‘Did she pay you, Mark?’
There was a long silence. Then:
‘You’re making a big mistake.’
‘Did she pay you?’
‘And I could sit here all day and all night and tell you exactly why I never spoke to her, why I never colluded with her, was never bribed by her, why I never did a damn thing wrong, but there’s no point, is there? The train has left the station and there’s no going back. And I will probably never know exactly why you’ve done this to me when you have no concrete proof whatsoever, whether it’s a cop thing, or a head thing or an… I don’t know what thing. But I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going to sit here and be grilled by you in my home without a lawyer present. You’ve done this by the book. Of course you’ve done it by the book. So you will have been to Whittaker and talked to Charlie and sent the dreaded yellow form to Anti-Corruption. So I’m going to do it by the book. I’m not going to be squeezed like some fucking… criminal. I’m going to sit down in interview rooms with my lawyer and my union rep and slowly, carefully unpick whatever case you think you have against me, so that I’m exonerated and you are made to look a bloody fool.’
He pushed his chair back sharply and marched over to the front door, flinging it open. Helen had no choice but to obey – she was on dodgy ground being here at all.
‘Should I tell them we screwed?’ Mark fired at her. ‘Would that be good “colour”? Might explain why you’re ruining my career. Perhaps I wasn’t good in the sack. Perhaps you felt you’d let yourself down. Thought it might come back to you. Well, you can bet it will now.’
Helen had now reached the door. She just wanted to be out of there, but Mark wasn’t finished yet.
‘I should hate you, you know. But I don’t. I pity you.’
Helen pushed roughly past and hurried away down the stairs. Why did his pity hurt her? He’s a bent copper, a rotten apple – who gives a shit what he says? So she reasoned with herself but it didn’t cut any ice. Even amidst her anger and hurt, she knew that Mark had unnerved her. He seemed so indignant, so outraged, so sure of his innocence. The evidence all pointed to him. She couldn’t have got it so badly wrong.
Could she?
I remember that day so clearly. Everything that came after – the misery, the violence, the desolation – stemmed from that day. Things had been grim before that for sure, but I expected that. I hadn’t been expecting this.
There had been a sort of party at ours – my Uncle Jimmy’s birthday. They’d been at the booze all day – someone had had a result at the bookies – and everyone was even more wasted than usual. The neighbours had already been round twice, shouting obscenities about the noise, but my folks didn’t give a shit. They just cranked it up another notch – ‘Enjoy Yourself’ by the Specials blasting out at full volume. We hung around trying to cadge the odd ciggy or can but we weren’t welcome. In the end there’s nothing more depressing than a group of middle-aged wankers dancing and grinding so I pissed off to bed. My mum had passed out by that point and Dad and his ‘mates’ would often take advantage of her insensibility to play stupid pranks on her. He pissed on her once when she was asleep – they all did – and I didn’t like watching that, so I was better off out of it.