'Why?' I said.
'Please,' said Polly.
'All right,' I said. 'Go on, then.'
Pryor took another piece of paper from his
file.
'Do you know the name Geoffrey Locke?'
I thought for a moment. It sounded
familiar.
'Oh, you mean Jeff? I've met him.'
'You phoned him about Mr Block.'
'I wanted to reach him.'
'Have you tried the phone book?'
'He wasn't in it,' I said.
'Leon Hardy?' asked Pryor.
'I've only talked to him on the phone.'
'About?'
'I wanted to get in touch with Brendan.'
'Craig McGreevy?'
'I don't see the point in just reading
these names out.'
'You actually visited Tom Lanham.'
'I'm sorry, I don't see the problem.'
I looked over at Brendan. He had the very,
very faintest of smiles on his face. It reminded me of the way he looked at me
when we first met, when I first suspected that he really liked me. I looked at
Pryor. He had no kind of smile on his face.
'You didn't just talk to Lanham. You took
property of Mr Block's away with you.'
I looked at Polly again. She didn't catch
my eye.
'If I saw him,' I said, 'I could give it
to him. That was the idea. He just wanted to get it out of his flat. And if you
talked to him, you also know that Brendan skipped without paying rent.'
Pryor looked at his file again.
'Mr Block's grandmother, Victoria Rees, is
severely demented. You visited her at her nursing home.'
'Yes.'
'Did you think she would be able to give
you Mr Block's address?'
'I wanted to find out about his childhood.
For various reasons.'
'And you called on his sister,' said
Pryor. 'And you asked offensive and invasive questions.'
'I wouldn't say that.'
'After all the tragedies he has suffered,
Mr Block is trying to put his life back together. He has a new relationship.
You approached his new partner. You had been spying on her and you threatened
her.'
'I did not threaten her.'
'It was agreed with Mr Block and his legal
representative that I would coordinate this meeting and speak on his behalf.
But I just want to call on Mr Block to say what this has meant to him.'
Brendan gave a cough.
'I'm sorry, Mirrie,' he said. 'I feel
sorry for you, I really do. But I've felt...' There was a pause as if this were
all too painful to talk about. 'Violated. Threatened. Invaded. Unsettled.'
'Ha! My heart bleeds for you,' I said
angrily.
'Miranda,' said Polly sharply.
'I have one more thing to say,' said
Pryor. 'Ms Walsh and Mr Block came to see me with this information. Much of it
I knew already. I have to say that there is an overwhelming case for dealing
with this under the Protection from Harassment Act of 1997.'
'What the hell do you mean?' I said. 'Is
Brendan pretending that I've been stalking him?'
'Listen, Miss Cotton,' said Pryor. 'It is
my professional opinion that there is no doubt whatsoever that harassment has
occurred. I want to say this very clearly in front of you and your legal
representative. When I first read through this file, I was minded to arrest
you. Your solicitor will be able to tell you that harassment under section two
of the act is a summary offence with a penalty of up to six months'
imprisonment or a fine of up to five thousand pounds, or both. I would be quite
within my powers to arrest you here and now, and conduct a search of your
property. I should say that the Harassment Act also allows for a civil remedy.'
I was so dismayed and angry and shocked
that I could barely speak.
'That is just such a travesty,' I said. 'I
just... Well, for a start, in no way have I harassed Brendan. I talked to
friends of his.'
'The harassment isn't defined in the act,'
said Deirdre Walsh in a chilly tone. 'If you believe you are being harassed and
a reasonable person, such as a magistrate, agrees, then harassment is proved. I
must say that I have never seen a clearer case.'
'Ms Walsh is right,' said Pryor. 'It was
my view that the case should proceed. I consider you a possible threat to Mr
Block. But he was eager to settle the case informally. If this case reached a
criminal court, you would be subject to a restraining order. If it was a civil
court it would be a restraining injunction. It doesn't matter. They amount to
the same thing. Mr Block is willing to accept a personal commitment from you.
If you won't make such a commitment, we'll think again.'
'You mean, you'll arrest me?'
'That's right,' said Pryor.
'This is completely insane,' I said. 'If
anything, Brendan is the one who has been stalking me. I was the one who broke
off with him and then he insinuated himself into my family, into my life. I
should take an injunction out against him.'
There was quite a long, awkward silence.
'You're going about it in an
unconventional way,' said Pryor. 'And now I think you might like a few moments
with your legal adviser. We'll leave you alone together.'
The three of them stood up and walked past
me. I had to stand up to leave space for them. Pryor closed the door behind
him, but the inside wall of his office was entirely transparent. I saw them
walk across towards the coffee machine, a group, speaking. Deirdre Walsh
glanced back and I looked away too late. Polly was staring down at the carpet.
'That isn't exactly what I was expecting,'
I said.
She turned to me. Her face was drained of
colour.
'I'm not sure if I'm right for this,' she
said. 'You may need someone more senior.'
'I just want your advice, Polly.'
She bit her lip.
'Is this true?' she said. 'Did these
things happen?'
'They're not exactly false,' I said. 'In
themselves. But... I mean, for example, the point about being caught looking
through Brendan's bags. He was staying in my parents' house at the time, so it
wasn't as if I were breaking and entering. And all those phone calls, it was a
matter of A saying phone B, and B saying phone C, and so on. I was just trying
to find him. The idea that I was stalking Brendan is grotesque. I think he's
dangerous. What was I supposed to do?'
