Authors: Helen Black
‘Trust me, you’ll want to run this one.’
She heard the death rattle of his throat as Steve thought about it. ‘This had better be good.’
The morning had gone so smoothly it was almost eerie. Anna had grilled them all sausages and tomatoes and they had gone through the contents of Sam’s swag bag from the previous night. Eight bars of chocolate, ten packets of sweets, three satsumas (well, you can’t win ’em all) and over five quid in change. Anna had oohed and ahhed at his loot and Sam had not been aggressive even once. Granted, he had dived into Penny’s car without so much as a thank you for breakfast, but it was progress nonetheless.
When Lilly went to her wardrobe to pull out a work shirt she found all five washed, ironed and hung up. Anna had clearly been keeping herself busy.
She checked her watch. Eight-thirty and she was already at her desk—a record.
She cupped her cold hands around the latte she had collected on the way in and sighed contentedly. She’d been so early, she’d beaten Sheila and had been able to usher Anna down to her office without a barbed comment or glare. Honestly, you’d think a woman with three children of her own would be more sympathetic.
‘So,’ said Anna with a bright smile. ‘I should help with the filing?’
Lilly glanced at the bare shelves that Anna had systematically cleared.
‘I don’t recognise the place as it is,’ she said. ‘Let’s get down to some work.’
‘I should make coffee then,’ said Anna.
Lilly pointed to her steaming cup. ‘I mean, work on your case.’
Anna’s smile slipped.
‘I know it’s hard, but we can’t keep putting it off. Dr Kadir said we need to talk.’
‘I don’t like this doctor,’ said Anna.
‘She’s on your side,’ said Lilly. ‘And she may be the only person who can prevent you from going to jail.’
Anna flopped into the chair opposite Lilly and rested her chin on her hands. She could have been any teenager being forced to do what she didn’t want to do. Only this one had suffered more than most adults could even dream of.
‘So, what do you like to know?’ she said.
Lilly shuffled the papers on her desk. She had reread Anna’s statement to immigration at least ten times and it never got easier—but she needed more detail.
‘When your mother and sisters were killed, how did you feel?’
Anna shrugged. ‘Sad.’
‘And what about when your father said you were to escape with your brother?’
‘Scared.’
Her answers seemed flat, inadequate, but maybe that was the point. Maybe there were no words to describe the horror of what had taken place.
Lilly tried a different tack. ‘Tell me about your journey to the UK.’
Anna visibly squirmed.
‘How long did it take?’ asked Lilly.
‘Many days.’
‘Four, five, six?’
‘Yes.’
Lilly groaned. ‘Which was it?’
‘Six, I think,’ said Anna. ‘I don’t know exactly, it was very confusing.’
Lilly tried to imagine a child being smuggled across a continent in the midst of a war. Of course the days would blur into one another.
‘And when you got here,’ Lilly softened her tone, ‘how did you feel?’
Anna furrowed her brow as if struggling to find the words. ‘I feel as though it is living a dream.’
‘Because you were so happy to get away from Kosovo?’ asked Lilly. ‘A dream come true?’
‘No. Because it does not feel real. It feels like I am here but yet not here,’ said Anna.
Detachment. Now they were getting somewhere.
Lilly opened her mouth to ask Anna if she had felt the same way at Manor Park, when the office door burst open. Sheila stood with her legs akimbo. Her perm had expanded to twice its girth. For a woman of five foot two she cut an impressive figure.
‘I thought you two would be hiding in here.’
Lilly sighed. ‘We’re not hiding, Sheila, we’re working.’
‘Very cosy.’ Sheila’s eyes flashed. ‘All tucked up in here away from prying eyes while I’m in reception dealing with the abuse.’
‘What abuse?’ asked Lilly.
Sheila snorted in disgust. ‘It’s just about to kick off, I can tell you.’
In a flash of turquoise silk, Rupinder appeared. ‘Can someone tell me what’s going on?’
‘God knows,’ said Lilly. ‘Anna and I were down here going through her statement when Genghis Khan here started one of her rants about people abusing her.’
Rupinder frowned. ‘I didn’t know there had been any more problems.’
‘There haven’t been,’ said Lilly. ‘Sheila’s being hysterical.’
‘I’m hysterical?’ Sheila prodded her chest with a square, white-tipped acrylic nail. ‘Let’s see how the clients react.’
