The Debt & the Doormat(21)

‘No! No idea whatsoever. I didn’t even go near it.’

‘Really?’ She smiles, as if she’s caught me out. ‘Because your friend Miss Green says, that you did see the fire being lit and you just tried to put it out. Is that not what happened?’

‘Um...’ I look at Ryan trying to understand what to say, but his expression is blank. ‘Yes...that's what happened. I’d...forgotten about that.’

‘Really?’ she enquires. ‘So you both saw a group of gay French tourists dance down the street juggling fire and accidentally setting the bin alight?’

My mouth spreads into a smile, despite myself. How can Jazz be so ridiculous? I quickly frown and bite my tongue to cover it.

‘Err...yes, that's it. French gay tourists. That's what happened,’ I nod.

‘And can you describe these French gay tourists?’ she asks, leaning back in amusement.

‘Um...well, they had on tight t-shirts and spoke in French accents. That's all I can really tell you.’

‘That's all? Because Miss Green told us one had pink hair and they all wore stripy shirts with berets and were talking in English about cooking frogs legs when they got home and how they hated the English.’

Oh for goodness sakes Jazz.

‘Oh yes. I....forgot about that,’ I grimace.

‘You seem to forget a lot Miss Windsor. Do you suffer from a memory disorder?’

‘No,’ I say, my cheeks flushing. She knows I’m lying.

‘The thing is that I want to believe you. In fact, I have more reason to believe you rather than Miss Green. You’ve got a clear criminal record, but I can't say the same for Miss Green’. She consults a file and starts running her finger down it. ‘We’ve got her being arrested in 1999 for shop lifting. Then there’s the drunken and disorderly in 2001. Plus the protesting that got out of hand in 2006. She’s got quite a record.’ She leans back in her chair and tutts.

‘Well I’m sure she wasn’t charged for any of them, so she was obviously innocent,’ I protest, one blush blending into the other.

‘Was she innocent? Or was there just not enough evidence? Or did Mummy and Daddy’s lawyer help her out?’

‘Excuse me,’ Ryan pipes up. ‘But I fail to see how Miss Green’s past record has anything to do with my client.’

DI Darcy stares back at him, grimacing. She’s obviously been caught out.

‘Can we please cut to the chase?’ Ryan asks. ‘What actual evidence do you have of my clients?’

She glares back at him. She gets a laptop out of the top draw and turns it on, all the time smiling smugly back at him.

‘I’m now showing Miss Windsor exhibit A. The recording acquired from St Albans council showing activity on St Bernard’s Drive on the night in question’. She turns to look at me, raising her eyebrow. ‘Miss Windsor, are you saying that this is not you?’

I watch the patchy black and white recording of the corner outside my flat. After a few seconds you see two women walking out and, although grainy, it's clear to see it's me and Jazz. We stumble out of the door with pieces of paper in our hands. We throw them in the bin and Jazz gets some matches out of her pocket. She lights it and throws it in, small flames glowing in the night. We high five and hold hands, dancing around it like school children. Jazz stops for a second to vomit in the street. Raj comes running out with a wet towel, trying to put out the fire. He calls for help and two other men come to carry us away while they battle with the fire.

DI Darcy turns it off and stares at me, the silence in the room deafening. I recoil in my seat, not daring to look anyone in the eye. How the hell am I going to get out of this one? I glance up from behind my hair to see Ryan’s expression. His mouth is still open and he’s staring at the screen, his face drained of all colour.

I’m going to prison.

‘So Miss Windsor. Do you still claim that isn’t you?’ DI Darcy asks, smiling smugly.

I feel my chest tightening and my throat closing. I burst into angry sobs before I can attempt to pull myself together.

‘Miss Windsor, I need a yes or a no,’ she presses. ‘Obviously if you were to say no we’d have to look into this further. Waste more police time and interview a Raj Mohamed. He could be charged with withholding evidence.’

‘No!’ I wail. ‘I did it ok! Please just don't involve Raj in this. He’s got a family, it's not his fault. It was me, all me. I’m so sorry! I just got so drunk and...And....I don't know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.’

I cover my face in my hands and tell myself to be stronger. I’ll have to get tough before I go to prison. Oh God, and even worse, how am I going to tell my Mum?

