by K. L. Slater
I bend forward and whisper as quietly as I can in Maddy’s ear, ‘Did Brianna hurt the old lady? Just nod once, or shake your head.’
I sit back and watch her, a dull thud starting up inside my skull. She maintains eye contact, but does not move or make a sound.
There’s something there that wants to get out, something she’s desperate to tell me. I can see it. Feel it.
Fear, dread, sadness… she’s trying to convey one of them, but I can’t identify exactly which.
Maybe it’s a little of all of them.
Eight
DC Carol Hall whispers something to Chloe, and she and Brianna stand up and follow her out of the room. I try to catch my sister’s eye, but she keeps her gaze to the floor.
The two detectives walk in and sit down without looking over at us. March scribbles something on a pad and shows it to Neary, and he nods.
I feel Tom’s hand envelop mine, but I can only stare blankly into space. I feel numb, distanced from everything that’s happening around me.
The bitter, nasty words I read on Twitter are still bouncing around my head, and that was just a quick glimpse. Goodness knows what is being said on Facebook. I’m not sure I want to know.
Here in this room, I can feel… not exactly hostility, but a sense of revulsion. The very air seems dense, thick with the unspeakable truth of what had happened to that poor old lady.
Maddy sticks close to me, her upper arm and thigh pressed against me the whole time.
I am her mother. She expects me to protect her, keep her safe, and I can’t. I can’t whisk her away from here to gently tease out the truth of what happened to Bessie Wilford, and I can’t stop all those vile online comments and judgements.
I feel utterly helpless, and judging by his expression and continual frown, I’m pretty sure Tom feels the same way.
Carol comes back in and gently ushers us over to chairs that have been placed opposite the two detectives. She herself sits at the back of the room near the door, while Seetal silently takes her place to my left, a little apart from the straggly row the three of us form.
Neary starts with an introduction about the interview, and explains that it’s all going to be recorded. He’s talking about how they need to establish beforehand that the girls understand the difference between telling the truth and lying. It sounds like nonsense.
I try really hard to take it all in, to absorb his words, but I can’t drag my eyes away from my daughter’s washed-out face and the puffy dark circles under her eyes.
Last October, there was a Halloween disco held in Annesley Village Hall. Maddy dressed up as Wednesday Addams and I applied white face powder and dabbed slate-grey eyeshadow around her eyes to give her that authentic Addams Family look.
Today she has no need of any such makeover to look exhausted and drawn. I reach across and squeeze her hand, but she doesn’t respond.
‘Mrs Fletcher?’ Neary’s voice penetrates my thoughts.
I jump a little and bring my attention back to the room.
‘He’s asking if it’s OK to start,’ Tom prompts me.
‘Sorry, yes. Yes, that’s fine.’ I uncross my legs. Chloe would be annoyed at me for behaving so politely, saying all the right things… saying more than I need. But I can’t help it. We’re different like that.
DS March kicks off the interview.
‘So, Maddy. Like DI Neary says, it’s important we make sure that you fully understand the difference between a lie and the truth. For instance, if I was to say that you’re wearing a red top, would that be the truth or would it be a lie?’
Maddy glances down at the long navy-blue tunic they gave her when they took away her clothes for forensic examination. It’s a bit tight at the tops of her arms and it pulls a little across her belly.
She doesn’t answer the detective, but March is undeterred. ‘Let’s try another one. If I said that DI Neary isn’t sitting next to me right now, would that be the truth or a lie?’
Maddy shifts in her seat, squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s silently instructing herself to keep her words inside. I swear I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves as I watch her fingers grasp and pull at the bottom of the dull long-sleeved T-shirt.
Neary clears his throat.
‘Maddy, earlier today, officers were called to the house of Mrs Bessie Wilford on Conmore Street.’
Maddy looks up at him. Two dark pink spots begin to bloom on her pale cheeks.
I glance at Tom, but his eyes are fixed on our daughter.
