Part Ninety Nine
On the Monday morning, Karen drove in to work with a feeling of unreality. Part of her was aware that this was just any ordinary day, with her wing to manage and inmates to deal with. But this was overshadowed by the events of the previous afternoon. Once she'd returned home last night, Karen had found herself staring repeatedly at the phone, her eyes straying to the address book which contained both Jo's and George's numbers. Her urge to tell someone, anyone, was almost unbearably strong. She'd cried herself out with Cassie and Roisin, and felt half ashamed of her outburst. But they'd been wonderful to her, when the news of what Lauren had done must have come with just as much shock to them as it had to her. She couldn't sit still, she couldn't settle to doing anything. she had mindlessly worked her way through an entire basket of ironing, to give her hands something to do, to keep them away from picking up the phone. She had moved from alcohol to coffee, knowing that whisky certainly wouldn't help her inclination to make irrational decisions like confiding in a member of the legal profession. But the caffeine only increased her restlessness. When she eventually made her way to bed, she slipped in and out of a troubled sleep, perpetually tortured by images of Fenner's face. Part of her was desperate to know exactly how he had met his end, and the rest of her shied away from such information. But the questions still stayed with her. How much pain had he been in? How had he felt when he'd died? Had he been aware that he was going to die, or was he as surprised as she had been. But the answer to this last one didn't really need any constant mulling over like the others. Lauren was, after all, an Atkins, and clearly an Atkins who took her duty as such to the letter. She would have made Fenner suffer, of that Karen was sure.
As she moved through the familiar gates and corridors of Larkhall, she felt like she was looking down on herself, as if half of her was only observing her day to day activities. During the usual early morning officers meeting, she was presented with the first occasion on which she had to put on an Oscar-winning performance. She found herself asking where Jim was, and listening to the replies of some saying they hadn't seen him. She asked Di to phone Jim to see if he was unwell, and could have cheerfully kicked herself. If there was one thing she shouldn't be doing it was drawing attention to his disappearance. People would discover that soon enough, and it wasn't for her to speed up that inevitable process. Shit, she thought, as she walked back out through the gates to drive to George's office for their eleven o'clock meeting, I'm not really cut out for this. when she pulled in to the car park in front of George's office, she took a few moments to collect her thoughts. If her performance in front of the officers was anything to go by, her act required a lot of major improvement. After all, George was a barrister, highly skilled in drawing out information, beautifully adept at making people trip over their own words. Wishing she could have had a qualification from RADA to back her up, Karen locked the car and walked through the doors in to the legal world that now held only fear and the threat of punishment for her. She was surprised to se George herself appearing in reception to collect her.
"My secretary has chosen today of all days to go off sick," Said George disgustedly.
"Have you recovered from last week?" Asked Karen, desperately trying to find a safe topic of conversation.
"From my visit to Larkhall, yes," Replied George, and Karen had the impression that something else had happened to George in the previous week that overshadowed her visit to Larkhall and that wouldn't be so easily overcome. She followed George up stairs, wondering if she really could pull this off. Once inside her office, George briefly left to make them some coffee, something she would usually have delegated to her long-suffering secretary. Whilst George was otherwise engaged, Karen walked over to the window. She could look down on the busy Knightsbridge street, already full of midmorning shoppers with clearly nothing better to do with their time. How normal they all seemed from her vantage point. But she supposed that she looked exactly the same. She was still Karen Bets, Governor of G wing, thirty-eight-years-old, mother of one son, Ross, aged twenty. But how different she was from twenty four hours ago. Yesterday morning, Karen Betts had still been happy, normal, and judging by her reactions of subsequent events, still relatively innocent. How could she do this? How could she just carry on as if he was still alive, still out there somewhere, she really didn't know. When George returned with the coffee, she found Karen still staring out of the window, though clearly taking no notice of the world out there in front of her. Putting two mugs of coffee down on the small table by the little group of comfortable chairs that faced her desk, she called Karen's name, but got no response. George moved to stand beside Karen and looked up in to her face. The mixture of fear and utter desolation she saw there shocked her. She put out a hand and gently touched one of Karen's which was resting on the windowsill, not wanting to startle her but nevertheless achieving this result. Karen stared at her for a moment, taking a second or two to realise that it was George's concerned face looking at her, not that of some known or unknown demon.
