Flight of the Jabiru (3 page)

“She does,” Walter said.

“And you would be...”

“I'm Lara's father, Walter Penrose.”

“Is Miss Penrose at home, sir?”

“Yes...”

“We would like to speak with her, sir.”

“Of course, but what's this about?” Walter asked in concern.

Hearing her name, Lara came forward. “I'm Miss Penrose,” she said. “Can I help you?” She suspected they had come to question her about what had happened at the polo ground.

Sergeant Andrews took her by the arm. “You are under arrest, Miss Penrose,” he said.

“Arrest!” Walter gasped. “What for?”

“For assaulting Lord Hornsby.”

“I didn't assault him,” Lara cried insistently. “You can ask him.”

“Lord Hornsby says you did, Miss Penrose.”

Lara paled and her knees went weak. “There must be a mistake,” she said. “He wouldn't have said that because it's not true.”

“I suggest you get a lawyer for your daughter, sir,” the sergeant said to Walter as they marched Lara away.

“What? Where are you taking her?”

“To the police station on Vicarage Road, sir. She'll be formally charged there.”

“Dad, this is a mistake,” Lara called over her shoulder.

CHAPTER TWO

If the situation had felt alarming at the time of her ‘arrest', the prospect of being bundled into the police station at Newmarket officially turned it into a nightmare!

“This is ridiculous,” Lara yelled almost hysterically as Sergeant Andrews and Constable Formby physically escorted her through the police station doors like a common criminal. By now her composure had completely deserted her. If not for her stubborn pride, she might've dropped to her knees and begged them to let her go.

Lara had been pleading her case with the two police officers since the moment they'd taken her from her home. She was becoming really frustrated and upset that they wouldn't even try to see her side of the story, let alone show her empathy.

“Surely you can't possibly believe I assaulted Lord Hornsby,” Lara cried. “He's a former military officer with combat training! I'm a woman — a petite one at that! You have to see that it just doesn't make sense.”

“Obviously you took him by surprise and he didn't see it coming,” Constable Formby commented with a smirk. He immediately received a reprimanding glare from his superior, who'd told him more than once that he had to be seen to be impartial.

Lara blinked in surprise. “That's not true!”

“There's no question that Lord Hornsby has been assaulted, and he claims you did it, Miss Penrose,” Sergeant Andrews said with strained patience. It was because Lord Hornsby was a former military officer that the sergeant believed him. Why would a man with his background say something like that if it wasn't true? To be assaulted by a young woman of small stature would be humiliating for any man, let alone a former military man.

“It might look that way, but I've already told you,
several times
, that he stepped on a rake and it hit him in the face.” Lara's voice was becoming louder in anger and dissatisfaction.

“So you've said.” The sergeant treated her to a disbelieving frown. He'd heard a lot of tall stories in his day but this was one for the books. That it was coming from such a pretty young woman made it all the more incredible. Even so, it was becoming evident that she had a temper.

“I know it sounds unbelievable... but
...
”

“You'll have your say in court, Miss Penrose, so save your explanations for the judge,” Sergeant Andrews insisted. “Until then, I suggest you say nothing more until you get advice from your solicitor.”

“I shouldn't need a solicitor,” Lara said, succumbing to tears. “I'm innocent!” She became aware that she was being scrutinized by a man and a woman sitting on chairs against a wall. She quickly summed them up as likely offenders waiting to be processed, and she was soon to join them! She'd never felt more humiliated.

“Sit here while I do paperwork in regards to the charges against you,” Constable Formby said to Lara, ushering her towards the only available chair. Unfortunately, it happened to be sandwiched between the man and woman.

Lara panicked. “Can't I wait somewhere else?” She lowered her voice. “Somewhere more private?” The situation was shameful enough, without being the object of conjecture.

“We don't have any free offices.”

“I don't mind waiting in a passageway, or even a corner, as long as it's out of sight. You can see I'm not a criminal and we'll have this sorted out within the hour.”

The man and woman looked mildly amused.

“You can wait in a cell if you'd prefer,” Constable Formby said unmoved.

