The Debt & the Doormat(20)

‘Actually,’ she says, a bit defensively, ‘that's why I’m calling. They want you to meet us there.’

‘Where?’

‘St Albans police station. They’re arresting us. Apparently....something to do with a...fire.’





Chapter 8




An hour later, Ryan and I are walking into St Albans police station. I’ve explained everything to him and although he’s horrified, he hasn’t told me off, which if I’m honest is what I thought he’d do. I assumed he’d be the first to rub it in. How I’m a raving criminal.

I walk up to the little glass window with a woman sat behind it. She’s got grey hair and a stern long face. She instantly reminds me of my old headmistress.

‘Um...’ I clear my throat. ‘My name’s Poppy Windsor. I’ve been asked to come down. My friend Jasmine Green has also been arrested.’

She looks back at me with disgust and I retract, my stomach bubbling with nerves.

‘I’ll call someone. Please take a seat.’ She gestures to some red plastic chairs.

I go to sit down, my entire body now shaking. Ryan smiles weakly at me as if to try and reassure me.

‘Don't worry,’ he says. ‘I won't let them keep you for long. I’m sure they have no evidence anyway.’

I smile, my mouth now so dry I can barely swallow. I look down at the cracked tiles and start counting the corners to try and calm my mind.

‘Miss Windsor?’ a butch policewoman says, towering over me. She’s got a heavy black moustache that she should really bleach and her brown hair is tied back tightly into a boring low pony tail.

‘Y-y-yes,’ I stammer.

‘I’m DI Darcy. I’m arresting you for the criminal damage caused to St Bernard’s Street in St Albans.’

I stare back at her, my heart sinking. In spite of myself, I’d still harboured a secret, tiny belief that it would all be ok. That they’d apologise and say it was all a big mistake. I mean, I didn’t actually think they’d properly arrest me.

‘You’ll have to be kept in a cell for a short while, during which we’ll conduct an interview with Miss Green. You can have one phone call if needed and we can arrange for you to have free legal advice. Will that be required?’

I open my mouth to try and respond but Ryan stands up.

‘I’ll be representing Miss Windsor and Miss Green,’ he says, puffing his chest out proudly.

What the hell is he doing? He can't pretend to be a solicitor. They’ll figure it out.

‘Oh really?’ the policewoman says to him in amusement. ‘And can I ask who you are?’ She raises her eyebrows at him as she surveys his tracksuit bottoms and white t-shirt.

‘I’m Ryan Davis, her Solicitor. Previously of Hanson & Estuary law firm.’

‘Oh,’ she says, taken aback. ‘Well fine. We’ll get her checked in. If you could wait here and we’ll call you when we’re conducting the interviews.’

‘Fine,’ he says, with a stern face. ‘Please ensure my clients aren’t held for any more time than needed.’

She nods and blushes. Wow, he’s so strong and powerful looking.

‘Miss Windsor, if you could come with me please,’ DI Darcy says, her stern voice back.

I look up at her, still in my seat. My insides are turning to jelly. I look at her and then Ryan helplessly, feeling sick with fright, not daring to move a muscle.

Ryan offers me his hand. I take it and slowly get to my feet, taking deep breaths to try and calm myself. I swallow hard, my eyes pricking with tears. Ryan puts his hand on my lower back, guiding me towards her.

‘Don't worry Pops,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘It’ll all be fine.’

I smile back gratefully as I’m herded away. I’m taken to a ginger policeman who takes my fingerprints and then takes my handbag, mobile phone and shoe laces from my trainers. I mean, shoelaces? What the hell do they think I’m going to do, hang myself on them?

I’m led into a large hallway with doors all the way down it. People are shouting and I flinch nervously. At least the ginger policeman didn’t put me in handcuffs. He leads me into a tiny blue room without a window. There’s a tiny bed big enough for a midget and a heavily stained smelly toilet. The walls are covered in penned graffiti. How did they manage to get a pen in here when I’m not even allowed shoe laces?

‘We’ll come to collect you for interviewing as soon as we can.’

I nod nervously. He smiles back briefly, clearly feeling slightly sorry for me. Then he slams the door and locks it. I sit on the bed, scared of what disease I might be contracting doing it and start to cry. How could I have gotten myself into this mess? This isn’t Jazz’s fault. This is all of my own doing. I’m so so stupid.

