One Month Later
“I hear you’ve been inundated with requests for restorative justice since Archie’s trial?” Richie prompted, looking and sounding very much, Claudia reflected not for the first time, as though he interviewed for a major TV company every day of the week.
Behind his glasses Dan’s eyes shone in the amused, self-deprecating way that she loved. “It’s true,” he confirmed, “but there are a couple of points I need to make about that. First, there are RJ programs operating all over the country—our service only covers the Dean Valley region. So, if you want to know more about it, you need to get in touch with your local service. The second point is that some seem to be seeing it as an alternative to the justice system, and this is a big mistake.”
Richie said, “And one that’s being made as a result of Archie’s verdict?”
“I’m afraid so.” As the camera went in for a close-up on Archie, who looked as though he belonged in a boy band, Dan said, “I need to stress that Archie’s and Marcy’s case wasn’t typical of how the process works—and no RJ case is an alternative to the judicial system. It’s basically a mediation service that comes about usually at the request of the police or probation service, and each case goes through a rigorous assessment of its potential benefit to each participant before anyone is contacted.”
“Meaning that not every case qualifies and will only do so if it’s believed that the offender is genuinely remorseful?” Richie clarified.
“Exactly,” Dan confirmed. “And, of course, we need to know that the victim is willing, although that comes later.”
“Do any of the offenders ever try to fake it?”
“Yes, they do, and unfortunately it’s been happening a lot since Archie’s trial, but it doesn’t take an experienced practitioner long to weed out those who are playing a fast one from those who are genuine.”
“So what was it about Archie that convinced you both he and Marcy would benefit from restorative justice? Let’s start with who referred his case to you.”
With a glance at Archie, Dan said, “As I mentioned just now, this isn’t a typical case. Marcy Kavanagh is a friend of mine and of another practitioner who works with me. When we saw how she was reacting to the effects of her injuries we decided that I should approach Archie to explore whether a restorative process might help her.”
Turning to Archie, Richie said, “So what did you think when Dan first came to you with his proposal?”
Archie grimaced in a way that made Claudia reflect again on how much his confidence had grown since he’d been released from prison. A great deal had happened for him in the last month, and in spite of how he’d come into their lives, none of them, including her, could feel anything but pleased to see him turning his life around. “I kind of thought he was weird,” Archie admitted, “you know, a bit Clark Kentish.” Dan and Richie laughed, and Claudia smiled as the camera went in for a close-up of Dan and his super-specs. “I’d never heard of RJ before that,” Archie went on, “so I didn’t really get what he was going on about, but then he had this idea of me writing letters to Marcy telling her about myself and how I came to the point in my life where I committed the crime that badly injured her.”
“And I’m correct in thinking that Marcy knew nothing about these letters for quite some time?”
“No, she didn’t. Dan wanted to find out first what I had to say and if any of it might be beneficial to her.”
To Dan Richie said, “And what did you think?”
Wryly, Dan replied, “Let’s say there was a certain amount of editing necessary for the first few letters. Archie’s language at that time was a little more colorful than Marcy would’ve been used to, or even able to understand.”
With lively eyes, Archie said, “He didn’t change the basics of what I was saying, or anything like that, he just got me to clean it up and make it more mainstream.”
“So, in the course of Archie producing these letters,” Richie said to Dan, “you decided that his remorse was convincing enough for you to take them to Marcy.”
“Eventually, yes. Although Archie wasn’t pouring out regrets and apologies in his letters, the essence of it was powerfully there, mostly in the way he was engaging with Marcy in spite of never having met her. He created a relationship, and an attachment, that meant a great deal to him long before he realized it himself.”
“And what did she think when she read them?”
“I think initially she was quite resistant—not so much to reading them, but to engaging with them on any kind of emotional level, particularly one that involved forgiveness. In our conversations since, she’s admitted that she wasn’t anywhere near ready to forgive at that point, but after reading the letters she decided that there might be something to be gained, for them both, if they met.”
“Was that a big deal for you, Archie? Meeting the woman you’d caused such serious injury to, and who you’d been writing to all this time?”
“It was major,” he replied, “and I don’t mind admitting how scared I was before it happened. Part of me wanted to pull out, I didn’t want to see what I’d done to her, but then I told myself that if she was willing to face me, I had to do the same for her. I swear it wasn’t about me trying to get off my sentence, like some of the papers have said, it was all about trying to do what she wanted me to do.” He swallowed awkwardly. “I knew if Dan came back and said she wasn’t interested in having anything to do with me I’d be totally gutted. I wouldn’t have blamed her, obvs, but I knew it would floor me like nothing else if she’d told Dan to forget all about it.”
