Volta E-Book

Nikki Dudley

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 384

Beschreibung

WINNER OF THE VIRGINIA PRIZE FOR FICTION 

When Briony Campbell confesses to killing her boyfriend, an apparently straightforward crime soon turns into a baffling mystery.

Haunted by demons from his past, lawyer S.J. Robin is assigned to the case. But as confusion – and the body count – rises, he’s forced to question who is guilty and who is innocent. Can he see justice served and hold on to the woman he loves?

REVIEWS

“Nikki Dudley’s latest novel shows that things are not always as they seem... The twist in the narrative is skilfully done and will keep the reader guessing until the very end.” – Ruth Dugdall, author of Nowhere Girl

OF PREVIOUS WORK:

‘Dudley’s indulgence of what the poet Charles Bernstein has called ‘writing centered on its wordness’ gives her poems their depth, their energy, their humour and their resistance of closure.’ – Colin Herd, poet

‘Nikki’s energy rustles behind each line, as she plays with familiar words and makes ​them at once more explicit and more unknown.’  – skylightrain blog

‘It’s a tale that will keep them wondering, gasping, thinking, smiling, grimacing, rereading. What more can a reader ask for?’ – Mike Lipkin, Noir Journal

AUTHOR Nikki Dudley:

Nikki Dudley studied for her BA and MA at Roehampton, University of Surrey. Published work includes: the thriller, Ellipsis, (2010); Her chapbook, exits/origins (2010);poetry collection Hope, Alt, Delete, (2017).One of Nikki’s poems was also featured in The Blackpool Illuminations (2016);poetry collection (2020).Awards: ​-Novel, Volta, winner of the Virginia Prize 2020. -Shortlisted in the London Writers’ Competition in 2003 for poetry. -Won the Promis Prize for poetry in the London Writers’ Competition 2005. -Novel, Ellipsis, shortlisted for the Ideastap Inspires programme in 2014. Nikki is Managing Editor of streetcake magazine, which she started with Trini Decombe in 2008. streetcake publishes an online issue every 2-3 months and in 2019, launched the streetcake experimental writing prize for 18-30 year olds, supported by the Arts Council England.She also runs writing workshops. She grew up in inner city London and attended state school in Camden. Nikki has been in love with words since she wrote short stories in her scrapbook at primary school and discovered what a metaphor was.

Leseprobe

NIKKI DUDLEY

Nikki is a poet and novelist who grew up in North London, attended a state school, and completed a BA and MA at University of Roehampton.

She runs an online magazine (streetcake), as well as a writing prize. During the pandemic lockdown, she started MumWrite, a writing programme for mums. Nikki managed to complete her novel, Volta, whilst also raising her two young sons and was delighted when the novel won the Virginia Prize for Fiction. She is currently working on a new contemporary thriller, a new poetry collection about dementia and some creative non-fiction.

Previously published work includes: a novel, Ellipsis, as well as a poetry chapbook exits/origins and a poetry collection Hope Alt Delete, with another collection published in 2021.

www.nikkidudleywriter.com

First published in the UK in 2021 by Aurora Metro Publications Ltd.

67 Grove Avenue, Twickenham, TW1 4HX

[email protected]

Volta copyright © 2021 Nikki Dudley

Cover image: Ronaldo Alves

Cover design: © 2021 Aurora Metro Publications Ltd.

Editor: Cheryl Robson

Aurora Metro Books would like to thank Marina Tuffier, Bella Taylor, Joanna Colton

All rights are strictly reserved. For rights enquiries please contact the publisher: [email protected]

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

In accordance with Section 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, the author asserts her moral right to be identified as the author of the above work.

This paperback is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Printed by Short Run Press, Exeter, UK.

ISBNs:

9781912430550 (print)

9781912430567 (ebook)

WINNER OF THE VIRGINIA PRIZE FOR FICTION

BY

NIKKI DUDLEY

To Joe, Ethan and Caleb

My absolute favourite characters

Volta: ‘Italian word for “turn.” In a sonnet, the volta is the turn of thought or argument.’ (Poetry Foundation)

CHAPTER 1

BRIONY

‘Please…’ She knew that voice. She heard it over and over in her ears but only realised it was a dream when her eyes flickered open. Like a blind slowly letting in light. She was on the floor, one arm bent at a strange angle as if she had fallen from a great height. It wasn’t broken though. It had only gone to sleep.

She rubbed her eyes. She realised her hands were covered in something sticky, but it was hard to see properly. The curtains were closed. The room was lit by one small lamp... she knew where she was. The layout of Ed’s flat was almost identical to hers.

The stickiness was red. The stickiness was… blood. She tried to wipe it away, but it was flaky and hard against her skin as though she’d been covered in it for a long time. Maybe hours. Her face also felt raw as though she’d been crying for days without a break. She felt dried out on the inside.

She checked herself for injuries but didn’t find any. She sighed into the room.

What time is it?

