Internment

by Gill Mather

  She told Ali that she drove to where the children were and asked if they could stay the night, donning some sun glasses she had in the car so that the children wouldn't see her eye. She told the friend's parents that on no account should they hand the children over to Den, although it wasn't likely he would try and get them in his present state. She told the parents that she’d come back the next day and sort something out. And that was it.

  “We could maybe go for an injunction,” said Ali.

  “I don't know. I don't think I could go through that. I know what it’s like. All the paperwork and the uncertainty. I’ll just have to try and find somewhere to stay.” A hunted, haunted, almost terrified look spread over her face at the thought of the disruption and her lack of options.

  “Oh no,” said Ali noticing Darren come in. He was bound to come over. But in fact he didn't.

  Their drinks were finished and Sam said she needed another one. Ali had no choice but to go to the bar. She ordered the drinks, positioning herself as far away from Darren as possible, but he smiled, saluted as was his habit and came over anyway.

  “How’s tricks then?” he said very pleasantly and Ali smiled back. Fine, she said, and was the family settling in OK. And he said yes. The new nanny was great and the children seemed very happy and surprisingly, Sharon had taken the developments very well. She hadn’t tried to make any issues about the children and seemed to be getting on with her life now that she was a free agent again.

  Ali mustn’t have looked sufficiently interested and kept glancing over towards Sam.

  “Everything all right?” Darren asked and looked over at Sam himself. The forlorn cut of her shoulders said it all really. Plus she was wearing dark glasses on a winter’s day inside a pub.

  “Come on. What’s up?”

  “I…I don’t know whether she’d want….I’m not sure Darren…” But he was picking up his drink and Sam’s and marching over to their table anyway.

  He sat down next to Sam who was sobbing quietly.

  “Oh Sam,” he said, “what’s the matter love?” He lifted up her dark glasses and gasped. “Oh no! What’s happened to you?”

  Sam muttered something which sounded like: “Ali’ll tell you.”

  So Ali told him what had happened to Sam with a bit of background ending that she didn’t know where to spend the night and that Ali was about to `phone her parents to see if Sam could come home with her.

  “Oh Sam,” he said again, his voice breaking. “How could he?” He put his arm around her and she wept quietly into his shoulder, glasses off now, while he there there’d her.

  “Um, Sam,” Darren said after a while, “I don’t know if Ali's told you, but I had to leave Sharon. And now I’m living in a house in Colchester with the kids. You’re welcome to have the spare room.”

  Sam sat up and took a bit of notice at that. She aimed a look at Ali. No Ali hadn’t mentioned it she said.

  “I mean. If you want you can bring your children to mine. They’re welcome to stay too. You know. As a stopgap until you get yourself sorted out.”

  “That’s really kind. I think…actually I think I will. I’m not sure what I’ll do long term but I’ll sort something out.”

  “Long as you like Sam. Do you think you should see a doctor. You might have concussion. Or a burst blood vessel or something.”

  “No I don’t want any fuss. It’ll get better soon.”

  Ali watched the pair of them and their underlying body language. Open frank gazes into each others’ eyes, knees crossed towards each other, unconscious mimicry of the other’s actions. It’s going to happen, thought Ali, with or without my help.

  CHAPTER 15

  JANUARY WAS RATHER dull apart from the Seaford case when she was away for a week at the hearing with Hugh. The work on the Leather Works wasn’t that exciting. Drafting documents for a new development turned out to be extremely hard work but not really that interesting involving things rather than people. Ali visited the site a few times and marvelled at the speed of the building work. The old Leather Works was a handsome Victorian building and the new flats within it were taking shape almost before one’s eyes. They were going to be loft style apartments with high ceilings, large windows and bare brick walls. The grounds were to be landscaped into communal areas and car parks. Ali had seen the plans but of course the grounds would be the last thing to be done.

  She helped with the documents required to finance the development. Obviously Darren and his partner hadn't got the cash to finance the development outright. Many millions were involved. This too was not exactly boring, but not too riveting either.

  Hugh had a case she would have liked to spend more time on but the development was more important to the firm so she got stuck into it and after the Seaford case ended, just gave Hugh a hand when she couldn't get on with the development documents for some reason because further information or documentation was awaited.

  Hugh’s case was a charge of an assault against a police officer. These cases came up from time to time where someone carrying out either some innocent activity or at the fringes of a possibly illegal activity was man-handled and restrained by a police officer without any heed to whether they’d actually committed any offence and therefore without any arrest or caution so that the person was effectively in fact themselves assaulted by the officer and subjected to false imprisonment.

  In such a situation many people will allow themselves to be marched off to a waiting police car for a verbal dressing down assuming that the police have the power to do that. However a handful of people will resist, often then a tussle will ensue with the individual effectively forced to defend themselves and in the process causing some sort of usually minor injury to the officer. The macho nature of the police then seemed to take over with an almost inevitable prosecution against the individual for assault if they wouldn't accept a bind-over because it was “one of our own” who’d been injured.

