Blood Rush (Lilly Valentine) (3 page)

The woman shook her hand, her brow knotted.

‘Annabelle,’ she said.

‘Lilly.’ She grinned inanely. ‘Let me show you around.’

She had already decided that her room was strictly out of bounds.

‘This is the reception.’ Lilly waved at the phone and computer.

Annabelle nodded seriously.

‘I work on an entirely different floor.’ Lilly let out a strangled laugh. ‘Entirely separate.’

‘Is that where you want me to go?’ Annabelle asked.

‘No, no, no.’ Lilly shook her head. ‘Me and my things need not bother you at all.’

‘So where do you want me?’

Lilly gestured to the chair. ‘Your domain. Completely free of my … stuff.’

Annabelle smiled and strode across the room, a rucksack
jiggling
on her shoulder, sat down and looked at Lilly expectantly.

‘Why don’t you log on to the PC and I’ll make us a coffee,’ said Lilly.

‘Log on,’ Annabelle repeated.

She seemed a little vacant but at least she was in the building.

‘Milk and sugar?’ Lilly asked.

‘Er … yes, please.’ 

Annabelle’s hands were poised over the keyboard. She looked back at Lilly, who smiled encouragingly, and headed for the kitchen.

When she returned with two steaming mugs, Annabelle was frozen in the same position, her fingers floating in mid-air.

‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she said, ‘but I really don’t think I should access your computer.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Lilly. ‘Anything case sensitive is password protected.’

‘I’m still not comfortable.’

Lilly reminded herself to be patient. Perhaps Annabelle had never worked for a lawyer before. How was she meant to know what she could or couldn’t be party to?

‘Seriously, you don’t need to worry.’

Annabelle didn’t move to touch the keys.

‘How else are you going to type?’ Lilly joked.

Annabelle’s face reddened. ‘Oh, I can’t type.’

Lilly took a deep breath. She had told the agency that she would be prepared to take on someone without any prior
experience
. Actually, they had said that only someone who had never stepped foot in a solicitor’s office before might stand a chance of going the distance. Even so, there were some basic skills that any secretary needed to have.

‘How were you going to manage case notes and things?’ Lilly asked.

Annabelle reached into her rucksack and pulled out a biro.

Lilly stifled the urge to laugh. ‘I’m sorry, Annabelle, I mean I really do need someone like you, but I don’t think this is going to work out.’

‘But you don’t know what I’m going to say.’

Lilly smiled in what she hoped was a kindly way. ‘Look, I’m sure you’re hard working and that you have lots of excellent
qualities
if only I would give you a chance, but with the best will in the world I need a secretary who can at least type.’

Annabelle hung her head.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Lilly, ‘it’s nothing personal.’

The other woman buried her face in her hands and her
shoulders
began to heave.

‘Oh please don’t cry.’ Lilly reached out. ‘I’m sure you could go on a course or something.’

Annabelle let out a choking noise in her throat and rocked back and forth. Oh God, this was terrible. Lilly had to force herself not to relent and employ the woman. She bit her lip to stop herself.

At last, Annabelle let her hands drop and threw back her head. Her cheeks were puce and damp with tears. Lilly furrowed her brow. Annabelle wasn’t weeping. She was laughing.

‘Oh dear me.’ Annabelle pressed her palms into her eye sockets. ‘You think I want to work here.’

Lilly frowned in response which sent Annabelle into another volley of giggles.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s so funny,’ said Annabelle.

‘You haven’t come for the job?’ asked Lilly.

‘No.’

‘So what did you want?’

Annabelle fished a crumpled hanky from the depths of her pocket and blew her nose. ‘Some legal advice, of course.’

‘Oh shit.’

Jack balled a handful of tissues and aimed for the bin.

‘Slam dunk,’ he called out when they landed on target.

Alice gurgled in appreciation.

He aeroplaned around the now-clean kitchen, his daughter waving her chubby arms and legs.

‘I used to be in the school basketball team.’ Jack changed his voice to a vague imitation of Marlon Brando. ‘I could have been a contender.’

He scooped Alice up from her high chair and swung her in the air. ‘Now it’s your turn, kiddo.’

