One Law For the Rest of Us

by Peter Murphy

  ‘Our understanding is that the boys and girls are not allowed to mingle.’

  ‘That’s partly true, Inspector, but we enforce that with rules, not locks and keys. I’m not running a prison. The only doors between the two sides kept locked are on the fifth and sixth floors, where pupils and some of the staff have their living quarters. Except for that, everyone can move freely. They have to – the school couldn’t work, otherwise. We have facilities such as the assembly hall, the gymnasium and the science laboratories, that are used by both boys and girls, so everyone has to have access across the building.’

  ‘Where are your own living quarters?’

  ‘I have living quarters on the sixth floor, on the boys’ side. Of course, I also have my study on the ground floor, where I see parents and other visitors.’

  ‘And, looking at the plan, it seems that your study is next to the business office: is that right?’

  ‘Yes. My secretary and the other administrative staff work in that area, so that they can deal with members of the public, tradesmen, and so on, who may have business with the school.’

  ‘Yes, I see. And what is this room here, on the other side of your study?’

  ‘That is my private library. The school has its own library, of course, which takes up about half of the fourth floor. This room houses my own collection, mainly theological and philosophical works, and provides me with a place to work in peace during the few moments I can find to do anything in peace.’

  ‘Are pupils ever allowed to use your private library?’ Steffie asked.

  ‘Pupils? No. Certainly not. I may invite a member of staff to use it from time to time if they are doing some research for which I may have relevant books. In the highly unlikely event that a student needed something – a sixth-former preparing for a scholarship examination, perhaps – they would ask the school librarian, and she would come to me to borrow it. But the school library should have everything they need.’

  ‘Do you ever use your private library for meetings?’

  ‘Yes: sometimes, if I want to make sure I won’t be interrupted. My secretary is in and out all the time when I’m in my study, and there are times – for example, if I’m with someone who’s considering making a substantial donation to the school – when I need to be able to talk to them without people barging in and out of the room.’

  ‘So, your secretary knows that she has to leave you alone when you’re in the library, does she, Father Gerrard?’ Steffie asked.

  ‘Yes, she does.’

  ‘Does that go for other members of staff, too?’

  ‘Yes. Unless there’s some emergency, obviously. But that would be very rare.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Steffie nodded to Ted, to hand back to him.

  ‘Father Gerrard, I think you’re aware that a girl we’re going to call Girl A – and you’ve been told who Girl A is, but you understand why we’re not using her name, is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A girl we’re calling Girl A has alleged that on three or four occasions over the past year to eighteen months, you took her from her dormitory down to your private library, where a number of men wearing masks to cover their faces indecently assaulted her in your presence. I remind you of the caution, Father Gerrard. Is her allegation true?’

  John Singer leaned forward, his arms fully stretched out towards the officers on the table.

  ‘Father Gerrard will exercise his right not to answer any questions relating to these false allegations,’ he said.

  ‘If they’re false allegations, Mr Singer, I would expect Father Gerrard to tell me so himself.’

  ‘I’m here to represent Father Gerrard, and I’m telling you.’

  ‘Are you telling me that as the solicitor for Father Gerrard, or the solicitor for the school?’

  ‘We’ve already been through that once, Inspector, and I’ve explained as clearly as I can that I’m representing Father Gerrard today.’

  ‘That doesn’t satisfy me, sir.’

  ‘Doesn’t satisfy you, Inspector?’ Singer snapped. ‘It doesn’t satisfy you? Who do you think you are? You are a police officer, and I am a solicitor. Are you questioning my professional judgement? This is nothing less than an… an impertinence.’

  ‘Is it, sir? Well, I’m sorry if you think that. My only concern is that Father Gerrard should have a fair opportunity to respond to the allegations.’

  ‘And I say that he should have a fair opportunity not to respond to them, if he so wishes. I’m his solicitor. I am looking after his interests, and if I deem it necessary to protect his interests, I will terminate this interview. May I remind you that Father Gerrard has come here voluntarily?’

  ‘We can easily change that situation, Mr Singer. If you’d prefer me to arrest Father Gerrard, I’m quite happy to do so.’

  With a huge effort, Singer controlled himself. There was a silence.

  ‘Mr Singer,’ Steffie intervened, with a brief diplomatic touch of her hand on Ted’s, ‘all DI Phillips is saying is that Father Gerrard must be given a fair chance to say whatever he wishes. If he cooperates with us now, it may be to his benefit in the future. I’m sure you understand what I’m saying. If there’s anything he wants to bring to our attention that might help him, we want to hear it.’

  ‘We are doing our best to cooperate, Inspector. But in my view as his solicitor, Father Gerrard’s interests are best served by saying nothing at this juncture.’

  ‘Father Gerrard’s best interests, sir?’ Ted asked. ‘Or those of the school?’

  ‘Once again, Inspector,’ Singer replied, ‘this is an intolerable interference with my professional duty to my client. It is also a gross impertinence; and if you continue in this way, I shall have to report the matter to the Chief Constable – who, I may say, I happen to know quite well.’

