Desperate Measures (10 page)
Ian Parker had been on remand for over two weeks and now sat across from his brief, scowling at the man’s words. All right, he might have been a bit naughty in the past, had been lucky to get away with it, but this time he was innocent and wasn’t about to go down for something he hadn’t done. ‘There’s no way I’m pleading guilty. I told you, I wasn’t there. I was nowhere near Battersea flaming Park.’
‘You were picked out in the identity parade by the victim and two other witnesses.’
‘But it wasn’t me!’
‘It doesn’t help that you haven’t got an alibi.’
‘I didn’t leave me flat.’
‘Yes, but as I said before, you haven’t got anyone who can corroborate that. There’s also the evidence that both witnesses saw you getting into your car and one took note of the number plate. How do you explain that?’
‘For fuck’s sake, you’re supposed to be on my side. They couldn’t have seen me! It wasn’t my car. They
must
have got it wrong.’
‘I
am
on your side, but can’t find anything to offer up in your defence. There’s nothing wrong with either woman’s eyesight. The victim is a nurse with an impeccable character, so again, nothing to make the jury doubt her story.’
‘But I didn’t do it!’
‘Maybe not, but I can’t prove that, whereas the prosecution seem to have a watertight case. If you plead guilty, you’ll get a lesser sentence. However, if you insist on pleading your innocence, you could face ten years or more imprisonment.’
‘Ten years! You must be fucking joking.’
‘I’m afraid not. It was a serious assault–rape with bodily harm.’
Ian Parker slumped in his chair. Ten years! He couldn’t face ten years in prison–he’d go out of his flaming mind. He didn’t do it, hadn’t been near the park, but nobody, not even his brief, believed him. None of this made sense. How had that nurse and two other witnesses picked him out? There had to be another bloke somewhere, his double; not only that, he must drive the same sort of car. ‘Look, it wasn’t me, I swear. There must be something you can do.’
‘I can’t find anything to break the prosecution’s case. My advice is a guilty plea,’ and, rising to his feet, he added, ‘I’ll leave you to think about it.’
Ian Parker shook his head with disgust. ‘Forget it. I’m innocent.’
Only a moment later a guard came to take him back to his cell, and he cringed when the door slammed shut, the key turning in the lock. If his own brief was sure he’d go down, what chance did he have?
Paula returned from her break and climbed onto a stool to begin work again. She was miles away, in a world of her own, the clatter of machines and loud voices seeming distant. It felt like ages since she’d seen Cheryl, Val and Betty, but at least with Ian Parker in custody, she felt safer.
The last time they’d all met up, it had been funny to see Betty tipsy, and the memory made her smile. She missed them and prayed it wouldn’t be long before the case came to court. She’d love to be there, love to sit in the gallery to see Ian Parker get his comeuppance, and surely…surely there was no doubt of that? Her heart thumped with fear at the thought that he might get away with it, that he might be set free, and her hands trembled as she picked up another sheet of paper to feed into the laminating machine.
‘Are you all right, girl?’
Paula looked at the machine minder and nodded. Charlie Riley was a nice old bloke, due for retirement soon, and she didn’t mind working on his machine. Unlike the younger machine minders, he didn’t make dirty remarks, or flirt, and she was happy to chat to him when they had time. ‘I’m fine, Charlie. Thanks for buying me a cup of tea in the canteen during our break.’
‘You’re welcome. Mind you, I don’t know why you sit with an old geezer like me. What’s wrong with the girls–and the young chaps, come to that?’
As she continued to feed paper, Paula said, ‘I’ve got nothing in common with the other girls. All the young ones want to talk about is pop music and fashion, while the older ones are full of their husbands, kids and housework. As for the blokes, they drive me mad.’
‘You’re a funny girl but, despite the gossip, I reckon you’ve had a rough ride. Am I right?’
Paula took her eyes away from her work to look at Charlie, her hands still working automatically. She liked him, felt safe with him, but wasn’t happy that he was now asking personal questions. With a shrug of her shoulders, she said dismissively, ‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine and sorry I asked.’
‘Fair enough, but what’s been said about me?’