  Maybe the hope was that the defendant would plead guilty or be frightened into accepting a bind-over later to get the case over and done with thereby breaking the defendant’s spirit and making a claim or complaint against the police much less likely. Going through the full process of a defended prosecution was traumatic for most ordinary people and took a lot of courage, the case going on for months with publicity at every hearing, one’s friends, relatives and colleagues all knowing about it, not to mention the cost of being defended if one didn't qualify for legal aid and the uncertainty as to the outcome, because of course the police officer might actually be found, rightly or wrongly, to have been justified and acted reasonably.

  Hugh’s case was about a twenty year old girl called Lynda Reece who had been standing outside a night club in Colchester in the early hours of one Sunday morning having an altercation with another girl. Both of them had had quite a bit to drink. There was a totally unconnected fracas going on between some youths just along the pavement. When the police arrived principally to deal with the youths, Lynda was swearing at the other girl and telling her to piss off and stay away from her, Lynda’s, boyfriend.

  The argument abated after the police arrived though Lynda still felt pretty worked up. One officer came over and said he’d heard the argument and asked politely for Lynda to come with him to his car and cool off which she refused to do. He told her that shouting and swearing on the streets wasn't acceptable behaviour but she still refused whereon he started to try to walk her to the car. She resisted. He gripped her arm tighter so that it hurt and Lynda, suspicious of the police and determined not to be put into a police car, went limp thinking it would make the officer let her go and also because it was an instinctive reaction to the violence apparently being used against her. To play dead. But instead of letting her go, the officer started to drag her along the ground to the car. She did the only thing she could to try to defend herself which was to bite the officer hard on his leg. Twice. He still didn't let go of her however and punched her hard in the face to stop her from doing it and th
en got her up against the side of the car, said he was arresting her for assaulting a police officer and cautioned her while applying hand cuffs. The statement made by the officer later confirmed this account of what had happened.

  Lynda was kept at the station overnight. She was examined by a doctor who thought she might have a broken bone in her arm as her hand was so swollen but decided she didn't. The doctor also shone a light in her eyes and looked her over for concussion and noted the bruising and swelling starting to form on her face and around one eye. She was dealt with the next day, interviewed and given the opportunity to accept a caution. She had no convictions of any kind and wasn't prepared to have her record sullied. She didn't think it was her fault at all. She’d just been having an argument with someone. No more than that and was entitled to go about her business. The officer had assaulted her and illegally held her and she said she would take that further when she got the opportunity.

  She didn't get out of the police station until about four in the afternoon after being interviewed in the presence of a duty solicitor who implied it would be better for her to accept the caution and get it all over and done with without having to be dragged through the courts for the next six months or so. She refused, was charged and decided not to employ the duty solicitor. Her parents were paying for her defence. Hugh was convinced that the case would be thrown out and proposed to argue that there was no case to answer if he couldn't get the prosecution to drop the charge altogether before trial and save Lynda the unpleasantness of going through a hearing.

  Ali’s thoughts strayed to the Reece case as she ploughed through some precedents for leases, looked at the various plans of the building and picked out the most appropriate clauses. It would all get checked by Wattsey later. Ali hoped she’d get a chance to assist with the Reece case at some point. It wouldn't come up for final hearing for another few months.

  TURNED OUT THAT Baz had been planning a January bash. He had a rich wife and a large house in the country where the party was to be held at the end of January. It was doubling as a Burns Night. Ali booked the Saturday night off work and went to visit Jan to pick out a suitable dress. A short one this time. She recalled the conversation with Sam before Christmas. She wasn't going to be asking Rob now. So presumably she would be going on her own.

  Sam was asking Darren to come with her though their relationship was still platonic much to Sam’s disappointment. Tammy had a current young man she was taking along. Sandra was bringing her friend. Cathy and Amanda both had boyfriends who were coming with them. Lots of the others had husbands or wives to accompany them. Oh dear. I can't ask James since he’s involved with Maddie thanks to me. I’m going to be a wallflower, thought Ali.

  She said as much when the firm went out for a lunchtime drink on Wattsey’s birthday a week or so before the party. “I’ll take you if you like,” said Paul.

  “S’all right,” said Hugh. “I’ll be coming past your house. I’ll pick you up.”

  And Paul couldn't really argue with that.

  When the evening came, Ali took lots of care getting ready. She’d found the most stunning petrol blue shoes several weeks before in the January sales and had chosen a short cocktail dress of her sister’s to match. She thought she’d better make an effort as she was going with a partner, or at least arriving with a partner. She wasn't quite sure what the situation was really. Whether it was a sort of date for the evening or just a lift. Was she expected to stay with him all evening more or less or just find her own entertainment when she got there. Oh well she thought, since Paul asked me, I suppose I can latch onto him if I get left on my own. Or maybe as the thing is principally to entertain the clients, we’re expected to circulate.

  Hugh arrived at Aki's house bang on time. Actually he arrived with Graham in Graham’s car with a girl in the back who was presumably Graham’s date. Ali slipped in the back next to the girl who was introduced as Tracey, someone from Graham’s company.

