him, any more than anyone else who has fucked her up over the years?
I read on.
Ask: Have you ever seen any of your flatmates with drugs?
Says: They wouldn’t fucking dare.
Ask: Why’s that?
Says: Because I’d shove it right up them, probably where it came from, because I’m not having my daughter growing up like that.
Christ. She has a daughter.
Ask: But you’re willing for her to grow up knowing you’re a prostitute.
Fucking hell, Tim. Don’t say that. Say ‘How old is she?’ Or ‘What’s her name?’
Don’t preach hellfire.
RS doesn’t respond.
No shit.
***
‘Knock knock.’
Someone is banging on my desk. I look up. It’s Tim.
Tim, for whom I have a whole lot less respect than I did five minutes ago.
‘Hi, Tim. Just looking through the Rhea Stevens file.’
Tim looks around and puts a quick finger to his lips.
‘Best come into my office, Jen,’ he says, his voice low.
Grudgingly, I get up from my desk and follow him into his office. All these secrecy games don’t make up for how he’s treating Rhea.
Once we’re in his office, and he’s shut the door, he talks to me in his normal voice.
‘So. Bit of a fix we’re in, isn’t it?’ he says.
‘She says she didn’t do it.’
‘Yes, well she would, wouldn’t she?’
‘But what if she didn’t, Tim? Maybe she’s telling the truth – why would she put her kid in danger like that? Maybe we just need to treat her a bit more … respectfully.’
Tim looks at me thoughtfully. There’s a pause. It grows uncomfortable. Is it me that’s showing a lack of respect, now?
‘Sorry, Tim, I just thought …’
‘No, no – don’t apologize. That’s exactly the sort of fresh insight I was looking for. Listen, I’ve got a conference with Daniel set up for two. I’ve got lunch with another of the barristers over there, so I’ll see you at chambers. OK?’
‘Sure thing.’ I nod. How can you be worried about your lunch, when Rhea is perishing in a jail somewhere? I want to ask him. How can you be so cold? Or maybe he doesn’t get it. Maybe he doesn’t know how to listen between the words, hear the sounds of a chaotic world. A victim, not a culpable culprit.
‘If you wouldn’t mind bringing the files too, that would be great. Thanks, Jen.’
He ushers me out of his office, and away he goes.
***
I arrive early to Daniel’s chambers. In the mirror in the lift up to his floor I see how pale I am. I quickly slide on some lipstick. Too pink for my thoughts, but maybe that’s the point of make-up. I remember that delicious plum colour that Chloe used to wear. Made her look more inviting than she really was.
‘Jen!’ Daniel cries on seeing me, interrupting my reminiscing. He shakes my hand. I feel a frisson as our fingers meet. How lovely it is that there is an acceptable social way to touch each other immediately. He goes for a kiss on one cheek, and I feel his stubble impress itself on my skin. I pull away as he goes for the other cheek. Embarrassed, I lean in again, but I missed the moment. Things my mother never taught me #347.
‘Hey,’ I say. I search for small talk but can’t find any. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since that non-date and I’m struck by how much sexier he is in the flesh than in his photo. I’d forgotten that his thick brown hair is so wavy, that his cheekbones are so high. His eyes so piercing and alive. I’d like to take his hand again. Wouldn’t let him slip through my fingers another time.
I clear my throat, like he can hear my thoughts, and tap the case file. ‘Did you read the interview notes?’
‘From the first interview?’ Dan asks.
I nod.
He nods too.
‘Tough stuff,’ he says.
‘You didn’t think Tim was a bit …’ I trail off. There are many words I could use.
Dan finishes for me. ‘Blunt?’
I smile a little. ‘Yes, blunt. That’ll do.’
Dan nods. ‘Yep, I have a confession. I think that’s my fault.’
‘Your fault? How?’
‘I told him about how one of our QCs always talks to witnesses or defendants the first time proper bad-cop style, to see what they’ll be like under cross-examination. I suspect Tim was playing QCs but got it a bit wrong.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I do. And when I meet the poor girl, I’ll tell her so myself.’
‘You feel sorry for her, then?’ I ask Dan.
‘Don’t you?’ he counters.
I relax a little. The human race has come in first again – Dan has restored my confidence in it. I shrug a little and take a seat. He doesn’t need to know quite how sorry I feel for our Rhea.
When Tim appears a few moments later, he no longer seems like an ogre with no emotional intelligence. Just a wannabe who’s over-reached himself. Haven’t we all been there (maybe I still am)?
Dan and Tim greet each other. Not quite like old friends – it’s very cordial, but professional. I suppose Dan was just offered as the guy the firm always uses, perhaps not Tim’s first choice.
We get onto the meat of the conference.
‘What are her prospects, Dan?’ Tim asks.
Dan must have been expecting this question but he wriggles a bit. ‘Not great, I think. I can see why the CPS have chosen this case. It seems a bit mean, and you can’t help feeling sorry for her, with all that background of being in care but –’
‘Yes, but if the CPS didn’t prosecute then, they wouldn’t in half of all cases!’ says Tim.
I flinch. Dan looks at me quizzically. I pretend to be taking notes.
Dan resumes his point. ‘Sure. But what I mean is, there’s this string of circumstantial stuff – all one plus one plus one plus one, which they’re fervently hoping adds up to four, but we have