‘Oh, nothing much, but like me, I think others have seen you having a crafty tipple.’
Paula reddened. Yes, she always carried a quarter bottle of gin in her handbag, but didn’t realise that anyone had seen her having a snifter.
‘It’s not only that,’ Charlie continued, ‘you don’t mix, love. You may have your reasons, but people think you’re a bit stuck–up. They ain’t a bad lot, and it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit friendlier.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Paula said, thinking about Charlie’s comments as he moved away. It was true, she did keep distant from the others, but once Ian Parker was sentenced and in prison, maybe she could make a fresh start.
Val was in the office, sorting out old files, flicking through them before putting them away. She didn’t enjoy her job, felt it below her intellect, but one file caught her eye and she felt a surge of excitement as it sparked an idea. Yes, it might work…Taking it to her desk, she read it through. It sounded promising, but would need further investigation and would be something to keep her mind occupied whilst waiting for Ian Parker’s case to come to court.
‘What have you got there?’ Mr Warriner asked as he came out of his office, his eyes on the file in her hand.
‘It’s just an old case that caught my interest.’
He leaned over her desk to scan the document. ‘Yes, I remember it. The poor chap was innocent, but it was a sticky time for him. I’m glad to say he’s still in business, and the last I heard he’s doing well.’
‘Is he still in Chelsea?’
‘Yes, and if you’re interested in buying that kind of thing, he’s well worth a visit.’
Treacle had got out of his basket, rearing up to Mr Warriner’s legs, and seeing this Val said sharply, ‘Stop that, Treacle.’
‘It’s all right,’ he said, bending over to make a fuss of the dog. ‘What time is my next appointment, Val?’
‘In an hour.’
‘In that case I think I’ll take this chap for a walk.’
Treacle must have picked out the one word that made his ears prick up, and Val smiled as she gave Mr Warriner his lead. ‘He heard that.’
‘Yes, you did, didn’t you?’ Mr Warriner said, speaking to Treacle as he clipped on his lead.
Val watched them as they went out, a smile on her face. She was lucky to have such a lovely boss, but now she returned to the file and her thoughts turned to a plan that was forming in her mind.
Cheryl too was deep in thought as she went about her work on the ward. She wasn’t keen on Staff Nurse Trenton, and sometimes resented her orders. If she hadn’t been forced to take a break in her career to nurse her grandmother, she too could have been a staff nurse by now. Once again Cheryl thought about her old colleague. She’d been to see her as an excuse for staying out late on the night of the alleged rape, but since then the thought of taking up midwifery, of working in the community, had become very compelling. Yet in truth there was something else she’d rather do, something Cheryl knew she’d find equally, if not more, rewarding.
Yet how could she even think about it with the court case pending? It hung over her head, keeping her awake at night, the thought of being in the witness box with a lawyer throwing questions at her, terrifying. On the night of the alleged rape and seeing Val’s nerves, Cheryl had found herself taking over. She had felt assured, in control, but now that feeling had gone and once again her nerves were getting the better of her.
Cheryl took out the thermometer, but as she shook it, it flew out of her fingers, shattering into pieces on the floor.
‘Oh dear,’ the patient said.
‘Nurse Cutter, what on earth are you doing?’ Staff Nurse Trenton demanded as she hurried to her side.
‘I’m sorry, it just sort of slipped.’
‘Well, get a brush and clean it up. I don’t know what’s the matter with you lately, but your mind certainly isn’t on your work.’
Feeling humiliated to be chastised in front of the elderly patients, Cheryl hurried down the ward, red–faced. Staff Nurse had made her feel like a naughty child, and once again resentment flared. It had been an accident, but no doubt she’d take great delight in telling the ward sister how clumsy she’d been.
Cheryl grabbed a dustpan and broom, unable to miss the sympathetic glances of the patients as she passed their beds. Yet she knew that Staff Nurse Trenton was right. Her mind wasn’t on her work, and her eyes were rimmed with tiredness. Oh, please, let it be over soon, she thought, wishing now that she had never met Val, or the others.
Betty too was nervous about the court case, dreading the thought of being called to the witness box, but at least she had Val to talk to, someone who always managed to alleviate her fears.
