Rats.
Luke is woken by the telltale scratching outside the lean-to.
It’s the worst thing about sleeping rough. The cold and the damp he can survive, but he can’t stand the vermin, with their black coats and long pink tails like fat worms. They say that in London you’re only ever a couple of feet from a rat, and Luke can well believe it.
Teardrop Tony claims to have been bitten by one, but Caz points out he also says he’s related to the Queen. Either way, Luke’s not taking any chances and throws an empty can at the pallet, sending them scurrying back to their lair.
Caz stirs and snuggles closer. She smells of last night’s chips but Luke doesn’t mind. He likes watching her sleep, when her system isn’t fighting drugs and trouble.
He casts his mind back to the girls at Manor Park, with their shiny hair and straight teeth. Here’s Caz, with her hair scraped off her face in an old elastic band, her lips dry and chapped; yet asleep like this, peaceful, she’s the prettiest girl he has ever seen.
She yawns and opens one eye. ‘What you looking at, soft lad?’
‘You,’ he says.
She pulls her sleeping bag over her face. ‘Well, don’t.’
He laughs and crawls outside.
‘Where you off to so early?’ she asks.
He smoothes down his crumpled clothes and ties his laces. ‘For a coffee.’
‘Make mine a skinny latte with a double shot of hazelnut syrup.’
He laughs again. They both know the Black Cat only serves piss water with last night’s milk floating in blobs on the top like cottage cheese.
‘Do you know where I can get some money?’
Sonic Dave chews over both the question and his fried egg carefully. Reports of his incarceration have obviously been greatly exaggerated, for here he is, as mad and as greasy as ever.
‘Where could you get some money?’ He repeats the question as if it’s an exam.
At last, he points his knife at Luke. ‘A bank.’
Luke sighs. Sonic Dave was always going to be a long shot.
‘What do you know?’ asks Teardrop Tony, sliding in next to Luke, closely followed by Long Tall Sally.
‘Young Luke here was just wondering where he might obtain some cash,’ says Sonic Dave.
Teardrop Tony slaps two twenty-pence pieces onto the Formica tabletop. ‘Don’t spend it all at once.’
Luke smiles and pushes the coins back towards Tony. ‘I need a bit more than that,’ he says.
‘How much?’ asks Long Tall Sally expertly rolling a few slivers of tobacco with one hand.
‘A grand,’ says Luke.
His audience nod sagely though Luke knows between them they probably have less than a tenner in their collective pockets.
‘The Boots up in Charing Cross has got a load of new perfume in,’ says Teardrop Tony. ‘You could get at least a fiver a bottle.’
Sally shakes her head, the roll-up attached to her bottom lip by saliva. ‘It’s totally on top. They’ve got at least three security guards.’
‘And stealing two hundred bottles would seem a tad impractical,’ says Dave, yolk running down his chin.
Long Tall Sally lights her scrawny cigarette, filling the air with the smell of paper rather than Old Holborn. ‘It’s no smoking in here,’ shouts the owner from behind his counter, but he doesn’t make any attempt to stop her.
‘The lads at the Troc do all right,’ she says.
Luke wrinkles his nose. Sally often hangs out with the rent boys who work the Trocadero on Piccadilly Circus. They’re mostly young and mostly off their heads. The living dead who sell their arses for crack.
‘I was thinking of a job,’ says Luke.
The other three stop dead in their tracks as if hit by a taser.
‘Work?’ asks Sally, the novelty the idea of spreading a tidal wave through her dreads.
‘Why not?’ says Luke. ‘This is the bloody capital city of England. There must be lots about.’
‘I had a job once,’ says Sonic Dave, a wistful look in his eye. ‘It was 1985.’
‘Doing what?’ asks Teardrop Tony, suitably incredulous.
‘Window cleaner,’ he answers.
‘I’ve always fancied that,’ says Sally. ‘Up on those ladders and that.’
Luke swallows his impatience. Conversations among the homeless veer off at tangents like puppies on their first walks.
‘So do any of you know of anything?’ he asks.
‘Anything what?’ asks Sonic Dave.
