by Anne Coates
“He is – and all in good time. He’s helping me with my election campaign. It’s a safe seat and …
“And you can get a bit of experience before the next general election.” Hannah winked at him.
“Yes, that’s the idea.”
Hannah hugged him. “I’m so glad. You’ll make a brilliant MP. As long as you don’t have any skeletons rattling around in your cupboards.”
“Not that I know of.” Joe smiled. “Have you?”
“That would be telling.” She paused before going on, “But seriously what would you do, if there were?”
Joe contemplated the question while he poured more wine. “I suppose that would depend on how long the skeleton and been there and who else might be affected. Where’s this leading, Hannah?”
Hannah took a deep breath and crossed her fingers under the table. “A friend of mine is being blackmailed.”
“And?”
“And he asked for my help…”
“Because you’re an expert in dealing with blackmailers?” Joe snorted so loudly, some of the other drinkers looked their way.
“I think he might be gay.”
“That’s not a crime unless…”
“Unless the other person was under twenty-one.”
“Exactly. Seems you’d be better off asking him a few questions rather than me. How’s that beautiful daughter of yours.”
Hannah took the hint as Joe changed the subject. “Practically perfect like me.” She refilled their glasses.
“By the way, remember Jane and Chris?”
“How could I forget them after that dinner last year?” Joe had been at there when Chris had tormented Jane Lacon about her political allegiances and castigated her husband for running a clinic that bought kidneys from improverished immigrants for transplants for his rich private patients. The couple had left mid-meal.
“Indeed. Chris can come on a bit strong.” She had never told Joe about Gerry Lacon’s involvement with Caroline’s death or that he’d had been going shoot her baby. “Anyway Jane is back from Berlin but he’s still there.”
“But they haven’t broken up?”
“I don’t think so. Jane said something about his contract being extended but she needed to be back in London for an assignment.”
“In any event it must be nice for you to have Jane around.”
“It will be – and I’ve missed you too.”
“I haven’t been away.” Joe smiled and placed his well manicured hand over hers.
“I know but I have – metaphorically speaking.”
“Then let’s drink to your return. Shall we have another glass – if you have time?”
Hannah looked at her watch. “I have – let’s go for it.”
For a short time life seemed to be as it had once been – without the shadow of death and uncertainty. Hannah realised afterwards that Joe had never once mentioned Tom.
THIRTY-THREE
Hannah was looking at the prints of the photos she’d taken in the Bull Ring. Even with some enhancement, most of them were too dark. Shame someone hasn’t invented a hidden flash as well, she thought.
The telephone rang. She was tempted to let it ring through to answerphone but so many people hated leaving messages. At least the people she’d most like to hear from did.
She reached over and picked up the handset. “Hannah Weybridge.”
“Good morning. This is Simon Ryan.” There was a pause. “Patrick Ryan’s brother.”
“Oh hello.” It had never occurred to Hannah that Patrick might have a sibling. She’d assumed that because no one had turned up at the hospital, and Claudia Turner hadn’t mentioned them, that he didn’t have any close relatives. Erroneous assumption as it now transpired.
“I just found your card among Patrick’s things so…” he let the sentence tail off.
That’s the second card of mine he had, thought Hannah who was sure she’d hadn’t given him one at all. Why would she? He’d already had her telephone number from Lady Rayman she assumed when he had told her that Lady Rayman had recommended her to him. However Liz may have given him her cards – perhaps she had been worried about her safety even when she was back in the UK.
“Where are you? Have you been to see Patrick?”
“I have and I’m at the vicarage now.”
“Oh have the police finished there then?” Silly question – of course they had.
“Yes. Look I’d rather not have this conversation over the phone. Would you meet me here? There are some things I’d like to ask you and it’d be much better face to face.”
Simon Ryan looked just like an older version of his brother but with more assurance. He wore a dark suit that looked bespoke and his hair was flecked with a few strands of grey. He was an imposing figure who looked as though he was used to getting what he wanted. Hannah smiled. How unalike could two brothers be?
“Good to meet you, Hannah and thanks for taking the time to come here.”
“I don’t know Patrick very well at all,” she said. “It was my friend Liz who knew him.”
Simon picked up on the past tense. “Yes of course, your friend who was murdered in the church. You found her didn’t you? That must have been a terrible shock. Please – sit down.”
They were in Patrick’s study cum sitting room. The room he had brought her to. It didn’t look any different although the police must have been through everything in their searches.
“Would you like some tea, or coffee?”
“No thank you. This is all a bit of a surprise. I’d assumed Patrick didn’t have any close relatives or wasn’t in touch with his family.”
She watched Simon’s face reflect his sadness as he explained, “Our parents are elderly – our father has Parkinsons which means my mother is more or less his carer and has little time for anything or anyone else.” That was said in a matter of fact way that Hannah couldn’t help feeling covered the hurt he was feeling. “I was involved in a major case and couldn’t get here any sooner. I’m a barrister,” he said to Hannah’s unspoken question.
“Well it must have come as shock to you to hear about your bother like that.”
