Dating Down Read online

  “Anything else?” Nick enquires.

  “No.”

  “Very well.” Nick sighs, rising to his feet. “Now go and make yourself respectable. The chief inspector is expecting us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes. Given the nature of the serious accusations, you’ll need to make a statement.”

  “And then they’ll let Gary go?”

  “Of course, if this is just a simple misunderstanding.”

  I don’t know why, but there’s something in his tone that doesn’t make me feel good. It’s like the time Trudy went out with Lewis Redman to make Ralph jealous. I knew she was doing the wrong thing, I was positively screaming at her not to go, and that same inner voice is telling me Nick is holding something back. I just hope unlike Trudy, I’ve not just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  Sunday 06:00 a.m.

  Gary

  They ask me if I want a lawyer. I say no, I don’t need a lawyer, I just need them to call Tammy. Next they ask me if I want to make a phone call. I do, but there isn’t anyone I can call. I mean I can’t call Bill, not with Jack in hospital and Social bloody Services sniffing about, and he’s the only one I can call because the rest of my mates are a complete waste of space. I should call Tammy, but I don’t know if I can face her again after this. In the end, I tell the sergeant I don’t want to make a phone call.

  He asks me if I’m sure, and when I tell him I am, he takes my keys, wallet, mobile, chewing gum, and lighter. And then, because I probably look such a pathetic case, he takes my belt, bow tie, and laces. Then after more questions while I redrew the mug shots of the two bastards who jumped Tammy, they lock me up in this cell, and I’ve been here ever since.

  The only clue time is still moving forward is that every twenty minutes or so, some cop opens up a flap in the door to check I haven’t tried to kill myself. Not sure how you could possibly commit suicide in here, even with a fake bow tie and shoelaces. Maybe if you shoved them down your throat, you could choke to death, but debating the deadliness of shoelaces and bow ties only keeps me occupied for one cycle of suicide watch, and after pacing the floor for a bit, I lie back down on the lumpy bed and just let the depression swallow me up.

  A few hours ago, I was the happiest I had ever been in my life. Now I’m paying the price. For the first time, I did the right thing, but if I had carried on walking like the respectable man with his dog and the City types who were out jogging, I wouldn’t be in this mess. But even though I’m locked up, I’m still glad I did what was right, because I found Tammy. As soon as the cops speak to her and realise I never took the bloody necklace, I can go back to being happy again. I hold onto that one thought. It’s the only light in the darkness that is always threatening to gobble me up.

  Sunday 08:00 a.m.

  Tammy

  The police station is horrible. It smells like a toilet, and some old filthy tramp is sleeping in the corner of the reception area (if that is what you call the dirty, stinking entrance of a police station). We’re met by a grumpy policeman standing behind a long grey partition who seems to spend all his time answering the phone, writing things down on scraps of paper, and then shouting things to other policemen, who appear from time to time from rooms and offices in the back of the station.

  “Now remember what I said,” Nick tells me as we walk up to the policeman on duty. “Don’t speak unless I tell you to, and only then to confirm my statements, understand?”

  I understand. I’ve been here before – not a police station, but I’m used to Nick telling me what to say. I said what he wanted me to say during my parents’ divorce, and Mummy got the house and the Spanish villa. I just hope if I say what Nick tells me to this time, they’ll let Gary go.

  I stand on tiptoe and, leaning forward, peer down the corridor in the hope of seeing Gary, but all I can see is a grey corridor and lots of closed doors.

  “We’re here to see Chief Inspector Miller,” says Nick to the miserable policeman at the desk. “Nicholas Masters.”

  The policeman immediately jumps to attention, and we’re ushered through the corridor to an interview room at the back of the station, which looks exactly how I imagined a prison cell to look, only there’s no bed, just a wooden table surrounded by four plastic chairs.

  “Is Gary all right?” I ask the miserable policeman.

  Nick’s grey eyes turn black as he flashes me a What did I tell you? kind of look. Fortunately, the policeman sees none of this.

  “I don’t know any Gary.” The policeman sounds even more depressed than he looks. “I just came on duty. I can check if you give me his full name.”

  “Don’t bother,” Nick says, cutting him off. “Just get the chief inspector. I don’t want my client inconvenienced any longer than necessary.”

  The policeman goes and closes the door behind him. I sit down in the chair next to Nick, and we wait, and wait, and wait like silent statues until Nick loses his patience and starts drumming his fingers on the table, which starts me to feel all quivery and on edge because this is supposed to be a formality, and this doesn’t feel like a formality, it feels like I’m the one in trouble!

  I’ve almost managed to convince myself into having a full-blown panic attack when the chief inspector finally arrives.

  “You must be Tamara.” She smiles, offering me her hand, which I shake. “I’m Paula.”

  I smile back, unsure what to say, because I thought the chief inspector would be like Nick: all ancient, boring, and grey. But Paula is none of these. She’s pretty hip, with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and a nice, friendly face.

  “Mr Masters.” After keeping Nick waiting, she turns to face him. “Sorry to have kept you so long. I was in the middle of an interview.”

