Will drops the charm offensive immediately.
“Rubbish! This is total rubbish,” he says, uncrossing his legs so quickly he bangs into the coffee table and upsets his cup. “Look, I never wanted to have to say this, but your friend was no innocent flower. She’d had an older boyfriend in Brighton. She told me. It was all part of her Lolita act. She was begging for it,” Will says.
Kate nods to herself. I think she has heard what she’s come to hear. She believes me. My avenging angel.
“Of course, having sex with a fourteen-year-old with or without her consent is a crime. But I’m sure a man of your education knows that,” she says and he shuts up.
“And Emma had a baby, Will. Your baby,” she adds. It comes out almost as an afterthought and Will does a sort of double take.
“There was no baby. I lived with her and her mother. There was no baby. More lies,” he says, but his nerve seems to be failing. “Lies,” he repeats as if he has run out of words. He looks smaller now on his big sofa, with his ridiculous yellow socks.
“Actually, you are wrong. You have misjudged Emma,” Kate says.
“Just like Jude and I misjudged you,” I add. “But I know who you are now. I won’t listen to any more of your vile excuses. You will have to tell them to the police instead.”
Kate takes my arm and we walk to the door with Will ranting about legal action behind us.
SEVENTY
Kate
SUNDAY, APRIL 29, 2012
Kate and Emma sat in stunned silence for the first half of their journey back to London.
But finally Kate spoke. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Emma said. “Are you?”
“I feel a bit wobbly, to be honest,” she said. “What an animal.”
“My mum wouldn’t agree with you. She didn’t believe me when I told her. She still thinks the sun shines out of Will. I wish she had been there with us. Heard him. Seen the real Will.”
“Are you really going to go to the police, Emma?” Kate said. She sounded worried. “The problem is that there’s no evidence, is there? Look, I believe you, but he’s right. It will be your word against his. It could be bloody.”
“There’s the baby. His mark will be on it,” Emma said.
? ? ?
Kate dropped Emma off round the corner from her home. “Paul will be home from the university library by now,” Emma said. “I don’t want to have to explain you. Not yet anyway. Thank you, Kate. Thanks for coming with me.”
Kate squeezed her arm. “You were so brave, Emma, but think carefully about the next steps. Ring me if you need help.”
As soon as Emma disappeared from sight, Kate rang Terry’s mobile. It was nearly lunchtime and she still hadn’t told him about Emma’s confession or her summons to the police station. She decided the confrontation with Will Burnside would remain between her and Emma. At least for the time being. She didn’t want to complicate things even further.
“Kate? What’s up?” Terry said. “Thought you were off today.”
Ten minutes of tense conversation later, he sighed. “Bloody hell, Kate. What a mess,” he said. “So we’ve got a woman who thinks she gave birth to Alice Irving?”
“No, Terry. She says it is her baby—a different baby—buried in Howard Street. Look, I’ll come to the office so we can talk about it properly before I have to give a statement. Okay?”
“Yes, I’ll have to call Simon and tell him what’s happened. Hopefully he’ll be on the golf course and won’t want to come in. Maybe we can sort this out ourselves.”
? ? ?
The Editor looked like a man in a hurry when he burst through the office door in pink slacks and toning jumper. “Had to drive myself,” he complained. “My driver’s at his mobile home in Frinton. Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Terry had clucked round him, sending out for a double espresso and apologizing for the umpteenth time for breaking into his Sunday. Kate had sat quietly with her notebook and tape recorder in her hands.
Finally, they all sat in the Editor’s office and Kate recounted her interviews with Emma for the fifth time.
Simon and Terry listened to her tape twice, Terry cocking his head to catch every spit and cough.
“She sounds in a terrible state, Kate,” he said. “Is she making this up?”
She shrugged. “I only have her word for it,” she said. She couldn’t be more definitive than that.
“We’ve been here before, Kate, haven’t we?” Terry said.
She knew he’d bring it up. The blot on her copybook. The fantasist who almost convinced her.
“For goodness’ sake, Terry. That was years ago. We all learned several lessons,” Kate snapped. “I’ve told you I only have her word for it. I’m not asking you to splash the story without checking it. Let me go and talk to the cops. I’ll find out what they know. DI Sinclair has asked me to come in at two p.m.”
Terry and Simon looked a bit stunned by her outburst. Wait until you hear the rest, she thought.
Then she told them about the photographs. The Editor’s eyes practically popped out of his head when she handed him the bundle of Polaroids.
“Christ, get the lawyer up here,” he said.
The duty lawyer, a barrister who topped up her huge salary with the occasional weekend shift on the newspaper, took her time to climb the flight of stairs from her floor. She listened without comment as Kate repeated her story and then advised she should reveal the photos to the police as soon as possible.
“They will want to know how the Polaroids came into your possession, Kate,” she said.
“They were in a bundle of photos that Mr. Soames gave me,” Kate replied crisply.
Well, it was almost true, and Soames would be in too much trouble to protest.
“Right,” Simon said. “Kate and the lawyer to the police station, Terry. And keep me updated.”
? ? ?
Kate excused herself to get ready. She had something to do before she left. She went off in search of her favorite photographer.
Mick was alone in the monkeys’ room, a windowless space left over by the architects between the newsroom and the fire escape, where the photographers hid from the picture editor. He was playing Candy Crush on his phone and Barbara Walker’s photo was on the table in front of him.
“Are you winning, Mick?” she said.
He paused the game and looked up. “’Course I am.
“Boss thinks I’m doing general views for the property section. Knocked off a couple of high-rises and a bridge and now I can do as I please for the rest of the day without him on my back. Fancy some lunch? There’s a new place just opened up the road.”
“Would love to, but I’m a bit busy with this story,” she said. “Sorry it was a waste of your time last night, Mick. You were a lifesaver.”
“No problem, Kate. I was only down the road, really. Did you get to the disco? What time did you get home?”
“About one in the morning in the end. The party went on late and then there were developments.”
Mick nodded and picked up his phone. She could see he was itching to resume the game.
“Poor you. But worth it, hey?” he said.
“Have you finished copying that photo? I’ll take it back to Barbara if you’re done.”
Mick put down the phone and slid the black-and-white model shot of Barbara into a plastic sleeve.
“What about those Polaroids you mentioned last night? Can I have a look?” he said.
“Sure,” she said, fishing them out of her bag. “And can you do a quick copy of them? I’ve only got half an hour before I’ve got to leave for an interview with the police.”
Mick raised an eyebrow. “Finally caught up with you, then? Well, let’s have a look.”
She handed him the pack of photos and he shuffled through them quickly.
“God. Grim. Bloody hell, there’s Barbara,” he said, and Kate felt a rush of relief. She hadn’t imagined the resemblance.
“Look,” Mick said, pulling one of the studio shots out. “You can see it, plain as day. I’ll copy them all now.”
“Thanks. And Mick . . .”
He grinned, knowing what she’d say next.
“No chatter, okay?” she said. “The police don’t know about the photos yet. I’m taking them with me today.”