“Yes, it was. I was rather hoping you might throw some light on the situation for me.” He smiled. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you to some coffee? I’m going to have one.”
Hannah accepted and followed him into the kitchen. It was a narrow galley type that led off from a dining room which looked more functional than decorative. The kitchen was well organised as though thought had gone into making everything easy to get to with the minimum of effort. Simon seemed to know where everything was.
“Have you been here often?” Hannah asked as he poured boiling water into the coffee pot.
“Odd question. We’re brothers. I usually visit between cases. Only for a couple of nights or so. Patrick always spends his holidays with our parents. Gives Mum a break – and me.” He smiled and Hannah saw again the likeness between the brothers.
“Let’s take this through, shall we?” He picked up the tray of coffee and a plate of biscuits. “Patrick always keeps a good supply of tea, coffee and biscuits for his parishioners. Not sure he bothers quite so much about his own proper meals though.” He sighed. Hannah thought he looked the type of man who ate – and drank – well.
“Now, tell me. What do you know of my brother’s predicament?”
Hannah accepted the coffee he handed to her. “Very little. You probably know more than I do as I’m sure you’ve been in contact with the police.”
“Yes a DI Turner spoke to me. After they’d sent a local officer to see my parents. Mum rang me immediately, of course, and I made some enquiries. But as I said I was in the middle of a major case which then suddenly collapsed, so here I am.” He sipped his coffee.
“It would seem Patrick owes his life to one of the down and outs who come to the church.” He looked solemn. “God knows what would have happened if he hadn’t acted so swiftly.”
“A guardia
n angel.” Hannah spoke the words before she realised she’s said them aloud.
“Quite.” Simon waited.
Hannah put down her cup. “Your brother rang me and asked me to meet him in the church. As you can imagine it wasn’t a place I wanted to return to but Patrick said he had something to show me. It was a ruse. He wanted me to see that the beauty and sacredness remained unsullied. Then we came here and he told me that he was being blackmailed and wanted my help.”
Simon nodded but said nothing. Hannah wondered why he didn’t ask why Patrick had contacted her. It occurred to her that he’d already made enquiries about her and knew far more than he was saying.
“Did he say why he was being blackmailed?”
“No he didn’t and when I suggested that someone in the church hierarchy would be better placed to advise him, he was adamant that he couldn’t go to them. Having met the archdeacon I can see why…”
“Full of his own importance, isn’t he. Still, I suppose he means well.” Simon didn’t sound convinced.
“If I’d known he has a brother who’s a barrister I’d have told him to contact you. Is it strange that he didn’t?”
Simon Ryan said nothing for a moment and drank his coffee. “Maybe he had his reasons.”
“I did wonder if he was the father of Liz’s unborn child…”
Simon nearly choked on his coffee. “Hannah my brother is gay, he’s far more likely to have been blackmailed about that, but as far as I know he is celibate.”
Hannah shrugged. There were ways and means. Just because he was gay didn’t mean he couldn’t father a child. But she kept that thought to herself. “Then I wonder if Liz had told him about her time in Somalia? She said very little to me when she returned earlier than expected. But I think things were happening there which had a profound effect on her.”
Hannah was going to say more then thought the better of it. It could be that he’d find out more if she didn’t put ideas into his head.
“Well that’s something to work on, isn’t it.” He wrote down the name of the charity and their contact details.
“How long are you staying for?”
“As long as I need to.” He looked at his watch. “Visiting time. I’d like to keep in touch if that’s ok with you? Maybe we can help each other.”
Hannah smiled. “Yes do you have a mobile number or should I leave a message on the vicarage answerphone?”
“No don’t leave a message here, contact me directly.” He handed her a card as she stood to leave. “Nice to meet you even if under such sad cirmcumstances.”
As Hannah left she felt it was unlikely she’d get to see Patrick again now that his brother was here. He looked a good match for DI Turner.
THIRTY-FOUR
They were sitting side by side in her sitting room. James and the most beautiful black woman she had ever encountered. Tall and slim she had an aristocratic bearing and seemed to glide rather than walk. Her hair was cropped short and her smile was hesitant. James clasped her hand. “This is my cousin, Mia. Mia’s family comes from Somalia and she can tell you what you need to know.”
He stood up.
“Aren’t you staying?” Hannah felt slightly panicky.
“No. It will be better if you talk together without me. I’ll come back later. Don’t get up, I know where the front door is.” He smiled at Mia and nodded to Hannah.
Both women where silent until they heard the front door close.
“May I offer you something to drink Mia? Tea, coffee… a glass of wine?” she added hopefully.
“No I’m fine thank you. Perhaps when James returns..?” Mia’s deep brown eyes betrayed both sadness and hope making Hannah wonder at their relationship.
“Of course. It’s very good of you to take the time to talk to me. You do know I am a journalist?”
“Yes that is why I agreed to come here. I thought you might be able to write about this in some way to highlight the problem we have.”
“The problem?”