She couldn’t see a clock, even though she was sure there used to be one on the side table next to her. It was a small digital clock with angry red numbers.

She got on her knees and crawled towards the other side of the sofa, finding the clock on the floor, she picked it up. It was 2:51 pm. She dropped it again.

She concentrated on her arms and hands again. So much blood. It had erupted over her top, down her arms and there were splashes staining her trousers. She touched it. It was dry. She noticed the stain on the floor then. Where she had been lying, blood had soaked into the floorboards. It felt tacky when she pressed her fingers against it.

She used the sofa to haul herself up. Her legs shook but she adjusted after a few seconds.

When had she last eaten?

She couldn’t remember. She didn’t allow herself to sit on the sofa but forced herself to walk towards the bedroom. The door was partially open.

She hesitated in front of it.

This must be a dream, she thought. More like a nightmare but, regardless, not real. She wasn’t really covered in blood, she didn’t have broken nails, she didn’t have a tear in her top. This was all make-believe.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The room was dark. She put her hand on the wall and found the light switch. She pressed it on and that’s when she saw it: the bed covered with red, streaks of red up the wall, a leg hanging off the bed. A body.

Call the police. Run away.

The body looked like a mannequin. Blood marked the skin like bright red nail varnish. The uncoated skin still. The eyes were closed, the mouth hanging open slightly. Mid-scream?

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

She turned and walked to the front door, leaving it open as she left.

She needed air. She needed Mari. She needed escape.

CHAPTER 2

MARI

Mari was pouring herself a cup of coffee in the break room after a long day of back-to-back sessions when she heard the scream from reception. She left her drink where it was and cautiously approached the secure door that separated the patients from the doctors. She bent down to see through the glass panel and tried to locate the source of the noise.

She could make out a woman standing in front of the receptionist’s desk. She was wearing a white top that had an erratic red pattern splashed over it. The splatters continued up the arms. It was only after staring for a few more seconds that Mari realised the red marks on the arms weren’t on the material; they were on the woman’s pale skin.

The woman turned towards the door, allowing Mari to catch a glimpse of her face. Briony Campbell. Mari gasped and pressed the door release before she could stop herself. She launched herself into the waiting room, causing Briony to turn towards her, with her stained hands outstretched to Mari like a person asking to be pulled out of the sea.

‘Doctor Demetriou,’ Briony breathed out, as if she’d been holding her breath.

Mari approached carefully, the blood making her wonder if Briony had a weapon on her. She was rehearsing moves in her head from the self-defence course that her brother had sent her on a few years ago. But Briony was her patient. She shouldn’t fear her, she just needed to talk to her and find out what had happened. There was no need to start out on the defensive like her brother, Aris.

‘Briony, how are you?’ Mari forced out, trying not to look at the blood. ‘Can I help you? Are you… hurt?’

Briony shook her head and stepped closer. Mari did her best not to shuffle back and glanced at the receptionist, Anna, behind her screen protector. She seemed to be signalling something to Mari with her eyes but Mari didn’t have time to comprehend it.

‘I need to talk to someone. Didn’t know if you’d be here. I didn’t know who else to go to.’ She held her hands out to Mari, the dried blood smell beginning to reach Mari’s nose. She tried not to let her face twitch in response.

‘You came to the right place. Why don’t we sit down and talk about what happened?’ She gestured to a few empty seats in the waiting room. The other two patients had moved away and were now cowering against the back wall, but Briony didn’t seem to register they were even there.

‘Would you like some water?’ Mari sat down, leaving one seat between them.

‘Um, okay.’ Briony nodded as she examined some blood on her trouser leg.

Mari signalled to the receptionist, who slid the screen across to hear what Mari was asking for. ‘A glass of water please, Anna.’

Mari turned to Briony. ‘Would you like to tell me what happened?’

Briony exhaled heavily and slouched in her chair. She lifted both her hands up and stared at them as though for the first time. Her eyes widened and her frown deepened as the seconds passed. ‘Ed…’ Briony whispered, so quietly that Mari almost missed it.

‘Your boyfriend, Ed?’

Mari knew about Briony’s boyfriend and a lot of Briony’s life. Briony had been referred to her for psychotherapy via the GP and had been coming to see her as a client for the last few months. Mari liked the local feel of the surgery, but she also had private patients several days a week who were more her bread and butter.

Briony bit at her cheek and eventually pushed out, ‘Yes.’

Mari nodded and waited, suddenly overwhelmed with the stench of blood in her nose.

‘I think…’ Briony paused, staring at the wall to her left. ‘I think I killed him.’ She turned her face back slowly as though being controlled by someone else’s hand, like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Her face was deathly pale and her eyes looked devoid of life.

‘Why do you think that?’ Mari managed to keep her tone even, as she normally did when patients confided strange things to her. Mari wondered if she had the grounds to contact Aris. Was Briony a danger to herself or others? Was Ed in need of help?