"I'm sorry," Said Karen, making a monumental effort to regain her equilibrium. "I was miles away."
"Yes, and not somewhere nice by the look of you," Replied George. "Has something happened?" It was unlike George to show or even feel this much concern for someone she'd only known for a short time, but the brief look of sheer terror in Karen's eyes, induced a feeling of protectiveness that was utterly alien to George.
"No," Said Karen, "At least not something that's in any way relevant to this case." She ought to be wiped off the face of the earth for such a whopper of a lie. George gave her a look as if to say, give me some credit for being in the business of detecting untruths, but Karen steadfastly wouldn't meet George's eye. Seeing that she wasn't going to get any further, George returned to the matter in hand.
They began talking about Karen's visit the previous week to see Shell Dockley, though this seemed like a lifetime ago to both of them.
"When I came to Larkhall, you said that Fenner had been using Dockley as a prostitute," Said George, taking note of Karen's almost imperceptible flinch at Fenner's name.
"Yes," Replied Karen, attempting to rein in her surely visible reaction to hearing that word that even now, even though he was dead, could irrevocably change her life. "She did say that one of my other officers, Collin Hedges, was in on this arrangement. If he is, then he's in line for the sack at the very least. I remember on the day that Shell was transferred to Ashmore, I found Fenner in her cell, supposedly getting her things together. He looked pretty shifty, but I didn't think anything of it because he looks like that so often. Shell told me that her one possession which didn't make it to Ashmore was her stash of cash that she'd accumulated from this little earner. I think he pocketed it." George walked to her desk and brought her notated entries of the Sexual Offenses Act on to the screen and printed a copy for Karen to see.
"Taking this in to consideration," She said, handing Karen the print-out, "He is without doubt guilty of transgressing against four specific areas of the Sexual Offenses Act, something that area management are duty bound to investigate." Karen began to read what she'd been given. There were four separate excerpts from the 2003 Act, with various names of the relevant victims or individuals involved highlighted underneath. This ran as follows:
"Sexual Offences Act 2003:
Rape
(1) A person (A) commits an offence if-
(a) he intentionally penetrates the vagina, anus or mouth of another person (B) with his penis,
(b) B does not consent to the penetration, and
(c) A does not reasonably believe that B consents.
(2) Whether a belief is reasonable is to be determined having regard to all the circumstances, including any steps A has taken to ascertain whether
B consents. (Karen Betts).
Sexual assault
(1) A person (A) commits an offence if-
(a) he intentionally touches another person (B),
(b) the touching is sexual,
(c) B does not consent to the touching, and
(d) A does not reasonably believe that B consents. (Helen Stewart, possibly Michelle Dockley).
Causing or inciting prostitution for gain
(1) A person commits an offence if-
(a) he intentionally causes or incites another person to become a prostitute in any part of the world, and
(b) he does so for or in the expectation of gain for himself or a third person. (Michelle Dockley, possibly Maxine Pervis and Rachel Hicks).
Keeping a brothel used for prostitution
(1) It is an offence for a person to keep, or to manage, or act or assist in the management of, a brothel to which people resort for practices involving prostitution (whether or not also for other practices). (Fenner's managing of Virginia O'kane's brothels)."
Karen read this through and then looked up.
"Why have you noted down Maxine Pervis and Rachel Hicks for the prostitution issue?"
