Damaged Goods (21 page)

‘So tell us,’ said Jez, filling everyone’s glass, ‘do we have our first victim?’

Lilly took a mouthful of wine. Off her feet, the adrenalin of earlier was seeping away and she felt drained.

‘I’ll type up a full note of what she said, but basically she was drugged and mutilated while semiconscious.’

‘Bingo,’ said Jez.

Sheba placed an olive finger on his arm. ‘Hold on, little brother.’ She turned to Lilly. ‘Did the rest of the pathology fit?’

‘You’re the expert, but I’d say so,’ said Lilly. ‘He’d been visiting regularly, gearing up to the attack. Practising, really.’

‘What about orgasm, did she say he ejaculated? Remember, we have no semen at the scene,’ said Sheba.

Lilly took another sip of wine and tried to remember. ‘She said there was no sex of any sort so I’d assume not.’

Sheba shook her head. ‘I don’t like assumptions.’

‘Oh come on, sis, this sounds pretty good, you’ve got to admit,’ said Jez.

‘It sounds like a start,’ she conceded.

Jez leaned towards Lilly in mock conspiracy. ‘You’ll learn that with Sheba the glass is always half-empty.’

She wiggled her glass under his nose. ‘That’s because some mean bastard forgets to top it up.’

Jez took the hint and ordered another gin for Sheba and a second bottle of wine for himself and Lilly. She would have to get a taxi home.

‘At least it’s something plausible I can use at the trial,’ said Jez.

‘Which is great,’ said Lilly, ‘but that’s at least six months away. Even a challenge of the evidence wouldn’t be listed for a few weeks. I wish there was something we could do for Kelsey now.’

‘There might be something,’ said Sheba.

The others looked at her expectantly.

‘It’s nothing definite and there are still a few glitches to iron out.’

‘For God’s sake, sis,’ said Jez.

Sheba pursed her lips and turned to Lilly. ‘I need some more sessions with Kelsey, naturally, but from what I’ve read and what I’ve seen, she’s suffering from some type of psychiatric incapacity.’

Jez opened his mouth but Sheba silenced him with the palm of her hand.

‘I can’t yet confirm the nature of the incapacity. It may be an illness, it may be a disorder – either way I can confirm to a court that she needs specialist care.’

‘What type of care?’ asked Lilly.

‘Assessment and therapeutic input by professionals trained specifically to treat adolescents in a secure environment,’ said Sheba mechanically.

Lilly beamed. She had read those same words only days ago on a brochure for a new unit opened in London. ‘Leyland House.’

‘Would someone mind telling me what’s going on?’ asked Jez.

Lilly drained her glass. ‘We need to make an application for bail.’

Lilly left Lancasters on a high. She’d tasked Jez to set up a hearing as soon as possible and Sheba was to liaise with her contact at Leyland House. All Lilly had to do was get herself home.

She hailed a passing cab and poured herself in.

‘You okay, lady?’ asked the driver, his tone well short of sympathetic.

Lilly rubbed her temples. ‘Just hot. Could you open the windows?’

The driver muttered an expletive, opened all four windows and set off at speed.

Lilly took deep breaths and pushed her face into the stream of cool air. Her hair danced in all directions. Ten more minutes and she’d be home.

The driver eyed her through his mirror. ‘You don’t look so good.’

‘Just a headache,’ said Lilly with a plastic smile.

‘I’ll stop if you’re gonna be sick.’

Lilly shook her head, the movement sending her already spinning mind totally out of kilter.

‘I’m not going to be …’

Lilly sat by the side of the road, the contents of her bag scattered around her. At this time of day and this far from the train station she didn’t expect to see any more taxis and doubted one would pick her up even if she did. It would take only twenty minutes to walk home from here, but her legs had lost their solidity and even standing had proved beyond their current capabilities. Crawling was an option she was seriously considering.

Her phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘Jesus, girl, you sound like shit,’ laughed Miriam. ‘Is now a good time?’

Lilly looked at her trousers, shining with fresh vomit, and rummaged through the detritus of her life for a tissue. ‘Now’s fine.’

‘Where are we at with Kelsey?’ said Miriam.

‘I think we can get her out of jail and into Leyland House,’ said Lilly, and rubbed her suit with an old Milky Way wrapper.

