A Place Of Safety (25 page)

BOGUS ASYLUM SEEKER SUSPECTED OF
SCHOOLBOY MURDER

Lilly felt her chest constrict and the words on the page began to swim. She ran for the exit.

Alexia smiled at the headline. It was fantastic copy. She would rather have sold it to a broadsheet, but in the end she had a choice between the
Mail
and the
Express.
They were the only two willing to stump up the money she’d promised Mark and pay a reasonable sum for the article. Her dad had always said you had to own the news, not write it, to make any cash.

They’d fiddled with it a bit. Well, a lot. More emphasis had been put on the outrage of the false claim for asylum than she had originally intended, and the beating of Singh and Valentine had been reduced to two lines—but still.

She opened her desk drawer and started to pack up her equipment. Steve hadn’t said a word but his face told the story.

‘I had to do it,’ said Alexia. ‘It was too big for us. A story like that needs national coverage.’

He didn’t speak, just handed her a cardboard box.

She carefully placed her mug and pencils at the bottom.

Why was she so sad? She’d always known she was too good for this place. Too serious to work on a provincial rag. But her plan had been to stay for two years, learn all she could.

Steve snatched the drawer out of its runner and upturned it, spewing the contents everywhere. Alexia felt panic rise in the pit of her stomach. He was a difficult old sod but he was one of the best hacks in the area.

‘Can’t we work something out? she asked.

‘You’re on your own now, Posh.’

Lilly leaned against the skip and threw up. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime and fourteen cups of hospital tea hit the deck.

How the hell had the
Daily Mail
got hold of the story? Her mobile rang deep in the recesses of her pocket. She fumbled for it and it fell to the floor.

‘Shit.’

Lilly fished it out of the pool of tan-coloured bile. She cringed at the slime against her ear. ‘Hello.’

‘Miss Valentine,’ it was the unmistakable voice of Dr Kadir. ‘You are supposed to be here this morning.’

Lilly nodded. She vaguely remembered an appointment at ten for Anna. But Anna was…

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Things have been a bit tricky at this end.’

‘I’ve seen the papers.’

Lilly supposed she should be relieved. At least she didn’t have to explain herself. Dr Kadir would understand that the case was in tatters.

‘I think you should come,’ said Dr Kadir.

‘What?’ Lilly exclaimed. Hadn’t the woman understood that they’d been wasting their time?

‘Anna is in prison.’

‘I said
you
should come.’

Lilly was about to argue when she caught sight of Sheila stomping towards her, hair on end, eyes wild.

‘Give me twenty minutes.’

‘Tell me what has happened.’ Dr Kadir steepled her fingers.

Lilly sagged into her chair. ‘It’s pretty much what they said in the paper. Anna isn’t who she says she is. As far as I know she isn’t from Kosovo or an asylum seeker. She isn’t even called Anna.’

‘I mean to you, Miss Valentine,’ said Dr Kadir. ‘What has happened to you?’

Lilly rubbed the crown of her head. She could still feel thick fingers pulling her scalp. ‘My work colleague and I were attacked last night.’

Lilly’s ears were ringing.

‘You feel ill,’ said Dr Kadir. It wasn’t a question, no doubt the answer was bloody obvious.

‘Headache,’ said Lilly.

‘Nausea?’

‘Yeah,’ Lilly nodded, the movement increasing the cacophony in her skull.

Dr Kadir got up and flicked the switch of her kettle. Not another herbal brew.

‘I don’t think essence of nettle is going to help,’ she said.

Dr Kadir selected a tea bag and poured boiling water over it. A spicy steam ballooned around her.

‘Ginger Zinger,’ she said, and placed the cup in front of Lilly. ‘Drink.’

Lilly took a sip and smiled weakly.

Dr Kadir leaned back and folded her arms. Clearly the discussion wouldn’t continue until Lilly had finished. She took a deep gulp, feeling the liquid warm her throat, then her stomach. The latter immediately calmed. She took another drink. No more lurching. In fact, she felt hungry. She greedily drained the cup.

‘More?’ asked Dr Kadir.

‘Yes, please.’

The other woman went back to her kettle. ‘So Anna lied about how she came to be in the UK?’

‘Yes,’ said Lilly. ‘I’m sorry.’

Dr Kadir gave a puzzled smile and passed the cup back. Lilly fell on it like it was the elixir of life.

‘Not your fault,’ said the doctor.

