Blood Rush (Lilly Valentine) (13 page)

‘That’s correct,’ said Lilly.

‘Thank you.’

Lilly made a brief note of the interview. The police would send her a copy of the tape, but she liked to keep written notes too. Often the legal advice not to say anything was as important as what actually was said.

‘Is that it?’ Annabelle whispered.

‘I think so,’ Lilly replied.

Jack had brought things to a close, leaving them in the
interview
room.

‘I expect the officer has gone to check on Chika’s record,’ Lilly told them.

‘That evil bitch is a liar,’ said Tanisha. ‘When I next see her she better run fast.’

Annabelle patted Tanisha’s knee.

‘I mean it.’ Tanisha squared her shoulders. ‘I’m gonna fuck her up good style.’

‘Hush now,’ said Annabelle.

Tanisha was about to say something else when the door opened and Jack strode in. Behind him a young WPC was
pushing
a grey plastic table on wheels. On top was a television and remote control.

‘This is Carla Chapman.’ Jack’s tone was breezy. ‘She’s been
working
on some of the evidence surrounding the assault on Malaya.’

The WPC smiled at them. She had an overbite and freckles on her nose.

Lilly felt suspicion tickle the back of her mind. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Would you like to explain, Carla?’ He gestured to the WPC, who tried to hide her excitement.

‘Jack, I mean Detective McNally, asked me to check whether there were any CCTV cameras covering the area of the attack.’ Her voice was girlish.

‘And were there?’

‘Not inside the rec, no,’ said the WPC, plugging in the TV. ‘Well actually there is one, but it was out of order on the night in question.’

‘Typical,’ said Jack.

The WPC laughed, but seeing Lilly’s scowl, recovered quickly.

‘But there is a camera at the entrance,’ she said.

The tickle of suspicion in Lilly’s brain became an insistent tap, as the WPC flicked on the television.

The screen filled with the grainy image of a road, the pavement flanked by parked cars. Halfway along the road was a pair of gates. They looked metal.

‘You can see the entrance to the rec here.’ The WPC pointed to the gates.

Lilly checked the clock at the bottom of the picture. 22:10:33; moments before Malaya was attacked. She looked over at Tanisha but couldn’t interpret her expression.

The picture remained inactive, the only movement the digits of the clock ticking away. 22:10:45.

Then a figure entered the picture from the far right and ran down the road. When she reached the gate she didn’t stop, just swerved into it at full speed, her hands out to push it open. Then she disappeared through it into the rec.

‘That’s Chika Mboko,’ said the WPC, ‘and after her comes the victim.’

Lilly watched with a growing sense of the inevitable. She could hear the sound of Jack breathing behind her. She could smell the lemon tang of his aftershave.

22:10:57. Another figure entered the picture, following the first. She was much heavier and lumbered behind. When she reached the gate, she barged it with her shoulder and also disappeared inside.

‘That was Malaya Ebola,’ said the WPC. ‘And here are the group of attackers.’

22:11:01. This time a group of girls sprinted into the picture. Lilly counted six. When they reached the gate, the WPC punched a button on the remote and the screen froze.

The image was grey and blurred. A number of the girls were completely unidentifiable, their faces little more than a smudge.

But there was no doubt about who was in the centre of the group, her face exposed directly to the camera, almost as if she were looking into it.

It was Tanisha.

‘Start talking.’ Lilly glared at Tanisha.

Tanisha refused to even look at Lilly, causing dyspeptic fury to burn her throat. She had taken this case believing Tanisha a
vulnerable
child.

‘You lied to me.’ Lilly put a hand over her mouth, not trusting herself to say anything more.

‘I don’t think we can draw any conclusions from that.’
Annabelle
flicked her wrist at the television. ‘The picture wasn’t clear enough to prove anything, beyond reasonable doubt.’

Lilly groaned. Was there anything worse than people who thought they could twist the law?

‘For one thing, that picture is very high quality and we could all see perfectly bloody well that it was Tanisha,’ she said. ‘But it’s not just about the film is it? They have a witness too.’

‘A lying bitch of a witness,’ said Tanisha.

‘Who no one will believe,’ Annabelle added.

