Damaged Goods (18 page)

Lilly leaned over Rupinder’s desk.

‘The prodigal daughter returns, no doubt to do her paperwork.’

‘Jez Stafford,’ said Lilly.

‘I hear he’s very good,’ answered Rupinder.

‘I will never tell you anything again.’

Rupinder batted her eyelids.

‘Judas,’ said Lilly, and made for the door.

The paperwork was indeed piled high on Lilly’s desk. And on the table in the corner. And on top of all three filing cabinets. She picked up the nearest form crying out for completion. It was an APP8, an application to extend the public funding limit on a contact case she had been ignoring for weeks. A plea for more money.

Lilly read aloud. ‘What are Mr Stewart’s chances of success? A: Excellent. B: Good. C: Satisfactory.’

She laughed. ‘Where’s the box for “haven’t a clue”?’

She swept all the papers off her desk in an untidy bundle and placed them on the precarious pile on the cabinet. The tower teetered dangerously.

‘Miriam’s been calling.’

Lilly looked up and saw the firm’s long-suffering receptionist-cum-secretary, Sheila, in the doorway. ‘Thanks.’

The paper edifice collapsed on top of Lilly.

‘Couldn’t you have gone through some of this for me?’ she asked.

‘I did,’ said Sheila.

Lilly grimaced. ‘So this lot …’

‘Is all urgent,’ finished Sheila, and fixed Lilly with a hard stare.

‘What?’ said Lilly.

‘Just get on with it.’

The phone rang and Lilly gratefully snatched it up.

‘Lilly Valentine, at your service.’ She waved Sheila and her sanctimonious looks away.

‘Hi,’ came the honeyed reply. ‘I’m Sheba Lorenson.’

Lilly couldn’t place the name. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Lawrence?’

‘It’s Lorenson, and it’s more a question of what I can do for you.’

‘Aha.’

There was a gravelly slurp of laughter. ‘I’m a shrink. Jez asked me to call you. I understand you want me to see the girl charged with killing her mother.’

Lilly pulled the card Jez had given her from her breast pocket and saw Sheba Lorenson’s name embossed on the front. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.’

Another seductive chuckle. ‘Jez can be very persuasive.’

What was the story here? Lilly wondered.

‘I can start tomorrow.’

‘Wow, I am impressed. You must owe him one,’ said Lilly.

‘Several, actually. So tell me, where’s the girl at the moment?’

Lilly checked herself and realised that she hadn’t taken the time to find out.

Miriam put down the phone with a frown. Lilly had refused to discuss what had happened at court and insisted on coming over to talk in person and then going on to Tye Cross together. It could only mean bad news.

At this moment, like much of the time, Miriam felt a surge of guilt towards Lilly. It was unfair to expect her friend to shoulder the burden of Kelsey’s letter, whatever the rules might be on client confidentiality. When Miriam had found the letter she should have handed it straight to Jack instead of sneaking it among the other papers to be sent to Kelsey’s lawyer. This case and Lilly were always headed for heartache, with the spectre of Rochene ever present. Of course, Miriam hadn’t known then that Lilly would be nominated to take the case, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Could Miriam say with any honesty that she would have acted differently if she had known her friend and not an anonymous suit was to become involved? Lilly was the closest Miriam would allow herself to a friend, and although she wouldn’t set out to deliberately hurt her it wouldn’t stop Miriam from doing just that if Kelsey’s case required it.

Why Miriam was unable to put anything before the children she worked with was a source of unending discussion among colleagues. It was a question Miriam asked herself so often that even she was bored with rehearsing the answer.

If only someone had been committed to Lewis then maybe he wouldn’t be dead. If someone had taken the time to talk to him maybe he would have seen things differently. If someone had sat with him in the early hours when his demons beckoned, maybe he wouldn’t have taken the night bus to London Bridge and thrown himself from platform eleven under the 5.25 to Forest Hill. If that someone had been his mother, maybe, just maybe, Miriam could have saved her son and she would not be so obsessed.

Shouts came from upstairs, followed by the tell-tale thud and hiss of a fire extinguisher being let off. Miriam sighed and went back to work.