"The fact that they used the giving of sexual favours in return for either an easy life or a raise in status could be defined as a form of prostitution. I've talked to Jo about her conversation with Helen Stewart, and it appears that around the time when he was probably beginning his affair with Rachel Hicks, he pleaded her case for a move on to enhanced and for giving her the job of making tea for the officers. Wouldn't you say that these sort of favours would perhaps be worth far more than pure and simple cash to an inmate serving a stretch that could hardly be called short?"
"Definitely, and yes, he did do the same with Pervis. It was just after he was made Wing Governor. He tried to put both her and McKenzy on enhanced, but Grayling blocked it. That was probably the only sensible thing Grayling's ever done."
"So, we've established that a raise in prison status and a raise in employment was the currency with both Hicks and Pervis."
"Is there any legislation about abusing vulnerable people within the confines of a state institution?"
"Yes, I've thought of that one, but no. Prisoners are not, in this case, categorized as vulnerable people."
"But that's ridiculous," Said Karen, clearly astounded.
"After what I saw last week," Replied George, "I wholeheartedly agree. Women who are locked up and have absolutely no way of defending themselves are by definition vulnerable, but all of Fenner's victims, at least the ones we know about, were all over eighteen. If any of them had been younger, then we might have had more to throw at him and area management, because the caring for people under the age of eighteen brings its own inevitable responsibilities."
"How about with the care of mentally disturbed people, because let's face it, you don't get much more mentally disturbed than on some of the occasions I've seen Shell Dockley. I remember once, I think it was just before Helen came back, Shell was stood up on the 3's, with a fake noose round her neck. She called to Fenner to string her up like Rachel Hicks because it was what she thought he wanted."
"I don't envy you your job," Said George soberly, thinking that one person could surely only see so many horrific things going on around them day after day before it began to corrode the spirit.
"Most of the time," Said Karen contemplatively, "I find it the most fascinating job I think I could ever do. But yes, at times it can get a bit much."
"As regards his abuse of mentally disturbed women, that legislation would only be effective if we were talking about a hospital environment, or again if it involved women under the age of eighteen. Corrupt prison officers do have a couple of very successful little loopholes, but we'll certainly not be doing so badly with what we've got."
"Would a court take any of Dockley's evidence seriously?"
"Anything's worth a try," Said George with a shrug, "But if we do use her evidence, we will need a formal statement. Do you think you could get in to see her again?"
"I don't see why not. She said that she was going to put me on her visitors list. This at least means that I won't in future need a court order to see her. But if you want a formal statement from Dockley, it might be worth you coming with me to see her yourself. That way, you'll be able to keep her on the track of exactly what you do and don't want in a statement." George looked aghast.
"No way," She said vehemently, but then tried to sound slightly less terrified by the prospect. "I'm sorry," She continued, "But you will never get me anywhere near anything that resembles a psychiatric hospital." If George's reply had simply been filled with the aristocratic drawing back of skirts from the dregs of society, Karen would have made some flippant comment about George's visit to Larkhall, but she could see that there was more to it than this.
"What are you frightened of?" Asked Karen gently.
"Nothing," Replied George a little too quickly, her eyes darting from one part of the room to the other. "I just don't want to become even remotely acquainted with that kind of place." Knowing there was far more to George's fear at the thought of even temporarily entering a psychiatric hospital of any kind, Karen thought that they had now scored one all in the game of hiding enormous, significant realities from each other. She dug around in her handbag for her cigarettes and offered one to a grateful George.
"Yvonne suggested I ask you something," Karen said, trying to get both her and George on to safer ground. "She wondered if, during the time you were defending Ritchie, he ever put anything in any statement, that might be used to strengthen a subsequent rape case against Fenner. I told her this would be clutching at straws, but I suppose anything's possible." George looked thoughtful. Walking over to a filing cabinet, she retrieved Ritchie Atkins case file from one of its drawers. Rifling through all the documents that certainly wouldn't hold what she was looking for, she finally plucked out his statement and returned to her chair. She quickly ran her eyes over the entire document.