‘On her own maybe,’ said Lilly. ‘Just like that film on its own might not be enough. But if you put the two together, it’s a whole lot more convincing. Then there’s the fact that you lied. You told me you were not at the rec, for Christ’s sake, you let me read out that stupid statement.’

The room fell silent and Lilly closed her eyes. This was a bloody disaster. Jack must be laughing up his sleeve.

A moment later, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crying. She looked up and was shocked to see it was Tanisha. Once again the mask had slipped, and a frightened girl was revealed.

‘Will they send me to jail?’ Tears streamed down her cheeks.

‘That depends on what you tell me,’ said Lilly.

Tanisha wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

‘I was there,’ she said, ‘but I didn’t do nothing.’

Lilly inhaled deeply. It was so predictable it made her nauseous.

‘Seriously.’ Tanisha leaned towards Lilly. ‘I followed her into the rec and that, but I didn’t touch her.’

Tanisha met Lilly’s gaze. Everything was open, pleading.

‘So you didn’t push her?’

‘No.’

‘Hit her?’

‘No.’

‘Kick her?’

Tanisha shook her head violently. ‘I didn’t do nothing to her, honestly.’

‘So why were you there?’ asked Lilly.

Tanisha shrugged. ‘I dunno. I was hanging out, innit.’

‘Why?’

Tanisha looked puzzled. ‘They’re my friends.’

‘Not good enough,’ said Lilly. ‘These girls set out to commit a violent crime. When they chased after Malaya, you must have known exactly what would happen.’

Tanisha didn’t deny it.

‘So why were you with them?’

Tears shone again in Tanisha’s eyes, but Lilly knew she had to pursue this.

‘Why didn’t you hang back, refuse to get involved?’

‘I couldn’t do that.’ Tanisha’s voice was soft. ‘They’re my people.’

There it was. Breathtaking in its horrible simplicity. The police might not understand that, indeed a jury might not. But Lilly did.

‘The police will have combed every inch of Malaya for
forensic
evidence, so if there is one hair from your head on her, one tiny piece of fingernail, they will know you are lying and that you did take part in the attack,’ she said.

‘There won’t be anything,’ Tanisha’s voice was firm, ‘cos I never laid a finger on her.’

They stared at one another.

‘Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t just walk out of here right now,’ said Lilly.

‘Cos you’re all I got.’

The weight of Chika’s arm around Demi’s shoulders makes Demi want to cry.

‘What’s up with you?’ Chika yanks her closer.

Demi’s cheek presses against the heat of Chika’s chest and she shivers.

‘You been waiting out here in the cold for me the whole time?’ asks Chika.

Demi nods. As soon as Chika went off with the policeman, Demi pulled up her hood and ran all the way to the station. She took up a place against the metal railings and waited, her breath white in the freezing cold wind as she blew on her hands. A few coppers gave her a funny look, but she didn’t care.

She doesn’t think she has ever been so glad to see anyone. There was the time the immigration people took Gran away for a whole afternoon. Malaya had wailed the whole time, only stopping when a social worker had given them both a Penguin. Demi
remembers
not feeling hungry and hiding it in her pocket for later. When she went to eat it after Gran got back, the chocolate had melted. But she’d been young then and couldn’t imagine what might
happen
to them alone in the UK without Gran. This time she could imagine exactly what her life would be like without Chika.

‘Respect to you.’ Chika laughs and kisses the top of Demi’s head before playfully pushing her away.

‘You got that stuff safe for me?’ she asks.

Demi smiles and reaches to her waistband. Chika jerks her head towards the station entrance behind them.

‘Not here, fool.’

Chika’s eyes flash with anger and Demi knows it was a stupid thing to do.

‘Sorry,’ she murmurs.

‘Look,’ Chika scowls, ‘if you want to be hanging with me and the CBD you gotta get some smarts, you understand?’

‘Yes.’

Chika stares at Demi for a second and once again she feels like crying.

‘All right then.’ A smile snaps across Chika’s face. ‘Let’s get the fuck out of here.’

Four o’clock. Last lesson. French.

Jamie detests French.

Every second in Mademoiselle La Mielle’s class is pure torture. Like having his eyes gouged out with a rusty spoon. He saw a scene where that happened in
Slumdog Millionaire
, but the kid was asleep. French lessons are like being awake through the whole thing.