Lilly was exasperated. ‘React to what?’
‘To that,’ Sheila shouted back, and threw a copy of the
Three Counties Observer
onto the desk.
The picture was a nice one. Not the school picture that had been on every TV channel, but a holiday snap with Charles Stanton in board shorts, sticking out his tongue cheekily at the camera.
Rupinder read aloud. ‘At least Charlie’s family had the comfort of spending the summer with him in Cornwall where they have a second home. He spent his days surfing and his evenings with his many friends.’
Lilly tried not to look at Anna.
‘He was a popular boy and a big hit with the girls,’ Rupinder continued. ‘His death is a tragedy which has sent shockwaves through the small Hertfordshire village where he lived and the £25,000-a-year Manor Park school where he was gunned down in cold blood.’
Sheila was incredulous. ‘You spend twenty-five grand a year on that school?’
‘Not my idea,’ said Lilly.
‘You obviously get paid too much,’ said Sheila.
‘Hardly.’
‘Will you two shut up?’ said Rupinder, and went back to the editorial piece on page five. ‘As locals and classmates alike have been attempting to come to terms with recent events, they will no doubt be horrified to learn that their neighbour and fellow parent has taken on the case for the defence. Lilly Valentine, a solicitor with Harpenden firm Fulton, Carter and Singh, has agreed to represent the asylum seeker charged with Charlie’s murder, who cannot be named for legal reasons.’
‘They’ve named the firm,’ said Sheila. ‘We’ll have them queuing up to take shots at us now.’
Rupinder ignored her. ‘A source close to Charlie’s family described Miss Valentine as a disgrace. Some readers may find this harsh; after all, isn’t she just doing her job?’
‘The chance would be a fine thing,’ said Lilly.
‘But the
Three Counties Observer
has discovered that not only is Miss Valentine working for the defendant, she is letting her live in her house.’ Rupinder glanced nervously at Lilly. ‘While local people assumed the person suspected of an armed massacre was safely in custody, it turns out she is living happily only minutes from the school where the attack took place.’
They all looked at the picture at the foot of the page. Anna and Lilly chatting on their porch, Jack with his arm around Lilly’s waist.
‘Oh, Jesus, tell me they don’t mention Jack,’ Lilly said.
Rupinder cleared her throat. ‘And what do the police make of this unusual state of affairs? No doubt they’re affronted and demanding to have bail revoked. Actually, they’re not, perhaps something to do with Miss Valentine’s relationship with Sergeant Jack McNally, a child protection officer who is currently on a leave of absence.’
The telephone rang and Sheila automatically reached for it.
‘Don’t,’ said Rupinder. ‘Put the answer machine on.’
‘But the clients,’ said Sheila.
Rupinder sighed. ‘The clients are the least of our problems today.’
Snow White read the report with a mixture of satisfaction and disgust.
She was pleased that the world could now see Lilly Valentine for what she was. A traitor. That she would sneak the foreigner into their very midst showed there were no levels to which she would not stoop.
Grandpa had always said it wasn’t the advancing armies that troubled him. ‘If you can see the buggers, you can shoot them.’ It was the covert cells that frightened him. Silent, deadly. ‘The enemy within.’
How right he had been.
This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. The moment when everything she had predicted finally came true. The enemy was within.
She needed to clear her mind and consider her next move.
Lilly put her head in her hands. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry she wanted to run away from the office, and this stupid case. The phone had not stopped ringing with requests for comment on the
Three Counties
piece. It would only be a matter of time before they were camped on the office doorstep.
‘You okay?’ asked Anna.
‘Not really’
‘I will make coffee,’ said Anna.
‘Coffee,’ Lilly repeated. How could the girl think about coffee at a time like this? It was as if she didn’t understand the seriousness of what was happening. The papers, and therefore the world, knew Anna was living with Lilly.
‘And we have chocolate,’ said Anna. ‘One bar or two?’
Lilly looked up at Anna. Her beautiful green eyes shone with an almost mystical phosphorescence.
‘Things are pretty bad, Anna,’ said Lilly.
Anna nodded. ‘Before I come here, things were very bad, so this is an improvement.’
Despite herself, Lilly smiled. Anna was right. The situation might be difficult but it was nothing compared to what Anna had suffered in the past.
She reached into her drawer and pulled out a Picnic and a Curly Wurly ‘This is definitely a two-bar moment.’
