A Thousand Cuts (28 page)

They waited. David cleared his throat.

When Elliot’s mother entered the lounge, Lucia and David stood. Like her husband, Frances Samson looked tired. She looked, too, like she had been crying. There was a handkerchief barely concealed in one of her fists. Her hair was combed but bunched back in an unglamorous knot. She wore jeans and a shirt, untucked, that might once have belonged to her husband.

Lucia took a step forwards but Elliot’s mother merely nodded and slid away, until she was barricaded behind the armchair. Samson remained perched on the arm. To an observer, they would have seemed the reluctant callers, Lucia and David the uneasy hosts. Sophie remained out of sight but Lucia had the impression that she was lurking at the top of the stairs.

‘Thank you for seeing us,’ Lucia said. ‘I realise you’re probably both very busy.’

To Lucia’s surprise, Samson laughed. The sound was bitter, almost derisive. ‘Not that busy, Inspector. Not busy enough, if you want the truth.’

Samson’s wife put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Paul,’ she said. Samson did not turn around and her hand dropped away.

‘What do you want, Inspector? Why are you here? Forgive me for being so blunt but your call - it was somewhat unexpected. ’

Lucia nodded. ‘This is David Wells,’ she said, looking at Samson’s wife. ‘He’s a solicitor. A very good solicitor.’

David mumbled something. He tugged at one of his trouser legs, fiddled with a cufflink.

‘David’s firm was involved in a case some time back. It was several years ago now but it’s relevant. To your situation. To what happened to your son.’

Now Samson began to fidget. He said nothing.

‘There was a boy,’ Lucia continued, addressing Elliot’s father again. ‘He had problems at school, just like Elliot.’

‘Elliot didn’t have problems, Inspector. He was bullied. The problems weren’t his. They were forced upon him.’

Again Lucia nodded. ‘What I mean to say is, this boy was bullied too. He was persecuted, just like your son. In different ways perhaps. Through different means. But he suffered.’

‘That’s very sad, Inspector. What’s your point?’

‘Call me Lucia, please. This isn’t exactly an official visit.’

‘Lucia then. What’s your point?’

‘Perhaps it would be best if David explained.’

David coughed. He shuffled. ‘I should say,’ he began, ‘that I wasn’t involved in the case myself. This was before my time. Before my time at Blake, Henry and Lorne, I mean. But I’d heard about it. And after Lucia here came calling, I did some reading. So I’m pretty much up to speed.’

Samson frowned. His wife too.

‘Anyway,’ said David. ‘Basically what happened is this. There’s a boy, Leo Martin, he’s sixteen, he takes his GCSEs and he fails, I suppose, about half of them. Which no one expects him to do because he’s a bright kid. Very bright, as in he should be getting straight As or A stars or whatever it was in 2002. So his parents kick up a fuss, start by blaming the exam board, and there’s this whole hullabaloo, and after the parents and the school dig a little deeper, it turns out that the reason Leo failed is that the time his parents thought he was spending studying for his exams in the school library, he was actually doing coursework for a bunch of kids in the year below him. I mean, they’re younger but they’re bigger and they’re meaner. And for some time they’ve been tormenting this kid, terrorising him, threatening him. They threatened his sister too, who’s ten or eleven or younger anyway, and the only way Leo can get them to leave her alone is to play their little pet. You know, doing the dares they set, stealing the stuff they tell him to steal, putting up with their beatings and, eventually, doing their schoolwork for them when it looks like they’re about to fail themselves.’

Samson’s eyes drifted into the hallway, searching for his daughter, Lucia assumed. David noticed and paused. ‘I should say allegedly. I mean, all of this, it’s what the parents claimed. Later, in court. They sued, you see. They sued the school.’

‘Why?’

David turned to Elliot’s mother. ‘Pardon me?’

‘I said, why? Why did they sue the school? If they had to sue anyone, why not the parents of the kids who did this to him?’

‘Their argument - my firm’s argument - was that it was the school’s responsibility to protect the children under its charge. The bullying, for the most part, happened on school premises, during school hours, when the school, effectively, assumed the role of parent in monitoring the behaviour and the well-being of its students. Our position was, what could the parents of these kids have done, even if they had known what was going on? They weren’t there.’

Elliot’s mother shook her head. ‘I don’t agree. The parents are responsible. The parents are always responsible.’