‘I know,’ said Lilly. ‘But so many people went out of their way to help her. And you, most of all, must feel angry that she made it all up.’

‘Why?’

Lilly reddened. They had never directly referred to Dr Kadir’s past in Iraq.

‘You know what it feels like to be caught up in tragedy,’ Lilly said. ‘To be torn from your family.’

Dr Kadir looked out of the window. Lilly thought she could feel the woman’s sadness, tangible and real.

‘I don’t judge,’ the doctor said, her eyes still on the horizon.

‘The paper crucified Anna,’ said Lilly. ‘There’ll be a public outcry. There’s only one thing people like less than an asylum seeker and that’s a bogus asylum seeker.’

‘It’s easy to point a finger from the sofa,’ said Dr Kadir.

‘But you and Milo know the truth. You’ve seen the suffering first hand, yet you still don’t criticise.’

‘Maybe it’s because of what we have seen that we don’t criticise.’

They sat in silence for a few seconds.

At last it was Dr Kadir that spoke.

‘How is Anna?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t been to see her.’

‘You’ll go today?’

Lilly shrugged. ‘My friend’s seriously ill in hospital.’

Dr Kadir cocked her eyebrow.

‘And I don’t even know if there’s any point in visiting Anna. Maybe everything’s a lie. Maybe there was no rape. Maybe she knew perfectly well what she was doing on the day of the shooting,’ said Lilly.

‘Then I suggest you find out.’

Lilly scraped back her hair with her hands. She winced when her fingers touched her crown. ‘Maybe I don’t care any more.’

Dr Kadir reached into her box of tea bags. Her fingers went deftly through them like a secretary with a Rolodex.

‘Why did you take this case, Miss Valentine?’

Lilly looked down at her own hands, cuticles ragged, varnish chipped. ‘She was a frightened kid with no one else to help her.’

Dr Kadir pressed three Ginger Zingers into Lilly’s palm. ‘What’s changed?’

Once you’ve got the hang of it, the job isn’t hard. The heads are sliced off the prawns by huge choppers that leave the rest of the shells loose. The trick is to remove and discard those before the prawns drop off the end of the conveyor belt into huge vats.

Luke is ankle-deep in shells. He shakes them off the tongue of his trainers. God, he won’t half stink later.

When the vat is full a siren sounds and the belt comes to a halt. When he’d first arrived, Luke had assumed this was to give the workers time for a break, but the Ukrainian had thrown a broom at him.

‘You sweep, I wipe.’

Now Luke understands it’s the signal to clean away as much debris as possible before the next ton of shellfish arrives and the evil choppers beat down once more. He collects armfuls of shell, juice and roe seeping through his fingers, and dumps them into a skip. The Ukrainian pushes a dishcloth along the belt.

‘Next time,’ says Luke, ‘you sweep and I’ll wipe.’

The silver Mini Cooper shot down the motorway. Spurred on by Dr Kadir, Lilly was determined to get to the prison by two.

It was usual to give forty-eight hours’ notice to secure an appointment with a prisoner, but the judge had personally phoned the governor to ensure Lilly had access to her client all week. Such judicial interference might have been resisted, but the recent spate of suicides at High Point meant the governor was bending like Madonna in a Pilates class to accommodate anyone connected to the Home Office.

The prison sat in majestic solitude, crowned on all sides with razor wire. The car park was huge and, as usual, almost deserted. So much space would normally fill Lilly with gratitude, but she had once been attacked in the cavernous expanse and parked as close to the prison entrance as possible. Last night’s attack had made her feel even more nervy and she marched to the doors with a military stride.

The guard at reception had a wandering eye. The right one stared straight at Lilly but the left danced somewhere over the rainbow.

‘Who are you here for?’ she asked.

Lilly made a concerted effort not to follow the wayward eye-line and looked deeply into the guard’s face.

‘Anna Duraku,’ said Lilly, her forehead wrinkled in concentration.

‘Can’t seem to find her,’ said the guard, then, noticing Lilly’s mad stare, took a step back. ‘Do you know which section she’s in?’

Desperate not to even peek at the rogue pupil, Lilly shook her head.

‘Are you okay?’ asked the guard.

‘I’m fine,’ said Lilly without blinking. ‘Absolutely fine.’

The guard nodded nervously and rechecked her list.

‘It’s possible she used a different name,’ said Lilly, her eyes boring into the guard’s face.