Mademoiselle sashays between the desks, unaware that every boy’s eyes are fixed on her arse. Or perhaps she knows perfectly well, which is why she wears those tight skirts that hug her cheeks. She hovers over Jamie and places last week’s prep on his desk. There are hardly any corrections and at the bottom, in Mademoiselle La Mielle’s flourish of red pen, is an A.

‘
Très bien
, Jamie.’ She smiles at him, her bottom lip, plump and glossed. ‘
Une bonne pièce
.’

He mutters something incomprehensible and buries his face in his paper.

When Mademoiselle moves forward to the next desk, Jamie feels a thwack as a book hits the back of his neck. He turns around to see Tristan waggle his tongue up and down, in what the stupid tit no doubt thinks is a good approximation of oral sex. The other boys snigger.

Not finished, Tristan strokes his hands over his chest and rubs his nipples through the ink-stained pockets of his school shirt. It’s always the same in Mademoiselle La Mielle’s class and Jamie wishes to God that they still had Mr Anderton with his brown teeth and cigarette breath.

His mum had been totally impressed when Manor Park wrote to say Mr Anderton was on leave of absence with ‘personal issues’ and that a young French student would be helping out. Little did she know that every lesson had been turned into a re-enactment of a soft porn movie.

The bell sounds and Jamie scrambles to put away his books. He can’t escape fast enough. As he and the other boys dash for the door, Mademoiselle holds out a hand and catches Jamie lightly on the wrist. Her skin’s hot against his.

‘Could I have a little moment, Jamie?’ she asks, in her thick French accent.

He cringes, knowing what will happen. ‘Okay.’

He makes the mistake of catching Tristan’s eye as he is leaving the room. He’s cupping his dick with one hand and blowing Jamie a kiss with the other. Embarrassment flushes Jamie’s cheeks.

When everyone has left, Mademoiselle turns to Jamie and motions for him to sit. Then she leans against her desk. This close, Jamie can smell her, a confusing mixture of perfume and
toothpaste.
She cocks her head to one side and gives a tiny smile.

‘You have a talent for
le francais
, Jamie,’ she says.

He doesn’t smile back. ‘Thanks.’

‘I think,’ she says, ‘you can do very well.’

He thinks saying thanks again might sound stupid so he just nods.

‘But,’ Mademoiselle lifts a finger, ‘I think something is troubling you,
non
?’

‘
Non
,’ Jamie shakes his head. ‘I mean, no.’

Mademoiselle cocks her head further so it is almost resting on her shoulder.

‘I know you English are very,’ she pauses, struggling for the word, ‘reticent to talk about private matters, but I sense you are not happy.’

Jamie gulps. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You know you can come to me, if you are having any
problem
,’ she says. ‘Perhaps I can help.’

Jamie flicks a glance towards the door. Through the glass panel, Tristan is leering in, pulsing his tongue against the inside of his cheek so it bulges. Jamie feels sick.

He looks back at Mademoiselle. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’

She holds his gaze for a long moment that makes him stop breathing. He can hear his heart thudding in his chest.

‘Okay.’ Mademoiselle stands and the spell is broken. Jamie exhales noisily.

‘Just as long as you know that you can come to me any time,’ she says.

‘Thanks.’

He nods his head and makes his escape.

Lilly found Jack in the station canteen. He was nursing a can of Diet Coke, laughing with WPC Chapman.

‘Something funny?’ she asked.

‘I guess you had to be there.’ The WPC smiled up at her, a relaxed hand stirring her tea.

Lilly narrowed her eyes. Was it an innocent comment, or a dig?

‘Can I have a word, Jack?’ she asked.

He opened his palms.

‘In private,’ said Lilly.

‘I’m part of the investigating team,’ said the WPC. ‘We’re all working closely together on this.’

A dig, then. Definitely a dig.

‘I only deal with the senior officer in the case,’ said Lilly.

Jack nodded at the WPC, who gave a little snort and scooped up her cup, sloshing tea on the table. Lilly watched her stalk to a nearby table, where she took up a place and scowled.

‘She’s a real charmer.’

Jack shrugged as if he hadn’t given it any thought.

‘So what’s your client saying now?’ he asked.

‘That she was at the scene but took no part.’