  ‘In this instance, Mr Singer,’ Steffie intervened, ‘we don’t report to the Chief Constable. The Director of Public Prosecutions has taken over the conduct of this case, and we report to him. The gentleman dealing with it in the Director’s office is Mr John Caswell. I’d be happy to put you in touch with him, if you wish.’

  John Singer opened his mouth as if to speak, but did not. Father Gerrard raised his hands slightly.

  ‘It’s all right, John,’ he said. ‘I’m quite capable of speaking for myself.’

  ‘Desmond…’

  ‘No, John, let’s get on with it. If we keep on arguing like this, we will be here all day. On the advice of my solicitor, Inspector, I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘You have nothing at all to say to this little girl or to her parents?’ Ted asked.

  ‘I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘Has she made all this up, Father Gerrard, this little seven-year-old girl? Has this seven-year-old wickedly invented these stories about men touching her, lied to her parents, and lied to my colleague DI Walsh?’

  ‘I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘Her mother has also alleged that she was assaulted in much the same way, Father Gerrard. This was many years ago, when she came to the school as an evacuee from London during the war. She says she was assaulted in the same way on several occasions. Is she making it all up, too?’

  ‘I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘She also says that some of her friends at school complained to her of being assaulted in exactly the same way. We will be interviewing these women, Father Gerrard. Are you sure you don’t want to say something now?’

  ‘I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘I’m showing you a photograph,’ Ted continued, reaching down again into his pile of papers. ‘Do you recognise the man shown in this photograph?’

  A brief glance and nod of the head. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Is this the man we are calling Lord AB?’

  ‘Of cours
e it is. He’s a well-known public figure, and a trustee of the school, which makes it all the more reprehensible that his name is being dragged –’

  ‘Desmond –’ John Singer interrupted.

  ‘Please continue if you have something to say, Father Gerrard,’ Ted said.

  Father Gerrard shook his head. ‘I have nothing to say.’

  ‘Has Lord AB ever visited the school?’

  John Singer put his hand on Father Gerrard’s arm, but the priest pushed it away in frustration.

  ‘Of course he has. He’s one of our trustees. He’s also an old boy of the school, and his son was a pupil too, in the late forties, early fifties. I can’t remember exactly when, but you can find out from the records. Since then, he’s been a generous benefactor: he’s given Lancelot Andrewes a lot of money. So, yes, he has visited the school on many occasions.’

  Ted nodded. ‘Did he ever visit the school for the purpose of indecently assaulting young girls in your private library?’

  ‘That is a… I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘I’m showing you another photograph. Do you recognise the man shown in this photograph?’

  ‘I believe he is, or was, a Member of Parliament. I’ve never met him, as far as I remember.’

  ‘As far as you remember?’

  ‘I don’t believe I’ve ever met him. Please, Inspector, try to understand. I meet Members of Parliament all the time. I’ve sat on advisory panels on education for both Houses of Parliament for many years, and I’ve been to the House of Commons many times; so, I can’t exclude the possibility that we’ve said good day to each other at some time, but if so, I don’t recall it.’

  ‘We’re calling him Sir CD, but you’ve been given his real name, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes. But I don’t recall any dealings with him. I don’t recall him as a member of any House committee I worked with.’

  ‘Did this man ever indecently assault young girls in your private library?’

  ‘I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘One more photograph, please, Father Gerrard.’

  ‘Well, yes, he’s one of our trustees also, and a colleague in the Church – or at least he was, until he went off to Oxford. I know him very well, of course.’

  ‘We’re calling him the Right Reverend EF. Did he ever indecently assault young girls in your private library?’

  Father Gerrard made a huge effort to control himself before replying. ‘I have nothing to say at this time.’

  ‘Does the Right Reverend EF smoke cigars?’ Steffie asked suddenly.

  ‘Yes,’ Father Gerrard replied, before John Singer’s hand arrived on his arm. ‘It’s something of a trademark, an affectation…’ His voice trailed away.

  ‘Is there anything else you wish to add?’ Ted asked.

  ‘No. And I have nothing else to say at this time.’

  Ted and Steffie looked each other. She nodded.

  ‘In that case, Father Gerrard,’ Ted said, ‘I am arresting you –’

  ‘What?’ John Singer exclaimed. You can’t – !’

  ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of an unknown number of indecent assaults and acts of indecency with young children committed between the year 1940 and the present time. I must caution you that you are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may be put into writing and given in evidence. Do you understand the caution?’

  ‘Yes, and I have nothing to say.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ John Singer said.

  ‘As and when you’ve found Father Gerrard a solicitor with more criminal experience, sir,’ Ted replied, ‘have them get in touch with me. I’ll make sure they’re brought up to date with everything.’

  12

  Monday 22 April 1974

  Julia Cathermole smiled as Mary Forbes opened the door of her room at the Savoy and invited her in with a gesture. Mary was dressed casually in a light green shirt and brown slacks, barefoot, her hair tied casually back with a large butterfly clip, and wearing a minimum of makeup. But the pile of papers on the desk at the side of the room, and the number of empty cups and plates on the coffee table, dispelled any idea that she was at the Savoy to relax: this was a busy woman.

