‘So you’d encourage your sister to drink if she was underage, would you?’
‘No, of course not—’ He becomes very still, very composed. It’s as though a shutter falls over his face. ‘You can blame me all you want for what happened to Charlotte, but she’s not my kid. Where did you think she was when she was out until two or three in the morning? Playing hopscotch? What kind of mum doesn’t know where their daughter is at that time of night?’
I reel as though slapped.
‘Sorry, but I won’t have you paint me as some kind of paedo just because I let my mate’s little sister and her best friend into my club.’
I can’t speak. I’m too stunned by his previous remark to reply.
He’s right. I hate to admit it but he is. Where did I think Charlotte was on a Saturday night?
I know exactly what I thought – that she was staying in London in an over-priced YMCA hostel with her classmates and several of her teachers from school. ‘Did you meet him?’ I ask. ‘Did you meet Alex Henri?’
He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t go into the VIP enclosure. I didn’t stay that long. Charlotte, Keisha and Ella all got pissed and then had an argument. Keisha was swaying all over the place and slurring her words, accusing me of secretly fancying Ella, saying I’d invited her along so we could have a threesome. Which was bollocks, I should add.’ He shrugs. ‘So I left.’
‘You left all three of them in the club?’
‘Yeah. Keisha’s not a kid and I figured if the other two were old enough to get a train to London they were old enough to get one back. Like I said, I didn’t invite them along.’
‘But they were only fifteen, in a club with men twice their age.’
‘Do I look like a fucking child-minder?’
‘Danny, I hardly think—’ I’m interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing. ‘Hang on a second.’
I fish my mobile out of my handbag. I don’t recognize the number.
‘Hello, Sue Jackson speaking.’
‘Hello Sue, it’s Steve. Steve Torrance.’ For a split second I have no idea who I’m speaking to then I remember.
‘How are you?’
‘So I spoke to Al …’ I gird myself, waiting for the inevitable denial.
‘He says he did go into the loos with your girl but nothing happened. The plan was for her to give him a blow job but she got stage fright. Burst into tears and said she couldn’t go through with it. Told Alex some fella was blackmailing her. Got into a right state, he said. He didn’t know what to do so he left her there, in the ladies’ and went back to his mates. After that he didn’t see her again.’
‘She …’ I step backwards, grasping at the air but there’s nothing to hold onto, nothing to steady myself with. ‘She was being blackmailed?’
‘That’s what he said.’ He sighs. ‘Look darlin’, I don’t know how well you and your daughter get on but if she was my kid I wouldn’t let her hang out with pimps and prostitutes, not if she doesn’t want to be taken for a whore herself.’
‘A prostitute?’ I fight to steady my voice. Danny is staring at me, his eyes wide with curiosity, but I don’t care. I feel like I’m in a play speaking someone else’s words. ‘My daughter was mistaken for a prostitute by Alex Henri?’
‘No one’s saying anything about Alex using prostitutes, you hear me? No money was exchanged between Charlotte and Al, and if you try and sell a story to the papers that he tried to bed a hooker in the bogs of Greys I’ll slap a lawsuit on you faster than Red Rum ended up in a dog food factory.’
Danny frowns and crosses his arms over his chest.
‘What did they look like?’ I ask. ‘These … people … she was with?’
‘How should I know?’ Steve yawns loudly down the phone. ‘What do you want? A fucking photofit? Al just said something about a guy and a fit black girl.’
‘Did he mention either of their names?’
‘Pinky and Perky. I’ve got no fucking idea. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Look love,’ his voice takes on a new steely tone. ‘This is all very lovely, having a nice little chat with you but I’m a busy man. We made an agreement and I’ve kept my end of the bargain. The question is – are you?’
‘What?’
‘Going to the police? Not that you’ve got a leg to stand on because, as my client said, he didn’t lay a finger on your daughter.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m not.’
The phone goes dead.
‘You alright, Sue?’ Danny asks.
‘Who’re you talking to, Dan?’ A heart-shaped face framed by a mass of blonde curls pokes around a door halfway down the corridor. ‘Come back to bed, I’m getting cold!’ Her eyes meet mine. ‘Oh shit, is that your mum?’
‘It’s not what you think—’ Danny starts as she disappears back into the bedroom but I hold up a warning hand.
‘I don’t care who you’re sleeping with, Danny.’
‘Cool.’
‘Just one thing before I go.’
‘Yeah.’
I could confront him. I could tell him that, unless he tells me the truth about what happened in Greys that night I’m going to tell the police that he’s a pimp but there’s a quicker way to find out what I need to know.
‘I’d like your girlfriend’s address, please.’
Chapter 25
‘Keisha?’ I prod the letterbox with my fingers and force it open. ‘Keisha, are you in there?’
A shadow crosses the wall at the far end of the seafront basement flat and a seagull squawks overhead.
‘Keisha, it’s Sue Jackson, Charlotte’s mum. I really need to talk to you.’
The shadow grows longer.
‘Keisha?’
I hear a floorboard squeak then, ‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes.’
A foot appears from the shadows, the toes painted pink, a silver chain shining around the ankle, then the rest of Keisha appears. She’s wearing a short pink nightdress with a Disney cartoon on the front with a thin grey cotton dressing gown hanging from her shoulders. Her hair is wild and frizzy and, make-up free, she looks impossibly young. I let go of the letterbox as she draws near and stand up. The door opens a second later.