A Form of Justice Page 7

  ‘I don’t want to be any trouble. I’ll be OK.’

  ‘It’s no trouble. It will be like we are schoolgirls again, having a sleepover.’ Izzy immediately realised she had touched on the subject which was at the root of her friend’s pain. ‘Mel, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please forget what I said.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Melanie, smiling. ‘You don’t need to avoid all talk of my past.’

  She clasped her friend’s hand. ‘Do you know, I think I might have a sandwich. I’ll go and order one at the bar.’

  ‘I’ll phone Rob and explain about tonight. Don’t be too long.’

  **

  Trish and Tom’s dinner had been largely silent and somewhat strained. They’d eaten with the TV on in the background, catching up with that day’s news. At the end of the national news, the regional programme started, and there was a short account of the SEKare inquiry. It showed the outside of the conference venue and some of the main participants.

  ‘They didn’t catch you on camera then?’ joked Tom.

  ‘It’s not a show, Tom.’

  ‘I know, I just wondered whether you’d be filmed entering the auditorium.’

  ‘I don’t think the general public had gone in then, the legal team were doubtless there before us. That’s Dame Margaret, she’s a formidable lady.’

  ‘Yes, she looks like my old schoolmistress. You might get a detention if you misbehave.’

  Trish picked up the remote and switched off the TV.

  ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I’m just a bit tense that’s all. I want to help Beth, and her anxiety is rubbing off on me.’

  Tom reached over and held her hand. ‘It’s me who should apologise.’

  ‘It’s just I can’t help comparing my career with others and when someone senior messes up it touches a nerve.’

  ‘I know, but you shouldn’t do yourself down. You spend your time helping people.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to say that, but I could have been a clinical psychologist if I hadn’t had my problems.’

  ‘You do just as good a job,’ he paused. ‘I care about you so much, but it comes over the wrong way. I do trust you, it’s just I still have memories about what’s happened in the past, that’s all.’

  ‘Look, I’ll give Francine a call tomorrow, see if I can speak to her at lunchtime or perhaps I’ll slip out of the inquiry a bit earlier and meet up with her.’

  ‘That’s great, thanks, Trish, I’ll feel happier if you do that. Now, what’s for pudding? I’m still hungry!’

  Trish smiled. ‘Friends?’

  ‘More than friends, I’ll show you that later,’ he replied, winking at his wife.

  **

  It was nearly 8.30 p.m. and Melanie and Izzy were wandering back across the city towards Melanie’s flat and then they were going to get a taxi over to Izzy’s place. In the end, Melanie had only managed half her sandwich as she had begun to feel slightly sick as she ate it. It was probably due to her imposed starvation diet over the weekend, but Izzy was pleased that she had eaten a small amount.

  The city centre was fairly quiet as it was a Monday evening and several restaurants were closed after the weekend. One aggressive beggar came right up to them to ask for money.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Izzy, hurrying past.

  ‘Give him some change, please,’ said Melanie to her friend.

  Izzy hesitated and sighed. She fumbled in her bag for some coins and handed them over.

  ‘Hope it’s not made you broke, darling,’ said the young man, sarcastically.

  ‘Piss off,’ said Izzy. ‘Come on, Mel.’

  ‘Fuck you too,’ said the young man. ‘Miserable bitch!’ he shouted after her.

  Melanie’s pace had slowed considerably, and her mood had deteriorated since the pub. Izzy could see how fragile she was. Almost her normal self one moment, the next distant and detached, looking like she had all the troubles of the world on her shoulders. Depending on how she seemed in the morning would determine whether Izzy faked illness in order to stay off work to look after her. They reached the traffic lights at the corner of Old Dover Road. Traffic was moving quite freely as the evening rush hour had now ended.

  ‘Oh, where’s my phone?’ said Izzy, fumbling in her bag. ‘Where is it, oh, here it is. Hi, Rob,’ she answered. ‘Missing me already?’ Izzy stepped back from the road and put her finger in her ear so she could hear Rob more clearly. ‘So, where are....’ was as far as she got in her next sentence.

