Confessions Read online

  Cassandra leaned forward. ‘Sorry, Natalie. Lucy wasn’t there, so there’s no point asking.’ She looked at Nat meaningfully. ‘With both her parents currently… away, it’s too upsetting to think about it, let alone speculate. Dad said you wanted to ask about Mel’s friends and what she told them about her condition and her wishes. You’re okay with that, aren’t you, Lucy?’

  Lucy’s shoulders flinched but she nodded.

  Feeling shamefaced for asking her opening question, Nat moved towards the girl and briefly touched her knee. ‘Thanks, Lucy. In your own time, can you tell me what she said to you and her friends about her ill health. Did she mention ending her life? If so, when did she say it, how and to whom did she say it? I’m sure you understand we need as much evidence as possible to show her intentions.’

  Nat pulled up in her usual spot outside Savage Solicitors. Her heart was still thrashing. She’d hoped it would calm down, but she’d felt hopelessly out of her depth talking to Lucy Selby. She now had a list of Melanie’s friends, her social media information and passwords, details of a living will and online forums she’d used. It was a useful trip in that regard, but she’d felt ill-equipped, both as a human being and as a lawyer; she had never experienced such personal tragedy.

  She groaned wearily. From her research, the law was uncertain too. It seemed that juries were loath to convict genuine assisted suicides or mercy killings, yet a recent attempt to make it legal had been rejected by parliament, so the police were duty bound to pursue every reported case. Then there were two potential defendants; would the CPS prosecute both or neither? She supposed it would come down to the evidence the police were obliged to reveal, the ‘golden rule’ of disclosure. Whether good or bad, they were required to hand over their witness statements, reports and documents. From what she had researched each evening at home, those statutory duties hadn’t yet kicked in, but the common law duty to be open in the interest of justice and fairness was already there. She most certainly hadn’t seen any ‘fair play’ to date. But what did she know? Thank God Gavin was back, at least to oversee the case, if not to take command.

  She rested her head on the steering wheel. She felt inadequate, an imposter; she should have done better. But at least she’d been cheered by Cassandra Woodcock. Catching Nat up by the car, she’d taken her hand.

  ‘Thanks for being kind and… accessible,’ she’d said. ‘Lucy was really scared about talking to a lawyer. Of course you guys are just humans like the rest of us, but you showed her that. Well done, and thank you.’

  Nat had wanted to keep hold of her fingers and ask: ‘How did you get that black eye? And that small cut on your lip?’ But of course, like many other things, it was none of her business.

  She opened the car door and stepped out. After a positive start to the week, she felt drained, tired and lethargic. Rather like the bloody law, in fact. It wasn’t only the Selby case. As far as she was aware, there still wasn’t a date for Andrea’s trial. She’d been arrested and charged last November, but after being granted bail, she’d gone back to her life in Cheadle Hulme, not two miles away from where she was standing now. Whether that still involved coffee mornings and cake with her local ‘Jam and Jerusalem’ chums, she had no idea, but when she thought of the Selby family’s plight, Andrea’s flaming liberty didn’t seem fair.

  As Mr Bumble had said, the law was an ass.

  ‘Hello, Natalie, I was just about to give up.’

  Nat turned to the voice. A large lady was walking from the office towards her. Chantelle? No, of course not. More than twice Chantelle’s age, this woman had darker, freckled skin and that warm grin Nat remembered from aeons ago. But not really that long. Just a month, probably, when life had shifted in so many ways.

  Like an idiot she stared. What was Wesley’s mum doing here? After a beat of gaping, the surprise turned into alarm. Oh God, had something happened? To Wes or the boys?

  Finally bursting from the trance, she found her voice. ‘Hello, Kath. Lovely to see you. How are you?’

  But she needn’t have worried. Kath Hughes was smiling and holding out her arms.

  ‘I’m good,’ she said after a warm and firm hug. ‘I’ve been waiting for you in Gavin’s reception, chatting to the paralegal.’ She lifted her eyebrows. ‘Bit pongy, in there though, eh? Shall we find a café? I’m sure the boss won’t mind.’

  Feeling the sharp irony, Nat drove the short distance to the Roasted Coffee Lounge and climbed out. She peered through the glass windows and pictured her and Wes at a table for two. Yup, she’d met him here to ‘talk’. About Andrea, of course. Lies, manipulation, attempted murder, no less. But this time it was his mum who clearly had something on her mind.

