Tuesday, 15 September
Lilly woke early. Sam had crept into bed beside her at some point during the night and was still fast asleep. Lilly pushed his hair from his face and kissed his warm cheek, breathing in the delicious smell of her son.
She crept downstairs to fill the kettle and gazed out of the kitchen window while she waited for it to boil. The temperature had risen overnight but the air was still fresh at this early hour.
She sipped her coffee and watched the garden come to life.
Manor Park had an assessment day and Lilly had booked the day off work to spend with her son. There was nothing she could do for Kelsey since the prison would not let her visit without twenty-four hours’ notice and the Crown Court’s lists were full. All in all, she was reassuringly impotent.
Sam appeared silently in the doorway and rubbed his eyes. ‘Can I have hot chocolate?’
‘Yep,’ said Lilly.
‘With squirty cream?’
‘Yep.’
‘And coco sprinkles?’
‘With M&Ms, extra fudge sauce and a bag of crisps if you like, big man.’
The pair spent the morning playing football in their pyjamas, and when it got too hot they made strawberry ice cream and ate the lot straight from the freezer box.
Sam pointed to the fresh dressing on Lilly’s throat. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘Only a bit,’ she said.
‘You won’t do anything like that again, will you, Mum?’
‘I’ll try not to.’
‘I mean, if you died I’d have to go into care, wouldn’t I?’
Lilly was shocked. ‘Of course not! Your dad would look after you.’
‘I don’t think Cara would want me.’
It stung Lilly to hear Sam articulate her own greatest fear. For whatever David said and however much he defended her, it was obvious that Cara did not love their son.
Lilly chose diversion tactics and the rest of the afternoon was spent discussing Christmas, a perfectly legitimate activity in mid-September.
When Sam was tucked up in bed Lilly checked her emails. She knew she shouldn’t but the urge was too strong.
To: Lilly Valentine
From: Rupinder Singh
Subject: Kelsey Brand
I did as you asked and faxed an application for bail. When I rang the court to check they’d received it I chatted up the man who answered the phone and voila, he listed it tomorrow at 2 p.m.
You should try being a bit more charming.
I’ve booked a barrister and said you’ll meet him at court at about 1 p.m.
To: Lilly Valentine
From: Rupinder Singh
Subject: Kelsey Brand
Forgot to say it’s been listed at CCC.
Lilly groaned. She should have known that a case this big would be listed at the Central Criminal Court but she didn’t relish the prospect. Of all the courts diametrically opposed to the cosiness of Luton Youth Court, the Old Bailey was the worst.
Barrows had sent three text messages to Max, all demanding a meeting with Charlene.
Max smirked as he reread them. As if that pervert was in any position to give orders. Max would make him pay double and make him beg.
He put his phone away and looked up at the window of Barrows’ clinic. When he’d first seen it he’d been impressed by the tinted windows and the embossed sign, but now he knew it was just an office where Barrows listened to the whining of well-dressed women.
What problems could they have? They didn’t know they were born compared to the likes of him and Grace. Max doubted that any one of Barrows’ patients could have survived life in a children’s home. The bullying, the negligence, the abuse.
These people needed to learn to put the past behind them or make it work for them. Max had embraced this as a concept even if it meant he had to mix with filth.
He had thought Barrows was evil and that made the man strong. Now Max could see that in fact it made Barrows weak. His depravity ruled him and Max had turned it to his own advantage. Their roles had reversed and it felt good.
What the hell was he playing at? The stupid little black man must have seen the last patient leave so why was he still hanging about outside?
Barrows breathed deeply and tried to contain the rage. It was always like this just before, his anxiety rising, his impatience bubbling. During the act itself he could barely register what was happening, let alone enjoy it, so overwhelmed was he by his need. But afterwards came sweet release and relief and the endless hours of joy reliving the moment on film.
He knew the latter feeling would soon be his, but for now he was locked into the anticipation that bordered on desperation, and anyone who stood in his way at this time would have to suffer the consequences.
At last Max appeared.
‘You took your time,’ snapped Barrows.
Max shrugged. ‘I’m a busy man.’
Barrows gritted his teeth. He would not allow this idiot to see the storm inside him.
‘I won’t pay double.’
‘Sure you will,’ said Max.
‘There are plenty more girls.’
Max nodded nonchalantly. ‘And there are plenty more freaks like you. I’ll take her to one of them. Ain’t no skin off my nose, man.’
The men stared at each other, their mutual hatred plain.
Suddenly Barrows smiled. ‘What the hell, you can have your money, I’m a rich man.’
He threw an envelope at Max, ensuring it fell short so he would have to pick it up from the floor. ‘Set it up,’ he ordered.
‘We’ll have to be careful.’ Max scooped up the envelope. ‘The Bushes is bound to be buzzing with the filth cos of Kelsey.’
Barrows saw his chance to re-establish the hierarchy. ‘She’s not there any more.’
‘Where’s she gone?’ asked Max, too quickly.
‘Didn’t you know? She’s in prison, and not likely to get out any time soon.’
Max cursed himself for letting the other man steal the advantage, but he had been so shocked to learn that Kelsey was banged up he couldn’t hide it.
Poor, poor baby. Jail was no place for a kid like her. Still, shit happened.
He fingered the envelope, reassuringly fat with notes. This was it. One last job, his ticket to a better place. The US of A and a career in real films beckoned. He could smell success, women and chilli dogs. What the hell were they anyway? Hot dogs with chilli sauce, he supposed. Maybe he’d stick to McDonald’s.
He was heading for the good life, the sweet life. And nothing was sweeter than making that pervert pay for it.
Yes, he would spend some of the money on a plane ticket and live off the rest when he got there until he got himself sorted. In the meantime he’d celebrate with a couple of high-quality stones and half an ounce of skunk. After all, he had plenty to spare.