‘I don’t remember exactly… He’s back there, though.’ Briony put her head in her hand and started murmuring to herself. It sounded like, ‘please, please, please,’ but Mari couldn’t be sure.

‘Where?’

Briony lifted her head again, focusing her metallic eyes on Mari but it was if she had forgotten she was there. ‘The flat.’ Briony’s eyes bore into her like drills trying to extract something from her. Mari would give it up if she only knew what Briony wanted.

‘Can you tell me what happened?’

Mari was distracted by the receptionist furiously motioning to her. ‘Sorry, one minute. I’ll get your water, okay?’ She waited for Briony to nod before going over to the reception desk and collecting the glass. As she picked it up, she saw a note underneath that read: Called the police and an ambulance. On way.

Mari’s jaw tightened as she tried to stop herself from responding. Anna had taken the decision out of her hands, though she could hardly blame Anna for making that call. There was no doubt something terrible had happened and Briony had been involved. Whether it was self-defence or something else, the sheer amount of blood spoke volumes.

Mari clasped the glass and tried to walk calmly back to Briony and hand her the water. She retook her seat and tried to smile but the muscles in her mouth were struggling to work. How would Briony react when the police showed up?

‘I came here because you’re always such a good listener. Not like… other doctors. You make me feel good,’ Briony revealed, staring into her drink.

‘I’m glad our sessions are making you feel better.’

‘Can I tell you something?’ Briony smiled hopefully.

‘Of course,’ she answered automatically, but her voice was a bit strained.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ Briony said coldly.

Mari nodded slowly, but she remained wary, even though her client had never shown any tendency towards violence before.

‘While you tell me this, do you think we should get Ed some help? Should we send someone to the flat?’

Briony shrugged in agreement.

‘Okay, let me tell Anna the address, okay?’

Briony told her the details and Anna made a note and said she’d see to it.

‘And I think we need to get you seen by a doctor too. Just to check you’re definitely not hurt anywhere.’

‘I need to tell you about it first,’ Briony insisted, leaning forward.

Mari nodded. ‘Okay, go ahead. Take your time.’

‘I guess I should start with earlier… before it… before we…’

Mari encouraged her to go on, while hoping that it would be Aris arriving from the police station. But they were interrupted by the sound of the siren and the blue flashing light of the ambulance arriving at the surgery.

Briony looked shocked and a little betrayed as they led her to the back of the vehicle and wrapped her in a metallic cape. Mari sagged into a chair, accepting a glass of water from Anna, and waited. She felt drained. After all, it wasn’t every day that a patient turned up saying that they’d killed someone.

CHAPTER 3

SJ

My favourite hobby these days seemed to be pretending to quit smoking. In the driveway, I shut myself inside my old BMW and pulled out a cigarette. I struck a match, watching the flame catch the cigarette alight. My eyes followed it every millimetre as it came towards my face. I didn’t let it out of my sight until the cigarette was lit and I had shaken it out. Finding an empty and long-since-cold cup of coffee in my cupholder, I deposited the dead match in there. It joined five others. I tried to remember when I’d bought it. Two days ago? Longer? It was a shame being in the car made me want to smoke and also a shame that being in this car was one of the safest places I knew.

I turned on the engine and headed to my afternoon meeting at Thameside Prison. Driving so far on a Monday afternoon wasn’t my ideal, especially since my Legal Aid shift had moved to tonight instead of Tuesday this week. Although sometimes clients popped up all over the place. My boss, Rebecca, was close to retirement age so she only did occasional cases, leaving me mostly to my own devices, which was exactly how I liked it.

Thameside Prison was off a dual carriageway and, at first glance, could be mistaken for an out-of-town retail park. It was the security checks that gave it away and, looking past the security guard’s hut, there were prison bars on every window.

I was there checking up on a new client who had been accused of robbery with a dangerous weapon. He had a list of convictions as long as his arm and had been recorded on the store video, but he wanted to plead ‘Not Guilty’. We’d probably be going to court soon enough with some kind of plea, but it was my job to bring his expectations in line with reality. After I’d explained the options and heard his lame excuses for robbing his local Co-op, it was time to leave. But I was stopped on the way out by the prison officer, Jack.

‘Hey, SJ, good call on that young fella Sitko last week.’

I cleared my throat, looking anywhere but at his face. ‘Why? Did he go for it?’ I mumbled, pretending to be busy reading some papers. In fact, they were all just scribbled doodles from when I had been waiting for a client at some point.

Jack threw a pen in my direction. ‘Yeah, used his bed sheets. Not sure how he managed to rip them up… Resourceful buggers when it comes to a way out, aren’t they?’ He liked a chat, same as most of the prison officers. I suppose sitting on your arse all day made you kind of sociable when the moment arose.

I took my time doing my looping signature, the S and J of equal proportion and my surname Robin much smaller underneath. I’d spent hours practising my signature before qualifying as a lawyer, dreaming of the day when my name would appear on official documents. Pretty sad, really, but everyone has to have a dream.