She squealed, laughed, then burped as Jack pretended to line up his trajectory. He carried on pitching her high above his head until his mobile rang.

‘McNally.’ He slid his hiccupping baby back into her chair.

‘Jack, it’s the chief superintendent.’

Aye, aye, something was up.

‘What can I do for you, sir?’

‘I’m afraid there’s been more gang violence. This time on the Hightown Estate.’

Jack wasn’t surprised. The last six months had seen a rash of knife attacks on the bordering estates of Clayhill and Hightown.

‘It’s open warfare up there,’ the chief muttered.

Jack grunted in response.

‘The latest victim is a fifteen-year-old girl. Beaten, kicked, left for dead,’ said the chief super. ‘She’s still unconscious.’

‘Witnesses?’

‘That’s why I’m calling you, Jack. These kids won’t talk to the police.’

‘I hate to break it to you, sir, but I’m job myself.’

‘Yes, but you have a way of gaining their trust, Jack.’

Jack wasn’t convinced. ‘These gangbangers are different to the kids I worked with in Child Protection. Another breed altogether.’

The chief super’s voice became firmer. ‘I’m getting a lot of heat about our success rate and the press are all over it.’

Jack sighed. This issue had been boiling for months but the top brass only got involved when the press and the politicians got themselves involved. Same old, same old.

‘I’ll come in later, sir, look at the file.’

‘No time for that Jack. My secretary will text you the details and you can get cracking.’

Jack was about to explain that he really needed to read all the information but the chief super was in no mood for discussion.

‘I’m putting you in charge of this investigation, Jack. Don’t let me down.’

Then he hung up.

Penny Van Huysan greeted Lilly with a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Hello, stranger.’

She smelled of Jo Malone cologne and lip balm. In the unfamiliar world of Manor Park with its talk of horseboxes and second homes in Tuscany, Penny was a much appreciated ally.

Not that Penny didn’t belong to this world, she did. Her teeth gleamed and her hair shone. The understated handbag slung over her shoulder cost several thousand pounds. But she was kind and funny and real.

‘How’s business?’ She linked arms with Lilly as they strolled from the car park to the quad where the pupils poured out in a river of green blazers.

Lilly groaned. ‘I had another secretary walk out on me.’

‘You’re worse than Henry,’ Penny laughed, ‘and he’s a complete bastard to work for.’

‘It gets worse,’ said Lilly. ‘I made a client sit at the computer and ordered her to log on.’

‘Why on earth would you do that?’

‘I thought the agency had sent her,’ said Lilly, still mortified by the misunderstanding. ‘It turned out she was after legal advice for her foster daughter.’

‘You need some help,’ said Penny.

‘No shit, Sherlock.’

Penny delved into the bag worth more than the GDP of most developing nations, and withdrew a leather-bound notebook. A slender silver pen was attached. If it had been Lilly’s, the pen would have been lost within days, replaced by a chewed pencil.

‘I met Carol at Pilates.’ Penny scribbled down a number. ‘A total godsend.’

‘I need someone who can type, not bend me into impossible positions.’

Penny rolled her eyes. ‘Carol is fantastic. Our paperwork has never been in such great shape.’

Lilly frowned as she imagined neat rows of taxi receipts and hotel bills from Henry Van Huysan’s endless business trips to the Far East.

‘For goodness sake, Lilly, why do you assume the worst in every situation?’ asked Penny.

‘I do not.’

Penny turned to her friend and pursed her lips.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Lilly. ‘I accept I am not naturally an optimist.’

‘Cassandra was cheerier than you, believe me.’

Lilly couldn’t help but laugh.

‘And I’m not even going to mention Jack,’ said Penny.

‘Then don’t.’

As they waited for their children, Lilly counted in her head. One. Two. Three.

‘All I will say is that he’s a good man,’ said Penny.

Lilly held up three fingers.

‘And he’s the father of your child.’

Lilly exhaled slowly. Penny was right. Jack was a good man.

‘You two should be together,’ said Penny.

‘It’s not that simple,’ Lilly replied.

Penny waved at her son who, unlike Sam, was always one of the first day boys to leave. He bounded towards her, his braces glinting. Lilly squinted into the distance, searching for Sam. Why was he always last?