  ‘Thank you for seeing me, Mary,’ Julia said. ‘You’re obviously up to your neck in it. I know the feeling. Your desk reminds me of my office.’

  Mary smiled thinly, waving Julia into a chair. ‘Complicated commercial case involving a Canadian plaintiff and a City investment bank. I have to report my conclusions to Toronto by tomorrow evening.’

  ‘I won’t keep you long,’ Julia promised.

  ‘Julia,’ Mary said, ‘I agreed to see you because you’re representing Audrey, and I’m grateful that she has you to help her. But I may as well be honest with you: if you’re going to try to persuade me to give evidence, you’re wasting your time. The police have already interviewed me. DI Walsh was very persuasive, but I’m not going to do it.’

  ‘I hear you,’ Julia said. ‘But I’d appreciate a few minutes, just to present it in a slightly different way from DI Walsh.’

  ‘Yes, of course… I’m sorry, I’m being very impolite. I think I’m out of coffee, but I’d be happy to order some up from room service.’

  Julia held up a hand. ‘No, thanks, I’m fine; I had some earlier. Look, your time is valuable, so I’ll come straight to the point. I know you and Audrey were close friends when you were at school. She and her sister Joan came to stay with you and your family during the holidays sometimes. And you’ve kept in touch since.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. That’s true.’

  ‘You know that Father Gerrard has been charged with offences relating to Audrey being molested in the 1940s. What you may not know, because I don’t know how much DI Walsh told you, is that he’s also charged with identical offences relating to Audrey’s seven-year-old daughter Emily during the last couple of years.’

  Mary sat back in her chair and placed a hand over her mouth. She did not respond for some time.

  ‘She told me there was a girl involved from the present student body, a girl they were calling Girl A… but I didn’t know…’

  ‘No, well, DI Walsh was right not to go any further. Like any child in her position, Emily’s entitled to have her identity protected. But that’s the truth of the matter, Mary. Emily is Girl A. Unlike you, Audrey didn’t have a continuous memory of what had happened to her at school.’

  ‘She’d blanked it out.’

  ‘Yes. And having no reason not to put her trust in Lancelot Andrewes, she sent Emily there as a boarder at the age of seven – the same age she herself was when she arrived from London during the Blitz. When Emily told her that she was being treated in exactly the same way Audrey herself had been treated, Audrey’s memories came flooding back.’

  ‘Oh, my God… that’s awful,’ Mary said. ‘She must feel terrible.’

  ‘Mary, I’m in exactly the same position as DI Walsh, which means I shouldn’t have told you what I’ve just told you. I’m going to have to rely on your discretion not to let it go any further. I hope you understand.’

  ‘Yes, of course. You don’t have to worry. I won’t say a word.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Julia paused for a few seconds.

  ‘I don’t mean to pry, Mary, but would you mind telling me why you don’t want to give evidence?’

  Mary stood and walked across to the desk, leaning on it, her back to Julia. Slowly, she turned back. Julia stood and walked over to her.

  ‘I told my parents what happened to me when I was about nine. I remember it was when I was at home for the Christmas holidays. But I’ve never told anyone else. Never. And now… Julia, I have a husband and two children…’

  ‘Your husband doesn’t know?’

  She shook her head. ‘It was difficult eno
ugh telling my parents. I never felt the need to expose myself by telling anyone else. I’m a fairly resilient person. As I said, it stopped when I turned nine – which made me one of the lucky ones, I suppose, because from what I understand, some of the girls were still being molested when they were eleven or twelve. So I decided to put it behind me and move on.’ She smiled. ‘I even made use of the experience in a perverse kind of way.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It gave me some inside knowledge of the male anatomy, and a certain amount of technique, when I started dating. I’m sorry to be so crass, but that’s how I rationalised it to myself; that’s how I got through it.’

  ‘No apology needed. Everyone reacts differently. The important thing is to remember that none of it was your fault. You were a victim, just like the other girls.’

  ‘Also, my parents encouraged me not to talk about it,’ Mary said. ‘Actually, “encouraged” is something of an understatement. I wasn’t going to anyway, but they went on and on about it until I swore to keep it to myself. I know today, children are encouraged to speak out, and I do agree with that approach. But it wasn’t like that in our day.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Julia replied quietly.

  ‘My parents were embarrassed by it all. They said it would bring shame on the family if I ever told anyone; no one would believe me; we’d be ostracised; none of our friends or relatives would have anything to do with us; my father might lose his job; they just went on and on. So I swore I would never say anything, and I never did.’ She was silent for some time. ‘I think their feelings of shame rubbed off on me. I know it wasn’t my fault. I get that intellectually. But emotionally, I would feel – I don’t quite know how to say, it – but I would feel… dirty, somehow.’

  ‘It’s very common for victims to feel like that,’ Julia replied.

  ‘I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier. I don’t know how I could land on Steve with this now.’

  ‘Why would he think of it as landing on him?’ Julia asked. ‘He’s a lawyer, isn’t he? Don’t you think he’d understand?’

  ‘My mother is still alive, too,’ Mary added, returning to her chair.