"There's nothing here in writing, though that would certainly have been useful. But he did once talk to me about you. He said that if he'd known that that imbecile Cantwell was going to bring up the withdrawn rape allegation, he'd have done his best to persuade him against it. Ritchie said that it made a lot of things make sense. He said that up until he heard Cantwell introduce the withdrawn allegation, he hadn't been able to put his finger on why you were the way you were on the first night you spent with him. He said that you'd told him afterwards that you were laying a few ghosts and that at the time, he didn't know what you were talking about. I think his words were, she was trying to make herself enjoy being screwed again. Not put in the nicest way, but that was Ritchie Atkins for you." Karen simply stared at George, thinking that Ritchie had been far more perceptive than she would ever have given him credit for.
Karen was about to speak, when George's phone rang. It was reception, to tell her that a Neil Haughton was here to see her. The look on George's face was a mixture of fear, irritation and anger.
"He doesn't have an appointment," She said to the girl on reception, "but tell him he's got five minutes to plead his case and then he's out of here. I'll come down." When George replaced the receiver, Karen said,
"Clearly not someone you're pleased to see."
"No," Said George with a grimace. "The secretary of state for trade, the Right Honourable or in this case dishonourable, Neil Haughton, my ex. I'd have thought he would have learnt his lesson by now, but apparently not."
"you offered me your services as a witness last Thursday," Said Karen, "Would you like me to do the same for you now?" George gave her a tight smile.
"Thank you, but no. This is personal, very very personal. I expect he's come to apologise, again, but it won't do him any good whatsoever." As Karen followed George downstairs, she couldn't quite believe she'd got through that meeting without letting out her secret. She owed George, and Jo and John for that matter, far better than this. They'd, all three of them, offered and given her help when she'd desperately needed it, and what was she doing by knowingly keeping quiet about a monumental bit of lawbreaking, she was betraying all of them.
"I'll give you a call when I make any further progress with this case," George said to Karen as they arrived in reception.
"Thank you," Said Karen, and George had the brief impression that there was far more behind this word of thanks than a simple appreciation of her professionalism.
On the Monday morning, Karen drove in to work with a feeling of unreality. Part of her was aware that this was just any ordinary day, with her wing to manage and inmates to deal with. But this was overshadowed by the events of the previous afternoon. Once she'd returned home last night, Karen had found herself staring repeatedly at the phone, her eyes straying to the address book which contained both Jo's and George's numbers. Her urge to tell someone, anyone, was almost unbearably strong. She'd cried herself out with Cassie and Roisin, and felt half ashamed of her outburst. But they'd been wonderful to her, when the news of what Lauren had done must have come with just as much shock to them as it had to her. She couldn't sit still, she couldn't settle to doing anything. she had mindlessly worked her way through an entire basket of ironing, to give her hands something to do, to keep them away from picking up the phone. She had moved from alcohol to coffee, knowing that whisky certainly wouldn't help her inclination to make irrational decisions like confiding in a member of the legal profession. But the caffeine only increased her restlessness. When she eventually made her way to bed, she slipped in and out of a troubled sleep, perpetually tortured by images of Fenner's face. Part of her was desperate to know exactly how he had met his end, and the rest of her shied away from such information. But the questions still stayed with her. How much pain had he been in? How had he felt when he'd died? Had he been aware that he was going to die, or was he as surprised as she had been. But the answer to this last one didn't really need any constant mulling over like the others. Lauren was, after all, an Atkins, and clearly an Atkins who took her duty as such to the letter. She would have made Fenner suffer, of that Karen was sure.
