David Belbin - Bone & Cane

‘Now.’

She collected an inch-thick pile of faxes that had arrived during her absence. Near the top, she saw that the BMA foundation for AIDS was about to publish its survey on the availability of condoms in state prisons. That was something she ought to be able to move on quickly; it probably wasn’t ‘sexy’ enough to be one of the hundred projects in a hundred days to be announced over the next three months. But things might change.

There was no need for the new government to be as cautious as the party had had to be until now. The size of their majority had shocked everyone. After a landslide, people expected large changes. Prisons didn’t work and they were her responsibility. If she got everyone who didn’t belong in prison out, the government would make a huge financial saving. The biggest cut, she liked to say at meetings, would be in human misery. That was what she had come into politics to do, the kind of achievement it was worth making sacrifices for. Nick knew that. He would understand.

She had waited all of her life for this.

EPILOGUE

AUTUMN 1997

The meeting took several weeks to set up. Sarah had not forgotten the favour Eric did for Nick Cane on her behalf. The Chief Constable would want something in return. Men always did. But first, he reminded Sarah of an offer he had made before the election.

‘In four years time, you’ll be even better qualified to run the association. So if you don’t hold on to your seat . . .’

‘That’s awfully nice of you, Eric, but I’m not looking to pack a parachute just yet. And I may not be so popular with your colleagues once they’ve seen what I do when I actually have some power.’

‘Power, in my experience, is largely an illusion. While you have it, you’re most conscious of what you lack, and of how little you can affect the things that matter to you. Only when it’s gone do you realize what you had.’

The coffee arrived. Both of them took it black.

‘How are the kids?’ Sarah asked, delaying the question she’d invited him over to answer.

‘Youngest started at university this week. Strange feeling, the empty nest. Makes you wonder why you go home at the end of the day.’

That was enough small talk. They only had ten minutes before her next appointment.

‘I wanted to clear up a loose end or two.’

‘Of course,’ Eric said. ‘I looked into that matter for you. I checked out your friend as well, Nicholas Cane.’

‘I didn’t ask you to . . .’

Eric shrugged. ‘I put my neck on the line where he was concerned. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t left either of us open to embarrassment. But he’s living an exemplary life, as far as we can tell. Volunteers at a drugs rehabilitation drop-in centre, keeps his probation appointments, hasn’t done any more illicit cab driving.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Sarah said. ‘We’ve not spoken.’

‘Who knows, in time, you might be able to use him as a consultant,’ Eric said. Seeing that he’d got her attention, he went on. ‘I hear rumours. Downgrading cannabis from Class B to Class C, virtually decriminalising the stuff. Any truth in that?’

‘Not my department,’ Sarah said.

‘Be a good thing, if you want my opinion. The laws at the moment, we make outlaws out of the middle-class punters we need on our side, make youngsters think that if we’ve got cannabis wrong, we’re probably wrong about the hard drugs, too. And we’re not.’

‘I agree.’

‘Cane, he wasn’t just growing the stuff, you know. He was a cocaine dealer.’

‘Really?’ Sarah thought it best to affect ignorance, even though Nick had told her about the coke.

‘Not big-time, but it made his sentence a lot heavier.’

‘How did you catch him?’ Sarah asked, remembering the bitter hints that Nick had given. He even suspected his own brother. ‘Nosy neighbour smelt something?’

Eric shook his head. ‘Same as the way we caught him driving illegally. Anonymous tip-off.’

‘How anonymous?’ Sarah asked, her heartbeat accelerating.

‘Not very. We traced the call to his brother’s home.’

‘His brother told you about the dope growing?’

‘No, it was a woman’s voice on the phone. Some kind of family trouble, it’s often the way. You rarely get to the bottom of it.’

Sarah had never met Nick’s sister-in-law, a teacher with a little baby. She wondered why the woman had it in for him.

‘That’s interesting to know,’ she told Eric. ‘What about the thing I asked you to check for me: Ed Clark. Has he resurfaced yet?’

‘No, but he’s on an Interpol watch-list. I’ve talked to them. Clark’s bought a place in St Lucia, is setting up some kind of property business there. Nineteen-year-old girlfriend, place on the beach. Sounds like paradise to me. How did we end up in such mundane jobs?’

Sarah didn’t answer this. She liked, no, loved her job. Whereas Eric was brushing fifty. In the police, that was retirement age. No wonder he was jaded.

‘We’ll never find out, will we, what really happened that afternoon?’

‘Probably not. You get used to that in my line of work. But if anything does crop up, I’ll let you know.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Want me to keep tabs on Cane, too, update you as and when . . .?’

‘I don’t think so, Eric. He’s entitled to a private life.’

Sarah stood up and Eric followed suit.

‘Talking of private lives,’ he said, ‘there’s a weekend get-together coming up – the police committee and one or two interested parties. Hambleton Hall, do you know it? Lovely hotel on the edge of Rutland Water. Michelin Star chef. We could really use your input on a couple of matters. Not too heavy an agenda, mind. Plenty of time for relaxation.’

There it was, the quid pro quo .

‘I should be able to manage it,’ Sarah said. ‘Fax me the details and I’ll run it past my diary secretary.’

Eric gave her his most suave smile and kissed her on the cheek. When he was gone, Sarah poured herself a glass of water and tried to collect her thoughts. She was about to meet the press officer of the Prison Governors’ Association to coordinate her tour of the UK’s most improved jails, but she had other things on her mind. She couldn’t, she decided, betray Caroline Cane. Telling Nick would solve a mystery for him, but it would poison his relations with his sister-in-law. And Sarah was still Nick’s friend. Friends didn’t get involved with each other’s family feuds, not if they wanted to stay friends. As for Ed Clark, the guilty went free all the time. So, he was living a life of luxury. So what? Get over it.

The phone rang, announcing the arrival of her next appointment.

Nick didn’t see Polly for five months. Then, one October night, he happened upon her in the Lion. She had more slap on than she used to. The mate she was with had pulled and Polly was adrift. It would have been churlish of Nick not to buy her a drink. Polly looked wary, but accepted the offer. She bought the second. After two more rounds she let him walk her home. Nick figured she’d already drunk enough to talk openly, but he produced a quarter-bottle of scotch anyway.

‘Have you heard from him?’ Nick asked, when she’d sent the babysitter home.

‘Ed? Not even a card. He got what he wanted from me.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘He wanted to prove he could get me back, after being inside. Me being with him stopped people thinking he was guilty, saying he only got out on a technicality. He was always going to piss off when the compensation came through.’

‘But you dumped me for him.’

‘I didn’t dump you,’ Polly reminded him. ‘I tried to, but I couldn’t. Then you walked in on me with him so I couldn’t stay with you.’