On Saturday she was worrying again, but when there was a knock on her door she opened it to see her son. Her eyes lit up.
‘Oh, John, it’s lovely to see you.’
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you for a while, but I’ve been really busy.’ His eyes then narrowed as they swept over her. ‘Are you all right? You’re a bit pale, and look to have lost weight.’
‘Just a few pounds, but sit yourself down. What would you like to drink?’
‘I can’t stay long, so nothing thanks.’
‘But I haven’t seen you for ages!’
‘I’ve come round to tell you that Ulrika and I are moving in together. I can’t stay because I’ve got to pick up her stuff this afternoon.’
‘Oh, not you too! Anne is living in sin and refuses to marry. Now you’re going to do the same, and I haven’t even met Ulrika.’
‘Once we’re settled I’ll bring her round to meet you. She’s lovely, Mum, and I know you’ll like her. As for living together, well if you must know, I did ask her to marry me, but she wants to wait for a while.’
Betty sniffed. Why any girl would turn John down was beyond her–she didn’t like the sound of this one at all. ‘Ulrika must be mad to turn you down,’ she observed.
‘Yes, well, you can tell her that when you meet her. Have you seen anything of Anne?’
‘She was here at the beginning of the month. It seems that your father is too worried about his wife to give Anne his usual attention and her nose is out of joint.’
‘Worried. Why?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing, just high blood pressure. That isn’t uncommon in pregnancy.’
‘What about you, Mum? How are you doing? Have you got yourself a boyfriend yet?’
‘I most certainly haven’t,’ Betty protested. ‘Boyfriend indeed, at my age. No, I don’t think so.’
‘You’re not
that
old, and it would be nice to see you with a chap, someone to look after you. It would be one in the eye for Dad, too.’
‘Your father doesn’t give two figs about me and wouldn’t care if I met someone else. Not that I want to, of course. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you.’
‘I hate to think that you’re lonely, Mum.’ Betty felt like telling her son that she’d be less lonely if he came to see her more often, but bit back the retort. ‘I’m not lonely, at least not nowadays. I’ve made friends, one of them a woman who lives downstairs.’
‘That’s good, and what do you get up to?’ God, if you only knew, Betty thought. ‘Oh, not much, just the occasional lunch, or a walk in the park, that sort of thing.’
‘That’s nice, but I really must be going, Mum.’ Betty sighed. As usual this was a flying visit, but Val would be expecting her shortly so she just kissed John on his cheek. ‘See you soon, I hope, and don’t forget to bring Ulrika to see me.’
‘I won’t, and I’ll give you a ring to let you know when. Bye, Mum,’ he said, returning the kiss before hurrying downstairs.
Betty sighed, wishing that at least one of her children would eventually get married. Yet on that thought she baulked. God, if she went to their wedding it would mean seeing Richard and Mel together. She’d be alone, the odd one out again. Betty didn’t think she could face that.
It was almost six more weeks before Ian Parker’s case came to court, and on the afternoon of Wednesday the first of October, all three women sat alone, waiting to be called, unaware–as yet–that there was going to be an unexpected anticlimax.
Though Paula had wanted to be there, to sit in the gallery and watch the man who raped her punished, Val had refused to allow it. If Ian Parker saw her, she’d said, he could make the connection and that was far too risky.
Val was pacing, unable to sit still, her nerves finally getting the better of her. She was so afraid of being tripped up when questioned by Ian Parker’s lawyer, that she went over and over her story in her mind. She had seen him leave the park, had taken note of his number plate, and yes, he was the one she’d picked out in the identity parade. God, if she was nervous, how must Cheryl and Betty be feeling? Would Cheryl crack under questioning? Would she break down?
Val felt sick. If their lies were discovered, it wouldn’t be Ian Parker who was sent to prison–it would be them!
Half an hour passed, but then, instead of being called into court, an usher told her that the prosecuting lawyer wanted to talk to her. She hurried to the corridor, finding Betty and Cheryl already there.
‘What’s going on?’ Betty hissed.
Before Val could speak, the prosecuting lawyer approached, smiling as he said, ‘Ian Parker pleaded guilty so you won’t be called. You’re all free to leave.’