‘I think,’ said Lucia, ‘I think the point David’s firm was making is that the school had a duty of care. Just like businesses have a duty to their employees, to their customers, but all the more so because schools are in a unique position of trust.’

Elliot’s mother did not respond. Her lips drew tight. She looked down at her hands and poked a protruding corner of handkerchief back behind her knuckles.

‘Right,’ said David. ‘That’s right. So that’s what we said. The school was neglectful. The school was negligent. The school, through its inaction, directly contributed to the physical and mental distress suffered by Leo Martin, and to the otherwise unaccountable dip in his academic performance. Which, needless to say, would have a tangible impact on his future earning potential.’

‘So it was about money?’ said Elliot’s mother. ‘For this boy’s parents, it was about money?’

David held her eye. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Essentially.’

‘In this case,’ Lucia added. ‘In this case it was about money.’

‘And in our case?’ said Elliot’s father. ‘In our case, what would it be about? I mean, I assume that’s why you’re here. You, you’re touting for business. And you.’ He glowered at Lucia. ‘You’re working on commission, am I right?’

‘Now wait a minute—’ David said but Lucia, returning Samson’s gaze, put a hand on David’s arm.

‘That’s not why we’re here, Mr Samson. I promise you that’s not why we’re here.’

‘But you just said—’

‘I said in Leo Martin’s case, money came into it. The important thing - the reason we’re telling you this - is because of the precedent.’

Samson was shaking his head. ‘I don’t buy that. What else is this about, if it’s not about the money?’

Lucia sighed. ‘The school,’ she said. ‘It’s not as innocent as you think. It’s not innocent full stop. The bullying there is endemic. It’s not just Elliot. It’s not even just the pupils. And the school ignores it. The school averts its eyes like it was some obscenity scrawled on a wall.’ She was leaning forwards now. Her knees were pressed against the coffee table. ‘You told me yourself, Mr Samson. They’re in the process of arranging private funding. What do you think would happen to that funding if the truth were to come out?’

‘You’re wrong,’ said Elliot’s mother. ‘The school’s been good to us. The school’s been supportive. They sent us flowers. The headmaster, he wrote a letter.’ She was close to tears, Lucia realised. Her handkerchief was unfurled. ‘And what about Sophie?’ Frances Samson continued. ‘Sophie’s due to start there the September after next. What kind of parents would we be to put the prospect of a financial settlement above the education of our daughter?’

‘Right,’ said her husband. ‘Quite right. And what about you?’ He turned to David. ‘What’s in it for you? I mean, you’re a solicitor, right? Why are you here if not for your twenty per cent?’

David’s back straightened. ‘I’m here because Lucia asked me to be here. I can leave. If you want me to, I can leave. Believe me, there are other things I could be doing with my time.’ He stood. Lucia rose too.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘David, please sit down. Mr Samson, Mrs Samson: this was my idea, not David’s. David is here as a courtesy. He doesn’t stand to gain from this at all.’

Elliot’s father scoffed.

‘My firm doesn’t even know I’m here,’ said David, still standing. ‘Probably they wouldn’t want to get involved. I don’t know. If you decided to go ahead, I’d have to talk to them. Possibly they would see an upside in the publicity. It never hurts being on the victim’s side. Even if it is a losing side.’

Lucia’s head sank. She found herself unable to watch the Samsons’ reactions.

‘A losing side?’ said Elliot’s father. ‘You mean we wouldn’t win? Even if we agreed to this, you’re saying we wouldn’t win?’

‘It’s unlikely,’ Lucia conceded.

‘It’s a virtual certainty, I’m afraid, that you would lose.’

Lucia raised her head. ‘Sit down, David, for Christ’s sake.’ She looked across at Elliot’s father. He was smiling an incredulous smile.

‘So this boy,’ he said. ‘This boy whose parents sued. He lost. He lost and the school won.’

David finally sat back down, so far forward on the seat that he was in danger of sliding off. He regarded Samson for a moment, then he nodded.

‘So the jury—’

‘The judge.’

‘The judge, then. Whatever. The judge agreed with us. He said what we said.’

David did not answer. He glanced at Lucia, ceding the floor to her.

‘It wasn’t entirely straightforward,’ Lucia said. ‘Things came out in the hearing. Not about the boy, not about the school - as far as we know, everything happened just as David said it did. But the parents. There were question marks. They’d spent some time in the States and brought back with them a certain ... That is, they had a tendency . . . ’

‘They liked to sue,’ David said. ‘It didn’t reflect well.’

