The hand in the small of her back should have been a comfort but not even the owner of that particular appendage could calm her down today.
"Do you want me to come in with you?" Peter's question only just met her ears as they stood just inside the Station door where she had come to an abrupt halt after a silent car journey – even by Freddie's usual standards - from the Lodge back to Poplar. "Camilla?"
She swallowed quickly, watching but not truly hearing the hustle and bustle of the Police Station around her as people moved around; Peter's voice distant in her ears. "Sorry….yes, yes please if you can" Chummy stammered. "If they'll say you can". She smiled quickly and uncomfortably at him; the gesture lost in seconds.
"I'll speak to the Inspector. It's nothing to worry about Camilla". She felt him squeeze her elbow and he was just about to step forward when a constable arrived by their side.
"Sir" the officer said, nodding politely to his senior officer, even though he was in civvies, and then to Chummy, who was standing, hands clasped strangling her patent black bag and rooted to the floor.
"Constable…" Peter nodded to the younger officer.
"Hello Mrs Noakes" the Constable said, smiling at Chummy, even though he could well see that she was distracted. "It's nice to see you again".
"Hello Frank" she breathed eventually realising she was being talked to, eyes still wandering around the cold reception of the station as people wandered around her. She felt sick.
"Are you here for…..?" he asked, before his Sergeant cut him off.
"Yes" Peter replied for her, guiding her down the corridor as he wanted to get this over and done with as much as his wife. "Room six?"
"Yes Sir" the officer called after them both as he watched them walk away; having to raise his voice to be sure that he was heard. "The Inspector's already in there waiting for you Sir!"
Chummy smiled politely as Peter's Inspector sat in front of her, hands jammed to the side of her handbag again as it lay on her knee. Her knuckles were white.
"I must say it is lovely to see you again Mrs Noakes" the Inspector smiled, a bundle of papers underneath his arms as he leant on the table. "Did your husband tell you about the outing for my officer's wives and children next month?"
"He did" Chummy replied, desperately trying to feel as relaxed as the Inspector seemed to look. Peter had spoken to her about it a few weeks ago and persuaded her – and he did have to persuade her - to ask the Council if she could have the afternoon off. It wasn't really the time off; it was going out for the day with all the women that had made her apprehensive. "Can I assume that you and your son….?" The boy's name had escaped him.
"Freddie" she responded.
"Yes, young Freddie" the Inspector smiled, "he will be coming?"
"Yes, we will be coming. He's very much looking forward to it". Beside himself if she was honest at the very thought of going to the fairground and as it transpired the venue was not too far from the Lodge. The trip out though seemed to be many moons into the future.
"That's superb" the Inspector remarked taking a glance at Peter who was sitting next to his wife and deciding that they really should get to the point. His officer didn't look as nervous as his wife did. "Now I am sure you've been made aware as to why it has been suggested to me that you come into see us".
"Yes" Chummy replied, feeling the mood change in the room immediately. "My husband has spoken to me about it at length". They had spoken and 'at length' was indeed as very apt choice of words. Listening intently to his suspicions last night, she had digested every word; not wanting to believe a syllable that passed his lips. She knew her husband though; knew if he didn't think it was who he saw, he would never have told her. Worried her as the case transpired to be.
"I think it's him Camilla. I am almost sure it's him".
Peter's words rattled around in her head; finally realising the Inspector was speaking again, with some very important instructions.
"When we do the identification parade, each of the individuals will be holding up a number" the Inspector continued. "Make no gestures or comment as you walk along the line and simply memorise the number of any person that you truly recognise. If you are not sure say so. Do not force yourself and try not to engage in eye contact". He saw Chummy nod, knowing his Sergeant had probably told her this already but it was worth emphasising, particularly as it had been quite the unexpected, yet fortuitous, course of events that had brought her here. "I do appreciate Mrs Noakes that it can be someone disconcerting to have to be asked to do something of this nature, particularly if you do recognise someone".
"Yes, yes" she replied, nodding far too quickly in anxiety. "One understands."
Thankfully from behind darkened glass, heart racing, wishing Peter was beside her holding her hand and not jammed up against the far wall, she perused the line from left to right and right to left. Her mind was racing, not wanting to see what she did – or indeed who she did – but to her horror it would seem that her husband had been spot on with his suspicions.
She took one last look, just to be entirely sure, and turned on her heels to Peter and the Inspector. Peter alone, from the crestfallen look on her face, knew what she was going to say. Now that he too was seeing him in the cold light of day, it had only affirmed what he already knew.
"Eight" she whispered when she return to the Inspector and her husband; hoping that line of men on the other side of the glass could not see her.