  A horn blared, tyres screeched. Izzy dropped her phone as a car mounted the pavement, skidded past her and smashed into the wall of a church. She could see the airbag inflate inside the car. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. Cars in both directions stopped, and passengers alighted from their vehicles. The shouts rang out, and people rushed in all directions. She could see one man on his phone, presumably calling the emergency services.

  Izzy returned to the moment. Rooted to the spot through shock she silently asked herself, ‘What had just happened and where was her friend Melanie?’

  Then Izzy began to scream.

  Chapter 12

  It was the Tuesday afternoon session of the inquiry.

  ‘Beth, I’m going to have to leave about 4.15 ish this afternoon, I’m sorry I can’t stay for the whole session, there’s someone I need to see,’ said Trish as they were waiting for proceedings to begin.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I feel bad as it is, asking you to spend so much of your time with me. You will be missing so much work over the next few weeks.’

  ‘Look, we’ve been through this, it’s fine. I only work part-time now. It’s just this is important, I have to speak to my supervisor about a client, it’s important,’ she lied.

  ‘Of course, I understand completely. You must focus on your patients.’

  Beth always referred to Trish’s clients as patients. She didn’t mind and had given up trying to correct her.

  ‘How’s Tom’s work these days?’ asked Beth. However, Trish didn’t get a chance to reply as Dame Margaret entered the auditorium accompanied by the Inquiry Secretary, John Sedgley and they took their seats.

  ‘Good afternoon, everyone. I hope that the air-conditioning will hold out for the rest of today. It wasn’t too bad this morning. If I feel the atmosphere is becoming unbearable, I will call for more frequent comfort breaks. Ms Overton, please call your next witness.’

  ‘Thank you. Mrs Bridget Price.’

  ‘This should be interesting,’ whispered Beth. ‘She’s a really nice woman, and she genuinely does care for her residents, but she’s just seemed so distracted of late.’

  As they were speaking the witness was being sworn in according to the usual procedure. Mrs Price was clearly nervous and looked around anxiously as if awaiting a sentence at the end of a criminal trial.

  ‘Mrs Price. You have been the manager of Stour View Care home for ten years and are responsible for drawing up care plans for each resident,’ summarised Gina.

  ‘Yes,’ the witness replied quietly.

  ‘OK. Well, we have some information from the relatives of three of your residents in Stour View who state that the care plans were never updated or reviewed to reflect the increasing needs of the individual. Do you have any comments?’

  ‘It’s possible that some reviews are overdue, but I have a very heavy workload. I know I’ve not been as vigilant as I should and I’m sorry.’ Her voice wavered as she apologised. She appeared to be trembling with fear, she looked extremely uneasy. A stray tear trickled down her face, and she brushed it away with her hand.

  ‘Mrs Price, do you feel able to continue?’ interrupted Dame Margaret.

  ‘Er, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m not feeling too good actually,’ she paused, then suddenly said, ‘I’m getting divorced, you see. My husband is fighting me for custody. It’s all been so, er so, upsetting.’ She began to cry. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ Her hand strayed to her mousy brown hair which was cut in a simple bo
b, parted down the middle and then wrestled a tissue from her sleeve and wiped her eyes and the top of her lip.

  ‘I think you should return to your seat, Mrs Price,’ instructed Dame Margaret. ‘We can reschedule.’

  The witness left the stand, catching her foot against the edge of it, causing her to stumble slightly before regaining her footing.

  ‘Ms Overton, can you continue or should we adjourn?’

  ‘I have some footage to show which illustrates the behaviour of Jason Morley. Shall I continue?’

  ‘Please do,’ replied Dame Margaret.

  ‘I am going to play a short section of footage from the webcam installed in Mrs Yalding’s room by her daughter and son-in-law, Mrs and Mr Sheldon. There are disturbing scenes, but it is necessary for the inquiry to realise the level of abuse suffered. Also, whilst Mrs Yalding was physically frail, she was lucid and coherent and told her family that she had suffered like this at least once a week. In total, probably ten times before this footage was captured,’ Gina paused to bring up the video, and it began to play on the screen.

