The Informant (19 page)

Helen got up, went to the bedroom and returned with a box of tissues. She put them on the table and sat down beside Kaz. Kaz plucked a tissue from the box, then somewhere inside a dam burst.
Bent double, she sobbed. Helen placed a hand on her back and gently rubbed it.

Kaz had cried a few times inside, in her bunk, in the dead of night. But she’d always kept it to herself. She’d managed a few therapy tears, but that was an act. Now, for the first
time in her adult memory, she really cried, her entire body shuddering as convulsive waves rose up from a well of pain. The last time she had allowed herself to collapse like this she’d been
about six; Joey had been playing with her guinea pig and came to announce it was asleep in its cage. Kaz had found the little creature lifeless under a pile of straw. And she had howled. Ellie had
tossed the animal in the dustbin and given her daughter a clout. Joey had simply watched with a grin on his face; it didn’t occur to Kaz until years later that her four-year-old brother
might’ve done for the guinea pig.

Gradually the waves subsided. Kaz blew her nose, her eyes were red-rimmed, sore. She glanced at Helen. ‘Sorry.’

‘Stop apologizing.’

Kaz dipped her head wearily. ‘All my life I been telling lies. I mean everybody does it, don’t they?’

Helen shrugged. ‘Sometimes.’

Kaz started to shred the damp tissue. ‘But . . . you have to draw the line. Get straight with the world or least with the people that matter, don’t you?’

‘You’ll probably feel better if you do.’ Helen rubbed Kaz’s shoulder. She was administering comfort, at least that’s what she was telling herself.

‘What about this officer of the court, don’t tell me what I don’t wanna hear, three monkeys bollocks?’

A small smile crept over Helen’s face. Yes there were boundaries but she knew in her heart that at this moment she simply didn’t care.

‘Well, it’s Sunday and I’m at home and this is just two friends having a private conversation.’

‘You mean that?’

Helen nodded. She sat gazing expectantly at Kaz. When they’d talked before, Kaz had always left large chunks out or skated over certain facts, Helen knew that. Getting Kaz to really trust
her, this was the intimacy she’d always craved. So it might compromise her professionally, but hey, what the hell? In spite of Neville’s efforts they were still regarded as
villains’ briefs. A thrill was rising in her, partly sexual, but also secret and forbidden; she was on a threshold, they were stepping into high-risk territory. But that was the reason
she’d become a criminal lawyer, this stuff gave her a real buzz.

Kaz was sitting quietly. She seemed nervous. It took several moments for her to gather her thoughts.

‘I had to do something about Natalie, didn’t know what, so I forced Joey to go to Southend with me. That copper was partly right. When I saw the state of her I was mad as hell, and I
took it out on Joey – gave him a right earache. And he lost it.’

Helen listened intently. The naked truth excited her, this transparent window into the Phelps’s world. Kaz was uncomfortable but she pressed on.

‘’Fore I knew what was happening, he’d got hold of Jez, picked him up and chucked him off the balcony. Then he walked out. Me and Ash got Natalie out of there fast as we could.
I was gobsmacked, I never dreamt . . .’

More tears started to flow. Helen reached over and took Kaz’s hand.

‘Okay, I could grass him up, probably should. But then what? Joey wouldn’t survive in prison, not in himself, as a person. He’d use his fists and he’d use drugs.
It’d turn him into a brute. And he’s not that. Not yet.’

Helen was entranced by the rawness of Kaz’s confession. But she knew she had to choose her words carefully or the shutters would come down again.

‘You sure about that?’

Kaz nodded vigorously. ‘Yeah, I am sure.’ She fixed her with an imploring look. ‘Helen, I can stop him. I’m the only one who can. Locking him up ain’t gonna do it.
It’ll make him worse.’

Helen turned Kaz’s palm over in her own, stared down at it. ‘Maybe you’re confusing the boy he was six years ago with the man he is now.’

Kaz shook her head savagely. ‘No, I’m not. That picture of the little girl, Joey wouldn’t have done that. Not a little kid. Okay, the firm . . . he’s got blokes working
for him, ex-military. Stuff like that, it’d be down to them. I know it don’t make it any better, but Joey’s not . . . he’s not a real killer. I known real killers, my old
man for starters. And Joey ain’t like that.’

Helen absorbed this with a sigh.

Kaz tried desperately to read her face. ‘You think I’m being stupid, don’t you?’

Helen met her gaze. What she was thinking needed to stay locked in her own head.