‘Do yourself a favour, Lilly,’ Penny put an arm around her son’s shoulders, ‘and don’t make life so hard for yourself.’

Lilly had barely opened the cottage door when Sam pushed past her and headed upstairs mumbling about homework.

‘Advanced PS3, I assume,’ she called out.

He grunted and slammed his bedroom door. Lilly sighed. He’d given her the silent treatment on the journey home from school, declining to speak except to mention that he was quite capable of getting the bus. Being collected by his mother was ‘totally embarrassing’. Lilly had pointed out that Penny still did the school run.

‘Van Huysan is a complete loser,’ said Sam. ‘Everybody knows that.’

After that, she hadn’t even bothered explaining for the six
hundredth
time that the bus was too expensive. Sam’s dad paid the school fees but Lilly had to cover everything else, and since she was virtually passing Manor Park on her way home from work she wasn’t about to cough up three quid a pop for his lordship to be taken home.

Instead, she’d flicked on the radio. The local news was full of the latest gang-related attack.

Sam had sneered at Lilly as if to say these were the kids she had always represented. Proud of yourself?

She had snapped off the programme, concentrated on the road ahead and wondered when would be the earliest she could allow herself a glass of wine.

Now, Lilly hung up her coat and went in search of Alice. She found her in the kitchen, asleep in Jack’s arms.

‘How’s she been?’

‘Grand,’ he smiled.

Lilly flicked on the kettle while Jack kissed his daughter and hunted for his car keys.

‘Coffee?’ she asked.

Jack stopped in his tracks. Since Alice had been born they had developed a routine of one in one out. Any attempts by Jack to initiate more than civility had been rebuffed by Lilly and soon abandoned. He was welcome to spend as much time as he wanted with Alice, but Lilly made herself scarce.

‘If you haven’t got time,’ Lilly didn’t look at him, ‘don’t worry.’

He paused and Lilly felt the back of her neck redden.

‘A coffee would be good.’

She reached into the cupboard and instinctively searched for Jack’s usual mug in the shape of Gromit. Sam had given it to him as a present and the nose was supposed to light up on contact with hot liquid. It had only worked once and it now had a chip.

‘So what are you up to at work?’ She tried to keep her voice light.

‘A GBH. The girl’s still in the hospital,’ he said. ‘Looks like another gang thing.’

‘I heard about that on the radio,’ Lilly sighed. ‘It’s getting out of hand.’

‘I know.’

She placed the drink in front of him and couldn’t help notice him finger the now-defunct nose.

‘You?’ he asked.

‘I took on a kid in foster care.’

Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought you weren’t doing that work any more?’

‘I’m not,’ she said, ‘but I felt obliged.’

He blew on his coffee and she knew exactly what he was thinking. So many of the other cases she’d taken on for kids in the care system had brought nothing but trouble. They took up too much time, and they were badly paid. Worse, they had placed Lilly in danger more than once.

She had sworn to Jack, Sam, and more importantly herself, that she was sticking to divorce work. Boring, yes, but safe.

‘A quick guilty plea in the Youth Court for possession of class B,’ she said. ‘Ten minutes in and out.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I am.’

A silence stretched between them until Jack smiled, drained his cup and stood. ‘Best get up to A&E.’

She followed him to the door. He walked to his car and turned to her.

‘I’m glad we were able to do that,’ he said.

‘Me too,’ Lilly said. And she was.

She waited until he was sat in the driver’s seat before stepping outside towards him.

‘Jack,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to fight any more.’

Demi would like to punch the policeman, with his lopsided smile and tatty leather jacket. He probably thinks his Converse make him down with the kids.

He’s said all the usual stuff, like how sorry he is, and how he wants to catch whoever did this to Malaya. The same thing the police always say whenever Gran calls them about the boys on the estate smashing a window or nicking a car. Mostly, they don’t even bother to come out.

‘Has Malaya had any arguments recently?’ he asks.

Gran tries to reply that she’s a good girl, that she has lots of friends, but she’s crying and her accent always gets thicker when  she’s stressed. Usually it embarrasses Demi if someone can’t
understand
her, and she hisses a translation under her breath, but right now it’s just making her angry at the policeman.