MichaelBlessingmoors?That place?Charlotte is white. "That's the one," she says through a mouthful of food. Clutching her wineglass, she knocks back the contents. Ross appears behind her, bottle poised and clearly listening to the exchange, cocking his eye at Haswell. Richard, almost surreptitiously, nods and Ross refills her glass.She sits, gripping the glass in one hand. I slip my hand over the other. She's cold.... More than that, clammy....Scared Babe?Don't be. You're safe….... We're here for you....It comes crashing in over me....The affair at Blessingmoors, having drifted from rumour to rumour over years, largely ignored or somehow, shushed, finally burst out a couple of years ago. Tales of trafficking, child prostitution, paedophilia, it all came out. Sick stories, tales of the worst possible side of humanity........ and Charlotte was in there....Oh, my God....Leaning back so she doesn't see, James meets my gaze, his eyes wide, then stares upwa
MichaelJames and I exchange baffled looks. Richard hovers, indecisive for the first time since I have seen him. He takes a step or two towards the rear of the hall, then stops and turns, and turns again."Richard...." begins James...."Oh, fuck it!" says Richard. "I saw you two at the club. You're about to get your own back. Come on."Mystified, we follow him to a door towards the back of the house. As he opens it, a chill musty smell billows up....A cellar?..... and the laughter becomes louder....We descend a set of stone steps into a long basement corridor, stone built and vaulted. Doors lead off from either side, the scents of boiler rooms and laundries as we pass. At the end of the hall, a door is slightly ajar, light casting out, drawing a long finger across the stone-flagged floor.Richard looks first at James, then at me with an expression I can't read, then pushes the door wide. And from within, shrieking female hilarity spills out, echoing down the corridor
JamesThe following morning, I see no point in disciplining Charlotte. She and Beth got drunk together. With the best will in the world, she needed the release after the evening's revelations....And when all's said and done, nature extracts its own revenge in these situations.Beth descends the stairs first, pallid, and walking as though each footstep might crack the ground under her. She enters the kitchen, seating herself slowly and with exaggerated care."Ah, good morning, my Love," says Richard, his voice loud. "What can I get you? Coffee to start, I think." He pours a mugful.I wonder how she will react to it. I like it strong and black myself, but the brew he's produced is the kind that cracks cups and eats spoons. I tried one mouthful, then abandoned the drink while I had a few teeth left.Beth sips, then sits bolt upright, a small sound escaping her throat. Apparently robbed of the power of speech, she grimaces and then gulps down half the mug.Charlotte follows
RichardJames finally regains the power of speech. "You will find that Charlotte feels strongly on the subject of men who won't take a hint. The last time I saw her do something like this, a man six inches taller than she is wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. She felled him with a single blow."What?This little girl?"You mean, this has happened before?""I just believe in sticking up for myself...." mutters the scarlet-faced Charlotte.And finally, I see the funny side. "And you paid for this woman?" I laugh to James.He snakes an arm around her, reeling her in, smacking a kiss on the top of her head. "Worth every cent," he says, eyes twinkling.I turn to my wife, her hand still holding Charlotte's....Girl-power?.... Don't be an idiot man....Friendship and loyalty...."Elizabeth, will you please go home now."She nods. "Thanks, Charlotte," she says, turning to leave.Now make it up to the girl....I wave James and Charlotte to the coffee table. "Sit do
James"I killed a man."Charlotte's voice is barely above a whisper, but her words ricochet inside my head. Reflexively, my chair grating backwards over the expensive flooring, I stand, staring down at her, thunderstruck.Richard's eyes follow me, solemn and giving no clue to his thoughts. His voice impassive, "Go on."She doesn't look at me, or at him. Her eyes are wide and staring, seeing other times, other places perhaps. And her skin has a pallor beyond her usual paleness."I was fourteen. It was at the home. There was a man…" Her words stumble, and she swallows hard, licking her lips. Richard reaches for a jug and pours water. "As the girls got older, and sometimes the boys.... they would take them away...."Richard slides a glass of water across his desktop to her, and she gulps it down, spluttering between swallows."He took me out, tried to get me into his car. He was telling me that I was being taken to a party where.... He was enjoying telling me what they we
MichaelAs I step from the elevator into the lobby, the sniffing Charlotte tucked under my arm, Ross meets me....Of course…… he was there the other night, when we learned about Blessingmoors....How much do they tell him…?His voice low, "I moved your car to the rear underground; more private for you." He nods down to the weeping Charlotte. "Come on, I'll show you where it is."I get her in the passenger seat, then move around to the driver's side. Ross says, "I heard you all talking about Blessingmoors the other night." He touches my arm. "Try not to worry. From what Francis told me, I think Mr Haswell has decided to help her, and she's not going to have a more powerful ally than that...."Trying to speak quietly enough for Charlotte not to hear me, "If she's up for a murder charge, I don't think he can help with that, can he?"Ross shrugs. "We all know the stories about Blessingmoors. I'll give long odds it was self-defence...."*****RICHARDJames paces the r
James"The bones of her story stand up, but there are some differences," comments Will Stanton, police commissioner, waving a yellowed report, one of many from the stack of fading files and folders he has with him."It was before my time in the job, but the records show that Charles Jenkins, supervisor at Blessingmoors, died while in pursuit of one Jennifer Conners, then a fourteen-year-old… um.... inmate, of Blessingmoors. Whilst giving chase he was hit by a truck, pulled under, then dragged some distance."He takes another fading paper, brown at the edges, from the top of the stack, pushing it across to Haswell. "The autopsy lists cause of death as multiple injuries resulting from that event. No mention is made of any stab wound."The girl was recaptured two days later and returned to Blessingmoors as per the normal practice at the time. This was not the first time she had been in police hands. She had made numerous attempts to run away and was described as a trouble-maker: d
MichaelShe looks back over her shoulder, then turns for a better view. "It's a bit ramshackle. I don't remember it looking like that.""No, we're around the back side. I think they ran out of money for their renovations. They don't get so many tourists up here, the last few years, after the Crash."I have to say this…But how? Without upsetting her?.... Babe, I'm here....I always will be...."Charlotte, I can't begin to guess what's going through your head right now...."Her head held low, she looks up at me. Her hair is partially covering her face, swept there by the breeze, and I wonder if she is deliberately allowing it to stay there, hiding her expression.".... You must feel that all your worst dreams have returned to haunt you...."Her eyes are glossing again, but this needs to be said.She must know this........ know it in her bones....".... but understand this: if your worst fears were to come true, and I don't believe they will, but if they did…