‘So what would be the point? Why bother? My wife and I, my family, we’re moving on.’ Samson noticed Lucia’s eyes dart to the pile of boxes and his expression became rigid. ‘We’re trying. All right? We’re doing our best. Why would we want to jeopardise that?’

‘Mr Samson,’ Lucia replied, ‘the last thing I would ask you to do is jeopardise your family’s welfare. What I’m asking is that you do just the opposite. I’m asking you to protect your daughter, your daughter’s friends. I’m asking you to create such a stink that the school has to do something. It has to accept responsibility and act to make sure that what happened to Elliot doesn’t happen to anyone else’s child.’

Now Samson stood. ‘Listen to me, Inspector. We’ve said this before but clearly you need it repeated. What happened to Elliot, what happened to our son - it wasn’t the school’s fault. What the hell could they have done? If you have some scheme that would allow us to punish the idiots - the animals - who are responsible for Elliot’s death, then maybe we’ll listen. If not, if this is the best that you can come up with, then, well. I suggest you and your friend here show yourselves out.’

Samson took a step forwards. He was not a big man but he loomed over Lucia where she sat. Lucia, though, did not move. ‘Remind me, Mr Samson,’ she said. ‘Why was it that nothing was done after Elliot was attacked? Why were the boys who beat him - the boys who bit him and cut him - why were they allowed to walk free?’

‘Because no one saw, Inspector. No one saw them do it. That’s what you told us, remember? That’s what your colleagues told us.’

‘That’s right. That’s what we said. We spoke to everyone we could and everyone told us the same thing. Elliot’s friends. Elliot’s teachers. Even Elliot’s headmaster. They all told us that no one saw.’ Lucia reached down to her ankles and into her bag.

‘What’s that?’ said Samson. ‘What have you got there? Is that a tape recorder? You’re not recording this, are you?’

Lucia placed the tape recorder on the table in front of her. ‘Just listen,’ she said. ‘Please.’

Samson hesitated. He turned to his wife, who shrugged. Lucia waited until he had lowered himself again on to the arm of the chair. She pressed play.

Repeat what?
Which bit? You mean what he said? I saw them. Something like that. He said, I saw them and they saw me.

But really, Inspector, it was just Samuel being Samuel, just like I said to the headmaster. I’ll tell you what happened, of course I will, but with Samuel it was always the same. The headmaster, he came to despair of him. History teachers, he would mutter, and it’s true: we never did have much luck with history teachers. Amelia Evans, for example. She taught history before Samuel. And oh dear. What a shock she had. She came to us from a grammar school. An all-girls grammar school. She told the headmaster she wanted a challenge. She used those very words. I was sitting right here, a bit closer to the door maybe, and I heard her use those very words in her interview. Well. A challenge I suppose is one word for what the children gave her. A nervous breakdown is another. So there was Amelia and before her there was Colin Thomas, who it turned out was on a list that meant he shouldn’t even have been within shouting distance of the children, and before that there was Erica, Erica something or other, a nice enough girl, I thought, until one day she just didn’t turn up. Not a phone call, not a letter and not a sign of her ever since. And of course there was Samuel himself.

He was too polite, that was the problem. It seems a ridiculous thing to say now, given what he did, but I could have told you at the start that there would be trouble, I could have told you that there would be tears.

Although not this kind of trouble. I mean, how could anyone have predicted this? I’m sitting here and we’re talking about what happened and I know that Samuel did it, that a hundred people say he did it, they saw him do it, but still I just don’t believe it. I suppose it’s one of those things you’ll never quite believe unless you’ve seen it happen with your own eyes. And I didn’t. Thank heavens. Thank heavens I didn’t because something like that, I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t know how it would have affected me. I have such trouble sleeping these days as it is. It’s the pressure of work. All this work. I have trouble just switching off. I take these tablets, my Jessica gave them to me. Jessica’s the middle one, the brightest one really - not the best presented, that would be Chloe, my youngest - but the brightest. And I don’t want to seem ungrateful but they’re not proper tablets. They’re what do you call it. Complementary. Which means they’re about as much use to me as a goldfish in a pillowcase. Jessica, she works for Holland & Barrett. Katie, my eldest, got her the job and she’s deputy assistant manager now, which is wonderful. But the things she brings home. The rubbish she gives me to take. I tell you, you can keep your herbal Nytol. Give me half a diazepam and a large glass of something French any night of the week.