  They sat on opposite leather sofas and ordered a cloudy apple juice and barbecued pork paninis. They sounded delicious, but Nat’s appetite had been replaced by a swarm of butterflies.

  ‘Gavin seemed a bit wobbly,’ Kath said conversationally. ‘But it’s hardly surprising after what he and Heather have gone through these past weeks. Wesley has been so worried for them. It’s such a relief to hear Ruthie’s on the mend.’ She shook her head. ‘And who’d have thought a small child would get shot in this country? If you wrote it as fiction, no one would believe it.’

  Nat inwardly sighed. Similar to an apparently nice middle-class mum poisoning her son with salt. ‘True,’ she replied.

  Kath’s sunny disposition clouded with a frown. Had she had the same thought?

  ‘So Gavin’s in the office today, then?’ Nat said to fill the silence. ‘I haven’t been in yet.’

  ‘He left an hour or so ago. Off to the hospital, he said,’ she replied.

  The belly insects fluttered big time. Oh God, Kath had been waiting for that long. It was nice to hear Robbie had introduced himself as a paralegal, and that he’d been ‘chatting’, but what the hell did she want?

  Kath seemed to shake herself back to the redolent café. She turned to the book-lined wall and pulled out a Second World War hardback. ‘Nice touch, isn’t it? With all these tomes, I could tempt Joe in here. There wouldn’t be a lot of conversation, but he’d be a happy bunny. Bloody men, eh? They’re not good at talking, are they?’

  Nat wondered about the generalisation. There was poor JP who was desperate to tell his story, but it was probably true; the men in her life did struggle to ‘share’: her dad and his history, Jack Goldman with his expertise at changing the subject, Gavin and his politically incorrect deflections, not to mention laconic Brian Selby. But of course Kath was talking about Wes, the son she’d had to ‘squeeze’. That’s why they were here.

  They waited quietly as the drinks and sandwiches were served. Kath picked up hers and took a bite. ‘Ooh, nice,’ she said. Then she continued to chat as she chewed. ‘I’ve been pressing the best I can, but I’m not getting much out of Wesley. He’s told me about Andrea’s ever-changing stories about what happened with poor Matty, but not much else.’ She cocked her head. ‘Mainly by telepathy, guesswork and his miserable mug, I’ve worked out you and him aren’t currently friends.’

  Leaning forward abruptly, she grabbed Nat’s hand. ‘Which shows what a bloody idiot my son is.’ She released it and fell back with a sigh. ‘Not just Andrea but Sidney’s ex too – two daughters-in-law I didn’t warm to, but I liked you even before I met you. I could see from his face and his whole being that you were good for him. You made him happy and carefree. Just like he was before that bloody life sentence.’

  After the criminal charges against Wes, her choice of words weren’t the most tactful, perhaps, but Nat knew what she meant. She too, had seen the difference in him. She’d known and fancied the pants off the snake-hipped and light-hearted Wes Hughes at law college. He and the moody man she had met eighteen years later at Goldman Law were like two different people.

  Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Kath chuckled. ‘Who would have thought I’d end up with two bachelor sons living together like The Odd Couple? I love that old film; you should watch it if you
haven’t and you’ll know what I mean. I don’t suppose Sidney wants his little brother cramping his style, but until Wesley’s house is sold, they’re stuck.’ She scooped up her juice and threw it back. ‘Now, you can tell me if it’s none of my beeswax,’ she continued, ‘but you and Wesley… I’m guessing it’s to do with her, Andrea?’

  Nat couldn’t help snorting at the similar phrase, but she replied sincerely: ‘Of course it’s your… business. You’re his mum.’

  Kath’s face abruptly darkened, her eyes shiny with anger. ‘God, that bloody woman. I could kill her for what she’s done to his family; I would if it didn’t make things worse. I hope you find out for yourself one day, but that intense love you have for each baby never goes away. You want to do whatever you can to make your child happy; constancy, care, sacrifice; you fight their corner with all your strength…’ Her voice broke, so she stopped, patted her cheeks with a tissue, then took a deep breath. ‘As well as making an idiot of yourself over a pulled pork panini.’

