The House Across the Street Read online

  She wrote a letter to her father then, telling him about her job, the new flat and how much she was enjoying being in London. Before she signed off she said that Bonham had rung that evening to tell her about Edna. She said she hoped this would help his cause. She really wanted to tell him she was going to look for the damaged Jaguar, but she thought that would worry him. After that she wrote to Rob too, asking how he felt their father was coping, and telling him her news. She begged him to let her have a phone number so she could ring him and they could talk properly.

  At lunchtime on Thursday, Katy took a sandwich and the notebook into the staffroom. She had already discovered this tiny room was rarely used, as it was an ugly, airless room holding only a sink, a yellow Formica table, rickety chairs and a very worn sofa.

  At the table she opened the notebook at the end, where the most recent women’s names were entered. Working backwards, she began to make notes of all those who hadn’t returned to their home and husband.

  She didn’t think she could count the last five women, who had been helped in late November and December. Edna had pointed out that the first month away from their home was always the worst time for beaten women. They missed their old possessions; they had very little money, sometimes almost nothing at all. It was also very lonely and hard for them to manage without friends or family to call on. Suddenly their husbands didn’t seem so bad, and they hoped the time away from them had made the men regret their behaviour. So Katy discounted these women, as they may well have returned home by now.

  Going through the notebook she pinpointed just six women who had never succumbed to the temptation of going back to their husbands. All their men were real brutes who had finally attacked them so badly they had to be hospitalized with appalling injuries. Three of the women had a child who needed psychiatric help because of what they’d seen their mother go through.

  Katy was so engrossed in studying the notebook that she didn’t notice Charles Stevenson come into the staffroom.

  ‘What are you swatting up on?’ he asked, making her jump. ‘And in this dismal hole, too.’

  Katy laughed nervously. Charles was the youngest barrister here. He was also very attractive; tall, slender, with dark brown hair and chocolate-drop eyes that a girl could drown in. She thought other more worldly women would call them ‘come to bed eyes’. If the way he made her feel when he smiled at her, showing perfect white teeth, was anything to go by, she might even be willing to be led there.

  ‘You made me jump,’ she said, closing her notebook and collecting together her A to Z of London and her notes.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he said. ‘It’s so cold outside I can’t face going out, and I was just going to make some tea. Stay and have one with me?’

  Katy looked at her watch. ‘Just a quick one, I’ve only got ten minutes.’

  She knew he was the most junior of the lawyers there, but she hadn’t quite worked out the hierarchy: how they became barristers, what the difference was between a barrister and a QC, what they did to become one, or even what was so special about a QC. Perhaps she could learn from Charles.

  He put the kettle on, and looked round at her. ‘You didn’t say what you were swatting up on.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing very exciting, just some addresses a friend from back home gave me.’

  ‘And the A to Z?’

  Katy squirmed a little; he wasn’t easy to fob off. ‘I was just checking where these people live.’

  ‘You are going to look them up? Why?’

  ‘No, well, maybe. They are addresses from a book that belongs to my friend’s mother, and she’s in hospital. I said I’d go and see them, if they weren’t too far away.’

  ‘Why doesn’t she just write to them?’ he asked as he finished making the tea. He stood with his back against the wall and crossed his arms. ‘Why are you lying about this?’ he asked.

  Katy blushed. ‘Why are you so nosy?’ she managed to say. ‘If you were in your office and someone stuck their head round the door to ask what you were doing and why, what would you say?’

  ‘Mind your own business, I expect,’ he grinned.

  ‘Well, then!’

  ‘Well what, then? Come out for a drink with me after work?’

  ‘So you can grill me some more?’

  ‘Maybe, but more about you. I like to know about people. So will you come?’

  ‘I can’t, I’m staying with my friend’s aunt and uncle at the moment, and her aunt will have dinner ready for me.’

  ‘Tomorrow, then. It’s Friday, so no work the day after. Any excuses?’