Lara considered her options. “Are there people in the cells?”

“That's what the cells are for,” the constable said intolerantly.

“Are they ... like these two?”

“Yes,” Constable Formby repeated. “This is a police station, Miss Penrose. The detainees are not usually the cream of society.”

“I'll wait here,” Lara said, embarrassed and defeated.

Tugging on the hem of her jacket nervously, she tentatively sat down. She dried her tears, while pressing her elbows to her sides to avoid touching the man or woman. After a few moments she dared to glance nervously at the hard-looking woman alongside her, while trying to avoid eye contact with the man who was boldly looking at her legs.

Lara tugged on the hem of her skirt to cover as much of her legs as possible while regarding the woman. She was wearing an ill-fitted black dress with a plunging neckline. It hung on her skeletal frame, the gaping neckline exposing too much of bosoms that resembled two fried eggs. When the woman glanced in her direction, Lara averted her gaze, giving her full attention to the floor in front of her. She couldn't help noticing the woman's shoes were so badly scuffed and worn that the leather on the heels, which might've once been red, was curled up the sides. An unpleasant smell was coming from the woman. It made her feel queasy. Although there were barely inches to move, she shuffled to the far side of her chair to escape the smell, and accidentally touched the man's right arm. She involuntarily jumped, as if he was on fire. She glanced at him in horror, barely containing the urge to wipe imaginary germs from her arm. Instead, she squirmed across the chair, closer to the woman.

The man turned to openly leer at her, giving her a head-to-toe assessment. She concluded that he was determining whether or not she was worth mugging. She glared back at him defiantly.

The woman could no longer contain her curiosity. “What ya done, love?” she asked, subjecting Lara to the smell of rotten teeth.

“Nothing,” she snapped upset. “But no one believes me.”

The woman uncrossed her skinny legs, unashamedly revealing a gaping hole in her left nylon. She laughed sardonically. “I'm innocent too,” she said mockingly.

“I
am
innocent,” Lara claimed tearfully. “Do I look like I'd assault anyone? I'm a school teacher, a trusted member of society.”

“Well, excuse me,” the woman said pretending to be impressed. “Ya hear that, Fred? We're in the presence of a law-abiding schoolteacher. The criminals in Newmarket are becoming high-brow.” She cackled and his smirk grew wider.

Lara felt tears prick her eyes again.

“How much do ya reckon school teachers earn, Hazel?” the man asked, noting Lara's tailored suit and leather boots.

“A lot more than I get standing on street corners,” Hazel whispered so the constable wouldn't overhear. She cackled like a laying hen.

Realization suddenly dawned, and Lara's mouth dropped open.
Hazel
was a streetwalker. A prostitute! Lara couldn't believe the position she had found herself in, and all because she'd wanted to give Harrison Hornsby moral support! It was ludicrous.

Jumping to her feet, Lara approached the front desk. “This is past ridiculous,” she said to the sergeant who was filling out paperwork. “I'm going to the hospital to speak to Lord Hornsby. He will confirm I did not assault him.” She heard Hazel cackling again and turned to give her a withering glare. “I bet Lord what's-his-name deserved what ya gave him. He should be man enough to admit it,” said the streetwalker.

“I didn't assault Lord Hornsby and Harrison can confirm that,” Lara said, frustrated and outraged that no one believed her.

“Who's Harrison? Yer boyfriend?” Fred asked, ogling Lara's figure. His lewd thoughts couldn't have been plainer if they'd been written across his forehead.

“Certainly not! He's a ten-year-old boy and he just happens to be Lord Hornsby's son and one of my pupils. He's a sensitive boy. He had a bad fall this afternoon while playing polo, but instead of giving him sympathy and making sure his injuries were treated, his father verbally berated him, shattering his fragile self-esteem.”

Hazel's eyes widened. “Oh, that's terrible, isn't it, Fred?” She pretended to be outraged but did a very bad job of it.

“I only intervened to defend Harrison,” Lara explained further.

“Of course you did,” Hazel patronized.

“As soon as I speak to Lord Hornsby, he'll sort this misunderstanding out and all this nonsense will be forgotten.”