  Nat squeezed her arm. It resonated with what Larry had said about mother love. Strong, reliable and pure, and yet for some it was hollow or corrosive. Then there was Andrea. She had put her obsession and desire to keep Wes above her sons. The notion was still incredible.

  Kath lifted her eyebrows. ‘My guess is that you said something similar to me. That Andrea is an evil and manipulative bitch who deserves to be locked up. That he should stay well away from her…’

  Smiling thinly, Nat nodded. Though a little shocked at Kath’s aggressive tone, she couldn’t have put it better herself.

  ‘…and I’m sure he’s given you the same reply, that it isn’t simple, that she’s the mother of his sons and so on. It’s undeniably true, but…’ She looked at Nat steadily, her face remarkably smooth and unlined for a lady well into her sixties. ‘I think there’s something else, something Wesley isn’t saying. Of course we have the benefit of hindsight now, but Joe and I should’ve seen it. Andrea set him up from the moment she met him. She got her claws in and was not going to ever let go. Nothing has changed, Natalie. By hook or by crook that woman wants to control my son. Manipulation, lies, blackmail. That’s her game and we need to stop her.’

  23

  An Explanation

  Friday felt like a Goldman Law desk share. Gavin was already in his office with the door closed when she arrived, but Robbie’s room was empty, so Nat grabbed the laptop and sat at his desk, wondering what she should do to justify her salary, if indeed she was getting one.

  Since yesterday, she’d been mulling about Wes. Why had Kath travelled all the way from Congleton and waited for an hour to speak to her? Nat certainly liked her for it, but what could she do? She and Wes were no longer friends, let alone romantically involved. She could hardly pick up the phone and say, ‘Your mum thinks your wife has something she’s using to keep you dangling. What is it?’ That would surely justify a ‘none of your business’ retort, and quite frankly she could do without the rejection.

  The tables had veritably somersaulted at home. Anna was dusting, vacuuming and cleaning the house with a cheery smile, delving into her cookery books to hunt for new Polish recipes, fluffing her hair and applying a nude lipstick, whereas Nat felt weary and despondent. Even worse, she looked it; her face was waxy and wan, and she couldn’t be bothered to do much about it. It was the lack of sunshine, probably. Bloody miserable British February weather; no doubt her whole body was protesting the lack of vitamin D. Apparently Borys’s son had seen her in the office at some point and had commented on what a ‘fine-looking woman’ she was. That didn’t help her general malaise; if the best she could do was a waster with debts of twenty grand, then she preferred to stay single.

  Half listening to the regular peal of the reception telephone breezing in, she watched a grey mouse go about its business between the boxes along the wall. Cute, but not terribly hygienic. Perhaps she should bring in Lewie cat for a spot of consultancy work like she did with her mum. No, Poppy would be better; though she had the sweetest possible face, the old girl was definitely the best mouser.

  Doodling on her pad, Nat smiled at the mental image of Chantelle and her precarious perch the other day. Yup, she should have taken a pic to show Gavin. Talking of which, where was the fashion queen? She listened again. Oh hell, the calls were diverting to the answerphone.

  Pleased to have a mission, she left the miserable Natalie in Robbie’s office, settled behind the counter, and amused herself by trying different ways to greet the Ned clients: ‘Savage Solicitors, good morning’; ‘Savvy Savage Solicitors. How can I help you?’; ‘Top of the morning to you’, rather than the ‘What?’ Robbie had employed before he was upgraded to paralegal.

  Most of the callers responded in kind, buoyed up by that #FridayFeeling, she supposed. No one asked for her, which was pretty impressive of Gavin when he’d only been back in for three minutes.

  ‘Good morning, Savage Solicitors. How can we be of assistance this fine Friday?’

  ‘Why aren’t you answering your mobile?’

  ‘Because I’m answering this phone. Why are you calling it?’

  She was being dry with Jack Goldman as usual, but it was nice to hear his voice.

  ‘To invite you for brunch on Sunday. You still haven’t met my grandson. I won’t accept a “No” this time.’

  Flaming heck; this was the trouble with landlines and missing staff; one couldn’t filter the calls, or at least prepare a wild excuse before answering.

  ‘I’ll have to look at my diary…’ Nat started, but she was saved by a knock and the outline of a figure through the frosted glass. ‘I’m the only human here and someone’s at the door. I’ll call you back.’