Luke banishes the tension from his voice. ‘Jobs. Work.’
‘Oh,’ says Dave. ‘No.’
‘No,’ says Teardrop Tony.
‘No,’ says Long Tall Sally.
Luke breathes deeply.
‘You looking for work?’ asks the owner, scooping the ash and fag ends along the table with a cloth.
Luke is so shocked he can only nod.
‘Be here any morning at five,’ says the owner. ‘Sharp.’
‘So where’s my bleeding coffee, soft lad?’
Caz is in the doorway, her hood framing her face like a grubby halo.
Long Tall Sally makes room for her to sit down. ‘Luke’s getting a job.’
‘Oh, aye?’ says Caz.
‘He needs a grand,’ says Sonic Dave.
‘What for?’ asks Caz.
‘I’m going to get us somewhere to live,’ says Luke.
Caz winks at him in the way his mother used to when he said he’d seen a ghost or Batman.
‘I am,’ he stammers, feeling like a ten-year-old kid. ‘I really am.’
Caz leans over and pats his hand. ‘Course you are, soft lad.’
‘Tell me again why we’re doing this?’
Penny crushed a handful of pistachio nuts, sending at least half flying across Lilly’s kitchen.
‘We’re making kulfi,’ said Lilly, and stirred a panful of milk and ground almonds.
‘Come again?’
Lilly sprinkled a generous spoonful of sugar into the pan. ‘Indian ice cream.’
‘But you’re not Indian,’ said Penny, brushing slivers of nuts off her alpaca jacket.
‘We are a broad and catholic church,’ said Lilly. ‘Particularly when it comes to food.’
‘Why can’t we just stick to British traditions?’ said Penny. ‘It should be toffee apples for Bonfire Night, not this stuff.’
‘Sam hates Bonfire Night so I’m adopting Diwali.’
‘It just doesn’t seem right,’ Penny sniffed. ‘Next they’ll be telling us we can’t celebrate Christmas.’
Lilly looked sideways at her friend. ‘No one’s saying that.’
‘Don’t be naïve, Lilly, there are some London boroughs where they have to call them seasonal holidays or some other nonsense.’
‘That’s just racist propaganda,’ said Lilly.
Penny pointed to a pile of chopped pumpkin flesh. ‘So what’s that for?’
‘Pie,’ said Lilly. ‘I’m incorporating Thanksgiving.’
Penny threw up her hands in exasperation. ‘Anyway, why can’t we just buy the food?’
Jordan, Penny’s new foster child, whooped through Lilly’s garden. They watched him through the window as he chased the leaves swirling in the wind.
‘Because this is a celebration,’ said Lilly. ‘Not online shopping.’
‘You’re such a good mummy,’ said Penny, with more than a trace of sarcasm.
Lilly nodded at Jordan, who was leaping around like a demented sheep dog.
‘He’s settled in nicely.’
Penny beamed. ‘Poor little lamb. He’s been through a lot but he seems happy with us.’
‘And up at school?’ asked Lilly. ‘Does everyone hate me?’
‘Course not.’
‘Liar.’
‘Penny laughed. And you? It all seems quiet on the Western Front.’
‘Indeed it is.’
‘And is that good?’ asked Penny.
‘How can you even ask that?’
Penny eyed her through her fringe. ‘The Lilly Valentine I know seems to thrive on drama and excitement.’
‘Not this one,’ said Lilly. ‘This one likes a peaceful life.’
She reached into the cupboard for a bottle of rose-water. The smell reminded her of her nan. ‘I’ve kept out of everyone’s way at Manor Park, Sam’s happy and Anna’s case is coming along.’
‘So everything’s in order?’
Lilly let a few drops of the pink elixir splash onto the surface of the kulfi and set it to cool. ‘Just the way I like it. No trauma, no scenes, no surprises.’
‘So who’s that?’ asked Penny, pointing through the window to the figure of a man crossing the lawn.
Lilly squinted at the silhouette. It was Jez.
‘What on earth does he want?’
If Jez was embarrassed by Penny’s flirtatious smile he didn’t show it.
