched the grunts of effort of the person climbing the stairs.
She smiled and went to pour a fresh cup of coffee.
‘Thanks, kid.’ Pat took the cup from her and sank into a chair.
‘So, what’s new?’ Annie asked. ‘You doing anything in particular at the moment?’
‘No, I just popped in to sort stuff for tomorrow. Why, what do you want?’ Pat spoke with a hint of wariness that Annie read as preparing her defence if challenged about hiding Pieternel’s call.
‘I’ve wrapped up a few cases. I just wanted to run them by you.’