Ryan places his hand on my shoulder.

‘What's going to happen? Surely just a caution will be sufficient?’ he enquires.

‘We will be issuing a caution to both Miss Windsor and Miss Green. But I warn you Miss Windsor. If I catch you doing anything like this ever again, I will make sure you are charged.’

I look up and she stares back at me, with the smallest bit of amusement in the corners of her mouth.

‘A caution? Am I...free to go?’ I whisper, not daring to believe it.

‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I’ll just arrange the paperwork.’ She leaves the room, slamming the door loudly. I burst into more angry sobs.

‘Pops, don't worry. It's only a caution,’ Ryan tries to reason. ‘You’re fine.’

‘But...I still got in trouble! Don't you get it, I feel sick. I hate being in trouble.’

‘You are funny,’ he laughs.

I look up to see him smiling at me warmly.

‘Funny? How the fuck is any of this funny?’

‘Trust me, you’ll look back at this and smile,’ he assures confidently.

‘I doubt it.’





Within twenty minutes I’ve signed a notice to say that I accept a caution and I’m in the reception area waiting for Jazz. She comes running out dramatically, still screaming.

‘You wait! I’ll be back,’ she screams at the policemen as she puts her shoes on. ‘Taking my shoes, it's fucking police brutality if you ask me!’

‘Jazz shut up,’ I snap, grabbing her and pulling her out before she can get arrested again.

‘Well it's ludicrous,’ she shrieks, flicking her hair as she gets into Ryan’s car.

‘No, what's ludicrous is your French gay tourists,’ I snap.

Ryan chuckles and looks back at the both of us.

‘You two really are different.’

Me and Jazz look at each other confused. I glance back at him to see him studying me with curious eyes.

‘What do you mean by that?’ I ask.

‘I just assumed that you’d be like Jazz is all. But you’re really not’. He stares ahead at the road leaving me wondering what he meant by that.

‘I need a fucking drink,’ Jazz proclaims. ‘Who’s up for a cocktail bar?’

‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Ryan laughs.

‘Actually...I could do with a drink,’ I say before I can help it.

* * *





Two hours later we’re in a cocktail bar in St Albans called ‘Mine’s a Mojito’. It's decorated like a Hawaiian hut with wood cladding and deck chairs darted around. They’ve even made us wear flower necklaces. I’m a little bit drunk, but I mean, after the shock that I’ve had that's to be expected, right?

Jazz and Ryan are talking about the letter I wrote to Him.

‘I can't believe you made her write a letter,’ Ryan snorts. ‘It's such a stupid girl thing to do.’

‘No it's not!’ she retorts. ‘I read it in Cosmo!’

‘You’re kind of proving his point there Jazz,’ I say, finishing off my Sex on the Beach.

‘I’m not!’ she exclaims, her face getting red. ‘You should have seen her. She was a right mess. All panda eyes and tracksuits.’

Ryan laughs while he orders us another round.

‘It's not that funny! It was actually a really bad time for me,’ I say, feeling giddy.

‘Oh, I think it is,’ he chuckles darkly.

‘I’m glad my personal misery brings you so much amusement. Shall I really make you laugh and read some for you?’ I ask pleased by his attention.

‘Yeah, go on then,’ he says, flashing his lovely straight teeth.

‘Ok.’ I take it out of my bag and rip it open. I clear my throat and sit up straight, taking my cocktail from him as I open it up. I go to read the first line, but it looks different. This is black biro and I could have sworn I wrote it with blue. I never write with black, it's too depressing. I clutch my stomach as realisation comes flooding into my brain. This isn’t my letter. This is an old lady’s letter to her friend Anne.

‘What's wrong?’ Jazz asks, smiling.

‘It's....it’s....um, not the letter.’

‘What?’ Her face drops and she grabs the letter from me, reading it. ‘Shit. Does this mean the letter really is on the way to him?’

‘Yeah-huh,’ I mumble.

I can just imagine him getting the post, maybe even Claudine getting it. Opening it and reading all of that crap I wrote. Oh my God, he’s going to think I wrote it recently and that I’m still in love with him or something!

‘Is it really that bad? Ryan asks, sipping his mojito.