“But she didn’t, and you met and now we’ve got to where we are, with you having served eight months on remand before being found not guilty of recklessly endangering life. There’s been a lot of criticism of that verdict, as I’m sure you know.”
Taking over him, Dan said, “As with a lot of criticism of juries it’s coming from quarters, mostly newspapers, who were not in court and so didn’t have all the facts in front of them. The jury did.”
“So, you object to headlines such as ‘All You Have to Say Is Sorry’ and ‘Forgive Me But What Is Our Justice System Coming To’?”
“Actually, in a way I don’t object to them, because it gets the conversation going about restorative justice. What I do have a problem with is their failure to point out how beneficial it can be for the victims of crime, even crimes of this severity. It isn’t our aim to help anyone avoid whatever punishment a court decides they deserve—in most cases we don’t get to see the offender until the trial has already happened, sentence served, and he or she is about to be released back into the community. In Marcy’s and Archie’s case we came in much earlier.”
“And we could ask,” Richie continued, “what’s wrong with leniency when it’s deserved? I think you’ll agree, the judge was lenient?”
“Not everything has to follow the absolute letter of the law,” Dan responded, “and sometimes justice and humanity are better served when it doesn’t.”
Nodding agreement with that, Richie said, “I know Marcy is reluctant to do interviews, but can you tell us how she is, and if she’s still OK with the verdict—and suspended sentence?”
With a smile, Dan said, “She’s doing very well, thank you, and she certainly hasn’t changed her views on the way things ended in court.”
“Do you ever see her now, Archie?”
“Sometimes,” he replied.
“But no more letters?”
Wryly he said, “Not so far, anyway.”
Richie laughed, turned a page in his notes, and moved them on. “So tell us what’s happening in your life now. I hear that since your release you’ve received almost as much fan mail as Dan has RJ applications?”
While Dan appeared amused by this, Archie was noticeably less so. “That’s just stuff,” he responded, shrugging it off irritably. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Claudia was aware that he genuinely disliked the letters he received from girls—and women—offering to rehabilitate him, or give him opportunities like he’d never had before, or even to marry him, if he was interested. It took all sorts, and they were beginning to find out that there were many more sorts out there than they’d realized.
“OK. So, what are you actually doing with yourself?” Richie asked chattily, as if he didn’t know.
With a quick glance at Dan, Archie said, “Apart from my community service, you know, cleaning parks, delivering meals to the elderly, that sort of thing, I’m about to start an apprenticeship with a landscaping company. If all goes to plan they could offer me a job and even sponsor me through agricultural college starting next year.”
“Wow! That’s a pretty amazing turnaround for someone who felt he didn’t have much of a future only a few weeks ago.”
“We’re extremely grateful,” Dan came in, sparing Archie’s need to answer, “for the way some members of the local community have reached out to help him.”
Feeling Dan’s arms circle her waist, Claudia leaned back into him and smiled as he pressed a kiss to her neck.
“You’re not watching that again,” he groaned, “I thought you’d have had more than enough of it by now.”
“Apparently not,” she responded, although she did switch the recording off before turning into his embrace.
He kissed her fully and tenderly, bringing her more closely to him as he murmured, “Where is everyone?”
“Jasmine’s at school, Mum and Henry are outside making plans to turn the old coach wash—aka the enormous sunken area between here and the Enclave—into a pond that’s already sounding like a mini lake. And Archie’s with them.”
Dan’s eyebrows rose as he regarded her carefully.
Claudia shrugged, clearly not altogether thrilled. “Mum thought it would be a good idea to consult him, given his budding interest in landscape gardening.”
Dan nodded as he thought. “So, this is now the second time she’s invited him here?”
“And I’m pretty sure it won’t be the last.”
“But you wish it would be?”
Sighing, she said, “I don’t know what I wish, but don’t you think it’s odd that she wants to keep seeing him? I mean, he would be a perfectly nice lad, if you could put aside what he did. But how can we put it aside? You’ve only got to look at her to be reminded of it.”
Dan said, “I admit it’s unusual for a relationship to develop between a victim and offender after the RJ process is over, but it’s not unheard of—and if it’s what she wants . . .”
“I think we can assume that it is. She even told me she thinks she’s looking better these days, and she’s putting it down to how good it’s making her feel to help him turn his life around. Honestly, it’s like she’s . . . I don’t know, like she’s drunk on forgiveness, or something, and can’t stop herself proving how much she means it, or how good she is at it.”
Brow furrowing, he said, “Whereas you are still having a problem with it?”