‘And what name would that be?’

Lilly’s eyes were beginning to sting with the effort. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Ok-ay.’ The guard nodded slowly as if Lilly might be insane and picked up the phone.

‘Have you got a Duraku?’ She turned her body so that her shoulders were shielding her from Lilly. ‘I think her brief’s simple.’

At last Lilly was given the all-clear and shunted through to see her client. She arrived at the visitors’ centre and scanned the crowd. The noise of shouting, laughing and screeching kids was like a wall. There was no sign of Anna.

She passed her papers to the guard at the door who was picking up a family bag of M&Ms that had spilled under her desk. On her knees, she slammed a fistful of Day-Glo pellets onto the plastic top.

‘She’s not in here.’

‘I can see that.’ Lilly nodded to a table in the corner. ‘Can I wait there?’

‘Not much point.’ The guard shrugged and wiped her hands down her thighs. ‘They won’t bring her in here.’

Lilly sighed. Why were these people so difficult? They must know she was just doing her job.

‘There’s a court order in force,’ she said. ‘You have to let me see my client.’

A toddler with skin the colour of white chocolate raced past, spraying a packet of Skips in his wake.

‘Jesus.’ The guard brushed pink scraps off her jumper.

An argument erupted in the far corner between an inmate and what looked like a visiting husband. ‘Filthy, two-timing cunt,’ the prisoner roared. She threw her chair behind her and squared up to the man, who was twice her size.

‘Simmer down,’ the guard shouted.

The woman stood her ground, skinny arms wind-milling around.

‘He’s only got my sister pregnant,’ she yelled. ‘My fucking sister.’

As one, the room turned on the man, and insults, cigarette ends and sweets rained down on him. He shielded his face and head with a puffa jacket and ran for the door.

‘I’d give next week a miss if I were you,’ said the guard, missiles whizzing past her nose.

With the enemy in retreat and the noise dropping to riot levels, Lilly tried again. ‘I really do have to see Anna Duraku.’

The guard mouthed her words as if Lilly were both hard of hearing and stupid. ‘They won’t bring her across here.’

‘Why not?’

The guard shoved the paperwork under Lilly’s nose and tapped Anna’s name with an insistent finger. Marked in red biro were the words ‘Vulnerable Prisoner’.

Something wasn’t right.

Lilly checked the paperwork again. Why was Anna classed as a VP?

‘Surely there’s a mistake.’

The guard rolled her eyes and led Lilly to a door at the far end of the visitor’s centre. On the other side lay a room separated from the centre by reinforced glass.

‘Reception said you weren’t the full ticket.’

Lilly would have argued but she was too concerned as to why her client had been classified as a Vulnerable Prisoner. While the title might have seemed fitting for a kid in her predicament, the truth was the VPs were the most hated of all prisoners. Child killers, sex offenders, nonces. Segregated for their own good. Identified by a coloured bib wherever they went.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Lilly.

The guard jangled a set of keys and unlocked the room. Lilly stepped inside and looked out. The inmates and visitors all watched her.

It was like being in a fishbowl.

‘Why is she a yellow?’ asked Lilly.

‘She killed a boy, didn’t she?’

‘Actually, she didn’t.’

‘Nobody in here ever has,’ said the guard. ‘Every last one of them is innocent.’

Lilly smiled. It was true that no one in jail ever admitted to anything. ‘I mean she wasn’t the one who actually shot the boy.’

The guard wiped her nose along her sleeve, evidently unimpressed with Lilly’s explanation.

‘And anyway,’ Lilly continued, ‘he was about the same age.’

The guard nodded absently, still underwhelmed. ‘To be honest, the main reason she’s on the VP wing is nothing to do with what she’s in for.’

Lilly felt colour rise at the base of her neck. ‘What is the reason?’

The guard looked over her shoulder through the window. ‘The girls don’t really like her sort,’ she said. ‘It’s better to keep them out of the way.’

At last, Anna arrived. Her hair was pulled off her face, the skin of her temples wrenched taut. Her tiny face and lips were colourless.

She sank into the chair opposite Lilly, her yellow bib crumpling around her.

‘Nice to see you, Lilly,’ she said. ‘Everything is okay?’

Out of nowhere Lilly felt furious. Of course everything wasn’t okay.

‘Apart from the fact that a boy is dead and you may go to prison for the rest of your life?’ she said.

Anna looked down in her lap. ‘I’m sorry.’