As she moved through the familiar gates and corridors of Larkhall, she felt like she was looking down on herself, as if half of her was only observing her day to day activities. During the usual early morning officers meeting, she was presented with the first occasion on which she had to put on an Oscar-winning performance. She found herself asking where Jim was, and listening to the replies of some saying they hadn't seen him. She asked Di to phone Jim to see if he was unwell, and could have cheerfully kicked herself. If there was one thing she shouldn't be doing it was drawing attention to his disappearance. People would discover that soon enough, and it wasn't for her to speed up that inevitable process. Shit, she thought, as she walked back out through the gates to drive to George's office for their eleven o'clock meeting, I'm not really cut out for this. when she pulled in to the car park in front of George's office, she took a few moments to collect her thoughts. If her performance in front of the officers was anything to go by, her act required a lot of major improvement. After all, George was a barrister, highly skilled in drawing out information, beautifully adept at making people trip over their own words. Wishing she could have had a qualification from RADA to back her up, Karen locked the car and walked through the doors in to the legal world that now held only fear and the threat of punishment for her. She was surprised to se George herself appearing in reception to collect her.
"My secretary has chosen today of all days to go off sick," Said George disgustedly.
"Have you recovered from last week?" Asked Karen, desperately trying to find a safe topic of conversation.
"From my visit to Larkhall, yes," Replied George, and Karen had the impression that something else had happened to George in the previous week that overshadowed her visit to Larkhall and that wouldn't be so easily overcome. She followed George up stairs, wondering if she really could pull this off. Once inside her office, George briefly left to make them some coffee, something she would usually have delegated to her long-suffering secretary. Whilst George was otherwise engaged, Karen walked over to the window. She could look down on the busy Knightsbridge street, already full of midmorning shoppers with clearly nothing better to do with their time. How normal they all seemed from her vantage point. But she supposed that she looked exactly the same. She was still Karen Bets, Governor of G wing, thirty-eight-years-old, mother of one son, Ross, aged twenty. But how different she was from twenty four hours ago. Yesterday morning, Karen Betts had still been happy, normal, and judging by her reactions of subsequent events, still relatively innocent. How could she do this? How could she just carry on as if he was still alive, still out there somewhere, she really didn't know. When George returned with the coffee, she found Karen still staring out of the window, though clearly taking no notice of the world out there in front of her. Putting two mugs of coffee down on the small table by the little group of comfortable chairs that faced her desk, she called Karen's name, but got no response. George moved to stand beside Karen and looked up in to her face. The mixture of fear and utter desolation she saw there shocked her. She put out a hand and gently touched one of Karen's which was resting on the windowsill, not wanting to startle her but nevertheless achieving this result. Karen stared at her for a moment, taking a second or two to realise that it was George's concerned face looking at her, not that of some known or unknown demon.
"I'm sorry," Said Karen, making a monumental effort to regain her equilibrium. "I was miles away."
"Yes, and not somewhere nice by the look of you," Replied George. "Has something happened?" It was unlike George to show or even feel this much concern for someone she'd only known for a short time, but the brief look of sheer terror in Karen's eyes, induced a feeling of protectiveness that was utterly alien to George.
"No," Said Karen, "At least not something that's in any way relevant to this case." She ought to be wiped off the face of the earth for such a whopper of a lie. George gave her a look as if to say, give me some credit for being in the business of detecting untruths, but Karen steadfastly wouldn't meet George's eye. Seeing that she wasn't going to get any further, George returned to the matter in hand.
They began talking about Karen's visit the previous week to see Shell Dockley, though this seemed like a lifetime ago to both of them.
"When I came to Larkhall, you said that Fenner had been using Dockley as a prostitute," Said George, taking note of Karen's almost imperceptible flinch at Fenner's name.
"Yes," Replied Karen, attempting to rein in her surely visible reaction to hearing that word that even now, even though he was dead, could irrevocably change her life. "She did say that one of my other officers, Collin Hedges, was in on this arrangement. If he is, then he's in line for the sack at the very least. I remember on the day that Shell was transferred to Ashmore, I found Fenner in her cell, supposedly getting her things together. He looked pretty shifty, but I didn't think anything of it because he looks like that so often. Shell told me that her one possession which didn't make it to Ashmore was her stash of cash that she'd accumulated from this little earner. I think he pocketed it." George walked to her desk and brought her notated entries of the Sexual Offenses Act on to the screen and printed a copy for Karen to see.