‘That’s fantastic!’ Miriam shouted so loudly that Lilly dropped her phone into the road. She reached for it, lost her balance and fell into the path of an oncoming family of cyclists. Although in no danger of hitting her they rang their bells furiously until she made it back onto the pavement and lay flat on her back.

‘For all you know I could be dying, you heartless bastards,’ Lilly shouted at the sky, unable to turn her head in their direction.

‘Are you all right, Lilly?’ asked Miriam.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Where are you?’

At that moment Lilly did not have the mental agility to lie. ‘I’m somewhere on the A5.’

‘Driving?’ asked Miriam.

‘No, sitting. Well, actually …’ Lilly trailed off.

‘You’re sitting somewhere on the A5?’ said Miriam.

‘Uh huh.’

‘I suppose I should ask why.’

‘The taxi man suggested I leave his thingy.’

Miriam coughed. ‘He kicked you out of the cab?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Because he didn’t like your politics?’

‘I think the main reason was because I’m pissed.’

There was a moment of silence in which Lilly imagined her friend checking her watch and wondering what the hell Lilly was doing drinking herself into a stupor at lunchtime when she should be out finding parents for orphans.

‘Taxi drivers don’t mind people who’re a bit merry, Lilly, it’s how they make their living,’ said Miriam.

Lilly hauled herself upright. ‘That’s true, but I chucked up on the seat.’

‘Right.’

‘Twice.’

‘Right.’

‘He didn’t like that.’

Miriam coughed again. Lilly was sure she was swallowing a laugh.

‘So I’m just going to walk home now,’ she said, and swept her belongings, together with a handful of stones, leaves and an empty snail shell, into her bag.

‘Jack’s here. He’s just finished his shift and I’m sure he’ll pick you up,’ said Miriam.

‘No,’ shouted Lilly, sending the phone in a diagonal trajectory that almost knocked out a tooth. ‘No,’ she repeated, ‘it’s really not necessary.’

The line was already dead.

It took Jack nearly half an hour to reach Lilly, by which time she was vertical and heading unsteadily towards home, the stench of vomit from her trousers making her want to throw up again. He pulled his car alongside her.

Lilly continued to walk. ‘You needn’t have come. I’m quite all right.’

‘I’m here now,’ he said evenly.

She shrugged as if it were no skin off her nose and got in.

‘I don’t know about you, but I’m melting,’ said Jack. ‘Do you mind if I put the windows down?’

‘It’s your car,’ she said.

She thought she saw a trace of a smile on his handsome face and inexplicably felt angry. ‘I suppose you two think this is funny.’

‘If you mean me and Miriam then you’re wrong,’ he said. ‘She’s worried about you.’

Lilly pointed a sweaty finger at him. ‘But you think it’s funny.’

He shook his head. ‘No, Lilly, I think it’s bloody hilarious.’

She sulked for the rest of the journey and refused to look in his direction. For his part, Jack hummed, which Lilly assumed was done with the sole intention of causing annoyance. It worked. By the time Jack pulled up at Lilly’s house she was furious, and pulled open the car door with a force that outweighed her still fragile sense of balance and sent her sideways. Once again Lilly found herself lying on the ground, this time with her right foot still inside the car. She jerked her leg towards her body but the strap of her bag had snaked around her ankle and every yank squeezed it tighter and tighter, like a boa constrictor sapping its prey.

Lilly struggled onto her feet, or at least onto her free left one, and bent back into the car to release its mate. Jack stared ahead in stoic silence and bit his cheek.

The bag, now separated from Lilly, chose to spill most of its contents into the footwell. Lilly let out a guttural moan and pushed the myriad of stationery and makeup back in. When she was finished Jack bent down and picked up a stray item. Lilly held out her open hand like a petulant child and Jack carefully placed a small snail shell into her palm.

She slammed the car door hard enough to knock it off and watched Jack drive away, sure she could see his shoulders lifting and falling, unable to contain his laughter.

As he disappeared Lilly sank onto the step, her anger completely gone, in its place a dizzying and uncomfortable exhaustion. Why, she wondered, had she been so angry anyway? He wasn’t to blame for her ludicrous predicament. It was she, not he, who had drunk enough to fell an elephant but hadn’t eaten enough to sustain a mouse on one of the hottest days of the year. She had made a total arse of herself. Again.