‘Take a seat through there.’ Lilly waved a sugar-encrusted hand towards the sitting room.
‘Why am I not surrounded by gorgeous men?’ whispered Penny when Jez was out of sight.
‘You’re married to a millionaire,’ Lilly pointed out.
‘I might give it all up and become a legal aid lawyer.’
‘And do your own ironing?’
‘Good point,’ said Penny. She went to collect Jordan and headed for the door.
‘What about the food?’ Lilly called.
‘I’ll stop in Waitrose,’ she said.
‘Shop-bought!’
‘I have better things to do.’
Lilly turned to Jez. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?’
‘It’s nice to see you too,’ he laughed. ‘Can’t a man call in on a friend these days?’
Lilly poured Jez a glass of wine and eyed him suspiciously ‘We’ve known each other a long time and you’ve never seen fit to pop by.’
He took a sip. ‘This is a great place. Very you.’
‘I mean it, Jez, I’m starting to worry,’ said Lilly.
Jez put down his wine and sighed. ‘We go back a fair way, don’t we?’
‘I just said that.’
‘Which is why I hope you’ll take what I’m about to say in the spirit it’s intended,’ he said.
‘Now I’m really worried,’ she replied.
‘This case we’re involved in, Lilly, it’s a tricky one, very tricky,’ he said. ‘The law on conspiracy is complicated.’
‘My expert says there was no conspiracy.’
Jez put up his hands. ‘I know that, but it doesn’t mean the jury will buy it.’
‘It’ll be my job to convince them.’
‘And I’m sure you’ll do your level best,’ he said. ‘But this is a murder trial at the Old Bailey.’
Lilly felt her hackles rise. ‘I wonder how I missed that.’
‘Don’t get shirty,’ Jez sighed. ‘I’m not saying you’re not good enough.’
‘It sounds that way.’
‘I’m just trying to point out that this isn’t your usual thing, Lilly’
She felt her throat redden. ‘I appear in court every day.’
‘On family matters,’ he said. ‘Divorce hearings at Luton County Court are not in the same ball park.’
Now she was angry. Who did he think he was, coming into her home and telling her she wasn’t up to the job?
‘If you’ve come here to patronise me, Jez, I suggest you head back to London.’
Lilly stalked to the door and opened it, the clear indication being that he should walk through it.
He followed with a sad smile. ‘Sheba said you’d react like this.’
‘She’s a genius,’ said Lilly.
He put a hand on her arm. ‘I truly didn’t mean to upset you, Lilly, but I just wish you’d consider getting a silk.’
‘You’re not a silk!’
It was below the belt. Lilly knew Jez would be made up any day.
His smile didn’t falter. ‘Just give it some thought.’
Jez jumped onto the train back to London. He hoped Lilly would take his advice. He didn’t want to annihilate Lilly but what choice did he have? He had been summoned yet again to an audience with Ronald.
The waitress leaned over to light the candle, revealing a generous portion of cleavage.
‘How the devil are you?’ asked Ronald.
Jez smiled across the table. He hated this place, with its red brocade drapes and leather banquettes. The air was hot and oppressive. ‘I’m very well, Ron.’
The head of chambers reached into the humidifier and extracted a San Cristobal cigar. He ran it under his nose, his eyes half closed, then nodded for Jez to take one.
Jez had never seen the point of cigars. He liked the instant nicotine hit of a Marlboro Light, but even in a club like Campions the smoking ban applied to everything—except their own products at fifty pounds a pop.
He chose a cigar, bit off the end and lit up with the candle.
‘I’ve been talking to Tobias about you,’ said Ronald.
Tobias De Winters was the man who currently dealt with the applications to take silk. The gatekeeper of the brotherhood.
‘All good I hope,’ said Jez.
Ronald smiled through the cloud of smoke. ‘He has no doubt about your abilities.’
Jez nodded coolly. ‘And he knows I’ve taken some prosecution work?’
Ronald beckoned to the waitress to bring more whisky, a sherry-casked single malt that Jez thought tasted like strong cold tea.
‘He has noted that you are happy to use your full skill set,’ said Ronald.