Polly stood up. She seemed reluctant to
meet my gaze.
'I shouldn't have agreed to this,' she
said. 'We know each other. It's not professional. I didn't realize... But look,
Miranda, I think — apart from everything else — you should see someone.'
'If you mean a therapist, I have been
talking to someone.'
'You didn't tell me that,' said Polly.
'Among other things.'
'I was talking to her about my feelings
after losing my brother and my closest friend.'
'You should have told me.'
'So you could have discounted what I said
as some psychological symptom?' Polly didn't reply, but she didn't deny it
either. 'I'm not going to accept this.'
Polly shook her head urgently.
'No, Miranda, stop that. They are being
generous with you.'
'Let them prove it in court.'
'Miranda!' Polly grabbed my arm with a
grip that almost made me cry out. 'If you go to court you will lose. Let me
tell you, you do not want to be cross-examined on what that detective read out
from his file. You will be convicted, I promise. If you have the wrong judge,
you could spend four months in Holloway. Is that what you want, for the rest of
your life, every time you fill out a form, every time you apply for a job or a
visa?' Polly was looking at me with a pity that revolted me. 'I don't know what's
happened, but I'm so so sorry. Miranda, let me be your lawyer for five minutes
and we'll just accept whatever they're offering. Whatever it is, they're
letting you off easy. Will you let me ask them back in?'
I could hardly speak. My skin felt hot and
clammy, while my mouth was dry.
'All right,' I said.
On the way out I caught sight of Brendan
in the corridor. He was in conversation with Rob Pryor. He caught my eye and
then he smiled. He raised his right index finger and wagged it slightly at me,
like a teacher reproving a pupil. Then he passed the finger across his neck.
Around the neck. What did that mean? Was it like a knife across a throat? Was
it Troy's noose around the neck? Was this a warning? Don't mess with me.
'Did you see that?' I said to Polly.
'What?' she said.
Nobody but me ever seemed to see.
Afterwards, back on the steps outside in
the sunshine that made my eyes hurt, Polly said I should be very relieved. I
had signed an undertaking drafted by Deirdre Walsh according to which I promised
not to approach or contact Brendan or his friends or members of his family.
Polly also said on my behalf that I was sorry and that I'd been under a lot of
pressure and that I was already receiving psychiatric help. Before we parted,
Polly held out her hand.
'I don't mind any of this,' I said. Polly
looked puzzled. 'It's all crap. Brendan was always going to outwit me at
something like this. If you're as good a liar as Brendan is, you'll always make
someone like me sound like she's lying. I think you gave me good advice. I had
to sign that document. So I should thank you for saving me from going down in
flames. But I need to ask one thing: do you believe me?'
Polly seemed unwilling to speak.
'Well, do you?'
She made an unhappy gesture.
'How can I be sure?' she asked.
'Because you're my friend,' I said. 'If
you were a real friend, you would know me and you would trust me.'
'I'm sorry, Miranda,' she said. 'Even
friends get ill.'
I held out my hand and shook hers and said
goodbye. That evening Polly rang me, cancelling our drink.
CHAPTER 38
I went to a newsagent along the road and
bought a pad of notepaper. The only shade they had was some awful sort of
violet. But, after all, what did the colour matter? I opened it on my table.
The first ballpoint I found didn't work. I licked it and shook it and held it
under hot running water and then snapped it and threw it in the bin so that it
couldn't cause me pain again. It took a lot of rummaging around in drawers to
find another one. I made another resolution. When I found my new home, wherever
it was, I would buy a hundred — no,
two
hundred — pens and I would
scatter them around it like little chocolate eggs at Easter. I would hide them
in drawers and at the back of shelves and in cupboards and behind books and
down the back of sofas and in the pockets of my coats and jackets, so that I
would always be able to find one.
I didn't feel in the right mood now. I
made myself a cup of coffee and I disproved the saying that a watched pot never
boils. I filled it with cold water and stood looking at it, in a dream, until I
heard the hissing and saw the lid rattling. I held my hands around the hot mug,
feeding off its heat, and stood by the window, seeing nothing. I turned to face
my room. Soon everything would be packed in boxes and in storage somewhere and
then later it would be unpacked and rearranged somewhere else. For the moment
they looked as if everything was normal, but I already felt like an emigrant
leaving my old life behind. But there were one or two things I still had to do,
and this was the most important. I sat at the table and began to write.
Dear Naomi,
If you're reading these words,
that means at least that you
didn't throw the envelope in
the bin, so that's something.
As you probably know, if you
give this to Brendan/Ben or to the police — it amounts to the same thing — then
I'll be arrested and charged with harassment. That's what they told me. I hope
you don't. I don't want to go to prison. But if you do hand the letter over,
could you read it first? And I want you to read this promise as well: this is
my last message to you. I'll never contact you again. It's up to you now.
I'm not going to attempt some
defence of my behaviour to you. It would all be too complicated and this letter
would have to be as long as a book and I probably wouldn't have the words to
explain it, anyway.
All I can do now is to be as
clear as possible. I've been accused of being a threat to Brendan. I happen to
believe that it's the other way round. I wake in the night and every creak I
hear, I think he may have come to finish me off. Well, that's not your concern.
I'm frightened for myself but I'm even more certain that you are in danger.
Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but if things go wrong, the way things go
wrong in relationships. I don't think Brendan can take it when things don't go
the way he has planned.