‘Well, anyway, good save,’ Jack continued, as if I had responded to his last comment. He was an old-timer, like a lot of the ones they put on the gates.

‘Cheers. See ya.’

I walked back towards my car. Sometimes it felt like all my days were like this: prison visits, signing in and out, walking back and forth to my car. It was a strange routine. I went to court sometimes, mostly for my Legal Aid cases. Although most of my private clients made a plea before their case ever got to court. Other than that, I didn’t like to show my face in court for extended periods of time. It always felt like the judge believed I was some ex-criminal trying to stick up for one of my own. The scar trailing down the right side of my face didn’t help. It wasn’t my imagination; I’d been told way back during my training to avoid court if I could by one of the senior partners. Didn’t exactly fit in with the clean-cut image of my colleagues.

Inside the car, I threw my briefcase on the passenger seat and thought about my visit the previous week to Marek Sitko. I’d watched him frowning as he’d stared at the page in front of him. Plucking a pen from between his fingers, I’d slid the paper back over and read it aloud to him. He hadn’t said a word and had eventually written his name where I pointed, his cheek jerking slightly as if he wanted to cry, but I could see that he was still firmly under someone’s control. Probably whoever had got him sent down for murder.

‘Do you need anything?’ I’d asked him.

When he’d stared at me as if he didn’t understand and shaken his head in slow motion, I had seen nothing but black despair in his eyes. Whenever I saw a prisoner now with a certain look in their eyes, I always alerted the warden. I knew only too well what that look meant. Outside the room, I’d immediately asked to speak to the warden.

‘Get that kid under suicide watch,’ I’d told the warden, who’d barely looked up from eating his sandwich.

‘Don’t tell me how to do my job,’ he’d growled with his mouth full.

‘Well, good luck cleaning his blood off the walls.’

Seemed like the warden had weighed up both the cleaning and the paperwork against his pride and luckily found in favour of Marek.

I pulled out a candy cigarette, the type that kids eat, and put it in my mouth. I was trying to limit my cigarette consumption, but giving up smoking was going to lose me my teeth. I pretended to inhale but it felt empty, as empty as my chest.

I’m thinking about her without meaning to.

I spat out the fake cigarette and tried to throw it out the window, but it wasn’t open. It bounced back at me and landed on my leg. I shook it off and started the engine instead. I was always pleased when it sprung to life, being as old as it was.

Just drive, SJ. Forget it. Forget her.

The road outside the prison was empty but I could see the cars zooming by on the dual carriageway not far away. People didn’t tend to spend much time hanging around outside prisons. Those who got out, ran for their lives, and those who were visiting didn’t want to be seen. Me? I just put my foot down and drove, trying to outrun the shadow that loomed behind my every step.

CHAPTER 4

SJ

It was just after 8 pm when I entered Colindale police station. It was an odd-looking building; it had a huge white barrel-like entrance surrounded by brick. Most of the other local police stations had been closed, but this one had survived the cuts and was even due a refurbishment.

When I approached the front desk, one of the regular staff, Petra, put down her Sudoku book and gave me a big smile. She was approaching fifty, always looked incredibly refined regardless of the commotions that came through the door and had a sweet spot for me. I would routinely gift her with a new Sudoku book. I spent a lot of time speaking to the point of contact staff, so being friendly was not only important but useful.

‘How are you, Mr Robin?’

‘Petra, when will you start calling me SJ?’ I started typing my details into the sign-in screen and posed for an unflattering photo for my pass.

‘When you get a proper first name. What kind of a name is SJ?’ she joked, getting a badge ready for me.

‘Did you know studies show that more intelligent people use initials in their names?’

She leaned closer. ‘Really?’

I laughed. ‘No, my dear Petra, just teasing.’

She sighed and gave me a look as she stuffed the photo ID badge into its holder and threw it across the desk to me.

‘I should have known… be careful not to get on my bad side, buddy.’

I slotted my badge through my buttonhole and saw she was already back at her Sudoku book, pretending to have forgotten I was there. ‘Thank you, ever patient Petra.’

‘Who are you here to see anyway?’

I got my notepad out of the inner pocket of my suit. I read out, ‘Briony Campbell.’

She glanced at the whiteboard with the booking in information. ‘Holding cell 3. DC Demetriou.’

‘Oh, the luck of it,’ I pretended to grumble.

‘Go do some work, Mr Robin,’ she mumbled, half-smiling and pressed the door release.

I knew there were two places I’d find Aris: by the vending machine drinking a Ribena or filling out his paperwork at his desk in his precise hand, waiting eagerly for me to speak to his suspect so he could get on with his job. When I found him in neither place, I went back down to the interview rooms to look for him, scanning the custody notes as I did.

I found him pacing back and forth in front of a door. ‘Hey kiddo, you must be on fire today. You’ve finished your paperwork already?’

Aris stopped and took me in for a moment, as though he didn’t recognise me, but finally broke into a tired smile. ‘Oh crap, it’s your shift?’