“Sounds like you had motive for walloping that toffee-nosed Lord,” Hazel claimed.

“I certainly didn't
wallop him
, as you put it. I'd never do that,” Lara said aghast.

Sergeant Andrews came out from behind the front desk. “You are not going anywhere, so sit down, Miss Penrose,” he ordered. “If you don't do as you are told, I will have Constable Formby put you in a cell
sooner
rather than later.”

“Why can't I go to the hospital and get this straightened out? It will save us all a lot of trouble. I shouldn't be here at all.”

“I already have Lord Hornsby's statement, as I've told you
many times.
”

“Then he's a liar,” Lara shouted. She'd reached the end of her tether.

Sergeant Andrews looked at Constable Formby and a silent message passed between them that made Lara nervous. The constable came from behind the desk and approached Lara, taking hold of one of her arms so firmly that it was painful.

Lara panicked. “Ouch!” she cried. “Let me go!” She suspected she was about to be dragged off to the cells and she was overwhelmed with fright. She struggled to free herself, pulling her arm with as much force as she could muster. Constable Formby's grip slipped as the seam on the sleeve of her jacket ripped. Lara's arm was suddenly free but the inertia made her lose her balance and her arm flung behind her. Unfortunately, Sergeant Andrews was standing behind her, and she struck him full force in the nose. His eyes widened in shock, as his head snapped backwards.

Realizing what she'd done, Lara gasped in disbelief. Blood started pouring from the sergeant's nose and his eyes streamed with tears.

“You've broken my nose,” he growled angrily. He wiped the underside of his nose with the back of his hand and then glanced at the blood. His expression became grim.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that, sergeant,” Lara rushed to explain. “It was an accident,” she added.

“Take her away,” the sergeant hissed as he fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief to mop the blood running down his face. He didn't fail to notice that Hazel and Fred were laughing.

Constable Formby took hold of Lara's arm again. “Give me trouble again and I'll slap the cuffs on you,” he threatened.

“You know that was an accident.
Please
don't put me in a cell,” she begged. “I promise I won't give you any trouble.”

“You've had your chance,” the constable said without empathy as he dragged her through another door.

“You know what happened was partly your fault,” Lara suggested, and received a scolding glare. “You didn't mean it to happen and neither did I,” she added. “Just look what you've done to the sleeve of my beautiful jacket.”

Lara was being led down a short corridor on well-worn floorboards that creaked. They passed rows of bars on her right, making up four cells in all. Each cell contained a few prisoners, who made lewd and terrifying comments.

The constable unlocked the door to the last cell and pushed her inside. She was overwhelmed with the smell of stale urine and body odor.

“You now have two assault charges to deal with,” Constable Formby said as he locked the door again. “There's a good chance you are facing a lengthy jail term.”

It took a few moments for his words to sink in. “Surely you can't be serious,” Lara said incredulously.

The constable didn't reply. He gave her a look that said he was deadly serious, which angered Lara. As he walked away, she called after him.

“I hope you are going to pay for the repairs to my jacket.” She immediately realized that her words were ridiculous. The state of her jacket was the least of her worries.

When Lara heard a door slam, she slowly turned around to face three pairs of curious eyes. Her cellmates looked like vagrants, disheveled and desperate. The women were middle aged, or perhaps time and their circumstances had been unkind. The man was quite elderly. He looked like many of the harmless vagrants around town. They were looking at her strangely.

“Do any of you have something to say to me?” Lara asked with uncharacteristic aggressiveness.

Neither the women nor the man were game to reply.

An hour later, Walter arrived at the police station with a man he'd known for many years. They were accompanied by another man, the uncle of Walter's friend, a solicitor. After speaking to Constable Formby, they were allowed access to the cells. Lara had been sitting on the floor, as far from her cellmates as humanly possible in a confined space and had bemoaned her situation. She had even shed a few tears. Now she was deeply relieved to see her father. She rushed towards the bars that separated her from her father and clutched his hands.

Walter could see she'd been crying and it caused him deep anguish. “Are you all right, Lara?” he asked anxiously.