She discarded some foliage from her bag, put her key in the lock and decided to send Jack a text to apologise for her unforgivable behaviour.

A moment later, with her phone still in her hand, Lilly was face down on her sofa, snoring softly into the stained sleeve of her suit.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Sunday, 20 September

The young fireman stared into Lilly’s eyes. He was so close she could smell the intoxicating scent of his skin – something between jasmine and musk. He gave her a knowing look and moved in to kiss her, but before his lips reached hers the sound of a distant bell called him. He shrugged and moved towards the sound as Lilly held her arm out towards him.
Don’t go
. He winked, blew her a kiss and descended down a pole.

The bell became more insistent, more irritating, until Lilly could no longer ignore it and woke up.

The phone was ringing.

Her voice was an aquatic croak. ‘Hello?’

‘I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, Lilly, but you can’t behave like this,’ said David.

A small hammer beat rhythmically over Lilly’s left eye. ‘I got pissed, what’s the big deal?’

His tone told Lilly that it was in fact a very big deal. ‘Nothing at all, except the small issue of our son.’

Hell. Sam had been with his dad and Lilly was supposed to collect him at around six yesterday evening. She’d been so exhausted, not to mention drunk, she’d slept right through.

‘Is he okay?’

‘Of course he’s okay, he’s with me, but that’s not the bloody point,’ David said.

The small hammer had been replaced by the type used by builders to break up roads.

‘I’m sorry,’ she told him.

David sighed. ‘Apart from anything else, Lilly, I was worried about you. I eventually called Miriam and she told me what had happened.’

‘I’m never drinking again,’ said Lilly.

‘You and George Best.’ His tone softened. ‘I know you’ve got to get to court this morning so I’ll keep Sam and take him straight to school tomorrow. Does he need his PE kit?’

Lilly was no longer listening.

‘Today is Sunday, why do I have to be at court today?’ she shouted.

‘Jesus, Lilly, I’m not your bloody secretary. Miriam just mentioned something about bail.’

Lilly recalled a hazy conversation with Jez, sometime between the second and third bottle of red. He’d agreed to get an application listed at the earliest opportunity. But on a Sunday?

She searched for her mobile and found it inside her shirt. A tiny green light flashed ominously announcing an unread text.

B
AIL APP. LISTED
10
A.M
.
TOMORROW
. Y
ES
, I
HAVE MAGIC
POWERS
. J
EZ XXX

‘Well, does he need his kit or not?’ asked David.

‘I’ve got to go,’ said Lilly, and hung up.

She raced to the bathroom, abandoning her clothes en route. The bath looked smooth and cool but she needed to be on a train in fifteen minutes and the Ferrari was in the garage. She made do with a Glasgow shower and squirted toothpaste onto her tongue.

Yesterday’s suit was still covered in vomit and the other two were in the dry-cleaner’s. Damn. Lilly looked in her closet. An assortment of faded jeans looked back at her. She pulled at a pink linen dress that was hiding in a dusty corner. She had bought it for a friend’s wedding four years ago. It needed an iron and one of the buttons was missing. As she pulled it over her head she remembered it had been slightly too tight at the time. As she pulled it over her hips she remembered she’d lost half a stone especially for that wedding.

Like an escapee from Broadmoor in drag, Lilly burst out of her front door then stopped dead in the space where her car should be parked. She had, of course, left it outside Lancasters.

‘Nooooo!’

Lilly leaped from the train and charged towards the Old Bailey. Despite the fog of exhaust fumes she could smell herself – a foul mixture of stale red wine and sweat. She was over half an hour late and absolutely starving. Her stomach was unaccustomed to remaining empty for three hours, let alone twenty-four, and it growled for attention.

When she rounded the corner it tightened uncontrollably. Jostling for position in an otherwise empty street were the press pack. They must have got wind of the hearing and, it being a Sunday, worked out that whatever was going down was big.

Shit
.

Once again, Lilly would be caught on camera looking less than glamorous. She pulled on her sunglasses and ran into court.

At the top of the stairs Jez stood next to the lists. He was deep in conversation. The other man’s face was obscured but Lilly could see the sleeve of a mallow- soft leather jacket. It was Jack. She was pleased the case had not yet been called, but was not ready to face them and instead slipped into the ladies’ toilet.