‘No, I just come here for the laughs.’ I approached him and held my hand out, which he took and squeezed. I noticed how he wasn’t wearing a blazer for once and his shirt was creased. Aris always wore a well-pressed shirt and suit, which clashed horribly with my unkempt attire most of the time. ‘You okay, kiddo?’

He took my arm and pulled me away from the door to the other side of the corridor. ‘Don’t call me that here, Jon. You’ll ruin my image,’ he joked but glanced around the corridor to see if anyone had heard. It was a bit unfair for me to call him ‘kiddo’ – he was actually the same age as me, but when we’d first met five years ago and had no idea what we were doing, I’d joked that he was just a kid in comparison to me as he was six months younger. Somehow, the nickname had stuck.

‘When Petra told me you did the booking in, I pretended to be disappointed, if it helps.’

He managed a laugh, but his shoulders were tight. ‘Yes, well Petra knows we’re buddies, so I think you’re on a lost one there.’

‘Oh no, you mean people have realised we’re not sworn enemies?’ I pretended to gasp. To be fair, it was odd that a detective and a lawyer who were often on opposite sides had managed to forge some kind of friendship.

‘I’ve had comments,’ he raised his thick eyebrows. ‘But look, I can’t say much, as you know, but I presume you’re here for Briony Campbell.’

‘Yep. She ask for a solicitor?’

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. ‘She did, but I decided you’d have to do.’

‘You know how to make me feel good, kiddo.’ ‘It’s complicated, Jon.’ Aris sighed.

‘How so?’ I leaned against the wall too, trying to ignore the officers and suspects ambling past us towards interviews and holding cells. There was a lot of chinking of handcuffs and the rustling of batons in police belts.

‘In many ways… Before you bust my balls or anything; she’s been assessed by the custody nurse, and a mental health professional, and deemed fit for interview and detainment. We’ve been told to handle her carefully but that’s it.’

‘Thanks for the heads-up.’ I was interested to see why she needed to be handled carefully but I’d find out soon enough. Sometimes the custody notes don’t tell you the full story. It had been noted that she’d seen a therapist in the past. Even so, there had to be something behind this story of a twenty- seven-year-old woman bludgeoning her accountant boyfriend, but they’d get to the bottom of it.

‘The other point of interest is that the crime was divulged to Mari.’

I straightened up at the name. ‘As in, your sister Mari? How is she involved?’

‘Which other Mari do you know?’ Aris scoffed, luckily not noticing how uncomfortable I now felt with my body. It suddenly seemed like the floor was made of marshmallow and I might fall over.

‘Yeah, of course, sorry.’ I made a big point of checking my watch. ‘Bit tired today,’ I lied.

‘Shall I tell that to your client?’ Aris pushed himself off the wall. ‘Anyway, why are you moaning; you basically don’t sleep now anyway. Wasn’t that partly why The Woman left you?’

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and pretended to check for an incoming message to avoid Aris’s probing. ‘I’d rather not talk about Claire.’ Though part of me was touched he only referred to her as ‘The Woman’ out of solidarity with me, much like Irene Adler in Sherlock Holmes.

‘Yeah, well it’s been all “no comment” from you since it happened.’

‘So, get the hint, kiddo,’ I shot back.

‘Hey, Aris, you’d better not be leaking all our secrets to that vampire,’ a voice interrupted from behind him. His partner, DS Josie Owusu, appeared, giving me her usual disapproving glare. It was safe to say she had never taken to me and I had long-since given up trying to charm her. She was no-nonsense, more like an older sister to Aris because she was ten years his senior. She was brilliant with computers and always followed the money; it was her basic policy for pretty much every case.

‘Don’t worry, we’ve even banned using the word “case” in casual conversation. It’s a bit limiting but we must uphold your wishes, DS Owusu.’ I would never call her ‘Josie’ to her face, but I normally did in my head.

She rolled her eyes at me and turned to Aris. ‘Guv’s calling us so let’s go update him. You finished the paperwork?’

Aris dropped his head slightly. ‘Um, no,’ he mumbled. ‘I’ll get right on it.’

Josie didn’t look impressed. ‘Well, we’d better shake a leg then.’ She marched off and Aris went to follow but I grabbed his arm.

‘Are you sure everything is okay?’

‘Course, always.’ He stepped back. ‘Just FYI, we have basically twenty-two hours left on the clock. We want to talk to her right after you before she goes into sleep mode.’

Aris started walking away but stopped outside the door he’d been pacing in front of earlier. He reached over and opened it a fraction, nodding inside. ‘Can you just chat with Mari for a minute until I get back, Jon?’

I felt my stomach plummet. ‘Oh, I should really, you know,’ I checked my watch.

‘Please,’ he interrupted.

‘Of course. Whatever you need.’ I stepped towards the door, sucking in my breath.

I nudged the door open and saw a familiar form sitting at a table. When she noticed me there, her mouth fell open, but she quickly clamped it shut when she noticed her brother behind me.