"Taking this in to consideration," She said, handing Karen the print-out, "He is without doubt guilty of transgressing against four specific areas of the Sexual Offenses Act, something that area management are duty bound to investigate." Karen began to read what she'd been given. There were four separate excerpts from the 2003 Act, with various names of the relevant victims or individuals involved highlighted underneath. This ran as follows:
"Sexual Offences Act 2003:
Rape
(1) A person (A) commits an offence if-
(a) he intentionally penetrates the vagina, anus or mouth of another person (B) with his penis,
(b) B does not consent to the penetration, and
(c) A does not reasonably believe that B consents.
(2) Whether a belief is reasonable is to be determined having regard to all the circumstances, including any steps A has taken to ascertain whether
B consents. (Karen Betts).
Sexual assault
(1) A person (A) commits an offence if-
(a) he intentionally touches another person (B),
(b) the touching is sexual,
(c) B does not consent to the touching, and
(d) A does not reasonably believe that B consents. (Helen Stewart, possibly Michelle Dockley).
Causing or inciting prostitution for gain
(1) A person commits an offence if-
(a) he intentionally causes or incites another person to become a prostitute in any part of the world, and
(b) he does so for or in the expectation of gain for himself or a third person. (Michelle Dockley, possibly Maxine Pervis and Rachel Hicks).
Keeping a brothel used for prostitution
(1) It is an offence for a person to keep, or to manage, or act or assist in the management of, a brothel to which people resort for practices involving prostitution (whether or not also for other practices). (Fenner's managing of Virginia O'kane's brothels)."
Karen read this through and then looked up.
"Why have you noted down Maxine Pervis and Rachel Hicks for the prostitution issue?"
"The fact that they used the giving of sexual favours in return for either an easy life or a raise in status could be defined as a form of prostitution. I've talked to Jo about her conversation with Helen Stewart, and it appears that around the time when he was probably beginning his affair with Rachel Hicks, he pleaded her case for a move on to enhanced and for giving her the job of making tea for the officers. Wouldn't you say that these sort of favours would perhaps be worth far more than pure and simple cash to an inmate serving a stretch that could hardly be called short?"
"Definitely, and yes, he did do the same with Pervis. It was just after he was made Wing Governor. He tried to put both her and McKenzy on enhanced, but Grayling blocked it. That was probably the only sensible thing Grayling's ever done."
"So, we've established that a raise in prison status and a raise in employment was the currency with both Hicks and Pervis."
"Is there any legislation about abusing vulnerable people within the confines of a state institution?"
"Yes, I've thought of that one, but no. Prisoners are not, in this case, categorized as vulnerable people."
"But that's ridiculous," Said Karen, clearly astounded.
"After what I saw last week," Replied George, "I wholeheartedly agree. Women who are locked up and have absolutely no way of defending themselves are by definition vulnerable, but all of Fenner's victims, at least the ones we know about, were all over eighteen. If any of them had been younger, then we might have had more to throw at him and area management, because the caring for people under the age of eighteen brings its own inevitable responsibilities."
"How about with the care of mentally disturbed people, because let's face it, you don't get much more mentally disturbed than on some of the occasions I've seen Shell Dockley. I remember once, I think it was just before Helen came back, Shell was stood up on the 3's, with a fake noose round her neck. She called to Fenner to string her up like Rachel Hicks because it was what she thought he wanted."
"I don't envy you your job," Said George soberly, thinking that one person could surely only see so many horrific things going on around them day after day before it began to corrode the spirit.
"Most of the time," Said Karen contemplatively, "I find it the most fascinating job I think I could ever do. But yes, at times it can get a bit much."
"As regards his abuse of mentally disturbed women, that legislation would only be effective if we were talking about a hospital environment, or again if it involved women under the age of eighteen. Corrupt prison officers do have a couple of very successful little loopholes, but we'll certainly not be doing so badly with what we've got."