“Yes in my birth country they carry out female circumcision.” She paused looking embarassed but she didn’t look away. In fact she seemed to stare at Hannah more keenly almost daring her to comment.
“Do you mind if I take notes while you are talking, Mia. Or perhaps recording our conversation?” Hannah added this with little hope of an agreement so was taken aback by Mia’s reaction.
“Of course, record it. You will be able to concentrate better on what I am going to tell you.”
Hannah stood up. “Excuse me I just get my dictaphone.” She dashed upstairs and returned within a couple of minutes. Mia looked as though she hadn’t moved a muscle.
Hannah sat down and switched on the machine. Without prompting, Mia began her story.
“As I said in my country they carry out female cricumcision – Female Genital Mutilation. But no one talks about it in that way. Young girls, children really, are tricked into believing they are going to a special celebration. I remember, when it happened to me, feeling very excited. We were visiting my grandparents and were told there was going to be a big party. A whole group of us – there must have been eleven or twelve children – were led into a separate room. There was lots of music – drumming – I could hear. Little did I know why.” Mia stopped talking. She looked absolutely terrified. “I’m sorry Hannah, do you think I could have a glass of water? Actually a glass of wine would be better.”
Hannah nodded and returned with wine and two glasses plus a jug of water and tumblers on a tray. She poured the wine. They both took large gulps. Then Mia laughed. “I shouldn’t need Dutch courage, but I do.”
Hannah raised her glass in salute and turned on the tape recorder again.
“One by one we were led into another room. When it was my turn, the atmosphere in that room was very different. I was grabbed by each arm and a piece of cloth was tied over my eyes. I fought but there were so many of them. I was wrestled to the floor and what must have been a very large woman sat on my chest. I thought I was going to die from suffocation. Other women took my arms and pinned them down while my legs were spread apart.”
Some more wine punctuated Mia’s monologue.
“I want you to know this Hannah. I fought with everything I had in me. But I was just a small child. I screamed for all I was worth and the beating of the drums got louder and louder. And then there was the pain. I cannot describe this pain. It was unbearable. They stuffed some cloth in my mouth. I could feel the heat of the blood oozing from me. I thought I was going to die, I really did.”
Hannah’s tears cascaded down her face. Mia reached forward and clutched Hannah’s hand. “I am a survivor. I am still fighting. I will not be a victim. I am using my experience to try to prevent this happening to others.”
“What in the UK?”
“Yes in the UK. But also girls, like me, are taken back to their country of origin to be mutilated by this barbaric procedure. I am trying to educated families here. But also in my homeland.”
Both women were silent. Hannah topped up their glasses. There was a click and a whirl as the cassette tape came to an end. Hannah switched off the machine.
Mia spoke first. “Hannah I am really glad you are going to write about this but I would prefer that my name is not mentioned. There are people who don’t like what I am doing and I don’t want to give them any more ammunition against me.”
“Of course, Mia.” She clutched her hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as courageous as you are.”
By the time James returned they had started on another bottle of wine and he joined them. He looked as though he needed a drink more than Mia and she wondered yet again about their relationship. Cousins. But cousins marry. An arranged marriage? But that didn’t seem likely. And anyway James’s mother was British and…
They left not long afterwards and Hannah was left with the nightmare that had been Mia’s early experiences echoing in her mind. Especially Mia’s last words to her: “Hannah if your friend was killed because o
f something that happened in Somalia, I don’t think it would be because of the cutting. I think it’s much more likely to be about the kidnapping and raping of young girls by the terrorist forces.”
Hannah stared at her as James gave her a quick peck on the cheek and they were gone.
After she’d cleared away downstairs, Hannah crept into her sleeping daughter’s room and gazed down at her adored child and thought of Mia. How could any mother let that happen to a child they loved? Then she remembered that Mia had said the mothers weren’t allowed to be present for just that reason. They wouldn’t be able to listen to their daughters’ screams and not try to protect them.
But Hannah also had something else to worry about. Had Liz tried to intervene against the terrorist forces. What had she done? What could she have done? Except break what might have been a conspiracy of silence within the charity? But surely the charity wouldn’t have sanctioned Liz’s murder. So who else would have had the motive and the wherewithall to arrange for Liz’s execution – for that it what Liz’s murder now seemed like?
THIRTY-FIVE
“Do you know anything about Simon Ryan, he’s a barrister based in Manchester, I believe?”
Rory shrugged. “Name rings a bell but…”
“He’s Father Patrick Ryan’s brother.” Hannah bit into her sandwich. Once again they were sitting in the pub opposite The News’s offices after what had been for Hannah a very short editorial meeting. She’d only been brought in at the end and had the distinct feeling she had been the subject of an earlier discussion.
“Is he now..?” Rory tapped on his glass. “From what I can remember he takes on high profile criminal trials. Defence barrister. We could see what the cuttings library can drag up.” Rory took a long gulp of beer.
“You look as though you needed that.” Hannah smiled.
“I did. This abduction case has wiped nearly everything off the news agenda.”
Hannah shuddered. “What on earth was the mother doing letting go of the child’s hand like that.”