‘Get in there then. She doesn’t bite,’ Aris tried to joke but his voice was flat. Everything he was doing tonight was a show – for me, for Mari, for his partner, Owusu.

‘Don’t be long,’ I warned him as I entered the interview room nervously. But he was gone.

CHAPTER 5

MARI

SJ held his briefcase in front of him as though it would offer some kind of protection. He gave her a brief smile, which oddly, she found she had missed after having avoided him for the last eight months. Actually, she hadn’t avoided him, he’d avoided her at every opportunity.

‘Maria? How are you?’ he asked with false cheer. ‘You look like you need to be in bed.’

She couldn’t believe she was sitting in this cold interview room waiting for Aris to say she could go home. What else did he need from her? Or was he just checking she wasn’t going to freak out as soon as she was out of his sight?

‘You know it’s Mari,’ she growled. ‘And as if you would know anything about my bed,’ she spat, half-angry with herself that she still had thoughts about him being in it.

He looked down at his feet and mumbled but loud enough for her to hear, ‘I should be so lucky.’ Then he cleared his throat and stepped towards the chair on the other side of the table.

‘Don’t sit there. This isn’t an interview.’ She pushed out the chair next to her and patted it.

He froze and looked over at the empty chair as though it were a volcano oozing lava and he wondered if he could outrun it. He slid his briefcase onto the table and forced his legs to move towards her and sat down.

As he looked around at anything but her, Mari took the time to take him in again. He was wearing his suit messily as usual (tie loose, his jacket unbuttoned, his shirt slightly crumpled), his hair was longer than she remembered, but he didn’t have any facial hair, which made his scar even more prominent. He didn’t normally like to draw attention to it. And his eyes… They were the strangest blue. She’d spent a lot of time thinking about their colour and settled on aqua metallic blue, which was actually a type of car paint. It had irritated her for ages after last New Year’s.

He unexpectedly met her eyes, and she didn’t break contact.

‘What are you doing here?’ She blinked a few times, waking herself up.

He laughed. ‘I think I’m the one who should be asking you that. You’re kind of on my territory, Mari.’ He dropped his smile then and leaned a little closer. ‘Seriously, are you okay? I mean, after what happened today…’ He put his hand on the table, edging it closer to hers until his fingers were resting on top of hers. She instinctively turned her hand over.

She realised that he didn’t smell of cigarettes for once. He smelt of washing powder and coffee, which was an odd mix, but strangely familiar. ‘Aris says I can’t talk to you about what happened, but it was pretty… unsettling.’

He nodded gently. ‘I get it.’ He paused, his eyes moving over her face and down her body, assessing for damage. She felt herself blushing as thoughts of them together last New Year’s Eve resurfaced. ‘But are you hurt?’ he asked quietly.

‘Only by men who stick their tongue down my throat and don’t call me.’

He lurched back, taking his hand with him. ‘Guess I deserved that.’ He took a deep breath, and Mari thought he might actually apologise but instead, he whispered, ‘Aris doesn’t bloody know, does he?’

‘I’m sure what you meant to say was “sorry.”’ She grabbed him by his tie and pulled him closer, making him cast a panicked glance behind them to see if the door was still closed. ‘And if Aris knew, you’d be toast, SJ.’ She managed to keep her tone cool, despite lingering dangerously close to SJ’s face.

He grabbed her by both arms and held her still. He seemed to be breathing her in, although simultaneously holding her in place so neither of them could slip any closer. Was it just her imagination? ‘I’m sorry, all right?’ he breathed, swallowing hard.

‘What did you say?’ Mari cocked her ear closer.

SJ screwed up his face and sighed. ‘You heard me. I was a mess at New Year’s.’

‘Yes, you were pretty off your face,’ Mari agreed. She remembered taking him outside for some air and forcing him to drink water. When he’d arrived at the party, it was clear he had quite a few drinks in his system already. Then he’d proceeded to drink straight whisky for an hour non-stop. How they had ended up locking lips outside, Mari wasn’t sure, but despite her anger, Mari had never quite forgotten how hard her heart had thudded in her chest and how her body had responded to his kiss. She’d had a mini-crush on SJ for a while before that night anyway. At thirty-three, she really should know better.

‘Look, I think it’s time we tried to be… okay… with one another again. What do you think?’ He released her arms and sat back, pressing himself against the back of the chair as if to restrain himself from coming closer again. ‘Can we do that?’ He presented one side of his face to her, making his scar disappear for a moment.

‘We can,’ Mari shrugged. Maybe SJ was here to represent Briony? ‘But sometime you’d better explain why you were such an arse.’

His mouth twitched. ‘Maybe it’s just my human nature.’

Mari raised her eyebrows and pulled him closer by his messy collar so she could whisper in his ear. ‘Sorry to tell you, but I know you’re full of shit.’

SJ straightened up and widened his eyes at her, a smile bubbling up on his lips. ‘I knew there was a reason I kissed you.’