‘This is a bloody stupid idea,’ David said.

Lilly crammed the remnants of Sam’s supper into her mouth.

‘You know I’m right,’ he said.

Lilly tried to swallow the congealed crumpet.

‘You need a sense of perspective, these children are not yours. Sam should be your priority,’ he said.

Incensed, Lilly pushed the outsized ball of food towards her epiglottis. ‘I don’t see why it’s a problem for you to babysit your own son, and don’t you dare talk to me about priorities. I’m not the one living ten miles away.’

Since they were back on old turf, David produced his standard retort. ‘You kicked me out.’

Lilly also knew her lines. ‘Because you were shagging Botox Belle.’

Suddenly worn down by the relentlessness of these exchanges, Lilly walked to the door. ‘Thanks for coming over, I won’t be late.’

‘I never mind helping out, you know that. But what will you do when I can’t come, when Cara’s nearly due?’

‘I’ll win the lottery.’

David smiled sadly. ‘You don’t do this for the money.’

They heard a shuffle at the top of the stairs and saw Sam peering down.

‘Why is Cara nearly a Jew?’ he asked.

Lilly couldn’t suppress a snigger in David’s direction. ‘Good luck.’

Though it irked her, Lilly had to accept that David was probably right. After her previous experiences in Tye Cross she shouldn’t be heading over there again. What was she trying to achieve?

She wasn’t, of course, trying to achieve anything in particular. She simply felt the need to act. She had tried to follow Penny’s advice and ‘go with the flow’, but inertia was as unnatural to Lilly as it had been to her mother.

‘Time on your hands, mind on yourself,’ said Elsa, who, like most northern women, had little time for navel-gazing.

Like her mother before her, Lilly read on the loo and made phone calls while she ironed. Lilly even sent texts while she sat at traffic lights.

Another reason for Lilly’s urge to act was that she was dreading having to tell Miriam about the nonexistent application for bail, and hoped her plan to unearth evidence to help Kelsey would sweeten the pill.

Given that Max was no longer a suspect, Lilly was reverting to her original contention that a client had killed Grace. She would track down Angie and ask if she had heard anything on the streets. If someone was cutting girls the word would spread quickly. Getting Miriam to help would make them both feel useful.

When she arrived at The Bushes, Lilly was surprised to see Jack standing at the door talking to Miriam.

‘Haven’t you got a home to go to?’ she called.

He ignored her attempt at humour and rounded on her. ‘This is bloody ridiculous.’

She laughed. ‘You’re the second person to tell me that tonight.’

‘I’m not kidding, Lilly, you’re putting yourself in danger,’ he said.

Playfully, she pinched his cheek. ‘I didn’t know you cared.’

‘Of course I bloody care,’ he said.

Miriam grinned and made her way to Lilly’s car. She took one look at the dislodged bumper. ‘We’ll take mine.’

‘At least let me come,’ called Jack.

‘No one will speak to us with you there,’ answered Lilly.

Miriam waved a rape alarm and a bottle of mace. ‘Don’t worry, we’re well-prepared.’

Jack looked exasperated. ‘I’m a copper investigating a murder and I’m spending most of my time watching out for the main suspect’s bloody brief.’

Lilly laughed.

‘What’s funny?’ he asked.

‘You admit you’re still investigating. You’re not convinced she did it.’

‘I didn’t say that. I just don’t like loose ends.’

Both women got into the car and left Jack standing alone. Lilly wound down her window and leaned out to give him a thumbs-up as Miriam drove away.

‘Why are you doing this?’ shouted Jack.

Lilly leaned out of the window and shouted back, ‘To tie up those loose ends.’

The streets of Tye Cross were busy. Cars crawled to a halt and girls jumped in as if at a taxi rank. A steady stream of men were buzzed into the flats. Now the weather had cooled the clients had evidently recovered their appetites.

The all-night café was quiet, with the girls too busy working to sit around and chat. Only a few men sat in one corner, playing cards and smoking as they waited for their meal tickets to return with some hard-earned cash.