Her eyes flicked briefly to his. “Yes, but I have to admit that she is looking better lately. The scars are the same, obviously, but there’s a brighter light in her eyes and a much healthier sort of aura about her. If I didn’t know better I’d say she’s undergoing some sort of religious experience.”
He was suppressing a smile now. “From what I hear forgiveness can be quite . . . uplifting, but I don’t think it’s about that as much as what she says it is—she’s getting a lot of pleasure out of helping someone who had a difficult start in life to find a new way in the world. Or, perhaps she just sees it as a way of turning a bad—a terrible situation—into something positive and good. Righting the wrongs of the fate that brought them together. Turning it on its head.”
Claudia said, “I had a feeling you’d see it from her point of view.”
“So tell me yours.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure what it is, only that I find it odd the way she’s kind of bonding with him. Surreal, even.”
“Have you told her this?”
“No. I don’t want to upset her, especially when it really does seem to make her happy to see him.”
“So you wouldn’t want her to stop seeing him?”
“I want her to do, or to have, whatever works for her. I’m just finding it hard to get my head around the fact that . . . Well, that we’re even having this conversation about my mother and a boy of nineteen who almost killed her.”
“But it’s not disturbing her, and that’s probably because she knows where the real responsibility lies, as do you. There’s no point going there though, at least not for the purposes of this conversation. Just tell me what Jasmine thinks of the . . . friendship.”
With a helpless sort of grimace Claudia said, “At first, she wasn’t any happier about it than I am, but she’s her grandmother’s granddaughter in so many ways, and now this turns out to be another of them. Or, to quote you, she knows where the real responsibility lies so what’s to be gained from holding on to a grudge against Archie? If only life were so simple—I know, you’re going to tell me it can be if I let it.” She paused with a sigh, not sure what she wanted to say next, only knowing that Marcus was hovering like an evil specter at the edges of her mind, trying to force himself center stage, and she desperately wanted rid of him. In the end the words seemed to come of their own accord. “Jasmine recently found out that Archie has an ‘amazing talent’ for remembering lyrics and he’s a ‘totally awesome singer.’ So, I think we can say that my daughter, along with her grandmother, has discovered a more highly developed sense of forgiveness than her mother is managing.” She broke off at the sound of someone arriving outside and knew instantly who it was because no one else ever hooted their car horn like that.
“Now here’s someone,” she said dryly, “who I’m definitely growing more fond of.”
Claudia went to the front door and opened it in time to see Maria tumbling out of the dilapidated VW campervan that someone on the estate had abandoned outside her house before she and Archie had moved out. Being Maria, she’d instantly claimed it, having already handed the old Astra over to Archie, and the local car mechanic had made it as roadworthy as he could, free of charge in return for the good publicity he’d got out of the trial. Since then, Maria and Claudia had attempted to turn the rust patches into arty daisies or smiley faces, while Archie had attached an old-fashioned air horn to the steering wheel. Maria loved it and never failed to use it to announce her arrival at someone’s house, a road junction, or just because it delighted her so much to hoot it.
“’Ave come to clea’,” she called out to Claudia, hauling her bag across the driver’s seat and letting it drop to the ground while she shouldered the van door closed. “An’ I braw sand’ches from garage in case ah I get ’ungry. You can ’ave one if you like. Is that Dan’s car?”
“Yes, he’s here. So is Archie.”
“Saw the Astra. Scuze ma ’air,” she grimaced, patting her head as she came into the house, “got pain’ in it.”
Seeing the yellow and lime green streaks threading through her small riot of curls, Claudia realized she must have been decorating the new (at least to them) second-floor flat that she and Archie had recently moved into on a smaller, less crime-infested estate behind Paradise Cove. Apparently, it had two bedrooms, a galley kitchen, and a large sitting room with a balcony that overlooked a municipal playing field. Since this was one of the public spaces Archie was taking care of as part of his community service, he’d gotten to know several people who used it, and had even joined a five-a-side football team.
“’ELLO!” Maria called out to Dan as she headed off in the other direction to fetch her cleaning kit. “Shall I star’ in your craff room, Clau’ia?”
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Claudia replied, and leaving her to it she went to join Dan at the Aga, where he was studying a recipe she’d downloaded onto her iPad.
“So today is a practice run?” he asked, needing to be clear.
Readily accepting the change of subject now that Maria was nearby, and actually glad to do so anyway, Claudia said, “It’s to make sure we can do it, because apparently beef Wellington can be quite difficult.”
“So why are we doing it? Oh, that’s right, it’s Richie’s favorite. And we’re sure he wants to celebrate his birthday with us?”
“Not just us, everyone’s coming, and remember we decided to have this party before we knew it was his birthday. So this is to make sure it’s acknowledged.”
