Peter Robinson - Aftermath

Janet shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Annie leaned forward and held Janet’s chin between thumb and forefinger, looking into her blurry, scared eyes. “Listen to me, Janet. Terence Payne was taller than you. By the angle and force of those blows, the only way they could have been delivered was if he was sitting and the attacker had plenty of time to take a huge, uninterrupted downward swing and… well, you get the picture. Come on, Janet. Talk to me. Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.”

Janet twisted her chin from Annie’s grip and looked away. “What do you want me to say? I’d only get myself deeper in trouble.”

“Not true. You’ll get nowhere if you’re perceived as lying or covering up your actions. That’ll only lead to perjury. The truth’s your best defense. Do you think there’s a person on that jury – if that’s what it comes to – who won’t sympathize with your predicament, even if you did admit to losing it for a few moments? Give yourself a break here, Janet.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Tell the truth. Was that how it happened? Was he down and you just lost your temper, gave him one for Dennis. And, crack, there’s another? Is that how it happened?”

Janet jumped up and began pacing, wringing her hands. “So what if I did give him one or two for Dennis? It was nothing less than he deserved.”

“That’s what you did? You remember now?”

Janet stopped and narrowed her eyes, then she poured herself two fingers of gin and knocked it back. “Not clearly, no, but if you’re telling me that’s how it happened, I can hardly deny it, can I? Not in the face of the pathologist’s evidence.”

“Pathologists can be wrong,” Annie said, though not, she thought, about the number, strength and angle of the blows.

“But who will they believe in court?”

“I’ve told you. If it comes to that you’ll get a lot of sympathy. But it might not come to court.”

Janet sat down again, perched at the edge of the armchair. “What do you mean?”

“It’s up to the CPS. I’ll be meeting with them on Monday. In the meantime, if you want to alter your statement at all before then, now’s the time to do it.”

“It’s no good,” said Janet, holding her head in her hands and weeping. “I don’t remember it clearly. It all seemed to happen so fast, it was over before I knew what was happening, and Dennis… Dennis was dead, bleeding on my lap. That went on forever, me telling him to hang on, trying to stanch the blood.” She looked at her hands as if seeing the same thing Lady Macbeth saw, what she couldn’t wash away. “But he wouldn’t stop bleeding. I couldn’t stop it from coming out. Maybe it happened as you said. Maybe that’s the only way it could have happened. All I remember is the fear, the adrenaline, the…”

“The anger, Janet? Is that what you were going to say?”

Janet shot her a defiant glance. “What if I was? Wasn’t I right to feel anger?”

“I’m not here to judge you. I think I’d have been angry myself, maybe done exactly the same as you. But we’ve got to get this sorted. There’s no way it’ll simply disappear. As I say, the CPS might decide not to press charges. At the worst you’d be looking at excusable homicide, maybe even justifiable. We’re not talking jail time here, Janet. Thing is, though, we can’t hide it, and it won’t go away. There’s got to be some action.” Annie spoke softly and clearly, as if to a frightened child.

“I hear what you’re saying,” Janet said. “It’s like I’m some sort of sacrificial lamb tossed to the slaughter to appease public opinion.”

“Not at all.” Annie stood up. “Public opinion is far more likely to be on your side. It’s just procedure that has to be followed. Look, if you want to get in touch with me about anything, anything at all before Monday, here’s my card.” She wrote her home and mobile numbers on the back.

“Thanks.” Janet took the card, glanced at it and set it on the coffee table.

“You know,” Annie said at the door, “I’m not your enemy, Janet. Yes, I’d have to give evidence if it came to court, but I’m not against you.”

Janet gave her a twisted smile. “Yeah, I know,” she said, reaching for the gin again. “Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Sure is.” Annie smiled back. “Then you die.”

“Claire! It’s so nice to see you again. Come in.”

Claire Toth walked into Maggie’s hall and followed her through to the front room, where she slouched on the sofa.

The first things Maggie noticed about her were how pale she was and that she had cut off all her beautiful long blond hair. What was left lay jaggedly over her skull in such a manner as to suggest that she had cut it herself. She wasn’t wearing her school uniform but a pair of baggy jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that hid all signs that she was an attractive young woman. She wore no makeup, and her face was dotted with acne. Maggie remembered what Dr. Simms had said about the possible reactions of Kimberley’s close friends, that some might suppress their sexuality because they thought that would protect them from predators such as Terence Payne. It looked as if Claire was trying to do just that. Maggie wondered if she should comment, but decided not to.

“Milk and cookies?” she asked.

Claire shook her head.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Maggie asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” said Claire. “I can’t sleep. I just keep thinking of her. I just lie awake all night with it going through my head – what must have happened to her, what she must have felt like… I can’t bear it. It’s awful.”

“What do your parents say?”

Claire looked away. “I can’t talk to them. I… I thought, you know, you might understand better.”

“Let me get those cookies, anyway. I could do with one myself.” Maggie fetched two glasses of milk and a plate of chocolate chip cookies from the kitchen and put them down on the coffee table. Claire picked up her milk and sipped at it, then reached out and picked up a cookie.

“You read about me in the papers, then?” Maggie said.

Claire nodded.

“And what did you think?”

“At first I couldn’t believe it. Not you. Then I realized it could be anybody, that you didn’t have to be poor or stupid to be abused. Then I felt sorry for you.”

“Well, please don’t do that,” said Maggie, trying on a smile. “I stopped feeling sorry for myself a long time ago, and now I’m just getting on with life. All right?”

“Okay.”

“What sort of things do you think about? Do you want to tell me?”

“How terrible it must have been for Kimberley, with Mr. Payne, you know, doing things to her. Sex . The police didn’t say anything to the papers about it, but I know he did horrible things to her. I can just picture him there, doing it, hurting her, and Kimberley so helpless.”

“It’s no use imagining what it was like, Claire. It won’t do any good.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I do it on purpose?” She shook her head slowly. “And I keep going over the details of that night in my mind. How I just said I was staying for a slow dance with Nicky and Kimberley said that was okay, she’d probably find somebody to walk home with but it wasn’t very far anyway and the road was well-lit. I should have known something would happen to her.”

“You couldn’t know, Claire. How could you possibly know?”

“I should have. We knew about those girls, the ones who’d gone missing. We should have stuck together, been more careful.”

“Claire, listen to me: it’s not your fault. And I know this sounds harsh, but if anyone should have been more careful, perhaps it’s Kimberley. You can’t be blamed for dancing with a boy. If she was concerned, then she should have made sure she had someone to walk home with her and not gone off alone.”