The man behind the counter was friendly enough. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Two teas please,’ answered Lilly.

He jerked his head towards the table furthest away from the pimps. ‘I’ll bring them over.’

‘Nice,’ said Miriam, and pushed an ashtray full of bloodstained tissues to the other side of the table.

Two cups of dark brown liquid were dropped without ceremony before them.

‘Thanks,’ muttered Miriam.

The man nodded and turned back to his counter.

‘Excuse me,’ said Lilly. ‘I’m looking for my friend and I wondered if she’d been in tonight.’

The man raised a quizzical eyebrow.

‘We’re not police,’ said Lilly.

He laughed. ‘I can see that.’

‘She’s blonde, in her thirties and wears her name on a necklace. It says Angie.’

‘I ain’t seen her in a week,’ he answered.

‘Will you give her this?’ said Lilly, and handed over her card. ‘I need to speak to her.’

He read the card and slipped it into his greasy apron pocket. ‘I wouldn’t normally but she’s never tried to rip me off.’

Lilly and Miriam left their tea and made their way outside. As Miriam stopped to double-check her bag was closed a girl pushed past them, her head down. Lilly watched her approach the table in the corner and whisper something into the ear of one of the gamblers. He nodded without looking at her and dismissed her with a perfunctory wave.

Lilly saw the woman’s face was a mass of purple bruises. One eye was closed and her bottom lip was split in two.

As she came towards them Lilly instinctively caught the girl’s arm. ‘Mandy.’

The girl looked into Lilly’s face and then at Miriam, who gasped at the injuries.

‘I know about the women in Fat Eric’s, that he keeps your passports and you can’t go home.’

Mandy’s eyes flicked towards the men in the café.

‘Go away,’ she whispered.

‘I’m a solicitor, I could help.’

Mandy pulled her arm away, fear filled her damaged face. ‘I said go away.’

‘I know about a place for girls like you. You’d be safe there and I could take you myself.’

Mandy looked deep into Lilly’s eyes before she turned away and walked back to her prison. Lilly stared after her and held her breath.

‘Let’s go,’ said Miriam, and they fled to the car.

Miriam drove in silence and Lilly stared out of her window into the night. Neither wanted to voice what they had just seen. They didn’t want to make it real.

As they pulled up outside The Bushes, Lilly finally spoke. ‘They’re slaves.’

‘Yes,’ said Miriam.

The enormity swallowed them both.

‘We can’t help everyone,’ said Miriam.

‘No.’

‘So we should use all our energy on the ones we can.’

It was a simple statement, obvious really, but it filled Lilly with optimism. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. ‘I can make a difference to Kelsey.’

‘Yes.’

Lilly was woken at 2 a.m., not by demons from the past but by the sound of sobbing. She went into Sam’s untidy room and found him with his head buried into his pillow.

She picked her way through the debris, stubbing her toe on a re-enactment of the Battle of Trafalgar. ‘What’s wrong, big man?’

‘Cara’s having a baby,’ came the muffled wail.

Lilly stroked the back of his head.

‘Dad won’t love me any more,’ said Sam.

Lilly pulled her son into her arms and kissed his damp cheeks. ‘Of course he will. He’ll always love you.’

‘But what if he doesn’t?’

‘Then I will love you twice as much,’ said Lilly.

She rocked him back to sleep and worried that poor Sam might be right. No doubt the new baby would have to come first in David’s life.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Thursday, 17 September

Lilly arrived at the prison ten minutes late. She had nagged the appointments office for an early slot and had planned to meet with Kelsey before the psychiatrist arrived. She wanted to assure herself that the girl was holding up. Any sign of meltdown and Lilly would break down the governor’s door herself. But Sam had wanted a dozen hugs before settling into his class and Lilly could not bear to deny him. Kelsey had failed to make the priority list again.

The conflict for Lilly as both a lawyer and a mother had yet again bubbled to the surface. It must surely be right to put Sam first, but it didn’t stop Lilly from feeling guilty.