‘Sort your tie out. You look like a fourteen-year-old.’ She rolled her eyes.

He frowned and half-heartedly attempted to fix his tie, with an amused grin on his face.

‘One day I’m going to ask you to marry me, Mari.’ SJ had a serious expression.

‘Oh, I’ve never heard that one before – Mari, mar-ry. But anyway, please do, so I can tell you where to shove your proposal.’

‘You know, I’m not sure I remember quite how we ended up kissing.’ He stared her down.

‘I remember. You said, “Who’d want to kiss a carved-up piece of shit like me?” and I said, “Me, SJ. I think you have a great arse.”’

‘That rings a bell, especially the part about my arse.’ He glanced at his watch pointedly.

Mari snorted. ‘It’s etched into your heart, I can tell.’

He turned back and smiled but she only saw sadness behind it. What was SJ hiding and why wouldn’t he just let the mask slip? ‘Really, Mari, I’m pleased you’re okay.’ He had his hand on his knee, palm upwards, and his fingers were twitching as though wanting to bridge the gap between them again.

They both stared at his hand without moving but the air felt heavy with the gap of eight months.

When the door opened, SJ jumped up and put his hand on his briefcase as though he’d been planning on leaving. Aris stepped in.

‘Sis, you wanna go home now? I think we have what we need for now.’

Mari pushed herself up and nodded, glancing at SJ, who had plastered a grin on his face and was trying not to look at her.

‘I hope he wasn’t trying to have his way with you,’ Aris joked.

SJ frowned but covered it with a choked laugh.

‘What are you talking about?’ Mari stammered.

‘You know, trying to get information out of you.’ He shot SJ a warning look.

SJ pretended to look offended. ‘I won’t have you slandering me this way.’ He focused on Mari again and winked. ‘Good to see you, Mari. Next time, maybe I’ll choose the place, huh?’

Despite the disturbing and exhausting day she’d had, she couldn’t help but laugh.

Aris nodded towards the door and said, ‘Come on, Jon. I can brief you with the essentials on the way.’

CHAPTER 6

BRIONY

She was dreaming about Ed when something woke her. She groaned against the coldness of the ‘bed’ she was lying on. It felt more like a slab of cold concrete but, in reality, it was one of those thin mats with an equally shoddy pillow to match. It reminded her of the floor she’d woken up on in Ed’s flat…

She squinted at the man near the door, who didn’t bother stepping closer. ‘Got visitors,’ he mumbled. He looked like he could do with some more sleep and resented her for being asleep when he’d opened door. He sniffed as if he needed a tissue and stared at her.

‘Who is it?’

‘Lawyer.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Coming up to 8:45 pm.’

She stood up, causing him to fall back on his heels. He seemed to finger the baton in his belt, causing her to freeze.

‘Can you take me to them please?’ she asked, smiling gently. She tried to reposition her mouth, so she didn’t look demonic but wasn’t sure how she appeared. They’d taken her clothes away for forensics and given her a grey tracksuit to wear.

The officer’s face softened a little, as though her manners detracted from her crime. He stepped out of the doorway to allow her to pass. Moving in pigeon steps, she watched the baton in his belt as they walked. Even though they’d let her wash her hands, traces of blood were still visible under her fingernails.

‘Second right,’ he mumbled from behind her.

When she entered the interview room, she noticed a man sitting just inside. He was wearing a grey suit but the top button of his shirt was undone and his jacket was hanging off him as if he had been roughed up by some bullies on his way in. He was reading something and didn’t bother to look up, even when she turned her attention to him.

The officer was trying to close the door and practically shoved her inside.

‘Who are you?’ she asked the man, trying not to stare at the large scar on his cheek, which extended from his right eye all the way down to his chin.

‘SJ Robin, lawyer.’ He stood up and held out his hand.

He gestured towards a chair on the other side of the table. ‘Can I call you Briony or would you prefer Miss Campbell?’

‘Briony’s fine.’ She paused, sitting down. ‘But why are you here? Are you with the police?’

SJ tapped his fingers on the table as if he was in a jazz café relaxing, rather than sitting in a cold police station. ‘You have a right to a lawyer. I’m sure they told you that?’

‘I can’t afford a lawyer,’ she blurted.

‘Don’t worry, it’s called Legal Aid.’

‘You’re working for free?’

‘Do I look like I work for free?’ He gestured to his appearance with a knowing grin. ‘Anyway, this type of case interests me.’

‘And what kind of case is that?’

He poured her some water and pushed it across the table. She downed the water in one, suddenly parched.

‘A mystery,’ he whispered in a secretive tone.

‘Is this a game to you? Because it’s not a game to me.’

‘Calm down, Miss Campbell,’ he commanded, raising his voice just enough to make her stop short and shrink down in her chair.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled.

‘I’m here to help you, Briony. Can you tell me what happened?’

‘Can you tell my mum I’m okay? Tell her she needs to take her medicine.’

