And from that time on, they hadn’t stopped emailing each other. Twice, three, four times a day. The first time they Skyped she bawled her eyes out. The second time he did. They talked about everything. Like music and the fact that he wanted to be a DJ and she wanted to be a doctor and her netball team had a chance of winning the grand final for the first time ever. Everyone said she was a bitch, but a good center had to be.
During that time, his dad got a bit better. He started cooking dinner, getting the mail. It made Eddie happy because he had thought things would never be normal again. But one night he could see that his father, who had fallen asleep in the armchair, was having a nightmare. “It’s okay, Da,” he said, nudging him. “It’s Eddie. It’s okay.” And Eddie would never forget the next moment. The way his da opened his eyes and flinched. Cringed.
“Get away from me.”
So. That was the real truth, then. His father had only ever put up with him because of his mum. He actually thought Eddie was a monster, just like people said Louis Sarraf was when he blew up our Jimmy and the others.
When he Skyped Violette that night, he told her, and she said it killed her to see him so sad. He knew by the look on her face she was up to something.
“What are you thinking, Violette?”
“I’m going to have to miss out on Duke of Ed camp,” she said in a determined voice.
“Why?” He knew how much Duke of Ed meant to her. It had a lot to do with the other father, Etienne.
“Because I’m coming there to be with you.”
42
Bish arrived at Holloway Saturday afternoon with no visiting order and no clearance from Grazier. But his find last night was burning a hole in his head. Added to that was the news that Khateb had lived in North London at the time of the bombing. As far as Bish was concerned, he had reason enough to talk his way in.
Gray was nowhere to be seen at his hole in the wall. Bish identified himself to the guard and explained that he was here on his ongoing Home Office business. He was surprised by the startled look in the man’s eyes.
“That was quick,” the guard muttered.
Bish was even more confused when he was taken straight to the acting governor’s office. Sitting there with Eleanor Cook were Gray; his younger sidekick, Farrington; a female guard whose name tag identified her as Vasquez; and Allison from the visitors’ center. They seemed surprised to see him there. Nevertheless, he was invited to sit down.
“Everyone’s off sick these days,” the acting governor said once he was seated. He tried not to concentrate on the misapplied lipstick around her mouth. “We were shorthanded.”
He looked from one to the other of them. “And I’m being told this because…?”
Eleanor Cook cleared her throat. “A woman visiting an inmate this morning claimed to recognize Violette LeBrac and a younger boy in the visiting hall.”
He stared at her. “Violette and Eddie were here? Visiting Noor LeBrac?”
“We haven’t confirmed that, but the visiting hall was understaffed this morning.”
“Old Lorna here had to help out,” Farrington chimed in. “She’s usually got a cushy job in the mail room and probably didn’t know what she was doing.”
“Who are you calling old, you little tosser?” Vasquez muttered.
“Just the two of them, on their own?” Bish asked Farrington, who seemed the one to break. “So they just walked up to the visiting hall and popped in to see Violette’s mum?”
Farrington didn’t seem to know how to answer this without looking at Gray.
“A Mr. Bilal Lelouche came visiting,” Allison answered for him, handing Bish a printout of the visitors’ log.
“Who’s he?” Bish asked.
“A family friend,” Allison said.
“We spoke to LeBrac after the report was made,” Cook said. “She told us that Mr. Lelouche visits every year, after Ramadan. We checked previous years’ records and confirmed it.”
“Ramadan ended almost a month ago,” Bish said.
Cook was irritated. “Yes, we know that, Chief Inspector Ortley. Apparently, out of respect for what’s happening with LeBrac’s daughter, he held off this year. According to the records, he did the same thing today he always has. He brought along two of his kids—”
“Names and ages?” Bish asked.
Now Farrington had found his voice again. “We asked for his ID, as we do with all adult visitors.”
“But you didn’t check the IDs of the children?” Bish asked.
Cook indicated the printout of the visitors’ log. “It says here they were Fatima and Anwar, seventeen and fourteen years old.”
Bish took a deep breath.
“I’d say it’s unlikely that Violette LeBrac and the boy were actually here,” the acting governor said, looking at the others. They, of course, seemed to agree.
“Probably some racist who made the claim because she thinks they all look the same,” Gray said.