HMP Parkgate had been built in the early Nineties to house the overspill of women increasingly receiving custodial sentences, in response to Michael Howard’s draconian policies at the time. Ultra-modern at its conception, it already looked dated and housed three times as many prisoners than had been originally planned.

Unlike the old jails in London – such as Brixton and Highgate – that were situated only feet from the local community, Parkgate was constructed on some wasteland well out of town. Apart from those visiting at designated times there was no reason for anyone to go there and the site seemed to stand almost in a vacuum. The only positive aspect for Lilly was the acres of empty car park.

Lilly approached the entrance and saw a woman outside taking the unmistakable deep pulls on her last cigarette. Her face seemed familiar although Lilly was sure they had never met. The woman caught her staring.

Lilly was flustered. ‘I’m sorry, you look like someone I know. Well, I think I know, or …’

‘You must be Lilly,’ said the woman. ‘I’m Sheba Lorenson.’

Lilly had expected a petite blonde with a creamy complexion, the sort of professional woman an alpha male like Jez would go for, but Sheba was gorgeously buxom, with midnight hair and a radiant smile. A Fifties starlet with scarlet lips.

‘You seem so familiar,’ said Lilly.

Sheba threw back her head and laughed, the sound full of sensuality. ‘It’s Jez, I’m his sister. Didn’t he tell you?’

Lilly shook her head.

‘Figures,’ said Sheba.

Lilly wondered why Jez had failed to mention it, and why Sheba would assume that he hadn’t. She also wondered why they didn’t share a surname. Lilly noted the absence of a wedding ring, but didn’t feel like she could pry into Sheba’s romantic history five minutes after meeting her. Besides, Sheba didn’t look the sort of woman to countenance cross examination, and as Lilly watched her bottom sashaying through the doors she simply trotted along in her wake.

Together with the usual throng of shoplifters and council-tax evaders the prison housed Category A prisoners, so security was tight. A woman serving twenty-eight days was not likely to organise a breakout, but a lifer might.

Photographs, palm prints and retinal scans were taken of everyone trying to get in, while three male officers took brief written descriptions.

‘What colour are your eyes, madam?’ the youngest asked Sheba.

‘Some say they’re green but others say they’re hazel,’ she gurgled. ‘What do you think?’

He peered into them wistfully and smiled.

‘Definitely hazel,’ he said, and turned to Lilly. ‘Yours?’

‘Grey,’ she said flatly.

Having established that they were not about to help Kelsey escape it was time to ensure that no contraband was to be passed. Since all prisons were awash with drugs, and attacks among inmates regularly took place with weapons assembled from prison detritus, Lilly considered the whole process futile. If she knew that packages of heroin were passed by mouth to the inmates by their visitors’ kisses then the authorities must be aware. Lilly suspected the women were easier to handle out of their heads and it was in no one’s interest to be too vigilant.

Sheba passed through the framed metal detector and engaged the guards in banter as they patted her down. Lilly set the machine off four times and ended up removing her shoes, watch, belt and earrings. By the time she made it through she was sweating.

There were no designated rooms for official visits at Parkgate, as the overcrowding meant the space had long since been turned into extra cells. The exceptions were those set aside for closed visits with Cat X prisoners, the mad and the bad. Lilly would not countenance speaking with Kelsey through a Perspex shield à la death row, so their meeting would have to take place in the optimistically named ‘Friends and Family Centre’, which was in fact a poorly ventilated room with worn carpet tiles, and empty aside from row upon row of tables. It reminded Lilly of the school hall in which she had taken her O-levels.

A guard showed them to a table and asked them to wait while the other tables filled around them. The noise level was deafening and the room soon filled with a dense cloud of smoke. Children jumped around excitedly as they waited to see their mothers, fuelled by the sweets and crisps provided by their dads and grandmas who had dragged them along.

The prisoners began to arrive, waving and shouting at their guests. Only Kelsey shuffled in, eyes downcast, her shoulders hanging. She was wearing the prison uniform, which was not obligatory for an unconvicted prisoner. There was, of course, no one to bring in her own things and Lilly cursed herself for not doing so.

The adult-sized sweatshirt dwarfed Kelsey and to Lilly she looked even paler and thinner, if that were possible.