Her mobile rang and she checked caller ID. Jack. She was ashamed to admit it but she couldn’t face him. He’d told her not to take the case and warned that it would end badly. She’d call him later when she’d bolstered herself.
A moment later it rang again. This time it was David. Oh, God, she certainly couldn’t talk to him right now. She could only imagine what he would say about Sam’s home being splashed over the headlines.
It rang a third time and she switched it off. Cowardly, for sure, but necessary for mental health.
Seconds later her computer sprang to life with a message in her inbox. Lilly sighed. When she had started out as a lawyer she was armed only with a pager and she regularly forgot to put a battery in that. People didn’t feel the need to be in touch twenty-four hours a day, and work got done, lives were lived.
Her mother, Elsa, never even had a landline, and when Lilly went away to university they stayed in touch by letter—one a week until the day Elsa became too ill to write. Lilly still had every one in a shoebox tied with the pink chiffon scarf Elsa had worn on the day she died. Couldn’t do that with texts or emails, could you?
She opened her message.
To: Lilly Valentine
From: Jez Stafford
Subject: Eat your heart out, Mrs Beckham
I see that you have media coverage dear Victoria would be proud of. At least you look cute in the picture. Not so sure about Jack.
Anyway…the judge wants us round there now. He’s tried to call the office but can’t get through and your mobile’s turned off. No doubt you’re doing an interview with Richard and Judy.
J x
Lilly closed her eyes. Could she pretend she hadn’t got the message? There was no way for Jez to know whether she’d read it, was there? She was sure she’d read that somewhere.
She quickly logged off and sat back in her chair. No phone, no mobile, no computer. It was disquieting.
She picked up her bag. ‘Come on, Anna.’
‘We go home?’ said Anna.
‘Afraid not.’
‘Nice earrings,’ said Jez.
Kerry felt the hot flash of pleasure at her throat. ‘Thanks.’ She’d bought them last weekend at a craft fayre. The stallholder said the topaz stones matched her eyes.
‘I like your tie,’ she said, forcing the squeal of pleasure from her voice.
He ran a hand down the yellow silk. ‘Christmas present.’
She wanted to ask who from, but didn’t dare. He seemed distracted, repeatedly checking his watch.
At last Lilly dashed into the robing room. Why did she always arrive like a whirlwind? And why did everyone smile? It wasn’t professional to keep everyone waiting and then explode into their faces, thought Kerry.
‘Who leaked the story?’ asked Jez.
Lilly rolled her eyes. ‘Someone who hates me.’
‘No one hates you, Lilly,’ he said.
Kerry sniffed. She might not hate the solicitor for the defence but she found her flipping annoying.
‘You’d be surprised,’ Lilly said. ‘When the mothers at Manor Park read that little lot they’ll be hiring a hitman.’
‘And I don’t suppose the judge is very pleased,’ said Kerry. ‘He’s trying to attract as little media attention as possible.’
Jez laughed. ‘There’s no way he can blame you for this mess.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ said Lilly. ‘Anyway, let’s get it over with. I’ve spent the morning avoiding men I don’t want to speak to and I can’t put it off any longer.’
She stood up and, to Kerry’s annoyance, Jez jumped to attention. Kerry’s own bulk precluded any sudden movements, but she refused to be rushed in any event. Just who did Lilly Valentine think she was?
‘Great suit,’ said Jez to Lilly as they swanned down the corridor.
Lilly looked down at her nylon jacket and laughed. ‘Can’t say the same for that tie,’ she said.
Kerry sniggered to herself. Lilly had put her foot in it now.
‘Sheba gave it to me for Christmas,’ he said.
‘What did you give her?’ asked Lilly.
‘A hostess trolley,’ he said.
Lilly howled with laughter and Jez joined her. Kerry wondered why that was funny.
‘My nan once gave me an ironing board,’ said Lilly, wiping her eyes. I was twelve.’
‘I can only imagine seasonal festivities in the Valentine household,’ said Jez.
‘Oh, they were hilarious,’ said Lilly ‘My mum used to try to get everyone on our street to be more PC. When Mr Johnson at number twenty-two called his dog Nigger Boy, she gave him a copy of
Roots.
Then she invited him to Christmas dinner with the Patels from the corner shop. They all got pissed on Babycham and ended up trying to do a seance.’