‘Medicine?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘She’s got type-1 diabetes. If she gets stressed out, she forgets to take it.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded to himself. ‘I’ll get a message to her. What’s her name?’

‘Jessica Campbell. And thank you, sir.’

‘It’s SJ,’ he corrected her.

‘What does SJ stand for?’

‘It’s just SJ,’ he mumbled. ‘So, Briony, tell me...’ He opened up his folder and slid a fresh piece of paper out, took a silver pen from his inside pocket and wrote the date on the paper in precise curvy handwriting. He looked back up at her. ‘They say you don’t remember what happened. Can you tell me anything that you do remember?’

‘You think I’m a liar?’

He moved the pen between his fingers like a magician as he stared her down for a few moments. ‘Briony, we need to help you remember so we can get this all sorted. They told me you’d been psychologically assessed.’

She nodded.

‘Okay, we need to decide what to tell the police, which may not be much right now, with your memory, and then you’ll probably be here overnight.’

She frowned.

‘I know, I’m sorry but they get twenty-four hours to detain you and you’re entitled to some rest. They’ll probably interview you again tomorrow and decide if they have enough to charge you or not.’ He paused. ‘You’re clean right? No prior offences?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Are you happy with the way you’ve been treated?’ he checked, squinting at her, his blue eyes steely.

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Look, you’ll have to be interviewed. Then hopefully we’ll be out of here soon enough. In the interview, I want you to use “no comment” as much as you like, okay? And check with me before you say anything other than the cold facts, like your name or address, or what we’ve previously agreed.’

‘But I already told Doctor Demetriou what happened.’

He nodded. ‘Yes… but she’s not a witness. She didn’t break confidentiality as someone else called it in, so nothing she says can be used as evidence against you, at this point,’ he explained and suddenly it felt so serious: witness, confidentiality, evidence. And what did he mean by ‘at this point’?

When she didn’t speak for a long moment, he asked, ‘Briony, do you understand that they might charge you with attempted murder?’

‘Attempted murder?’ she repeated hoarsely.

‘I asked if you understood. Can you tell me if you do?’

‘I heard what you said but “attempted”. Why “attempted”?’

He was now holding his pen like a cigarette in his right hand. ‘Ed isn’t dead, Briony.’

‘What?’ She sat forward.

‘Ed. He’s not dead, not yet anyway,’ he repeated, checking his watch. ‘They have about one hour and a half max. until they should probably let you rest for the night, so I think we need to get started.’

‘Wait… Ed’s alive?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘That’s good news. You should be happy,’ he informed her gently, meeting her eyes.

‘Can I see him?’ she asked, before she remembered what a stupid question that was.

‘Sorry, no.’ He tapped his notepad. ‘Right, just take your time Briony. Give me what you know so I can see what we’re dealing with.’

‘He wasn’t breathing when I left. I thought–’

‘Yes, but Ed’s injuries… Can you tell me what happened?’ he asked softly.

‘There was so much blood… I… I… can’t…’ Briony let out a strangled sob.

SJ sighed and waited for Briony to calm down again.

‘You can do this,’ he assured her, but she saw him glance at his watch again.

CHAPTER 7

SJ

An hour or so later, in another bare interview room, I sat with my notepad open and my pen poised. It seemed fitting that every time I had to write about violent crimes, I used the pen that my father had given me. It was a delicate fountain pen with a robin clip, after our surname – he’d loved birdwatching. I should’ve got rid of the pen years ago but somehow it had followed me, and I diligently refilled it.

I’d been in this interview room more times than I cared to remember. The walls were white but marked with kick marks from frustrated clients waiting to be interviewed or left alone for a moment to contemplate their crimes. The chairs were plastic and uncomfortable, but my body seemed to have adapted to their unforgiving hardness. Now, I barely noticed. Briony, however, was squirming in the chair next to me while the interviewing officers sat opposite us.

The video recorder had been fiddled around with a few minutes and was now rolling. Briony had given it a distasteful glance but decided not to protest.

‘This interview is being recorded at Colindale Police Station in London. It is Monday, 17th August 2020. The time is 9:45 pm. I’m Detective Sergeant 625, Josie Owusu. Also present is…’

‘Detective Constable 813, Aris Demetriou.’ Aris met my eyes with a subdued smile.

‘Can you tell us your name for the recorder please?’ Josie directed at Briony.

‘Briony Grace Campbell.’

‘And your age and date of birth please?’

‘29th July 1993. I’m twenty-seven’

‘Thank you. Also present is…’ Josie turned to me, wearing her standard blank face in my presence. It was either that or her pissed-off face.

‘SJ Robin, Stafford’s solicitors.’

‘Is it okay for us to call you Briony?’ Josie asked. It seemed as though she was taking the lead and Aris was playing the silent partner. Perhaps it was because of the link to Mari?

‘Okay.’ Briony stared down at her hands. She’d been doing it a lot since I’d met her.

‘We’re going to be talking about the injuries sustained by Edward William Porter in his flat today, the 17th