‘You look well, Kelsey,’ said Lilly, her voice unnaturally bright.

She didn’t receive a reaction. She didn’t expect to.

Kelsey sat down and pressed her white hands on the table, the fingers splayed. Lilly was about to place her own on top when Sheba did it first.

‘I’m Sheba Lorenson, Kelsey. I want to help you.’

Her tone was soothing and Kelsey looked up.

Sheba gave an irresistible smile. ‘Hello.’

Kelsey kept eye contact and nodded.

Lilly was gobsmacked. The woman was a hypnotist.

‘The judge, quite rightly, won’t let you out of here until he knows it’s safe,’ Sheba continued. ‘So that’s what I’m here to find out.’

She deftly took out paper and pen with one hand, not letting go of Kelsey’s fingers with the other.

‘I think the best way to find out about a person is just to ask them.’ Sheba placed the pad in front of Kelsey in a gentle but deliberate motion that courted no argument. ‘So describe yourself to me, Kelsey. Tell me what you’re really like.’

Kelsey picked up the pencil and began to write. Sheba caught Lilly’s eye and gave a sly wink. Lilly was impressed and couldn’t hide it.

Half an hour passed, and Lilly, finding herself redundant, went in search of tea. A small counter was set up in an annexe at the end of the room and sold drinks, biscuits and sweets. It was run by the red bands, inmates sufficiently trusted to deal in hot water and plastic spoons without starting a riot. They were named for their red sashes, which distinguished them from the masses. The prisoners, especially the regulars, vied for the privilege that at least got them out of cells that would otherwise house them for up to twenty-three hours a day.

Lilly surveyed the bars of chocolate and hoped she could get away with two.

‘I thought it was you,’ said the red band on duty.

The woman was chalky and plain in her prison outfit of sludge brown. Her hair was tied back off her face with a rubber band, her dark roots an unpleasant halo, but the accent was unmistakable.

‘Angie. What on earth are you doing here?’ said Lilly.

Angie laughed. ‘I like the peace and quiet and the food’s just great.’

‘How long are you in for?’ asked Lilly.

‘Six weeks. I told them I’d pay the bloody fines if only they’d let me work instead of arresting me all the while,’ said Angie.

‘You need to work from a flat instead of the streets, then the police would leave you alone.’

‘Aye, but the first three tricks would go for the rent and these days I’m lucky to do six or seven a night.’

The plight of the aging pro, out-priced and out-spiced by girls literally half her age. Lilly couldn’t even guess at what Angie would do when she and the work dried up altogether.

‘How did you land this job on such a short sentence?’ she asked.

Pouring tea might not seem such a great little number but in jail such positions were hotly contested. Women had died for less.

‘Better not to ask,’ said Angie with a smile and changed the subject. ‘Did you ever find Max Hardy?’

Lilly rubbed her throat. ‘Afraid so, but he didn’t kill Grace.’

Lilly looked over at Kelsey. She was shaking her head and writing furiously on her sheet of paper.

‘Can’t you get the wee girl out of here?’ asked Angie, without any trace of recrimination or criticism.

‘We’re doing our damnedest.’

‘Some of us keep an eye out but we can’t be everywhere,’ Angie confided.

‘How’s she doing?’ asked Lilly, afraid of the answer.

‘Hard to say. Most think she’s batty and steer well clear, but there’s always one wanting to dish out the aggro. This is no place for a kiddie, especially that one.’

‘I need to find out who killed Grace,’ whispered Lilly. ‘I thought it was Max, but it’s not. It could be a punter, someone who likes knives. Did you hear of anyone like that?’

Angie thought for a moment. ‘There’s a girl just started a six stretch for robbery. She’s got terrible scars down her back where a punter cut her up.’

‘Do you think she’d talk to me?’ asked Lilly.

Angie seesawed her hand. ‘I’ll ask.’

Lilly finally bought three bars of chocolate, one for each of them. She rubbed her finger along the smooth contour of her Breakaway. She could scoff it down in one bite and half-hoped Kelsey’s mouth would be too sore to eat or Sheba would be on a diet so that she could also set upon the other two.