‘Maddy, can you tell us what happened to Bessie Wilford?’
Her chest rises and falls faster now, but she looks away from the detective. Away from me and her father.
‘The officers found Bessie badly injured on the floor,’ Neary continues. ‘How did she get to be there, Maddy?’
Maddy twists the hem of the tunic into a small point. The pink spots on her cheeks are bigger now, and a faint sheen of perspiration has appeared on her upper lip.
‘How was Bessie when you first got to the house?’ DS March takes over. ‘Was she unhurt?’
‘Perhaps she did something to make you both angry,’ Neary adds.
‘I don’t think leading questions are the way to go here,’ Seetal warns.
Maddy slumps a little further down in her chair. She must be feeling overwhelmed. Confused. I feel like I ought to intervene, ask them to go a bit slower. But we’ve got to get to the bottom of this mess, sort it out so we can take her home.
That poor old lady is seriously ill in hospital, and someone put her there. Her family must be beside themselves too. But I would bet my life, without any hesitation at all, that my daughter was not the one responsible. She simply isn’t capable of doing something like that.
And my niece, Brianna? Of course I don’t think she’d do anything so terrible as to deliberately attack an old lady, but she has got Chloe’s temper. I’ve seen her shout back at Chloe, and even throw stuff around.
Last Christmas, when she and Maddy were playing a game of Operation in Mum’s front room, we all ran in, alarmed, at the sound of screeching.
‘She stabbed me with the tweezers when I won,’ Maddy howled, showing us the angry red snick on her hand.
‘I never!’ Brianna insisted.
Granted, it was nowhere as serious as attacking an old lady, but nevertheless, people can do some pretty bad things in anger.
‘Was Bessie OK when you first arrived at the house?’ Neary repeats.
Maddy slides her flat hands onto the chair under her thighs and stares at the floor in front of her feet. Her loose ponytail shifts slightly as she rocks gently on the seat, as if she’s trying to reassure herself. I want to prompt her to answer, to say something to fill the gaping hole that is swallowing us all up. But before the interview started, Seetal instructed Tom and me not to speak at all unless one of the detectives addressed us directly.
‘Maybe you had nothing to do with Bessie’s injuries at all,’ March continues, and Maddy looks up. ‘Did you help her, once you saw she was hurt?’
It’s far too warm in this room. You’d think they’d have a fan going or something. I’m starting to feel a bit queasy.
‘What did you do, Maddy? What did you do when you saw she was badly injured?’
Maddy’s bottom lips wobbles, and then the tears come. A trickle at first, but in no time at all she is gulping and gasping for breath, and her face is wet and completely scarlet.
Tom shuffles in his seat and pats her leg as Carol brings over a box of tissues. I take a couple and dab gently at Maddy’s face.
‘It’s OK, sweetie, you’re doing so well,’ I whisper to her.
Seetal turns to Carol. ‘I don’t think Maddy can carry on like this. She needs a break.’
I hear DS March’s voice then, cold and officious.
‘Interview suspended at three fifteen p.m.’
I slide my arm around Maddy and we follow Carol out of the interview room and down the corridor. It’s cooler out
here, but I still feel sick, and my heart is racing. It was so traumatic for Maddy in there, and we’re no further forward.
‘I don’t know what I expected the interview to turn out like, but it wasn’t that,’ I whisper to Tom, and he nods grimly.
I thought they’d go easier on her, be less formal. The creeping sense of unease that started in my solar plexus now fills my entire body.
Maddy’s silence is unnerving. That she’s capable of keeping up a brick wall even against me and Tom makes me shiver.
Carol stops walking and opens a door. Just before I follow my husband inside, I look back along the corridor and see Chloe and Brianna about to step into the interview room. I wish I could speak to them, so we can talk amongst ourselves about what happened in that house.
Our eyes meet for a moment and I shoot my sister a meaningful look to try and warn her; to convey how awful it’s going to be to see her child put through the wringer.