  When they arrived at Baz's home, they did get in a bit of a huddle with the PWT crowd but gradually some of the corporate guests joined the group and some of the PWT people drifted away so it all got mixed up. Ali chatted to people she was introduced to and Hugh went off to talk to some business mogul Baz was keen to cultivate. There were quite a lot of people there. About eighty.

  As an ice-breaker, Baz had organised a game that involved having the name of a famous person or character pinned to your back and then you had to ask people questions until you guessed who the person was. Paul came over and said he simply couldn't get his and had had several peculiar answers to the questions he’d asked. Ali looked and it was Bart Simpson. She wondered what hers was.

  “Do I look anything like the person then?”

  “Well I supposed there might be a faint resemblance,” Ali laughed.

  “So which bit looks like this person?”

  “The hair maybe?” Paul had quite spiky blond hair.

  “Is it a movie star?”

  “I don't think so but I’m not sure if they’ve made a film of it yet. Might’ve been in a movie.”

  “So it must be someone in a TV show. Is it actually a real live person or a character then?”

  “A character.”

  “How old is this character? Young, middle-aged, old?”

  “Actually fairly young I suppose.”

  “A child?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh great! Oddly I don't as a rule often watch children’s TV.”

  Ali didn't say anything.

  “So perhaps it’s not a child’s programme. Do adults watch it?”

  “Yes they do.”

  Paul frowned and said he was giving up for the time being and went and looked at Ali’s label.

  “Oh. Sweet. I can see the resemblance.” He looked at her appreciatively. “Oops. I’d better go. I promised Baz I’d help with the Haggi. Isn’t that the plural of Haggis?” And he laughed and walked off.

  Ali decided she should be mingling and she went up to Graham and Tracey. Graham was a client after all.

  “Here she comes,” said Graham, “the girl who walks on hallowed ground.”

  Ali wondered what he meant. Presumably he was talking about her celebrity. They examined each other’s labels. Graham was Elvis Presley and Tracey was Miss Moneypenny. Quite a good one for Tracey actually Ali thought especially since Baz can't have known much about her. She looked the efficient PA type. They started trying to guess their celebrity etc names. Graham got his first, then Tracey, but Ali just couldn't get hers.

  “Athena?”

  “No not that.”

  “Er Aphrodite? Persephone? Am I close?”

  “No. I don't see the connection,” said Graham.

  “Well. Hallowed ground you said. I thought it might be a goddess.”

  “Oh forget that. It was misleading.”

  “Oh well then. Is it…someone out of EastEnders or Coronation Street? Because if it is I’ll never get it. I never watch them.”

  No it wasn't. Yes she was an actress but didn't do much acting. She was famous for being famous.

  “Not Victoria Beckham? I’m not that thin! Oh but she wasn't an actress of course.” No it wasn't.

  “Oh no. Not Katie Price!”

  “No.” Graham beckoned Hugh over. “Ali can't get her celebrity. You’ll have to help.”

  “Well I haven't got mine yet.” Ali looked at his back. It was Mr. Spock. Unfortunately she burst out laughing.

  “Well thanks a lot,” he smiled.

  Just then a single long discordant note rent the air and Baz and Paul came in bearing an enormous tray with a huge steaming haggis on it followed by a piper in full regalia. They placed the haggis reverently on a central table.

  Everyone hushed and got their glasses charged with whisky and with a faltering Scottish-cum-Essex accent, Baz addressed the haggis with the tim’rous beastie poem after which glasses were raised and the shots downed in one. Ali, not a spirit drinker, found herself leaning on Hugh for support.
She screwed up her face and shook her head.

  “That was awful!”

  “Come on. Let’s get something to eat,” he said and they went over to the buffet of haggis, neeps and tatties.

  While they were eating, Ali sat with Tracey. Graham and Hugh got seats nearby. Ali was dying to find out whether Tracey was the new girlfriend or what. She could hardly ask outright though and didn't think she could bring up the outstanding charge against him or his divorce. So she asked how long Tracey had worked for Graham.

  “A few years. He’s a really great boss. My husband works away a lot so I need to be doing something. It was really difficult to get a job when the kids started school but Graham was willing to give me a chance.”

  Silly me, thought Ali. I’d got it so fixed in my mind that she was the new squeeze, I completely forgot to look and see if she was wearing a wedding ring.

  Tracey went on: “Oh you thought….No it’s not like that at all. Strictly business. I was only invited at the last moment. Graham was going to come along with Hugh but then Hugh wanted to bring someone so Graham invited me to make up numbers. Er I assumed the someone must be you.”

  “Oh no. No.” Ali assured her. “It’s not like that with Hugh and me either. He was just giving me a lift. That’s all.”

  “Oh.” Tracey looked rather doubtful then shrugged and asked her about her job, career etc and talked about her own job, kids, husband. They both went and got trifle after which Ali excused herself and went off to the loo. While in there, she heard a Scottish band tuning up. That’s right she thought. Someone had said something about a ceilidh. She hoped it would be on a hard floor not carpet. In her high heels, a carpet would probably end in disaster for her.