Jez took a sip of the golden liquid and longed for a vodka tonic. He wasn’t sure sending kids to prison was a skill he particularly wanted to hone but needs must and all that.
Ronald tapped his ash. He clearly had something else to say, but Jez knew better than to hurry him.
‘He has one little concern.’
‘Oh?’ Jez tried to sound unconcerned.
‘The Duraku case,’ said Ronald. ‘There is a worry that it may not be going as well as it could.’
Jez frowned. ‘In what way?’
‘Tobias feels you’ve been giving the defence an easy ride.’
Jez shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine what’s given him that impression. We’ve only got as far as entering pleas.’
Ronald sat back in his chair, his jacket falling open to reveal his ever-increasing paunch.
‘Come on, Jez, you’ve let the débâcle of bail slide without so much as a comment.’
‘It wasn’t worth the argument, Ronald. The girl’s being well supervised.’
Ronald tipped back his head and blew a column of smoke towards the yellow ceiling.
‘And it’s got nothing to do with the redhead defending her?’
Jez feigned a laugh. ‘If I didn’t know that was a joke I’d be offended.’
‘I hear that you and she have been somewhat friendly in the past,’ said Ronald.
Jez thought back to the drunken snog he and Lilly had shared at a party, when she’d smelled delicious and tasted even better. It might have gone further if she hadn’t thrown up.
‘Who’s been telling tales?’ he asked.
‘The criminal bar is a very small world,’ Ronald shrugged. ‘Not much stays secret.’
Jez shook his head. ‘Whatever anyone’s been saying about Lilly and me, it has absolutely no bearing on this case.’
‘So at the trial you’ll kick her from here to tomorrow?’
‘And the day after that.’
‘Good.’ Ronald drained his glass and tamped out his cigar. ‘This is high profile and all eyes are on you.’
Jez watched Ronald leave, picked up the bill and sighed. If he wanted to join the big boys he was going to have to come out fighting.
On the train, Jez felt his tension ease as the landscape outside became more urban. He was back on his own territory. He had told Lilly to get a hired gun, the rest was up to her.
Lilly was still fuming when the kitchen timer pinged.
She glugged down her wine and pulled the kulfi out of the freezer.
Jez was being a total wanker.
She cut off a large block and grabbed a spoon.
He was trying to undermine her, a tactic used by a lot of coppers. She remembered one interview when a DI had told her she shouldn’t try to comfort her hysterical thirteen-year-old client because it made her look unprofessional. Fortunately she had realised that this piece of ‘friendly’ advice was given in the hope that, without a reassuring arm around his shoulders, the boy would crack and admit to an assault he hadn’t committed.
She hadn’t fallen for that piece of male bullshit and she wasn’t about to fall for this one.
She scooped a heap of pudding into her mouth, and the temple-aching sweetness instantly salved her mood. She took another mouthful and sighed. Perhaps Jez had a point. She’d never done a criminal trial in the Crown Court, let alone the Bailey.
Instructing a silk would be the most sensible thing to do.
‘Something looks very good.’
Anna entered the room in her usual apologetic way. Lilly handed her a spoon and together they demolished the vast dish of ice cream.
Lilly undid her trouser button. ‘What would you think of me hiring a barrister for your court case?’
‘To assist you?’ asked Anna.
‘I doubt a silk would see it that way,’ Lilly laughed. ‘He or she would do the speaking for you in court.’
‘Who would tell them about my case?’
‘I would,’ said Lilly.
Anna pursed her brow. ‘So you would say to this person what it is they must say?’
‘Something like that.’
Anna shook her head. ‘What is the point? Why don’t you just say it?’
Lilly sighed and licked her spoon.
‘Cases like yours, very serious cases, are normally done by barristers that deal with this sort of thing every day of the week.’
‘Lots and lots of cases?’ Anna asked.
‘Exactly,’ said Lilly.
Anna’s eyes filled with tears. ‘So my case is just one in very big pile, nothing special to them. I am nothing important.’
‘Oh, Anna,’ Lilly put her hand over the girl’s. ‘You are important to me.’