‘I think . . . you’re in a very difficult position. You haven’t spent that much time with him and so there’s a danger of being naive about him. About who he is now. The
police think he’s very dangerous.’

Kaz pulled her hand away angrily. ‘Oh, what the fuck do they know?’

Helen tilted her head. ‘I worry about you. Not just as a client . . .’

‘Joey would never hurt me. Never. He’s . . . we’re . . . I dunno if I can even explain it. But it’s not his fault how he’s ended up.’

Helen pushed back a frond of dark hair from Kaz’s forehead. Thoughts, notions, were rushing through her mind: she was helping Kaz, doing her job, it wasn’t about personal feelings.
And yet she had to touch her, she wanted so badly to touch her. She gazed into Kaz’s eyes.

‘You can’t save him.’

‘But that’s the whole point – I can. He’s made a deal with me.’

‘What sort of deal?’

‘I help him, the killing will stop.’

‘Help him do what? He’s a drug dealer.’

‘Yeah. But we’re gonna turn the business totally legit . . .’

‘We? Thought you were going to college?’

‘I am. But y’know, if I can steer him in the right direction . . .’

Helen shook her head angrily, got up. She raked back her hair with both hands. ‘Karen . . . this is crazy. You’ll get recalled. Do you want to spend another six years in jail?’
Her voice carried a tone of grief and desperation.

Kaz got up too. She felt Helen was slipping away from her. And Helen was all she wanted. Kaz took a step towards her. She could feel the warmth of her body, her sweatshirt carried a hint of the
perfume she habitually wore.

‘I’m sorry. You’re disappointed in me.’

Helen sighed in annoyance. ‘No . . . the fact you want to help him is to your credit. But people don’t change that easily.’

‘I changed. I got off the drugs, I saw how stupid it all was.’

Helen gazed at her beseechingly. ‘Yeah and this is going to get you right back in that world. Don’t you see?’

Kaz huffed in exasperation. ‘It’s not a separate universe. C’mon, we’re all closer to the edge than any of us’d like to think. You, Neville, given some of the types
you represent, can you say you’re squeaky clean? I can’t walk away and abandon Joey. I thought I could, but I can’t.’

Helen stood stock-still and exhaled. Her whole body seemed to deflate. Tears were welling up. ‘Oh Karen . . . I just . . .’

Kaz met her gaze and held it.

‘I just . . .’

Kaz took another step forward. If she was going to make this happen, it had to be now. She gazed into Helen’s eyes, soft grey with a fleck of hazel. She remembered the first time
she’d been close enough to notice their unique colour. Now she was so near she could feel Helen’s breath, she could see the tiny pulse in her neck. She could smell her hair, skimming
the soft skin of her shoulder. It was all so tantalizingly close. For several seconds neither moved. The tension held them, like the invisible skin on water. Then Kaz leant forward and their lips
met, nervously at first. Helen’s arm went round Kaz’s shoulder and she pulled her close. This is what she’d wanted since the day Kaz had walked into her office, no, since before
that, since way before that.

The kiss turned into an eruption of passion and need that took them both by surprise. Kaz’s jacket, her boots, were dumped on the floor. Helen’s discarded sweatshirt was soon added
to the pile. Fingers, tongues, urgently exploring and caressing. A shudder of ecstasy convulsed Kaz’s whole body as Helen’s soft fingertips found her clitoris.

Kaz had had plenty of sex in her life before, quite a lot of it against her will, but this was something else. It swept her away. There was no fear or panic, she realized this was how it was
supposed to be. This was about how she felt and what she wanted, not about what someone else needed from her. The smell of Helen, the touch and taste of her, suddenly everything was right. All that
mattered was being there with Helen in that instant, the rest of the world fell away.

When Kaz awoke several hours later, long shafts of bright afternoon sun were streaking across the floor and up and over the snowy white duvet. She’d ended up in
Helen’s bed. She felt almost light-headed, it didn’t matter how often she’d dreamt of this moment, the reality was surreal. She found herself staring up at the ceiling, its
elaborate coving and cornices; like the walls, the bed, the paintwork, it was white. Kaz didn’t think she’d ever been in such a white room before, but it felt pure and safe rather than
clinical.

The door opened and Helen entered carrying a tray. She wore a pale blue bathrobe, her fine blonde hair was pushed back and decidedly ruffled. She smiled, a much softer and more intimate smile,
Kaz thought, but maybe she was imagining it. Maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing. Then Helen placed the tray on the bed, lifted Kaz’s hand and kissed her fingertips.

