‘But how do we prove that?’ Tim asks.
‘Again, exactly.’ Dan runs one hand through his lovely hair. ‘Look – she was there when the stuff was there. That plus the incident years ago when they think she probably was there. Plus her kid’s dad with links to the ring – it’s slam-dunk to a jury.’
‘So what do we do?’ I ask. Or rather, whine. My voice is high, caught in my throat.
Tim and Dan look at me in surprise. Yes, I may be a junior woman, there to take notes, but I do have a voice.
‘Well, I guess the main thing apart from my job of telling the CPS guy they haven’t proved what they think they’ve proved is to get something human from her that will show us why she couldn’t possibly have done it,’ Dan says. ‘Something the jury will go for.’
Tim muses for a while. ‘What, like she would never be involved in drugs because her kid sister died from them you mean?’
My pen freezes. My brain freezes. I want to ask Tim to repeat the phrase. But I don’t have to. I’ve heard it before.
A decade ago. About Emma. Mick’s sister.
I look at Tim for any sign he knows the significance of what he’s said. There’s nothing. He’s talking freely to Dan. Dan is nodding soberly at something. I don’t know what. My ears have frozen over too.
Is this one of those situations they warn you about? That if you say or do the wrong thing, everything comes out? That I must be very careful how I act?
‘She did say she has a daughter who she wouldn’t let people do drugs in front of,’ I venture.
Tim looks at me kindly. ‘You’ll come to learn, Jen, that people saying drugs are banned in their home doesn’t mean they ban themselves from selling them on the street.’
Just as I thought I was defrosting, I refreeze again. Two lines from my past life. This is too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?
‘Ah, but Jen doesn’t know that seedy underbelly we frequent, Tim. She is but a novice in these parts!’ Dan’s tone is light.
‘Oh, don’t misjudge her, Dan. I’m sure Ms Sutton has done her share of racy deeds.’
Are they flirting? Or are they insinuating? Have I found myself in the lion’s den, or just a pit of everyday sexism?
‘Excuse me,’ I say. I push back my chair and leave the room.
I rush along the corridor to the ladies’ bathroom before they can follow me.
Once there, I splash some water on my face. The lipstick comes off again, revealing the true me – pale and paranoid as ever. But am I paranoid this time? A partner at a law firm where I work, the managing partner of which knows what he believes to be my full history, has just alluded to that secret. Is Bill a gossip? When all along I thought my secret was safe with him, has he been laughing with the other partners about my secret past? About Mick? About Chloe?
I shake my head. Surely not. Bill must know he’d be in no end of trouble if he was found to have given away my story. That’s why they chose him – trustworthy to a fault. Pillar of the local community. Committed to the role of law in rebuilding lives. All that worthy stuff.
So. Just harmful flirting, then. In which case, I need to go back.
I dry my face and return to the room.
Tim gets to his feet. His face is serious.
‘Jen, we didn’t offend you, did we? I’m sorry, I was just trying to lighten the tone in this unpleasant case.’
I stay mute, biding my time.
‘Look, let’s call it a day for now. Dan and I discussed some action points while you were out and –’
‘What action points?’ I ask. About me? A follow-up to the flirting?
‘About the case.’ Tim looks at me like I’m mad.
‘We decided that Tim is doing such a good job of building up Rhea’s trust that he’s going to go and speak to her again,’ Dan tells me. His voice is serious but his eyes are sparkling. Tim thinks he’s building up trust? Lawyers and their egos. Poor Rhea. But Dan’s invisible dig at Tim puts me at ease more than a stilted apology.
‘Yes, Dan read the transcripts and was kind to say I went about it like a proper QC!’ Tim says.
I don’t look at Dan in case my anxiety spills over into giddy laughter.
‘So I’ll go and visit her again,’ Tim says.
‘I can come if you like,’ I tell him. Poor Rhea. She needs someone who gets it. Someone to talk to her about her kid. Someone who’s been there.
Tim puts his head on one side. ‘Interesting idea for the future. But look, I’m getting somewhere with her. And besides, it will be too much admin with the prison passes and everything. Maybe later.’
I nod. ‘OK.’
‘Anyway, what I was going to say was – I think we’ve got what we need for today. Shall we adjourn to the pub?’
I flick a look at the clock. ‘I’d love to, Tim, but it’s getting on for school pick-up, and I’m driving, so …’
‘Oh, you’ve got time for a quick one, and I won’t let you get over the limit. Come on, live a little.’
I look at Dan. He shrugs behind Tim’s back in an ‘up to you’ gesture.
I look at the clock again. I have fifteen minutes, which means by the time we order I would have approximately one point five minutes to down my drink.
‘I’ll minesweep what you don’t finish,’ Dan offers, relieving my quandary.
‘It’s a deal, then,’ I tell him.
But as we cross the road to the pub, I’m not at ease with my choice. It’s not so much the timing. Or the drinking. It’s the morality. Because they’ve been shamed into thinking I minded them almost flirting with me, Rhea Stevens’s two best hopes of freedom have abandoned their posts to take me for a drink. If someone had done that to me all those years ago, where would I be now?
The pub is crowded when we get there. Pinstriped suits jostle with polo shirts to be served by a too-relaxed barmaid. I almost turn round and leave then and there – we’ll never get a drink on time. I mustn’t be late for Josh again. But Tim waves us to a table ledge and says he’ll get us a drink in no time.
‘Vodka and Coke,’ I say. Tim raises an eyebrow at me. What, am I meant to be on the dry white wine here? Fuck that. ‘A single,’ I tell him. ‘I’m driving.’
I follow Dan to a trio of bar-stools. As we clamber up, our knees brush. I pull away, too quickly.
