‘Erin is a former patient at Larksmere High Security Psychiatric Hospital.’ Her eyes widen. ‘She killed a man in what’s almost an identical crime to your own, citing the same defence, the same story… that Samantha Valentine had coerced her into it, that she’d controlled her, and brainwashed her into believing that abuse was taking place and…’ – I take a breath – ‘… well, it’s one hell of a messed-up story, Tilly. I’m only sorry you ever had to be involved in it.’
Seems I’m nothing if not the king of the understatements right now.
I sigh. ‘There’s no escaping a charge, Tilly, I won’t lie to you. Right now I’d say you’re looking at manslaughter, possibly with diminished responsibility, given the exceptional circumstances.’
‘So Iamgoing to prison then?’ she says in her flat monotone that’s sometimes less flat and monotone than it is at others.
‘I’m not a judge, Tilly,’ I say, not wanting to give her any false hope, ‘I can’t say what the outcome will be, but given your exemplary background, given the fact that that I hope, by then, Erin Santos will be safe in custody, it could well be that a judge looks leniently upon you and understands the complexities ofthis unprecedented case. Maybe you’ll be given a suspended sentence? I don’t know. Let’s hope so, eh?’ I give her arm a little reassuring squeeze.
‘Why do you think she choseme, Dan? Why do you think Samantha, or Erin, or whatever her name is, chose me to do this to?’
I shake my head, let out a long breath.
‘I don’t know, Tilly.’ Though it’s fairly obvious why, looking at her.
‘Is it because of my hearing aid, do you think? Maybe she saw me as more vulnerable than most people, easier to manipulate?’
I drop my head slightly to the side. ‘Maybe.’
She nods, pulls her tatty beige cardigan around her small frame, like she has a sudden chill.
‘I was lonely,’ she says, ‘I think she saw how lonely I was, how lonelyI am.’
I keep my hand on her arm.
‘I hope it’s not the same for your son, Dan. Being deaf, being hard of hearing, it makes you different, and people… well, people look at you differently, treat you differently, view you as somehow lesser than them. They can’t even help it most of the time, it’s not their fault, it’s just…instinct.’
I have to look away. It pains me too much to think that this could be true and that my son may experience similar discrimination in his life because of his condition.
‘May I use your bathroom, Tilly?’ I need to excuse myself.
‘Of course, just through the door, to the left.’
I make my way into the bathroom, close the door behind me. I take a few deep breaths and try to compose myself, stare at myself in the cabinet mirror before I open it. I know I’m being nosy, but it’s almost instinctive.Doesn’t everyone do it?
As I peruse the bottles of shampoo and soap, the toothpaste and sanitary products, I see it, hiding behind a box of old-fashioned bath salts, that large, red, square bottle of perfume.Baccarat Rouge. A rush of adrenalin bolts through me as I take it from the cabinet and squirt a tiny amount onto my wrist, wave it around a bit, like I’d seen Archer do that time in her office. It seems odd and out of place, this exorbitantly expensive designer perfume, sat alongside all her other basic, cheap toiletries. I know it’s the same perfume that Samantha Valentine/Erin Santos wears – and the redhead.The redhead, that reminds me!
‘A woman was seen leaving this address the day before yesterday, sometime in the morning. A red-haired lady in a purple coat.’ I walk back into the small kitchen. ‘Do you know who I’m talking about, Tilly?’
She’s silent for a moment.
‘Have you been watching me, Dan?’ I think I see a tiny flicker of surprise on her face.
‘Just keeping an eye out for you, Tilly.’
‘She’s a journalist, I think. She must’ve got my name and address somehow. She doorstepped me, just turned up out of the blue. I told her she’d got the wrong house, the wrong person, and she went away again.’
I hold her gaze for a moment.
‘She didn’t give you her name, the name of who she was working for, she didn’t say which publication?’
‘No. And I didn’t ask. I just wanted her to leave.’
I nod. ‘OK, well, be prepared for this story to break, Tilly.’
I’m not going to sugarcoat it for her, that wouldn’t be fair of me. She needs the heads-up. ‘There’ll be a swarm of “redheads” when it does, trust me. You want my advice? Have your say whenyoudecide to have it. And just tell the truth.’
‘Yes,’ she agrees with me, perking up a bit. ‘I always do.’