  Jason Morley could be seen taking Mrs Yalding’s soiled incontinence pad and rubbing it over her face, particularly over her mouth and nose. ‘You filthy old cow!’ he shouted at her. ‘Look what you’ve done! Again! Why should I clear up your shit?’

  He removed the pad from her face and using his gloved hand, slapped her across her cheek. The elderly lady’s head lolled back, and she cried out. The participants at the inquiry gasped and some cried out. Others covered their faces in horror at what they were witnessing. The abuse continued in the same vein. Mrs Yalding recoiled and attempted to raise herself from her chair, but her carer pushed her back roughly.

  Trish looked at her friend who had her eyes closed.

  ‘You can leave, they won’t mind,’ said Trish. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  Beth didn’t answer, she appeared to be paralysed, and shrunk down in her seat as if to physically distance herself from proceedings. The video clip finished, and everyone was waiting for Gina’s comments, but instead, they heard her admonishing an intruder.

  ‘Oh, go away,’ said Gina as she flapped at a wasp which had been circling around her for the last minute or so. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said to the room. ‘Goodness, it’s persistent.’

  ‘Perhaps we should pause?’ said Dame Margaret as counsel’s attempts to escape from the entomological onslaught was a distraction.

  ‘I’ll just stay still,’ said Gina. ‘Otherwise, I’ll get stung.’

  The wasp wasn’t listening, it landed on her collar and burrowed its way down on to her neck.

  ‘Oh, no! It’s gone inside my blouse,’ she shrieked. ‘Aghh, I’ve been stung! Ouch, no!’ she was pulling at her blouse and tried to unbutton the top couple of buttons discretely. Julius used a piece of paper and managed to coax the wasp out, and it fell down to the desk whereupon, he wielded a large book and flattened the offending creature.

  ‘Got it!’ he shouted triumphantly.

  ‘Ow, my neck,’ said Gina, holding the area where she had been stung.

  ‘You’ve got a very red patch,’ said Julius.

  ‘I think that’s my birthmark,’ said Gina, pulling down her collar. She had a port-wine birthmark, about the size of an egg on the left side of her neck, quite low down, below collar level.

  ‘I think the stings are towards the edge of that,’ said Julius.

  ‘I think we should break for thirty minutes or so,’ said Dame Margaret. ‘Let us reconvene at 3 p.m.’

  People started to gather their things, and there was a considerable commotion from the public area.

  ‘Help!’ please, shouted a gentleman as a woman had slumped to the floor in a faint. The afternoon session was turning into a disaster.

  Dr Gajar pushed his way along the row of seats to administer to the woman.

  ‘Step back, please,’ he called.

  ‘Get security in here and a first aider,’ said Dame Margaret to her secretary John, who bustled out of the auditorium.

  Within a minute or so, security officials entered the auditorium to usher people out to make room for the medical team. Dr Gajar had placed the woman in the recovery position and was making sure her airways were clear. He felt for a pulse on her neck and was relieved to find that it seemed normal.

  ‘Hello, can you hear me?’ he asked. ‘You’re OK, don’t worry, just relax.’

  All thoughts of the inquiry were temporarily halted as the emergency was dealt with.

  Chapter 13

  Izzy sat next to Melanie’s bed in the Kent and Canterbury hospital. It had been an exhausting twelve hours, several of those had been spent in A&E at Ashford and then to her relief, Melanie had been transferred to Canterbury hospital. Izzy had phoned work to explain her absence, and they had been supportive and sympathetic. Once the adrenalin had begun to wear off, sleep had overwhelmed Izzy, and she had dozed in the chair next to her friend. It was far from a restful slumber, pierced with flashbacks of the accident and now her head felt fuzzy and confused. She was finding it hard to comprehend the series of events since she had called around to check upon Melanie. Now, twelve hours later, her friend was an inpatient having been knocked down by a car at the traffic lights. The police were due later that morning to interview them both, Izzy for the second time.

  Melanie stirred and groaned.