‘Guilty!’ gasped Betty. ‘But—’
‘Thank you,’ Val hastily interrupted. Hoping to draw the man out she added, ‘I suppose he decided there was no other choice.’
‘With the weight of evidence, his lawyer would have advised that a guilty plea might mean a lesser sentence. If the case had been fought and lost, he could well have faced a longer term in prison.’
‘What…what was his sentence?’ Cheryl asked.
‘Five years, and with good behaviour he could be released in three.’
‘Three years, but that’s nothing,’ Betty cried. ‘Oh, I dread telling Paula.’
‘Sorry, who?’ the lawyer asked.
‘Err…err she’s just a friend,’ Betty spluttered.
Val took over, her manner brusque. ‘Well ladies, as we aren’t needed, perhaps I could offer you a lift home?’
‘Thank you,’ Cheryl said.
They each then shook the lawyer’s hand, saying goodbye, Betty almost tripping in her haste to leave the building. She said nothing until they were all in Val’s car, her voice then contrite as she spoke. ‘God, I nearly put my foot in it, didn’t I?’
Val was so relieved that they hadn’t been called. It was over, and she felt a surge of happiness. They had done it–all her fears about the police discovering their lies now gone. ‘It doesn’t matter, Betty. There was no harm done.’
‘I can’t believe he pleaded guilty,’ said Cheryl.
‘Neither can I,’ Betty said. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather.’
‘He obviously didn’t think he had a leg to stand on.’
Cheryl’s voice was high. ‘But, Val, he didn’t do it.’
Val couldn’t believe the way Cheryl was reacting. What was the matter with her? Ian Parker was where he belonged, behind bars. Like her, Cheryl should be thrilled. ‘I know he didn’t do it, but he
did
rape Paula. As I’ve said before, he’s only getting what he deserves.’
‘I don’t think she’ll be happy with his sentence,’ Betty said.
‘We’ll need to break it gently, and now the court case is over we can all meet up again. Maybe we should start a new plan and it will give Paula something else to think about.’
‘I still can’t believe that we didn’t have to appear in court,’ Cheryl said. ‘When I was waiting to be called I was terrified.’
‘Yes, I was the same,’ Betty agreed.
‘Me too, but thankfully it’s over now.’
‘We were lucky, Val; lucky to get off so lightly,’ Cheryl insisted. ‘I wonder now if I’d have broken down in court–if I could have pulled it off.’
We’ll never know, but I think you’d have been fine. I’d like to tell Paula what happened in person, so maybe we could go round to see her when she comes home from work.’
‘Yes, good idea,’ Betty said. ‘What about you, Cheryl?’
‘All right,’ Cheryl answered quietly.
‘I don’t know about you two,’ Val said, ‘but I’m starving. Paula won’t be home yet, and as we need to kill a bit of time, how about stopping off for something to eat?’
‘Yes please. I was so wound up this morning that I couldn’t touch breakfast or lunch, but now I’m hungry too,’ said Betty.
‘What about you, Cheryl? Do you fancy something to eat?’
‘Yes, and I’d love a cup of tea.’
‘How about the Nelson Café at Clapham Junction? They do a reasonably priced meal.’
Both Betty and Cheryl agreed so Val headed in that direction, pleased when they arrived to find a parking space. ‘Goodness, I haven’t been here for years, but it looks to have changed owners,’ she said as they walked inside. ‘It used to be run by a lovely Italian family.’
‘That waiter looks more Greek than Italian,’ Cheryl whispered as she pulled out a window seat.
‘Instead of homely, it’s now all Formica and chrome,’ Val complained.
‘Never mind, perhaps the food’s good,’ Cheryl said as she scanned the menu. ‘I know it isn’t Greek, but an egg and chips will do me. It’s the cheapest thing on offer.’
‘I’ll have the same,’ Betty said.
When the waiter arrived they gave their orders, and then began to discuss what had happened, all still shocked that Ian Parker had entered a guilty plea.