"Eight, Mrs Noakes?" the Inspector asked, taking out a notepad. "Are you entirely sure?"
"Yes absolutely" she replied, as her voice bobbled, seeing out of the corner of her eye the men being ordered out of the room; watching the forlorn figure she had identified shuffle away in a suit that looked as though he has slept in it.
"And what name do you know number eight by?" the Inspector asked, pen poised to write down her answer.
"Daniel Ferguson" Chummy replied, her voice betraying her as it crackled his name. Dear Daniel. A friend of too many years and one she had seen not to many years ago at Isobel's wedding, charming her mother and being an all-round good egg. So, so welcoming to Peter in this odd new world he was encountering; receiving him as though he was an old friend too. The son of the kind old gentleman that had leant Isobel his house for the wedding reception out of charity for her sorry state. A person now reduced to this; arrested in a brothel in the East End of London. She didn't understand.
The Inspector nodded several times. Peter knew full well what question was coming next, knowing more than he had let on to his wife last night. "And by no other name at all?" the Inspector asked again.
"No. Absolutely not" Chummy replied, shaking her head, trying not to look Peter in the eye otherwise she may feel tears.
The senior Officer nodded once this time and the pair were led back to the other room where they had first met. A cup of sweet tea was pushed towards her just five minutes later by a young constable. It had been intended to calm her nerves, but her stomach was turning itself in knots and she felt somewhat faint as the enormity of the situation began to wash over her.
"Mrs Noakes, do you know of anyone called Philip Harbottle that might be connected to this Ferguson individual?" This time there was now another officer in the room besides the Inspector. She knew Sergeant Graves, taking notes as his Inspector talked, and this time Peter had hold of her hand underneath the table.
"Yes", she signed, seeing the Inspector suggest she carry on, thinking he too knew more than he was saying. "I do know a Philip Harbottle. He's married to a friend of mine, Isobel. I've known of him since I was about 13 or 14 I think".
"Are Daniel Ferguson and Philip Harbottle the same individual?" the other Sergeant asked, knowing the answer was 'no' but for the sake of record it needed asking.
Chummy shook her head, not knowing what trouble she may get either into. "No. They aren't."
Her time over, Chummy walked in silence again from the police station with Peter, somehow gravitating towards All Saint's Church as it was starting spit with rain. They decided to take shelter in the place they married and Peter let himself be led to the front pew and sat with his head bowed whilst she sank to her knees and closed her eyes. However many minutes later as he watched the rain patter against the high windows as it grew heavier by the second, she sat up next to him.
"One doesn't understand it Peter" she whispered. "Daniel is…he would never be involved in anything criminal". She really truly wanted to believe that.
"He gave an alias to the Police Camilla" Peter replied, torn himself. "It's only by chance I walked in on his arrest. Anyone who gives an alias…."
"Yes I know. He has to be viewed with suspicion. I understand that" she responded.
"If I tell you something…." Peter started, thinking she needed to know to comprehend precisely why he had led her to the Police Station door and why the Inspector had become so very interested.
"I won't say a word" she replied suspiciously as she saw him take a breath, just looking behind himself for a moment to make absolutely sure they were on their own.
"He was found with cocaine on him. Daniel was found with cocaine on him…"
Chummy nodded carefully as she digested the news; knowing what might be to come. "Enough to charge him with possession?" she asked. Did she want to hear the answer?
Peter smiled involuntarily. All these things she had learnt from his studies. "No", he sighed with a sad shake of the head. It was worse than that. "Not possession. With intent to supply. There was enough on him to make that charge stick and more besides" he responded.
"What might he get?"
Peter shrugged. "A few months". If he doesn't pay off the beak.
"I don't understand why he gave Philip's name as his alias though" Chummy replied. "I know they were not the best of friends but …"
"I would've assumed that he would be released on bail, disappear back into the country and all the world would be looking for a Philip Harbottle not a Daniel Ferguson". He had no idea what might have happened in the long term.
Chummy still didn't understand it though, looking upwards towards the stained glass window that hung over the altar. "Do you think he recognised you?"
"I don't honestly know" Peter replied. "I only saw him for a minute and the other lads said they couldn't interview him. They had to leave him to dry out in a cell overnight. Drunk they thought…or something else. They asked for Dr Turner to come".
"His parents will be heartbroken…" she replied, despondent. It might just even finish them off to find a son arrested with a whore in one of the most unsavoury establishments that London ever owned. "His brother too."
She took one last look at the stained glass window, needing solace that this time she had not found in this place. "We told Isobel and Mrs Morton we wouldn't be away long and we need to get Fred from Violet before he runs rings around her".
Peter nodded and stood up; holding out a hand for her to take.
He had no idea what to say.