  Nick nods once in her direction and sits back down. “You want us to identify the necklace.”

  “Yes,” says the chief inspector. “I also want to speak to Tamara about how her friend came to be in possession of it.”

  I squirm at the thought of having to relive the attack. Fortunately, Nick hasn’t given me permission to speak.

  “Chief Inspector Miller,” he begins, “I’ve already spoken with my client, and we request the matter is dealt with swiftly and with the minimum of fuss.”

  “And is your client Tamara or her mother?” enquires the inspector.

  “Both,” says Nick. “I know you think you are doing the right thing by investigating this matter fully, and if Tamara were a normal member of the public, this indeed would be the right thing to do, but she’s not. Anything that happens to her will be plastered over the tabloids and damage the credibility and earning capacity of her mother. We want this dealt with swiftly and, above all else, quietly.”

  The chief inspector manages to look composed, even though I suspect she is seething inside. “Mr Masters, I have a duty to protect the public, and so before I release a suspected thief and two violent criminals, there are some questions I would like answered.”

  I swallow and hope she doesn’t notice the bead of sweat at my throat. Two violent criminals. That means they’re here too!

  “Proceed,” says Nick, narrowing his eyes.

  “Tamara, how did you lose your necklace?”

  I can’t help it. She is asking me the question, but I turn to Nick.

  “Tamara was subjected to some unwanted attention...”

  “If it’s all the same to you, Mr Masters, I’d like Tamara to tell me in her own words.”

  “Go on,” Nick says in his dismissive tone.

  “These two thugs cornered me.” I am stammering, and not just because I am scared but because I’m lying. “One of them, he put his arm around me, and I got frightened, and then Gary, he had a go at them and...”

  Paula smiles and leans forward. “There’s no rush, Tamara, just take your time. So one of them put his arm around you?”

  “Yes.” I nod. Inside my head my mind replays everything that happened in the park like a movie, but that’s not what I tell her. “
And the thin one tried to kiss me, and the other, he...”

  “And where did this happen?” she asks.

  “The pub by the park.”

  Nick raises an eyebrow and gives me a sideways glance, and this horrible feeling washes over me as I realise I told him this happened in the park. I freeze, waiting for him to expose me as a liar, but he says nothing.

  “So you’re telling me this happened in the pub?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were they aggressive towards you?” Paula enquires, leaning forward. “Did they hurt you?”

  They had me pinned beneath them and were going to rape me, I should have said, but I didn’t. “I was frightened.”

  “I know.” She smiles. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No,” I say, hiding my bruised wrist in my lap. “It was no big deal.”

  “So why did Gary lose his temper and attack them?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but Nick answers for me.

  “With all due respect, my client is not a mind reader. How would she know why the boy reacted the way he did?”

  “Perhaps because these two youths stole a very valuable sapphire necklace?” she offers.

  I shudder. Nick doesn’t move.

  “Chief Inspector,” says Nick after a long and painful silence. “There are no charges to answer. My client is just grateful to have her necklace returned, and as you can see, she is in perfect health. Now if you don’t mind, I’d be grateful if we can bring this matter to a close.”

  I feel awful. Gary put himself in danger to save me, and I dismissed everything he did because I do not want to be unmasked as a liar. I keep telling myself it doesn’t matter, because they aren’t going to charge Gary with anything and Mummy will get her necklace back. But it still doesn’t make me feel any better, even when Nick goes off to speak with Gary and clear up the last few little matters, in his words.

  “Here you go.” Paula smiles, handing me a mug of strong tea. “You look exhausted.”

  “Thanks.” I take a sip. The sweet tea does nothing to settle my stomach, which is doing hollow somersaults.

  “Tamara.” Pulling up her chair alongside mine, she looks into my guilty eyes. “You know what we forgot to do?”

  “What?” My voice amplifies the guilt squirming about inside me.

  “I forgot to get you to identify your necklace. Would you mind doing it now?”

  I nod and breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Thanks.” She smiles. “It’s next door.”

  She leads me to an identical room, where Mummy’s necklace lies on a grey table that is covered with black-and-white photos, photos of nasty-looking men – some fat, some thin, some with beards and close eyebrows, some with thin lips. And right on top of where my necklace lies, there are two pencil drawings that turn my blood to ice.

  “Is that your necklace?” Paula asks.

  I nod and turn away from those two drawings that have a magnetic pull on my eyes. Especially the sketch of the thin one with the scorpion tattoo on his neck.

  “Something the matter?” she enquires. “You’ve gone terribly pale.”

  I shake my head, squirming in my own personal hell as I’m transported back to the park.

  “Is this one of the boys who hassled you?” she asks, holding the picture of the skinny one.

  I look into the pencil drawing and swallow. It’s only a pencil drawing, but he looks right into me, and suddenly this strange hollow feeling fills my stomach, and once again I’m drowning in fear, just like I was when Gary came to my rescue.

  “Tamara, what are you frightened of?”

  “Nothing.” I lick my lips and try to look anywhere except at that picture.

  “It isn’t your fault if they tried to force themselves on you.” She continues speaking quietly. “You do know that, don’t you?”

