He Said/She Said(110)

The chain gives so suddenly that I almost fall through the front door as it swings open. I set my rucksack on the floor and right the light-up globe that’s toppled over. I actually brace myself before going down into the kitchen, arms flexed like a wrestler showing off his muscles, as though the onslaught will be physical. I am prepared for little fists and slim fingers clawing at my face.

What I find is worse, and so utterly unexpected that it takes a few seconds for my brain to process the image, let alone the meaning behind it.

Laura sits at the table. My eyes ricochet between her belly and her face; a thin oval bloodstain beneath a slash in her T-shirt, and her left cheek purple and swollen. With her are Beth and – recognition is instant, and terrifying – Jamie Balcombe. In a fancy shirt and chinos, his meaty fist clutching a knife tipped with blood.

‘Kit, no,’ says Beth, shaking her head.

What, what? How the hell have things progressed from Beth finding Laura to this? Beth’s got some kind of graze around her neck and Laura’s cheek is blackening down one side. I had always pictured Laura’s face, when she found out about Beth, to be blown wide with rage but instead it’s crumpled, falling in on itself. Her eyes are dry.

There’s a piece of writing paper in front of Beth. Angular blue letters run in sloping lines. My past and the bewildering present don’t connect, but bounce apart like repelling magnets.

‘What the hell is happening here?’ I only address Jamie because he is so clearly the one in control. No one answers. ‘What the hell is happening here?’

Laura looks from me to Beth and back again and turns her head slowly away. It’s worse than any outburst.

Jamie takes over.

‘Kit!’ he says brightly, as if it’s his house and I an expected visitor. His demeanour is exactly as it was in Cornwall, in the moments after Laura interrupted him. For a second I see him as he was then; I picture the jeans he was wearing, his shoes, the spikes in his hair. The remembered image is so vivid it threatens to overwrite the scene in front of me.

My phone is in my rucksack, which is just inside the front door. I turn to retrieve it. ‘I need to call the police.’

‘No you don’t.’ Jamie’s tone is dismissive even as he inches the blade closer to Laura’s belly. It’s broken skin, that’s all; the stain isn’t spreading. I’d need the reflexes of a spider and the strength of a bear to wrestle it from his hand before he could do any damage. I’m too far away and I’m too weak. ‘What I mean is,’ continues Jamie, ‘there’s really no rush. The police will get involved with this sooner or later, don’t worry about that. Once my lawyers have been over this. We’re halfway through already.’

The girls won’t look at me, or at each other. Occasionally, Laura lifts her eyes halfway to Beth, then casts them down again, like her pupils are lead weights. Clueless and only now understanding what fear feels like, I have no choice but to play along. ‘What are you doing, Jamie?’ I hope I’ve matched his genial tone.

‘Just getting the girls to set the record straight, say what they should’ve done back in Cornwall. Admit their collusion. Admit that the whole fucking mess was a little story they cooked up, some weird female idea of a practical joke.’

Fifteen years, he’s been holding on to this. Behind the campaigning and the talks and the website, this has remained his Plan A. Even in terror, there’s room to be impressed by this mineral patience. He jerks his head towards Beth. ‘This one’s been pouring poison in my wife’s ear for months. They were a bit reluctant, didn’t want to take the rap for what they’ve done, scared of the consequences. Perjury in a rape trial, it’s a biggie. And not just any old rape trial. They’ll want to make an example of you, Laura.’ She flinches at the nonsensical accusation, but even blunt words hit home at knifepoint.

The blade in Jamie’s hand starts to quiver, as does his voice. His mask is slipping in slow motion. ‘So you can see why they’re worried. But it’ll be ok for you. It’s not like you’ll be banged up on a sex offender’s wing like I was.’

Laura gives a full-body shudder that I feel through my skin.

‘But Jamie, there’s no way this will be admissible in any court. These –’ I have to stop myself throwing air quotes around the words – ‘statements won’t be worth the paper they’re written on. You must understand that.’

‘This is just the first step,’ he says. ‘You’d be amazed at what a good lawyer can do.’ His lawyers were of limited good back in the day, I remember. I might not have full grasp of the situation, but I know better than to challenge him. ‘Look,’ he continues, ‘I don’t want to hurt the girls. I’d never hurt a woman. But I do need them both to finish their statements retracting what was said in court. This is my life we’re talking about, here. This is my reputation!’

He’s close to losing it. ‘Ok.’ I don’t know what I’m doing apart from buying Laura and my children time. ‘Why don’t you put the knife down and let the girls go. I’m sure we can sort something out without them.’

‘Actually no, I’ve been waiting fifteen fucking years to clear my name.’ The swearword throws Jamie’s voice an octave up the scale, making him sound both terrifying and ridiculous. He pauses for a second to breathe and gather himself. ‘So you’ll forgive me if I just see this through to the end. Come on, Beth, keep going. Sooner you finish your statement, the sooner we can all get back to normal. Or rather, I can.’ Beth picks up the pen again, then poises it mid-air as Jamie holds up his hand to continue speaking. ‘Actually, Kit, I’m wondering if I need you to redo yours. Although, to be honest, theirs will cast yours in all the new light we need. You were never really in on it, were you? All you did was back up what your missus had to say. You never saw us at it.’ At the table, Laura flinches. ‘Although I wish you had, I’m sure you would’ve seen what was what in seconds.’ At last, Laura looks my way. Her eyes fix on mine, but she’s crying properly now and the look could mean, please save me, or we’ll get through this, or I hate you. All the power in the room is concentrated in a length of sharp steel. With Jamie so much closer to Laura than I am, there might as well be a barbed-wire fence holding me back.