  ‘I can’t think of one,’ she smiled. ‘Yes, that would be nice, Charles. But let me drink that tea quickly and get back to work.’

  Katy found it hard to concentrate that afternoon; she couldn’t really believe that someone as handsome and successful as Charles wanted to go out on a date with her. She wasn’t exactly sure if a drink after work was technically a date, but it seemed like one.

  Did he take all the new girls out? She could’nt really ask someone, as she was pretty certain that lawyers weren’t supposed to fraternize with the office staff.

  She could hardly wait to tell Jilly when she got home.

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ Jilly said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. ‘He sounds scrumptious, so go all out to ensnare him. I’ve got my eye on someone at the zoo too, but he doesn’t appear to have noticed me yet.’

  ‘He soon will,’ Katy assured her. ‘And I’m not into “ensnaring” anyone. He’s not one of your wild animals.’

  ‘We can learn a lot from animals,’ Jilly giggled. ‘They can be trained with treats, and they do hunt for the best available female to impregnate.’

  Katy sniggered. ‘Well, I won’t be letting him impregnate me. But if Friday’s drink goes well, who knows where it might lead?’

  ‘I hope it will lead to a date on Saturday or Sunday for you. Because I’ve got to work both days.’ Jilly pulled a sad face. ‘I don’t want you to be lonely.’

  ‘I will be lonely without you, but I’ll survive.’ Katy grinned, relieved she wouldn’t need to tell lies about what she planned to do on Saturday. ‘But maybe I could meet you from work on Saturday and we could go to Hampstead or somewhere for a drink?’

  ‘I’m a bit stinky when I leave the zoo,’ Jilly replied, wrinkling her nose. ‘Some of the girls wash and change there, but I’m not mad about doing that. We can go out after I get back here and I’ve had a bath.’

  After dinner, Katy sat down to write to Edna care of her daughter in Broadstairs, an address Bonham had given her. In view of the fact that Edna would be even more frightened now, Katy didn’t say anything about the notebook, or her intention to look up some of the violent husbands, only saying how upset she was to hear what had happened to Edna. She went on to tell her about her new job and that she and Jilly would be moving into their own flat in just over a week.

  But even as she wrote, her mind was on Charles, considering what she should wear for her date, and planning to wash her hair that night. She was so glad that the beehive hairstyle seemed to have disappeared altogether in London, at least for anyone under thirty-five. Many girls had either the Cilla Black short bob or the ‘flick ups’ style, if their hair was shoulder length, but Katy had noticed the more trendy girls who wore miniskirts were leaving their long hair straight. That delighted her, as it had always been a nightmare trying to curl her poker-straight hair. She thought she would wear her new black-and-white shift dress tomorrow and run the risk of being told off because it was too short for the office.

  That night, as the girls got ready for bed, Katy stuck her fringe down with Sellotape, as it tended to go into an unruly quiff rather than lying straight down. She had butterflies in her stomach now; all the men and boys she’d been out with in the past had been unsophisticated, mostly doing manual work, and often had little conversation. Charles was chatty, but she thought he might find her rather dull and provincial.

  She drifted off to sleep tryi
ng to think of topics to bring up that would make her seem vivacious and clever.

  ‘So are you going to tell me what you were really doing with that notebook?’ Charles asked as he put Katy’s second glass of Babycham down in front of her.

  ‘You are an inquisitive chap,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve already told you all I’m going to.’

  He sat down beside her and took a sip of his pint. The Mitre was very crowded, mostly office workers having a couple of drinks before going home to the suburbs. Charles had brought her to a pub in High Holborn because he didn’t want to run into anyone he knew from the Inns of Court.

  ‘I get so cheesed off with all that public-school banter,’ he’d added. ‘They talk shop all evening, too. When I leave the office at night I like to put aside the cases I’m working on. It seems I’m something of a rarity in legal circles.’