  “It isn’t them,” I say far too quickly.

  “I know this one,” she continues, pointing to the drawing of the skinny one. “He’s a nasty piece of work, involved in gang violence and everything. I’ve been trying to get enough evidence to put him behind bars for a very long time. I was hoping –”

  “I told you I don’t know him!” I interrupt, terrified I’m going to be sick again.

  “Tamara, you don’t have to do everything your lawyer says...”

  This time I don’t let her finish. The guilt, the fear won’t let me. “Nothing happened!” I cry. “I just over-reacted!”

  “So how did the clasp on your necklace get broken?” she asks, holding it up.

  “I can’t remember,” I lie, feeling the tears welling up inside me. “I just froze when they cornered me. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “There’s no reason you should,” she continues. “But if Gary was brave enough to fight them off, can’t you try to be brave, too, and tell us what really happened?”

  I try to block out the words, but each one stabs at me. “I just want to see Gary and go home.”

  “If you won’t identify them, I’ll have to let them go,” she continues. “Trouble is, people are too scared to press charges, so when Gary was prepared... Well, there’s no point standing around in here. Can I get you another tea?”

  I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel any worse. I hope they let Gary out soon. I need to see him, need him to hold and kiss me and make me feel like a movie star. And when we’re far away from this horrible place, I can start feeling good about myself, and then I am never ever telling another fib as long as I live.

  Sunday Morning I don’t know what time

  Gary

  A knock at the door followed by the jangling of keys wakes me from the gloom, and I sit up to find the duty sergeant with this really tall bloke with grey hair and no expression. I’ve no idea who the bloke is, but he oozes money and power like a politician, and without even realising it, I feel myself tense up.

  “Gary Ashworth,” says the grey man, flipping through a file. I guess it’s my file.

  I nod. I don’t trust myself to say anything. He’s the sort of bloke who could twist anything you say to mean the exact opposite.

  “Well, you do read like a Dickens tale of woe,” he says, sitting down on a chair the policeman brings in for him. “Very tragic. Abandoned by teenage mother, raised by junkie grandmother till age nine, when you were put into care before being reunited with long-lost father.”

  I say nothing. I keep my eyes on him and my back to the wall. I was right to be cautious of this bloke. He’s a bastard of mega proportions.

  “But your father doesn’t want you, Social Services fail to pick up on the fact that you’re being abused –”

  “I know what happened to me!” I can’t listen to this anymore. “I don’t need you, whoever you are, telling me how crap my life is. I know how crap it is. I’m living it!”

  He must have a face full of Botox, because he doesn’t even flinch and just continues reading from the notes like I don’t exist. Or he’s just a real sick bastard and enjoys kicking a man when he’s down.

  “Age eleven, your friend’s mother fosters you, and you’re accepted into –” At this point he raises an eyebrow. I guess they forgot to Botox that bit of his face. “I’m impressed. You must be a very talented artist to win a place at Brunel.”

  I force my lips into the best sarcastic smile I can.

  “Shame you decided to turn it down to stack shelves in a supermarket.”

  I’ve really had enough now. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “My name is Nick Masters. I’m Mrs Winters’s lawyer.”

  “Who?”

  “Tamara’s mother.”

  I was right to be cautious. “What do you want?”

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  The way he says it doesn’t make me feel good. “Is Tammy all right?”

  He nods, giving nothing away.

  “Is she here?” Just the remotest possibility she is in the same building gives me hope.

  “Yes. She’s helping the police with
their enquiries.”

  “What does that mean?” The tendons in my arms feel like they’re going to snap with the fear they’re giving Tammy a hard time.

  “She’s just finished testifying how two youths, now how do I put this, hassled her.”

  “Hassled her?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “They had her pinned to the ground, and she was screaming her head off. If I hadn’t got there when I did, they’d have raped her!”

  “So you say,” he says, voice as cold as a steel knife.

  “What do you mean, ‘so I say’?” I’m beginning to lose it. I’ve spent half an hour in a police car in handcuffs, got the mother of all hangovers, and now this tosser doesn’t have his facts straight. “That’s what happened. How else do you think I ended up with a black eye?”

  “That’s not what Tamara says,” he tells me.

  “You’re lying!”

  “I don’t lie about such matters.”

  “Then she’s bloody lying!” I can’t believe the bitch! I put my neck on the line for her. I bloody humiliated myself for her, and she still won’t tell the truth.

  “I don’t care for your tone,” says the lawyer.

  “Tough!” I’m on my feet, ready to smash his face in, when the policeman steps forward, and even though I don’t want to, I sit back down.

  “I strongly recommend you never raise your fist or your voice to me again,” says the lawyer, leaning back in his chair.

  My chest is heaving, and all I can hear is the anger pounding in my head. This isn’t fair. I haven’t done anything wrong.

  “I don’t think you realise just who you’re up against.” For the first time, I see the real him, and without realising it, I’m trying to back away into the wall. “One word from me and you’ll find yourself reunited with your father behind bars. Now, do you wish to change your statement?”