The man they were talking about was sitting in the court cells, waiting to be escorted to prison. Ian Parker’s face was pinched with anger. Five fucking years for something he hadn’t done. He’d wanted to scream at the judge, tell him he was innocent, and wished now that he’d fought the case. It was his shitty lawyer’s fault, the man eventually persuading him that a guilty plea was his best option. He’d turned the man’s advice over and over in his mind. He knew the git didn’t believe he was innocent, and if his lawyer didn’t believe him–who would? He didn’t have an alibi, and with two witnesses swearing it was him they’d seen, what bloody chance did he have?
It wasn’t him, couldn’t have been him, so how had they picked him out? Nothing made any sense. If it had been that first time, he could have understood it. He’d picked up a girl he’d seen before in the area and taken her for a snog, parking up near Clapham Common. When she’d let him have a feel, he thought she was up for it, but when he shoved a hand up her skirt, the silly cow had protested. He was worked up, hard–and he was not about to be turned down. He’d got her onto the common on the pretext of pointing out stars, and the silly cow had fallen for it. Yeah, well, her mistake. It served her right for leading him on. Of course, she’d fought a bit, but since then he’d found they all did; and anyway, he enjoyed teaching them a lesson. You don’t wind a bloke up and then back off–they all needed to learn that.
Mind you, with that first one, he’d been shit–scared afterwards. The girl knew him–could point him out, but though he’d been questioned, it had come to nothing. He’d got away with it, but it was a lesson learned, and since then he’d made sure that he couldn’t be fingered again.
Yeah, but you were
, a small voice in the back of his mind mocked.
‘Come on, Parker, the van’s here.’
He scowled at the policeman. ‘This ain’t fucking right. I didn’t do it.’
‘Yeah, they all say that,’ the man said offhandedly Parker was led outside and, as he climbed into the van, despair washed over him. All right, he hadn’t been so innocent in the past, and maybe he was getting what he deserved, but five years still made him baulk.
He hadn’t raped the girl, it had been some other lucky bugger, but he was paying the price.
Betty finished her meal and then sat back, replete. They’d gone over and over what had happened in court, still unable to believe how lucky they’d been. She was thrilled that they’d pulled it off, and proud of her part in it. Paula could get on with her life now. It was done with, finished, but she would miss the camaraderie, the thrills. She felt so close to the others now, part of their lives, and wanted to get on with the next plan.
‘Come on, Val,’ she said, ‘let’s talk about something else. You mentioned a new plan, so who’s next?’
‘If it’s all right with you, Betty, I already have something in mind for Cheryl’s dealer.’
‘That’s fine with me, but you never said anything to me about a plan.’
‘I had to check out that it was plausible first, but I’ve done that now.’
‘Why am I next? I’d rather it was you or Betty.’
‘Well, to be honest,’ Val said, ‘I was sorting out some old case files in the office and one of them caught my eye. It made me think about your dealer and a way to get your money back.’
‘It doesn’t involve the police, does it?’ Cheryl asked anxiously.
‘No, don’t worry.’
‘Let’s hear it then,’ Betty urged.
‘Do you mind if we wait? It wouldn’t be fair to discuss it without Paula. She’d be upset if she thought we’d started without her and for now we need to think about how she’s going to react to Ian Parker’s sentence.’
‘Val’s right, and anyway, there’s no hurry to start on the next plan,’ said Cheryl.
Val shook her head. ‘Sorry, Cheryl, but I disagree. Paula might be upset about the sentence and, as I said before, a new plan will give her something else to think about. If she isn’t doing anything this evening, maybe we could bring her back to my place and discuss it then.’
‘Good idea,’ Betty enthused.
‘We’ve still got a bit of time to kill, so how about we pay the bill and then have a wander around the shops?’
Both women nodded, but they hardly looked at anything as they trawled Arding and Hobbs, glad when the time passed and they could make their way to Paula’s.
It was only a short drive to her bedsit and, as they climbed out of the car, Betty looked up at the tall, narrow house with a range of doorbells lining the wall by the front door.
Val pressed one, and a few minutes later the door opened, Paula’s eyes widening when she saw them all on the step. ‘Oh…Oh, what’s wrong?’