“There’s a problem with cake?”
“Too predictable, apparently. Anyway, here’s another lovely surprise for you, Jasmine and Abby have hired a music system for the night.”
His eyes narrowed curiously. “And that’s a lovely surprise, because?”
“I don’t know, I’m quoting them, but I’m told we’ll know more soon. Oh, and they want the whole thing to be outside if possible, so they’re borrowing heaters from Leanne and Tom. My job, apparently, is to decorate the house for Christmas . . .”
“Ah, so it’s also a Christmas party?”
“Let’s just call it a party. And we want to have one. Don’t we?”
“We do, so let’s get started on this Wellington that I’m guessing will be dinner tonight no matter how it turns out.”
Assuring him he was right, she began opening cupboard doors and passing him the ingredients they were going to need.
It wasn’t long before they were so engrossed in their task, along with listening to a play on Radio 4, that they didn’t hear another car pulling up outside. They weren’t even aware of Maria going to open the front door to let the visitor in. The first they knew of his arrival was when he said, “Well, this is cozy.”
Recognizing the voice instantly, Claudia swung around, her heart already pounding as the blood drained from her flushed cheeks. “Marcus,” she said faintly.
She’d known he was out of prison, and had struggled with the terror of him turning up here—and now here he was, all five foot eleven of him, with his boyish blond hair, large handsome face, and expensive clothes.
“Yes, it’s me,” he said, his smile managing to exude both disdain and charm in the way she remembered so well. “I can’t believe you’re surprised to see me. You surely must have known I’d come.”
“Wh-what do you want?” she demanded, almost faint with remembered fear, with terror of what he might do now.
As Dan turned off the radio, Marcus regarded him with a baffled sort of condescension. “And who’s this?” he asked, as if Dan were unable to speak for himself. Then, “Oh, yes, the restorative justice chap we’ve been seeing on the news.” His smile crooked knowingly. “And here you are, cooking up something with my wife. We haven’t heard about that in the press.”
“What do you want?” Dan asked calmly.
Appearing astonished at the repeated question, then pleased, Marcus said, “Why don’t we sit down?” And without waiting for an answer he unbuttoned his coat and pulled out one of the dining chairs to make himself comfortable. “Nice place,” he commented, looking around. “I heard about the fire. Shame that. No sign of it now though.”
Swallowing dryly as all her worst nightmares crowded in on her, Claudia said, “Why are you here?”
He frowned as if considering his reply, and planting his elbows on the table, he said, “You might be thinking that I’ve come to collect what’s mine.” His eyebrows arched invitingly, as though expecting her to spell it out for him. When she didn’t, he said, “It was a lot of money, Rebecca. Oh sorry, I’m forgetting, it’s Claudia now, isn’t it?”
“It’s not even a fraction of what you took from me,” she reminded him, making herself sound stronger than she felt.
Dan said quietly, “Don’t engage with him, just let him state his case.”
Marcus laughed. “Good advice, Mr. Mediator. I’m not sure what she’s told you about me, but we were very much in love, you know, and I have to say nothing’s changed for me . . .”
“Marcus, stop it,” she muttered.
“Sorry,” he lamented. “I guess there are things you’d rather he didn’t know. It’s OK, I understand that, but—”
“Just come to the point of why you’re here,” Dan interrupted.
Marcus nodded, and seeing the old arrogance and self-confidence as assured as it had ever been, Claudia felt herself shrinking inside. Clearly prison hadn’t changed him, he still had that same sense of entitlement, as if he were some superior being whose right to exist excelled any other.
“OK, I’ll come clean,” he said cheerily. “I want you to stop all the nonsense you’re peddling around about me being behind the arson attack on this place.”
Claudia’s eyes widened slightly, but he put up a hand to let her know he hadn’t finished.
“I get that it’s only rumor at the moment, no one’s actually gone to print with my name—I’d sue if they did—but the nonsense on social media is bringing me the kind of attention I’d rather not have as I try to get my life back on track.”
“But you were behind it,” she stated coldly.
He shook his head. “I know you’re telling yourself that, but that’s just your paranoia at work, and we both know how damaging that can be, don’t we? We have a lot of experience of it, and if you remember it’s usually yourself you end up hurting. But now it’s affecting me. So, as it’s a complete fabrication . . .”
“It’s true,” she snapped.
“. . . and because I can see you’ve made yourself a new life here, I am prepared to disappear for good, even divorce you if that’s what you want, in exchange for a cessation—or denial—of these malicious claims that are extremely annoying and unjustly blackening my name.”
Claudia almost laughed; as if he hadn’t done that all on his own.