But Chloe turns her head away and steps inside the room. And she doesn’t look back.
Nine
The police station
The room felt hot and sticky as Chloe entered, but still, she’d been glad to escape Juliet in the corridor. She couldn’t handle that plaintive look of hers, not today.
This was no place to show weakness, and she intended to fight the allegations against Brianna tooth and nail. Both sisters needed to fight with everything they’d got, but Chloe could already see the doubt etched on Juliet’s face, and she couldn’t afford for that to undermine her own strength.
She squeezed her daughter’s hand as they took their seats under the gaze of the two detectives. She noticed that the female officer had already slipped off her tailored black jacket, and Neary had loosened his grubby tie.
‘Are there no windows in this place?’ Chloe said tersely, her eyes swivelling around the room. What a dump the station was; everything she laid eyes on was make-do and in desperate need of an overhaul.
‘Sorry,’ DS March replied without real concern. ‘We’ll try to locate a fan for later.’
Later? Chloe had been hoping this interview would be it and then they’d be heading home. She opened her mouth to challenge the comment, but then thought better of it when Seetal shot her a look.
That fussy woman Carol crept into the room and closed the door quietly behind her, then perched on the edge of a hard chair and sat expectant and still, blinking comically like a plump bird. She looked about as far from the description of a competent officer as Chloe could imagine.
Some people thrived on the drama and misfortune of other people, and Chloe strongly suspected Carol was one of them.
Brianna still hadn’t uttered a word. She looked so small and vulnerable sitting there faced with the two detectives. Only the people who knew her best realised that her bolshie exterior was a facade. It broke Chloe’s heart that she couldn’t just scoop her daughter up and protect her from all this.
Chloe folded her arms and listened to the nonsense DI Neary was reeling off. Something about establishing Brianna’s understanding of what it meant to tell the truth as opposed to telling lies. Bree might be young, but she was no fool and deserved better than to be patronised.
Chloe turned her scathing gaze on Seetal, their lawyer, sitting there scrawling on a pad and saying nothing. As good as useless for her eye-watering two-hundred-pounds-an-hour fee.
The interview proper began. A constant barrage of questions, good-cop bad-cop style.
Neary: Did Brianna hurt Bessie?
March: Did she try to help Bessie or think about raising the alarm?
Neary: How long did the girls stay at the house?
‘Did you actually see Bessie fall, Brianna?’ March asked.
Brianna looked down, bounced the heel of the ill-fitting navy lace-up shoes they’d given her on the floor.
‘This is important, Brianna,’ the detective continued. ‘Was Bessie OK when you got to the house? Did you speak with her?’
It felt to Chloe like the detectives were trying to trick Brianna in some underhand way, getting her to admit to something she might later regret. Had they asked Maddy exactly the same questions?
She tried in vain to catch Seetal’s eye.
Brianna remained silent, staring at her fidgeting foot.
‘She’s obviously confused on that particular point.’ Chloe sat forward and glared at the detectives. In the absence of the lawyer saying anything constructive, she wouldn’t just sit there mute and let them distress her daughter.
Neary’s tone gained an edge. ‘Miss Voce. Can you please let Brianna speak for herself?’
Seetal touched her arm and nodded in agreement, silently reminding Chloe that she wasn’t supposed to speak. Some lawyer they’d selected in her.
‘I’m just saying, it’s clear she’s feeling confused!’ Chloe’s face burned. This was her daughter, and she couldn’t possibly be involved in hurting the old lady. She wouldn’t let them shut her up so they could try to put words into a little girl’s mouth.
Brianna took a breath. A strained, expectant hush settled over the room. Both detectives sat up straighter in their seats Chloe’s throat tightened.
But her heart sank when the silence continued. This wasn’t like her daughter at all. With Brianna, what you saw was what you got. When she felt sad, she’d cry; when she was angry, she’d shout, and when she was worried, she’d say so.
