Don’t Say a Word: A gripping psychological thriller from the author of The Good Mother. A. Bird L.
to that secret. Is Bill a gossip? When all along I thought my secret was safe with him, has he been laughing with the other partners about my secret past? About Mick? About Chloe?
I shake my head. Surely not. Bill must know he’d be in no end of trouble if he was found to have given away my story. That’s why they chose him – trustworthy to a fault. Pillar of the local community. Committed to the role of law in rebuilding lives. All that worthy stuff.
So. Just harmful flirting, then. In which case, I need to go back.
I dry my face and return to the room.
Tim gets to his feet. His face is serious.
‘Jen, we didn’t offend you, did we? I’m sorry, I was just trying to lighten the tone in this unpleasant case.’
I stay mute, biding my time.
‘Look, let’s call it a day for now. Dan and I discussed some action points while you were out and –’
‘What action points?’ I ask. About me? A follow-up to the flirting?
‘About the case.’ Tim looks at me like I’m mad.
‘We decided that Tim is doing such a good job of building up Rhea’s trust that he’s going to go and speak to her again,’ Dan tells me. His voice is serious but his eyes are sparkling. Tim thinks he’s building up trust? Lawyers and their egos. Poor Rhea. But Dan’s invisible dig at Tim puts me at ease more than a stilted apology.
‘Yes, Dan read the transcripts and was kind to say I went about it like a proper QC!’ Tim says.
I don’t look at Dan in case my anxiety spills over into giddy laughter.
‘So I’ll go and visit her again,’ Tim says.
‘I can come if you like,’ I tell him. Poor Rhea. She needs someone who gets it. Someone to talk to her about her kid. Someone who’s been there.
Tim puts his head on one side. ‘Interesting idea for the future. But look, I’m getting somewhere with her. And besides, it will be too much admin with the prison passes and everything. Maybe later.’
I nod. ‘OK.’
‘Anyway, what I was going to say was – I think we’ve got what we need for today. Shall we adjourn to the pub?’
I flick a look at the clock. ‘I’d love to, Tim, but it’s getting on for school pick-up, and I’m driving, so …’
‘Oh, you’ve got time for a quick one, and I won’t let you get over the limit. Come on, live a little.’
I look at Dan. He shrugs behind Tim’s back in an ‘up to you’ gesture.
I look at the clock again. I have fifteen minutes, which means by the time we order I would have approximately one point five minutes to down my drink.
‘I’ll minesweep what you don’t finish,’ Dan offers, relieving my quandary.
‘It’s a deal, then,’ I tell him.
But as we cross the road to the pub, I’m not at ease with my choice. It’s not so much the timing. Or the drinking. It’s the morality. Because they’ve been shamed into thinking I minded them almost flirting with me, Rhea Stevens’s two best hopes of freedom have abandoned their posts to take me for a drink. If someone had done that to me all those years ago, where would I be now?
The pub is crowded when we get there. Pinstriped suits jostle with polo shirts to be served by a too-relaxed barmaid. I almost turn round and leave then and there – we’ll never get a drink on time. I mustn’t be late for Josh again. But Tim waves us to a table ledge and says he’ll get us a drink in no time.
‘Vodka and Coke,’ I say. Tim raises an eyebrow at me. What, am I meant to be on the dry white wine here? Fuck that. ‘A single,’ I tell him. ‘I’m driving.’
I follow Dan to a trio of bar-stools. As we clamber up, our knees brush. I pull away, too quickly.
‘Are you OK?’ Dan asks me. I think for a moment he means the knee-brushing. But he doesn’t. It’s the meeting.
‘I’m fine,’ I say.
He looks at me closely. ‘If I offended you, I’m sorry.’ He pauses a moment. ‘But I don’t think I did, did I?’
I flick a glance at him. ‘No,’ I say.
‘I know it’s a serious case, Jen. I take it seriously, don’t worry. I’ll do my bit for Rhea.’
‘I’m glad,’ I tell him. If I need to pretend that’s what happened, fine. That upset me too. Just not as much as thinking Bill had blabbed, that I was in a room of people who Know.
Dan smiles at me and I can feel the warmth of our connection starting. Rebuilding.
Then Tim reappears with the drinks.
We clink our glasses, although I don’t know why.
‘To Rhea,’ says Dan.
Tim nods sagely. ‘Yes. To Rhea. Well said.’
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. What are your counsel doing now, Rhea? They are clinking glasses in an overcrowded pub. And what are you doing? Sitting in a cell wondering when you’re next going to see your daughter.
‘I should get going,’ I say.
‘Oh, already?’ cries Tim. As if I’ve made up my son, made up my caring responsibilities.
‘Minesweep for me, Dan?’ I ask him.
‘With pleasure,’ he returns. ‘See you soon. Take care.’ This time we both know that we’re going for a kiss on both cheeks. ‘I’ll call you,’ he says softly into my ear. I wonder if he means about the case.
‘Let me escort you out,’ Tim says.
‘There’s really no need,’ I tell him, but he’s already on his feet.
Outside, I’m ready to go, but Tim takes my elbow slightly and pulls me away from the doorway into the quiet side street.
‘Jen, I really am sorry about before. And look, about you having to leave early – it’s difficult for you. Lucy giving you a dressing-down the other day, you getting on with Dan just now but having to go … well, look, I don’t want to speak out of turn again. But I can recommend a very good child minder.’
‘I can’t afford a child minder, Tim.’
‘Well, you should be able to, Jen. Let me put in a word with Bill. Least I can do. And I’ll message you her details.’
‘OK, but I really think –’
‘Of course, of course, it’s up to you. Just think about it, OK? Keep your options open.’
‘Thanks, Tim. I appreciate it.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I don’t want us getting off on the wrong foot, you know. I’m looking forward to having your input on this case. We’ll catch up when I’ve spoken to Rhea again. And we can use that murky past of yours, yes?’
I feel a chill again. I laugh. He laughs back.
‘Good, you see – we can laugh about it now. I’m such a chump. Always misjudge situations. Look, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening.’
‘Thanks, Tim. I’ll type up my notes of the con tomorrow.’
‘Good stuff. Say hello to the little one for me.’
And so we part.
I haven’t had enough vodka to feel a warm fondness for him. But I am grateful. Again. There was a glow with Dan. If I had a child minder – or even a babysitter – I could have stayed there