I get up and walk to the door, opening the little hatch and stare outside. There’s still a lot of shouting going on and I listen to what they’re shouting about. The closest voice I hear sounds familiar.

‘Jazz?’ I call out sheepishly.

‘Pops?’ she bellows back.

‘Yeah, it's me,’ I say, rubbing the tears from my face. ‘You OK?’

‘As OK as I can be. I’d be better if these fucking pigs would let me go!’ she screams, her voice suddenly picking up. I forgot what she’s like about authority.

‘Jazz, shut up! You’ll get us in more trouble!’

‘Whatever!’ she shouts. ‘Do you know they took my heels from me? My fucking Prada! They’re pigs. Heartless pigs,’ she screams, her voice breaking from emotion. That's Jazz – she could be arrested fine, but take away her shoes and she’ll cry like a baby.

‘Don't worry hun. I’m sure we’ll be out of here soon. Ryan’s being our solicitor.’

‘Well thank fuck for that. I tried calling the family solicitor Reggie but it went to voicemail and the fucking arseholes said I’d had my one phone call and they could offer free legal advice! Free legal advice! Some idiot that got their degree at a local college? How ludicrous.’

‘Shut up you stupid bitches!’ a voice suddenly barks towards us. I peer out of the latch trying to work out who said that, as a swoop of fear takes hold of me.

‘Why don't you fucking shut up!’ Jazz shouts. ‘Or I’ll give you something to fucking shout about!’

There’s silence as I wait for my life to end.

‘Jazz!’ I whisper, completely horrified. I’ve never seen Jazz like this. ‘You’re really scary in prison.’

‘I know,’ she giggles. ‘Thank God I watched so much Bad Girls years ago.’

Heavy footsteps echo along the hallway and we both freeze as we watch a policeman round the corner. He walks towards Jazz’s cell.

‘Miss Green. DI Darcy is ready for you.’

She’s taken out of her cell and as she’s led past my cell she smiles at me. Yet I can see that behind that bravado she’s as terrified as me.

Half an hour later she’s back, her hair frazzled and her eyes droopy. Before I can ask how it's gone, the policeman opens my cell door.

‘Miss Windsor. DI Darcy is waiting for you.’

I swallow hard and let him lead me into the grey interview room. Ryan is already sat there, with the butch policewoman on the other side of the desk. He doesn’t smile at me. He actually looks a bit worried.

I sit down next to him, feeling completely hopeless. I’m going to prison. I’m going to have to eat Spam to survive and I’ll probably end up being someone’s bitch. And I’ll get tattoos and probably contract HIV from the needles. My whole prison life flashes before me.

Ryan clasps my hand under the table, making me jump. He squeezes it reassuringly and I try to smile back, but my face is frozen in fear.

Butch policewoman DI Darcy presses a button on her tape recorder and turns to look at me.

‘Interview with Miss Poppy Windsor, conducted on June 10th at 19.37.’ She leans back in her chair. ‘Miss Windsor, you do not have to say anything. However, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand or would you like me to explain further?’

‘No, that's fine’ I nod. ‘I’ve seen a lot of CSI.’

Ryan puts his hand up to his mouth to stifle a giggle. I don't see how laughing at me is helping me.

‘Miss Windsor, we have sufficient evidence to believe that you and your friend Miss Green set a public bin on fire in St Bernard’s Drive in St Albans. What do you say to that claim?’

‘I say it's all lies! I’m innocent, I tell you! Totally innocent. I’ve never had anything like this before. Well, OK, so I did once return my library books late when I was fifteen and I got a fine, but Greg Carlson was fighting Tim Kevinson and I totally forgot all about it!

She stares back at me blankly. Maybe I’m starting to ramble.

‘Right. Can you tell me what happened on the night of Saturday 1st?’

‘Nothing! Me and Jazz just had a few drinks and kind of passed out. I don't actually remember anything.’

‘So you could have done this and just been too drunk to remember?’

‘Please don't put words into my client’s mouth,’ Ryan protests, his face blank and scary.

‘So you have no idea how the fire got started?’ she asks, licking her lips and leaning in towards me.