  ‘Mel, it’s OK, I’m here,’ said Izzy, reaching across the bed and taking her hand.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘About half-past one in the afternoon,’ said Izzy.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, beginning to sob. ‘I’m such a nuisance.’

  ‘Shush, don’t say that. You aren’t well. But you are going to get better, I’m going to make sure of that.’

  ‘I don’t deserve you,’ murmured Melanie. ‘I’m a waste of space.’

  A young doctor approached the bed. He was wearing chinos and a checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up and no tie. Izzy’s heart missed a beat as she took in the vision before her.

  ‘Hi, I’m Dr Spencer,’ he said reaching over and shaking Izzy’s hand. ‘You are Miss Gough’s friend?’

  ‘Yes, Isabel, well, Izzy I’m usually called. Izzy Sherwood.’

  ‘Like the forest,’ smiled Dr Spencer.

  ‘Oh, yes! Of course,’ laughed Izzy. She felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair like a bashful teenager. She’d been with Rob for several years now, but she couldn’t help mentally drooling over the doctor who looked like he’d stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine. He had closely cropped hair which allowed his perfectly proportioned features to be displayed unimpeded. A vision of beauty and masculinity smiled back at her.

  ‘How are you feeling today, Melanie?’

  ‘Sleepy. I’m a bit sore and my head hurts.’

  ‘You were incredibly lucky. We had to pin your arm as it was a complex fracture. However, you’ve not broken anything else which is quite remarkable.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Melanie, weakly.

  ‘I’ve just had the results back on your CT scan and although you took a bit of a wallop to your head, there’s no damage as far as we can see. You’ve five stitches though, but it could have been much worse.’

  ‘When can I go home?’

  ‘We need to keep you in for a few days’ observation. You had a serious accident and we want to make sure you don’t develop any internal bleeding. There is a nasty bruise on your side, and we need to monitor that.’

  ‘OK,’ she nodded.

  ‘I need to talk to you about another matter, er, perhaps you would like your friend to leave the room for a moment so we can speak in private?’

  ‘No, it’s alright, I don’t mind Izzy being here, she knows all about me and my problems.’

  ‘I can leave,’ said Izzy.

  ‘No, I want you to stay, please stay.’

  Izzy nodded at the doctor.

  ‘OK, well, the other thing is, we’d like you to talk to s
omeone from our mental health team. Your left arm is covered with the plaster cast now, but we could see some recent scars and also on your thigh, and we are concerned for your safety.’

  Tears sprung from Melanie’s eyes at this point. Izzy handed her some tissues.

  ‘OK,’ nodded Melanie, unable to say anything more.

  ‘Is there anything you would like to ask me?’

  Melanie shook her head.

  ‘I’ll leave you now, and the nurse will let you know when someone will be around to speak to you. If you have any further questions, just let the nurse know and she can page me.’

  He put up his hand to Izzy and left the room.

  ‘It’s for the best, Melanie. The team will be able to help you get better. I don’t want to lose you.’

  They held hands for a while, and Melanie drifted back off to sleep as she was still drowsy after the anaesthetic. After about ten minutes, Izzy carefully extracted her own hand and crept out of the room. She planned to return soon, but she needed to get home and take a shower. She felt disgustingly hot and dirty after the events of the accident and her enforced stay in hospital. Tragic though it had been, perhaps it was a blessing. Whether it was a cry for help or a suicide attempt, it would mean that Melanie would be taken care of properly. For the moment, she was safe in hospital.

  **

  ‘That’ll be Tom,’ said Beth, getting up from the sofa and heading into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

  ‘Beth, how is she?’ asked Tom, putting his bag down and closing the front door quietly.

  ‘I don’t know, honestly. She’s hardly said a word since we got back. When we pulled up in the taxi, she asked why we were stopping. She didn’t recognise the house. Kept on talking about Princes Close or somewhere. I had a job persuading her out of the car.’

  ‘Oh, God, Princes Close was where she used to live, with her parents.’

  ‘She’s talking about someone called Roger and then she keeps laughing. It’s very odd. Quite frightening.’

  ‘Her Dad was called Roger. Perhaps that’s who she means?’