‘Tea and crumpets. Sunday afternoon – seemed the right thing.’

Kaz returned the kiss. ‘Dunno that I’ve ever had crumpets.’

Helen gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Seriously? Never?’

Kaz shook her head.

‘You are in for a treat. Loads of butter, that’s how my granny always served them, so it drips everywhere.’

Kaz manoeuvred herself into a sitting position as Helen climbed on to the bed beside her. Kaz picked up her first crumpet and took a bite, melted butter ran down her chin.

Helen grinned, leant forward and licked it off. ‘See? Granny knew a thing or two.’

Kaz smiled impishly. ‘Wanna hear a really mad thing?’

Helen gave her a suspicious glance. ‘More madness? Probably not.’

‘Nah, this is mad in a good way. This is the first time I can remember when something really good has come from ’fessing up and telling the truth.’

Helen gazed at her and the tears started to well. Without the tough facade, the attitude, Kaz seemed very vulnerable and very young.

‘I don’t know what to say to that.’

Kaz brushed a tear from her lover’s cheek. ‘Hey, don’t cry. It ain’t a bad feeling.’

A phone buzzed in the pocket of Helen’s bathrobe. She pulled it out.

‘Oh I nearly forgot. Your phone was going berserk. Somehow it ended up on the floor behind the sofa, so I picked it up.’

Kaz took the phone, turned it over in her palm and started prodding the screen. ‘I’ve had this bloody thing three weeks, still can’t get the hang of it.’

Helen giggled. ‘Give it here. You want to answer it?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well then you . . . oh but you’ve already pushed the button.’

Helen held out the phone, a voice could be heard on the end of the line.

‘Kaz?’

It was Joey. Kaz gave Helen a guilty look, took the phone, put it to her ear. She folded her arms around her naked breasts, her tone was clipped and tough.

‘Yeah, what’s going on?’

‘Thought you was never gonna answer. What you doing?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Well where are you?’

‘Whad’you want Joey?’ Kaz huffed, irritation creeping into her voice. ‘I’m busy. Having tea and crumpets if you must know.’

She glanced at Helen who gave her a cheeky smile. Joey’s tone was flat, devoid of emotion. It felt as though he were a million miles away.

‘Oh well, I had a bit of news. Thought you should know . . .’

Kaz gazed fondly at Helen. Helen edged towards her, stroked her cheek, Kaz had to drag her attention back to the phone. ‘Yeah, I’m listening.’

The line was quiet for several seconds. Then Joey sighed. ‘I just heard. Sean’s got parole. They’re letting the fucker out. Can you believe that?’

As Kaz absorbed his words the joy drained from her face.

‘Well, it was bound to happen. Listen, I’ll give you a bell later, okay.’ She clicked the phone off, tossed it on the duvet.

Helen looked at her with concern. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing. Yet.’ Kaz sighed. ‘But they’re letting my cousin out of jail.’

‘Will that mean problems in the family?’

Kaz nodded ruefully. ‘You could say that.’

Sean Phelps sat, eyes closed, head tipped slightly back, listening to the taped music in the multi-faith room – a posh name, in his view, for what had always been the
prison chapel. There might not be a service, but on Sunday evenings he always went there for his own version of evensong. His upbringing had been in no way religious, although his family was
nominally Catholic. His belief system was simple: when you’re dead you’re gone, so get it while you can. However Sean was a con serving life with a tariff of twelve years and working on
his parole had become a habit; ‘finding God’ was simply part of the package.

Private time in the chapel was something he looked forward to, it gave him the headspace to think. His cell he regarded more as an office; his various lads were always in and out, deals were
done, instructions issued. And of course the screws could walk in anytime, although the bush telegraph that operated along the landing usually gave him ample warning.

Third time lucky everyone was saying. Sean had been receiving congratulations all day. Considering the form he had, he’d played a blinder, he knew that. Back in the mid-nineties the police
had charged him with the drive-by shooting of a uniformed PC in Basildon. Miserable little fucker had taken a bung then failed to deliver, so in Sean’s view he’d had it coming. It
looked as if Sean would go down, but Terry put it about that anyone who gave evidence would end up regretting it; the CPS had to drop the case. After that the old bill got the bit between their
teeth. Sean was finally convicted on forensics for the murder of a small-time drug peddler who’d pissed him off in a pub. But with a copper’s murder ‘lying on file’ the
parole board had knocked him back twice. Fourteen years he’d served, played the game, been a model prisoner; in the end even they had to accept that he’d done his whack.