Maddy, on the other hand, was a sulker. Many a time Chloe had seen her refuse to speak to Jules and Tom when she was in one of her moods. She could be a stubborn girl. She could be sneaky, too. Like the day they’d all gone to Scarborough back in May. The girls and Josh had built sandcastles and appointed Grandad Ray as the judge. He’d picked Brianna’s. Maddy had smiled and congratulated her cousin, but later, as they all left the beach and headed towards the fish restaurant on the promenade, Chloe had looked back to see her trampling Brianna’s sandcastle into the ground.
When she’d raced to catch them up, her mood had brightened considerably.
Brianna’s heel began thumping on the floor again.
‘Take your time, Brianna,’ March urged her. ‘You’re doing really well.’
Brianna began to cry. She looked up at Chloe with swollen, bloodshot eyes.
‘Right, I think that’s enough.’ Chloe stood up and bent forward, cradling Brianna’s head in her arms. ‘We’re getting nowhere fast here. What happened to Bessie Wilford was obviously some kind of tragic accident. You must be able to see that my daughter isn’t capable of anything remotely violent.’
‘Ms Voce, I have to insist that—’
The tap on the door startled everyone. A uniformed officer craned his head into the room and beckoned Neary over.
Carol sprang up from her chair and offered Brianna a box of tissues, but Chloe waved her away and reached into her own pocket to pull out a used one.
‘She can’t cope with this pressure for much longer.’ She glared at DS March, who sat back without comment and watched her with a neutral expression. ‘She’s confused and very upset about what happened. This line of questioning is too rushed. Too aggressive.’
‘Perhaps a break is in order,’ Seetal finally piped up.
As Chloe dabbed her daughter’s watery eyes, too furious to speak, she registered that the senior detective had returned to his seat, but she didn’t look up at him. Her priority was to get Brianna out of this stuffy room and back home as soon as possible.
She would also suggest to Juliet that they find another lawyer. This time, one who actually did something to justify her fee.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Neary whispering something in his colleague’s ear. The corners of DS March’s mouth twitched downwards in disapproval. Neary exhaled noisily and ran a hand over his thick sandy hair.
‘We will take a short break,’ he said gravely. ‘Carol will get the girls something to eat and drink and then we’ll need to continue with—’
‘Surely you can see she’s had enough for today
?’ Chloe snapped, jutting her chin out as she stroked Brianna’s fine hair. ‘Look at the state she’s in – it’s obvious she didn’t do anything wrong. So as her parent, I say no more.’
Neary held her stare. ‘That, I’m afraid, Ms Voce, is no longer your call.’
Ten
Juliet
The door to the family room opens and DC Carol Hall comes in.
‘I’m going to look after the girls. I’ll get them something to eat and drink while you all take some time out,’she says, laying her hand supportively on my upper arm. ‘Just holler through to the desk sergeant if you need me.’
Tom nods. ‘Thank you.’
I’m beginning to warm slightly to the woman, although I can tell that for some reason, something about her really irritates Chloe.
I give my daughter a hug as she passes. Tom reaches out and ruffles her hair.
‘Stay strong, kid,’ he says in the silly voice they use with each other at home, but it rings hollow and Maddy doesn’t react.
She doesn’t sob, doesn’t cling, doesn’t beg me to stay with her. She just takes Carol’s hand.
This whole process has changed her in a terrifyingly short length of time. Her behaviour is totally out of character in a way I wouldn’t have believed possible only this morning.
I can see an awful desperation in her eyes, a pain I just can’t reach or soothe better. She’s ten years old. She’s not equipped with the tools needed to get through this relentless pressure; she doesn’t know how to steady herself, control her emotions.
It’s crushing me to watch her slowly fading away.
Conversely, when I look at my niece, Brianna, she seems to have an innate ability to distance herself from what is happening. Her eyes look slightly unfocused, as if she’s managed to detach herself from the sharp edges of reality. She kisses her mother and leaves quietly, holding Carol’s other hand. She doesn’t seem nearly as distressed as Maddy.