Anna squeezed Lilly’s hand hard, as if she were trying to hold on. ‘Then promise that it is you who will speak for me in court.’
Lilly closed her eyes. ‘I promise.’
* * *
‘Our children have suffered enough.’
Mr Lattimer smiled politely. He’d known feelings were running high when he called this extraordinary meeting of governors and parents, but some of these women were almost hysterical.
‘Luella,’ he used her first name, hoping to add a human touch. ‘I understand that your concerns lie with your children, but I can assure you I am on top of the situation.’
‘You weren’t on top of it when Charlie was shot,’ said Evelyn Everard.
Mr Lattimer did not allow his rictus grin to slip. ‘I think we all know that that tragedy was unavoidable.’
‘Unavoidable?’ Luella was on her feet. ‘You make it sound like an accident.’
‘What I meant to say was that no one could have foreseen that something so terrible would happen,’ he said.
‘I think some of us could have predicted this a long time ago,’ said Luella.
‘I don’t see how,’ he said.
Luella threw up her hands. ‘How many times do I have to say it? Those people hate us.’
‘I’m sure that’s an over-generalisation,’ he said. ‘And anyway, we had no contact with the people at the hostel before this incident.’ He tried not to think about the numerous maintenance men and kitchen staff who the school hired from an agency for less than the minimum wage.
Evelyn Everard got to her feet. Lord, her son looked just like her, with the same red hair, the same obsessive gleam in the eye, the same ability to take up every available inch of space around them.
‘What matters here is not what has gone before,’—the same voice that demanded to be heard—‘but what happens now.’
‘Indeed,’ he said.
‘And we parents feel that Mrs Valentine’s presence at this school cannot be tolerated while she is representing the chief suspect in this murder.’
‘I thought Sam was being brought in by another parent.’
‘Yes, me.’ Penny Van Huysan raised her hand.
‘Well then,’ said Mr Lattimer.
Luella almost threw herself over the chair in front. ‘Penny’s only doing that to spare the other children’s feelings. I think she’d rather not do it.’
‘Mrs Van Huysan?’
The woman blushed. ‘It’s pretty difficult.’
‘If Penny were ill, what then?’ Luella shouted. ‘Or if Sam hurt himself? Lilly would have to come in then.’
‘Aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?’ asked Mr Lattimer.
‘We are simply being practical,’ said Evelyn Everard.
Luella jabbed her finger at the headmaster. ‘The best thing for all concerned would be to ask Sam to leave Manor Park.’
‘The pupil in question has done nothing wrong,’ he said.
‘That’s not the point,’ said Luella. ‘His presence here is putting all our children in danger.’
‘Is that what you want?’ added Evelyn Everard.
Mr Lattimer sighed. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then why won’t you take action?’ Luella shouted.
‘If I thought it would help, I would,’ said Mr Lattimer. ‘But I can’t see how the action you’re suggesting will have any positive effect.’
Luella pointed at Mr Lattimer. ‘If the press were to discover that the murderer’s solicitor had free rein to swan up here whenever she felt like it they’d have a field day.’
‘I have taken every possible step to ensure that the good name of this school has stayed out of the gutter press.’
Luella gave a theatrical laugh. ‘What about those stories in the Three Counties Observer?’
‘Those were unfortunate indeed,’ said Mr Lattimer, ‘and showed none of us in our best light.’
At least Luella had the decency to redden.
‘Are you afraid of what the papers might say?’ asked Evelyn.
Of course Mr Lattimer was anxious to avoid any adverse publicity that might dissuade parents from enrolling their children.
‘Absolutely not,’ he said. ‘I am merely upholding the time-honoured tradition of facing adversity with dignity and restraint.’
‘Because that will be nothing compared to the mass exodus you’ll face if nothing is done about this,’ said Luella.
Mr Lattimer gulped. The crunch was already being felt. Four pupils had left to attend the excellent grammar school only four miles away.
Mr Lattimer glanced at the governors. They blinked blankly back at him.
He collected his papers into a file. ‘I’ll see what can be done.’