Dan said, “She doesn’t need to give you anything in order to get a divorce.”
“And we know you ordered the fire,” Claudia added. She connected with Dan’s presence at last, realizing that she didn’t need to be so afraid. “For all I know, there were a dozen or more people in the chain before it got to the boy who carried it out, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it originated with you.”
He appeared to find this amusing. “You credit me with far more influence than I have,” he informed her, “but even if you were right—and you’re not—you must know by now that you’re never going to make a connection between me and that . . . boy. So, let’s put all this behind us, shall we? You give me your word that there’ll be no more attempts to tie me to your misfortune, and I will divorce you. In fact, I’ll go one better than that, I’ll even find it in my heart to forgive you for abandoning me in my time of need and never coming to visit me in prison.” He looked at Dan. “How does that sound, Mr. Mediator?”
Before Dan could answer, the French doors opened and a chattering Marcy came in, banging her gloved hands together to ward off the cold and stomping her feet. “I think we could plant it up . . .” She broke off, seeming to sense something was wrong and as she saw who was at the table she paled with horror.
Marcus wrinkled his nose, looking from Marcy to Maria, who was hovering nearby, and back again. “Is this some kind of convention?” he asked in cruel amazement.
“Who let him in?” Marcy spat as Claudia fought the urge to stab him.
Before anyone could answer, Henry came in behind Marcy, followed by Archie.
Clearly realizing there was a problem Henry looked from Marcus to Dan and back again. “Are you who I think you are?” he asked carefully.
Marcus didn’t answer. He was looking past Henry, with an expression of disbelief on his face. “Well, well,” he declared smoothly, “I didn’t expect to find you here, Archie boy.”
Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized his mistake, and picking up on it, Claudia said, “So you two have met before?”
Archie’s scowl was thunderous. “Yeah, we’ve met,” he confirmed, “he’s one of the PCs I used to deliver to.”
“Which does not,” Marcus informed the room, “in any way connect me to what he did here.”
Dan said, “Given that you’ve just demonstrated, in front of witnesses, that you know Archie, I think much of your bargaining power has just evaporated. So I’m going to ask you to leave.”
Marcus, white-faced with fury at his own stupidity, was already on his feet.
“Don’t come here again,” Dan told him, directing him to the door, “and don’t try to make any other kind of contact with Claudia, her mother, Jasmine, or Archie.”
“The fact I might know that boy,” Marcus growled, “means nothing. I’ve never spoken to him or approached him in any way about anything to do with this place. If he says I did, he’s lying.”
“Is he?” Dan said. “Maybe we should put that to the police?”
Marcus glared at Archie. “I’ll give it six months and the scum will rise back to the surface.”
“Get out,” Marcy shouted furiously. “Get out now.”
Marcus walked to the door, tore it open and stalked outside. He didn’t bother closing it, nor did he see Maria come out behind him, he only felt the clunk on the back of his head as it was struck by the can of furniture polish she hurled at him.
“An’ don’ come back,” she shouted after him, and slamming the door she muttered, “effin’ co’venshun,” and even Marcy had to laugh.
ONCE SURE HE’D gone, Dan turned from the window and looked at Claudia. “Are you OK?” he asked.
She nodded, although she could feel herself shaking again, and didn’t object when Henry encouraged her to sit down. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to come here . . . What am I saying, of course he did, it’s completely typical of him to think he can go anywhere at any time and intimidate people into doing exactly as he wants.”
“Well, it didn’t happen this time,” Dan pointed out, “and it never will. Not here.”
“What are you doing?” Claudia asked as he took out his phone.
Marcy said, “I hope he’s about to inform DCI Gould of what’s just happened?”
Dan nodded. “Most particularly about the admission, in front of witnesses, two of whom happen to be lawyers, to knowing Archie. I can just imagine how he’s feeling about that now. It still doesn’t tie him to the arson, but we’ll let the police worry about that. All we need to concern ourselves with is making sure that an investigation gets underway—and that he doesn’t come here again. Unless,” he said before pressing dial, “we want to let him sweat it out, not knowing what we’ll do, or when, which could end up saving you, Marcy, actually all of you, any more time in court.”
Marcy didn’t hesitate. “Let him suffer,” she declared, “but if he does come near us, even with an email, you need to make that call and then let him know that you’ve made it.”
Dan looked at Claudia. “Are you OK with that?” he asked.
“I think so,” she replied. “Actually, yes I am.” She looked at Archie, and felt a wavering sort of beat in her heart.
As he met her eyes he said, “I’m cool to play it however you want,” and she realized from those few words that he knew exactly how she felt, understood her misgivings and was willing to do whatever it might take to win her trust.