  Katy was inclined to believe that too, as he hadn’t mentioned anyone from the chambers or anything work-related. While they had their first drink he had asked about Jilly, how long they’d been friends for, and about the flat they would soon move into. He also told Katy he came from a small village in Hampshire, and he had two younger sisters. He shared a flat in Westminster with Mike, a friend he’d made while at Cambridge. Mike worked at the Stock Exchange. Katy got the impression Charles wasn’t entirely happy with a career in law, and that maybe he’d been pushed into it by his parents.

  ‘I would point out that being so secretive about your notebook just confirms to me that you’re up to something,’ he said. ‘One thing one learns very quickly as a lawyer is the ability to tell when you are being lied to. I do know that your father is on remand, accused of starting a fire that killed two women.’

  Katy’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘How do you know that?’ she asked.

  ‘I have a very retentive memory, and I had read in the press that a man called Speed had been arrested for setting a fire in Bexhill and killing two people. I didn’t give it another thought, but then suddenly we have a new girl in chambers called Katy Speed, and she comes from Bexhill. So I knew you were almost certainly a relative. But don’t worry, Katy, no one else in chambers knows.’

  Katy wished the floor would open and swallow her up. In an agony of embarrassment she tried to explain her side of the story.

  ‘It’s okay, Katy, you don’t need to try and convince me of his innocence,’ Charles said, putting one hand over hers. ‘From what I have discovered – because, needless to say, I asked a couple of contacts for the gen on the case – I’d say the police in Bexhill have failed miserably in their investigation. I feel sure your father will be released, without charge, shortly. So I ask again about the notebook. My guess is that you are acting as a detective on your father’s behalf?’

  Katy felt she had no choice but to tell him the truth about both Gloria and Edna. She explained that the notebook held details of the women they’d helped. Then she went on to tell him that someone had attempted to kill Edna.

  ‘I see,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But you can’t go around contacting these men. If you did find the dark red car, the owner might very well try to kill you.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to knock on his door or anything like that,’ she said. ‘Only to find the car and then inform the police and my father’s lawyer.’

  ‘That is still risky. We can surmise this man is quick-witted, observant, patient, has no scruples and he is driven by revenge. I’d say that was a deadly combination. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Well, yes, but he doesn’t know me, does he? I could walk past his house without causing any suspicion.’

  ‘How do you know he doesn’t know you? This man took his time planning to kill Gloria. He could’ve been amongst the mourners at Gloria’s funeral, he might have seen you when he was planning the fire. He could have put the paraffin and the cloth in your father’s shed because he had observed he was friends with Gloria. That means he could know who you are, too.’

  ‘I didn’t think of that,’ she said, hanging her head.

  Charles put one finger under her chin, lifted it and smiled at her. ‘That’s why I’m a lawyer. I’m paid to think of all the possibilities. I’ve also defended and prosecuted quite a few nasty people over the years, so I’ve had to learn to curb my natural trusting nature. You must learn that too, Katy. But I didn’t ask you out to lecture you, so let’s drink up and go and find a nice restaurant?’

  He had, in fact, already booked a table at a little Italian restaurant just a few minutes’ walk from the Mitre. It was cosy rather than smart, with red-checked tablecloths and candles stuck in Chianti bottles.

  Judging by the warm way the waiter and the owner greeted him, he’d clearly been there dozens of times before. So Katy suggested he order for her. All she knew about Italian food was from a Greek-owned restaurant in Bexhill whose owners liked to think they were cosmopolitan by putting pizza and lasagne on the menu, neither of which was very good.

  Charles didn’t mention the notebook or her father again. Instead, over a starter of garlic mushrooms, he asked her more about Jilly, the flat they were moving into and her interests.

  ‘I’m a nosy parker like you,’ she joked. ‘I like to observe people; I expect that’s why I’m happy in a job that’s all about human stories. I also like dancing, reading, swimming, and would get seriously into cooking and gardening if I had a place of my own. So what about you?’