Thus far she had studiously avoided all reflective surfaces, but she now had no alternative but to face herself in the mirror. If asked, Lilly would have been unable to adequately describe how truly awful she looked. Horrible, horrific, horrifying, none of it covered the truth. In short, she looked like a woman who had spent seventeen hours sleeping off twelve units of alcohol on the sofa while fully dressed, followed by only a spray of deodorant.

The toilet in the cubicle behind her flushed and Sheba emerged. She appraised Lilly from head to toe.

‘Whatever you’ve got to say, spit it out,’ said Lilly.

‘That’s an interesting shade for court.’

Lilly ran her hands over the sickly pink. ‘Thanks. I’ve just had my colours done.’

Back at the foot of the stairs Lilly considered turning round and going home. She could easily text Jez to say she was sick and head for the nearest café for a bacon sandwich. But the reporters were there, braying like the hounds of hell. Talk about a rock and a hard place.

‘Lilly,’ called the handsome barrister.

She waved and dragged her heavy feet up the stairs.

‘Got home all right?’ he asked.

Lilly nodded, unable to look at Jack.

‘I’m just filling everyone in on our plan for this morning and circulating the report,’ said Jez.

‘Report?’ asked Lilly.

‘The one I emailed to you last night,’ said Jez.

Lilly hadn’t been near her computer. ‘Oh, that report.’

‘You’re still half-asleep,’ laughed Jez. He turned to Jack, his voice a stage whisper. ‘I obviously wore her out yesterday,’ he smirked, as he walked out of the room.

Left alone with Jack, Lilly felt acutely embarrassed.

‘How are you, Jack?’ she said.

‘Fine.’

Oh God, he was really going to make her pay. ‘I’m very sorry about yesterday, my behaviour was pretty bad.’

Jack merely nodded.

‘In fact it was very bad,’ Lilly conceded.

‘I’d say it was puerile, idiotic and downright rude,’ said Jack.

Lilly took it on the chin; frankly, she had it coming.

Jack nodded to the space where Jez had stood. ‘Plying you with drink, was he?’

Lilly smiled to herself. Jack was acting cool but he was evidently worried that Jez had taken advantage.

‘Sadly I’ve no one to blame but myself,’ she said.

‘Why were you drinking anyway?’ he asked.

‘Celebrating,’ she said.

‘Jesus. I’d hate to see you drowning your sorrows.’

Lilly pressed one hand to her aching temples and the other to her unhappy stomach.

‘I’m never drinking again.’

‘Sure you are,’ said Jack, proffering a sheaf of paper.

‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘Have a quick look. It’s Doctor Lorenson’s report.’

Lilly was still skim-reading the report as they entered court. Sheba had done a fine job. The salient issues were covered in enough detail to seem thoughtful and credible while carefully falling short of a final analysis on Kelsey.

When Judge Blechard-Smith made his entrance he too was clutching the document.

While everyone took their seats and shuffled their papers, Jez remained on his feet, eager to state his case.

‘I must thank the court at the outset for listing this case with such alacrity,’ he said.

‘Well, we don’t want that lot’, the judge waved a hand to the outside wall, ‘thinking we’re not taking this seriously.’

Lilly sighed. The interest of the press seemed to have more impact on the judge than any sense of justice.

‘Quite so, My Lord,’ said Jez, ‘and you will recall that when this matter was before you last, the defence refrained from making any application for bail as we were in complete agreement with this court that expert evidence was required.’

‘Of course,’ replied the judge, his tone just shy of poor manners.

Jez flashed a smile. ‘I am pleased to confirm that we have been able to obtain the opinion of such an expert and that it is before the court today.’

The judge still had the copy in his fist. ‘I must say I’m surprised that you were able to get something so quickly.’ His tone betrayed the fact that he was not happy to be revisiting this matter so soon. No doubt he had wanted to keep this particular hot potato in the oven a little longer.

Jez remained unfazed. ‘Sadly, I cannot take the credit for that. My instructing solicitor made Herculean efforts to expedite matters.’ He made a sweeping gesture towards Lilly. ‘Her commitment to the children with whom she works is matched only by her efficiency, and I’m sure that My Lord will join me in thanking her for ensuring that Kelsey Brand’s case is not allowed to fester.’

Lilly stared at her hands, her cheeks as pink and as unflattering as her dress. She heard Jack cough down a laugh.