  With a smile of relief, Nat clicked up the latch and greeted a middle-aged man.

  ‘Sorry, it’s usually open at this time.’ The bloke was scowling, so she tried for a jolly tone. ‘Lovely morning. Can I help you?’

  Wearing a donkey jacket, his hands were stuffed in its pockets. ‘You can. Is Natalie Bach here?’ he asked.

  Alleluia! She was needed at last. ‘Hello, I’m Natalie. How can I help?’

  Closing the space between them, he bared his teeth and pointed a finger. ‘Yeah, you can. You can help by keeping out of things that have nothing to do with you.’

  Immediately alarmed, she stepped away. ‘I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re–’

  ‘Just fucking back off, right? Everything was settled. We’d put it behind us. Then you put in your oar, causing trouble. One minute driving lessons, the next minute…’ The man’s palm had clenched into a fist. ‘Fucking keep out. Have you got that loud and clear?’

  He marched to the door, then spun round and glared. ‘Who do you think you are, anyway?’ he hollered, striding back towards her. ‘Fucking Mother Teresa? Or maybe you’re just a sad old spinster paedo who gets off on being a busybody.’

  Her heart clattered with fear. She’d moved as far from him as she could, but she was trapped against the bench; he was so close to her face, she could smell his stale breath.

  His skin was puce, the veins bulged in his neck. ‘Do-gooders like you make me sick.’ He lifted his arm.

  Oh God, oh God. This aggressor was going to strike her and there was nothing she could do except cover her head to protect it. Cowering, she scrunched her eyes…

  ‘That’s enough, Jed.’

  Letting out the trapped air, she finally breathed. Oh God, thank the Lord. Gavin had appeared. His hands on the man’s shoulders, he was pushing him back.

  ‘That’s enough, Jed,’ he said again.

  Though considerably shorter than Gavin, the man held his ground, his chest puffed out and anger distorting his features. ‘I want to hear it from her. That bitch has been–’

  ‘Helping your son. Being kind; charitable; altruistic. Go and look them up, Jed. Don’t come back to this office until you’ve got a hold of yourself and have apologised.’

  Following him to the door, Gavin opened it to let him out
as Chantelle sauntered in. She was holding a white box.

  ‘Thank God it’s Friday. Cake day!’ she said, bustling to the counter and opening the lid. ‘Chocolate eclairs for Gavin and Robbie because they’re boring boys who’re happy to have the same old, same old. But for us girls…’ She stopped and glanced from Nat to Gavin. ‘What’s going on? What’s happened?’

  Gavin nodded to the window. ‘Jed just had a go at Nat.’

  Chantelle made a whistling noise. ‘Oh God, poor you, Nat.’ She picked up the carton. ‘I’ll put these on plates and brew up. Tea with sugar is what you need.’

  Trying to hide the tears and badly trembling, Nat turned away and made for Robbie’s office. ‘A go’? Is that how Gavin saw it? She was absolutely in no doubt that Jed would have hit her if Gavin hadn’t intervened. And from his aggressive bearing and sheer rage, it wouldn’t have been just the once.

  ‘Hey.’ Gavin was pulling her around and into a tight hug. ‘I know that was frightening. Come into my room and let me explain.’

  Her limbs like jelly, she followed him in. He dug into his pocket, passed her a handkerchief, then sat at the desk. The thought that Gavin Savage was probably the only forty-year-old guy in the world to carry a hanky these days flashed through her mind, but she was still too winded for humour.

  He tapped his pad with a pencil. ‘The crash that killed Robbie’s mum. Both he and Jed suffered head injuries from the impact. The other driver was completely liable – he’d been drinking and was well over the limit – so there was a civil claim for damages. I didn’t act, so I don’t know much about the ins and outs, but what I do know is that part of Jed’s personal injuries claim related to the impairment of his cognitive and executive functioning, his emotional responses and impulses that he now has difficulty controlling.’ He spread his hands. ‘I’ve seen the medical reports because I’ve had to refer them to the magistrates once or twice in mitigation. To date there hasn’t been any actual violence, but he’s pleaded guilty to verbal assaults, threatening behaviour and breach of the peace. It doesn’t make it right, Nat, but it’s an explanation. Yeah?’