The Things You Didn't See(70)

‘To attack someone while sleepwalking isn’t a crime, Cass, it’s just sad and unusual. If you’re not conscious while you act, you’re innocent.’

I look at him hard to see if he really believes that, and I think that he does. His blue eyes are clear. He’s trying to make me understand something.

‘Hector needs to come home for Maya’s funeral, love. We need to support him at the bail hearing tomorrow and if he’s released, we need to look after him. And we need to do everything we can to show medical evidence of a sleep disorder.’

‘Why are you doing this, Daniel?’

He holds my fingers fast, and in that moment, he looks entirely truthful. ‘For you, Cass. Because I love you.’





DAY 10

MONDAY 10 NOVEMBER





32

Cassandra

It’s a macabre family trip, with the three of us dressed in smart black clothes, as if for a funeral.

Victoria can’t hide her nervous excitement. Going to court is an adventure for her, and she’s sure her grandad will be coming home. Daniel’s been silent since he woke – strange for him. I wonder if he’s brooding over the possibility that Dad may not be released, or if his lover is occupying his thoughts.

At the courthouse entrance, we’re accosted by Alfie Avon, all jowls and pinpoint eyes, wagging a notebook at us as he shouts, ‘Remember me, Cassandra? I was at the farm the day before the shooting?’

As if I could forget. This man who has tenaciously tracked Daniel’s career for years, the parasite who is feeding on our family tragedy. I put my head down, not acknowledging him, but he jumps around me like a bulldog at my ankles. ‘Do you believe your dad’s confession? Was it assisted suicide on account of her cancer?’

‘You bastard!’ hisses Daniel, lunging towards him and making the bilious man grin in satisfaction. ‘You know she was cured of that. This was an accident!’

‘Mr Avon, I must ask you to stop harassing my client’s family,’ calls Rupert Jackson, jogging down the steps and moving us away from the reporter, ‘or I shall file a motion to have you banned from the court vicinity. How would your readers like that bit of news?’

Avon shrinks back, his thick lips curled into a sneer over his stubby brown teeth. ‘Only doing my job, mate, same as you.’

Once we’re out of earshot, Jackman’s hand still on Daniel’s elbow, he says, ‘Please don’t speak to the press, Mr Salmon, especially not that man.’

Jackman is smart in his pinstripe suit, dark hair like an unruly ruff that he keeps brushing aside, only to have it fall back over his eyes. Victoria stares at him like he’s an actor, which in a way he is. Once we reach the privacy of the solicitor’s room, he turns to Daniel. ‘I was hoping we could turn the media to our advantage, with you being a local hero, but now I think it could go against us. I gather from reading his articles that Alfie Avon doesn’t like you very much?’ His voice seems able to project only at high volume.

‘He’s jealous,’ Daniel says. ‘He had the Friday-evening slot on the radio, before it was offered to me. He’s obsessed with the idea that I’m a fraud, always trying to dig dirt on my Samphire Master programme.’

Alfie Avon has been a thorn in Daniel’s side for two years, snidely having regular digs in his ‘All About Suffolk’ column at Daniel’s radio show, and his juice programme. In Suffolk, any celebrity is coveted highly, and Avon can’t stand that Daniel gets more media attention than him. His reportage is always vicious.

Jackman adds, ‘On the plus side, my wife swears by your juices. They helped her through the menopause, which was a relief to everyone, I can tell you. She listens to your radio show religiously – I may have to get your autograph later.’

Daniel manages to look bashful. ‘Shame she can’t testify for me.’

‘Well, of course, you aren’t the one on trial. Now, to the matter in hand. Miss Hawke, if the court asks you, you should say it will be better for you to have Hector home, yes? Less travelling to and from Norwich, and of course you want him home for the funeral. Do you have a date?’

‘Next Monday,’ I say.

It was the earliest Ipswich Crematorium could do. I just want it over. You understand that, don’t you, Mum?

‘Good. Now, this medication Hector’s on is very important, it’s to control the sleepwalking. It will be monitored by Dr Marsh, so he must take it, and you can tell the court that you’ll make sure he does. Daniel has said he’ll take Hector to the sleep tests at the hospital, but the big bonus is that if he’s bailed home a longer sleep test can be set up. It’s a sensible arrangement all round. We’ll need to argue that there’s no risk to you or yours, not now Hector is being medicated and his sleepwalking is controlled.’

This is the first time that I’ve thought about this: if Dad is telling the truth, he’s a risk to me and Daniel and – worst of all – to Victoria. If the stress of the farm pushed him to this violence, what might the stress of the court case do? But I’m not frightened, because I don’t believe any of it. Dad is protecting Ash – don’t I know more than anyone what Ash is capable of ? Don’t I carry the scar? As soon as I can prove it, this madness can all end.

Daniel gives me a long blue stare. I know what I have to do.