"Would a court take any of Dockley's evidence seriously?"
"Anything's worth a try," Said George with a shrug, "But if we do use her evidence, we will need a formal statement. Do you think you could get in to see her again?"
"I don't see why not. She said that she was going to put me on her visitors list. This at least means that I won't in future need a court order to see her. But if you want a formal statement from Dockley, it might be worth you coming with me to see her yourself. That way, you'll be able to keep her on the track of exactly what you do and don't want in a statement." George looked aghast.
"No way," She said vehemently, but then tried to sound slightly less terrified by the prospect. "I'm sorry," She continued, "But you will never get me anywhere near anything that resembles a psychiatric hospital." If George's reply had simply been filled with the aristocratic drawing back of skirts from the dregs of society, Karen would have made some flippant comment about George's visit to Larkhall, but she could see that there was more to it than this.
"What are you frightened of?" Asked Karen gently.
"Nothing," Replied George a little too quickly, her eyes darting from one part of the room to the other. "I just don't want to become even remotely acquainted with that kind of place." Knowing there was far more to George's fear at the thought of even temporarily entering a psychiatric hospital of any kind, Karen thought that they had now scored one all in the game of hiding enormous, significant realities from each other. She dug around in her handbag for her cigarettes and offered one to a grateful George.
"Yvonne suggested I ask you something," Karen said, trying to get both her and George on to safer ground. "She wondered if, during the time you were defending Ritchie, he ever put anything in any statement, that might be used to strengthen a subsequent rape case against Fenner. I told her this would be clutching at straws, but I suppose anything's possible." George looked thoughtful. Walking over to a filing cabinet, she retrieved Ritchie Atkins case file from one of its drawers. Rifling through all the documents that certainly wouldn't hold what she was looking for, she finally plucked out his statement and returned to her chair. She quickly ran her eyes over the entire document.
"There's nothing here in writing, though that would certainly have been useful. But he did once talk to me about you. He said that if he'd known that that imbecile Cantwell was going to bring up the withdrawn rape allegation, he'd have done his best to persuade him against it. Ritchie said that it made a lot of things make sense. He said that up until he heard Cantwell introduce the withdrawn allegation, he hadn't been able to put his finger on why you were the way you were on the first night you spent with him. He said that you'd told him afterwards that you were laying a few ghosts and that at the time, he didn't know what you were talking about. I think his words were, she was trying to make herself enjoy being screwed again. Not put in the nicest way, but that was Ritchie Atkins for you." Karen simply stared at George, thinking that Ritchie had been far more perceptive than she would ever have given him credit for.
Karen was about to speak, when George's phone rang. It was reception, to tell her that a Neil Haughton was here to see her. The look on George's face was a mixture of fear, irritation and anger.
"He doesn't have an appointment," She said to the girl on reception, "but tell him he's got five minutes to plead his case and then he's out of here. I'll come down." When George replaced the receiver, Karen said,
"Clearly not someone you're pleased to see."
"No," Said George with a grimace. "The secretary of state for trade, the Right Honourable or in this case dishonourable, Neil Haughton, my ex. I'd have thought he would have learnt his lesson by now, but apparently not."
"you offered me your services as a witness last Thursday," Said Karen, "Would you like me to do the same for you now?" George gave her a tight smile.
"Thank you, but no. This is personal, very very personal. I expect he's come to apologise, again, but it won't do him any good whatsoever." As Karen followed George downstairs, she couldn't quite believe she'd got through that meeting without letting out her secret. She owed George, and Jo and John for that matter, far better than this. They'd, all three of them, offered and given her help when she'd desperately needed it, and what was she doing by knowingly keeping quiet about a monumental bit of lawbreaking, she was betraying all of them.
"I'll give you a call when I make any further progress with this case," George said to Karen as they arrived in reception.
"Thank you," Said Karen, and George had the brief impression that there was far more behind this word of thanks than a simple appreciation of her professionalism.