It was Betty who answered, ‘There’s nothing wrong, sweetheart. We just thought you’d like to hear what happened in court today.’
‘He…he didn’t get off?’
‘No, he was sentenced, but can we come in?’
Paula looked worried, but nodded, leading them up a flight of stairs to a small landing where she threw open one of the doors. ‘As I said to Val when she first saw this dump, it ain’t much.’
Betty was the first to step into the room, fighting to hide her feelings when she saw how cramped it was. There was just a lumpy single bed, a small wardrobe, and a scratched dresser, on top of which she saw a kettle. Paula moved to the bed, hastily picking up a crumpled sheet of newspaper that held a half–eaten portion of fish and chips. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I was just eating me dinner.’
‘Haven’t you got a kitchen?’ Betty asked.
‘There’s a shared one on the ground floor, but it ain’t fit for rats. I eat mostly from the chippie or have pie, mash and liquor, or occasionally jellied eels. Sorry, I’ve only got one chair, so the rest will have to sit on the bed.’
Val spoke then. ‘It’s all right, we won’t be staying; but would you like to come to my flat?’
‘Why? What’s going on? You didn’t lie to me, did you? Has he really gone to prison?’
‘Yes,’ Val assured her, ‘but I…I’m afraid he pleaded guilty so only got a five–year sentence.’
‘What? But that means with good behaviour he could be out in three.’
Betty placed an arm around Paula’s shoulder, her voice echoing her sympathy. ‘I know, darling, but at least he’ll be in prison for a while.’
Cheryl stepped forward. ‘I know you’re disappointed and we are too. I’m so sorry.’
‘It ain’t your fault. You all did your best and at least he’s out of the way for a few years.’
‘Good girl,’ Val said. ‘Now finish your dinner, and when we get back to my place I’ll tell you about a new plan I have in mind. Something for Cheryl’s dealer.’
‘Hearing about Ian Parker’s sentence has put me off me dinner. Come on, let’s go. I can’t wait to hear about this plan.’
Betty heaved a sigh of relief. It had gone better than she had hoped, but once again her heart went out to Paula as she again took in the tiny room, one that since her rape had become a prison. Her mouth set into a grim line. Ian Parker had been sentenced to five years, but when he came out he could take up his life where he left off, yet for Paula it would still be many years, if ever, before she got over being raped.
When they got back to Val’s flat, Val said, ‘Oh, dear, Treacle’s been cooped up for hours. I’ll take him for a walk, and Betty, while I’m out, would you mind making a pot of tea? Help yourself to biscuits.’
The dog began to whine now, Betty urging, ‘Just go, we’ll be fine.’
Treacle strained at the leash as Val got outside, barely making it to the first tree before lifting his leg. In the park he raced off, returning with a small stick that she threw a few times before saying, ‘Come on, boy, time to go.’
They were soon home and, after feeding Treacle, Val took a seat on the sofa whilst Betty poured her a cup of tea.
‘I saw you coming so topped up the pot. It’s nice and hot,’ she said.
‘Thanks, Betty.’
Treacle had wolfed down his food and now jumped up to squash himself between Betty and Val, laying his head on Val’s lap.
‘Are you ready to tell us about your idea now?’ Betty asked.
‘Yes, all right. As you know, I work for a solicitor, but Mr Warriner doesn’t handle criminal cases now. He’s getting close to retirement and mainly deals with conveyance work, or wills and such, so if anyone comes to the office regarding a criminal case, I have to turn them away.’
‘So what’s he got to do with the plan?’ Paula asked.
‘Nothing directly, but when I first went to work for Mr Warriner his files were in a dreadful state. Some were many years old, but I slowly began to sort them into a semblance of order. I was too busy to read them in depth so I just took a note of names and dates for my new filing system. However, there were a few that I left out to look at when I had time, and when I saw one again recently, it sparked off an idea. The file concerned a man who had been wrongly accused of selling a forged painting, and after a little digging I found that he’s still at his old address in Chelsea. I went to see him, pretending that I might be interested in buying one. He didn’t try to pass any off as genuine, instead telling me they’re copies. It seems he makes a good living by selling them and taking the occasional commission.’