‘Yes, I’m sure’, said the judge, ‘that it’s all very admirable, but we must not put speed before quality.’

He seemed to have conveniently forgotten that it was the court that had listed the matter during the weekend.

‘Does Doctor Lorenson believe she has had sufficient time to make a judgement?’ His frown confirmed that he for one did not concur.

‘She says so, My Lord, and you’ll see at page five she sets out the number of hours she has spent to date,’ said Jez.

Sheba had headed off this line of attack perfectly.

The judge addressed the barrister for the prosecution. ‘It doesn’t seem very long, Mr Marshall, does it?’

Marshall jumped to his feet. ‘Indeed, My Lord, it seems quite paltry.’

‘I thought you might say that,’ countered Jez. ‘Which is why I asked Mr Lockhart to enquire as to the length of time the CPS would normally expect to be taken on a preliminary report. He informed me that Doctor Lorenson’s hours are perfectly adequate. In fact they exceed what the CPS would normally expect by thirty per cent.’ Jez turned to Marshall. ‘If my learned friend wants more time spent I’m afraid he’d have to pay for it himself, as the CPS wouldn’t countenance the cost.’

Marshall flushed a deep magenta and spun round to speak to his representative for the Crown, who simply nodded his assent.

Good old Lockhart, thought Lilly. Not the most exciting man in the world, but straight as a mast.

The judge simply nodded, and for a moment Lilly thought he accepted what Sheba had to say.

‘Very well, Mr Stafford,’ he said, his voice more measured. ‘It seems I must accept that this document does fall within the usual boundaries. However, I still have reservations about its scope.’

‘My Lord?’ Jez sounded puzzled. Lilly sensed trouble.

‘In my view it does not deal with everything one would need to know to answer what will undoubtedly be a robust application for bail on your part,’ said the judge.

‘I see,’ replied Jez, and scratched his head.

The judge turned to the prosecution. ‘Mr Marshall, are there questions you would wish to be answered by Doctor Lorenson before addressing me on the issue of bail?’

‘My Lord, on a mere perfunctory reading I thought of several,’ he answered theatrically, holding the report between the tips of his thumb and forefinger as if it were an oily rag.

The judge smiled at Jez, his teeth the ugly grey of a man too fond of the claret bottle. ‘You see the problem. I think we have been a little hasty this morning and we need more help from Doctor Lorenson before any decisions can be reached.’

The coward was going to put the whole thing off and blame the defence. He knew full well that by the time Marshall and Lockhart drafted a further set of questions Santa would be baking mince pies. Lilly felt the whole thing unravelling until she saw the suspicion of a smile play on Jez’s lips.

‘My Lord, I had, of course, assumed that you would want to pursue this matter in the utmost detail. Quite rightly you would not wish to make any decision without sufficient recourse to the facts. To this end I ensured that Doctor Lorenson would be available to the court this morning to offer her expert assistance.’

‘She’s here?’ blurted the judge.

Jez bowed slightly. ‘Indeed she is.’

Lilly controlled an urge to clap. It was a memorable performance.

‘May I suggest that we adjourn for a moment for you to formulate your outstanding questions, and for Mr Marshall to give the report more than a perfunctory read.’

Sheba glided into court as if on wheels and took her place in the witness box. She smoothed her skirt over her generous hips and licked her lips. There was no sign of a hangover or the slightest fatigue, the woman was superhuman. But Lilly already knew that Sheba was not in fact human at all, she was from a higher plane, a goddess. Right now there was a remote tribe in the Amazon bemoaning the loss of their favourite deity, who had transformed herself from her previous state as a jungle jaguar into a sexy psychiatrist.

‘Will you take the oath or affirm?’ asked the clerk.

‘I’m a Catholic,’ Sheba purred and took the bible. ‘Lapsed, I’m afraid.’

Sheba swore to tell the truth and introduced herself and her credentials with cool aplomb.

‘Is your report a full account of the mental state of Kelsey Brand?’ asked Jez.

‘Goodness, no,’ said Sheba.

Damn, thought Lilly. Sheba’s inexperience would give the judge an excuse to delay.

‘That might take years.’ Sheba gave the judge a sidelong smile. ‘But, in my view, it tells us enough to make a reasoned judgement on where Kelsey should be at this moment in time, and what treatment she should be receiving.’