  He made a comic face and whirled one finger around the side of his head to signify there was little inside. ‘I play cricket quite well, and the piano badly. I like reading, and long walks in the country, but unlike you I’m often unhappy at being a lawyer, possibly because I expect more of people than one actually gets. They lie, they cheat, they lack loyalty and they are greedy.’

  ‘So what would you do, if you could change direction now?’

  ‘You’ll laugh.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she promised.

  He hesitated, swirling his wine round the glass. ‘I’d like to have a market garden, grow and sell trees and flowers,’ he blurted out.

  ‘I think that’s a lovely thing to do,’ she said. ‘But you didn’t say before that you liked gardening.’

  ‘That was just because you’d said it. As child I loved working in my grandpa’s greenhouse, pricking out seedlings, sieving the compost, watering, all that. When I go home I do a bit of weeding, trimming the hedges, but my parents don’t really encourage interference.’

  ‘Mine don’t, either,’ Katy laughed. ‘My father watches me like a hawk when I’m weeding, as he thinks I’ll pull up flowers. He never lets me make any decisions, like what colour bedding plants to have this year, or suggest something new in the vegetable plot.’

  They both laughed, and all at once Katy was aware she really liked this man. It was not just that he was handsome, with a good job, but she had the feeling she wanted the night to go on forever.

  They took a long time over the meal because they talked so much. They had chicken with a Mediterranean tomato and basil sauce, but Katy barely noticed what she was eating for looking at Charles. He was so animated when he was talking, so different from most of the men she’d known before who found it difficult to string a sentence together, let alone hold an interesting conversation. Then there were his chocolate-drop eyes that sent delicious shivers down her spine.

  She didn’t mean to open up about her mother, but suddenly she was telling him how difficult Hilda was.

  ‘My entire life has been spent trying to appease her,’ she said. ‘It’s like that for Dad, too. She is always so nasty and grumpy. She never shows any joy about anything.’

  ‘My paternal grandmother was like that,’ he said. ‘She made Grandpa’s life a misery, and she’d been vile to my father, too. But he got away to Cambridge and stayed away. He tried again with Grandma, taking us kids to see her, hoping that with a new generation she’d be different. But it was no good, she was always complaining and criticizing, nothing was ever right. Grandpa spent as much time as he could in the ga
rden, to get away from her. Even when I was just five or six years old, I saw that. She died when I was thirteen, and to be truthful it was like a weight was finally lifted from Father and Grandpa’s shoulders. I remember going over to Grandpa’s with my father for the night, just after her funeral; they drank whisky and we played cards. They were both so jolly, laughing about things, teasing me. I stayed with Grandpa a lot after that, helping him in his garden, making bonfires to burn rubbish. He never spoke to me about my grandmother – I don’t think he did to my dad, either – but we could both see how much happier he was.’

  ‘I wonder if my dad will go back to Mum when this horrible business is finally over,’ Katy said. ‘I don’t think she’s written or visited him. She said she wouldn’t have him back if he got bail.’

  ‘I hope for his sake he doesn’t. Grandpa only lived another eight years after my grandmother died, and he was the happiest I’d ever seen him then. He should have left her years before, but of course that generation didn’t divorce. My father once said he fell in love with my mother because she was always laughing. She never criticized anyone, not even us kids. I find that works so much better; we all just wanted to be good, to achieve things, to make her proud of us.’

  ‘She must be very proud of you becoming a lawyer, then?’

  ‘You know, Katy, if I’d owned up and said I wanted to be a market gardener, she would have been just as proud – probably more, because she could help me. But Grandpa was a lawyer, I think that’s why I decided to go for it.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you are a very good one. And you can break away any time and do what you want to. You don’t have to stay. Only don’t go just yet; I’ve only just got to London, and I need to get to know you better first.’

  The moment those last words left her lips, Katy wished she hadn’t had two glasses of wine on top of the Babychams. It was too forward. In fact, all evening she’d done what she always promised herself she’d never do; she’d told him far too much.