Angie took the money and pocketed half of it with a wink. ‘It’s a shame about Max, I’d love to see that bastard put away. He’d not last five minutes in a place like this.’

‘Did you ever work for him?’ asked Lilly.

‘I told you, I don’t have a pimp.’

‘What about his films, were you ever in one?’

Angie gave a derisive snort through her nose. ‘I’m too long out of nappies for his stuff, if you get my drift.’

Lilly’s brain began to tick and she raced back to Kelsey. ‘Could you give me a second, Sheba?’

Sheba made it clear that she didn’t take kindly to the interruption, but she didn’t resist and moved away.

Lilly stared hard at her client. ‘Tell me about the videos.’

Kelsey shrugged.

‘Don’t give me any crap, Kelsey. Was your mum in them?’

Kelsey shook her head.

‘Was that because she was far too old?’

Kelsey nodded her head once and returned her chin to her chest.

I kept my mouth shut when I shouldn’t have
.

Kelsey retreated so far into herself that Sheba abandoned the rest of the interview and the two women made their way out.

Sheba’s pursed lips and straight back told Lilly she was furious.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Lilly, ‘but I had to ask her something.’

‘Can you tell me what?’ asked Sheba, her tone clipped.

‘Not today, but I do think it’s important, that’s why it couldn’t wait.’

‘If it pertains in any way to Kelsey’s emotional state then I’m going to need to know. I can’t present the court with half a picture.’ Sheba fixed Lilly with a glare. The girl with soft eyes and a luscious mouth was gone. ‘I won’t do this with one hand tied behind my back.’

Lilly nodded her assent. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to.’

The hint of a scarlet smile returned. ‘I need to make some calls, then I’ll give you my first impressions this afternoon.’

She turned towards her car and Lilly watched Sheba’s bottom undulate with a mixture of envy and admiration.

Lilly had been back in her office guiltily shuffling her paperwork for half an hour when Sheba called.

‘So tell me, did Kelsey kill her mother?’

Lilly was only half joking. Angie’s news had sent her into freefall as she tried to assess whether it made Kelsey more or less likely to have committed the murder. Kelsey knew about the films and had covered for her mum. When that still wasn’t enough and Grace put her into care how angry would that have made Kelsey? Angry enough to kill? Lilly needed some evidence to point away from her client. Something positive from a shrink would be as welcome as Christmas.

‘It’ll be some time before I can give you my opinion on that one,’ laughed Sheba, ‘and we’ll never know for sure.’

‘I suppose the mind isn’t black and white,’ said Lilly.

‘Most of the time it’s not even grey. Unlike the body, which is much less difficult to assess, which is why I checked whether Kelsey had had a medical upon her arrival at Parkgate.’

‘And did she?’

‘Yes. Given her age and the gravity of the situation the prison doctor was very thorough and found that Kelsey’s larynx and trachea were discoloured but no longer excoriated.’

‘In English please.’

‘Kelsey’s throat is better. She can speak.’

Lilly, however, found that she had been struck dumb, her mind racing ahead to the possible implications.

‘How long has she been able to?’ she asked at last.

‘The doc reckons about a week.’

A week!

Lilly went over the events of the last week. The interview with Bradbury. The hearing in court. And all the time Kelsey could speak.

‘There are, of course, two possible explanations as to why she hasn’t yet spoken,’ said Sheba. ‘The first is that she’s still in shock. Her body may be ready but her mind may not be willing. The second – well, you know what I’m about to say.’

‘That Kelsey’s been taking the piss.’

Lilly relived every exchange she had had with Kelsey during the last week – the scribbled notes, the bowed head. Could it all be bullshit? And if Kelsey could be that manipulative, what else might she be capable of?

* * *

Max leaned against the window of Pizza Hut. He was far too hot in the Armani jacket he’d purchased this morning in the Arndale Centre but he couldn’t resist. He had seen it in the window of a gloomy little boutique that specialised in overpriced tat with the odd designer label thrown in to raise its game.