Helena sniffed the air. It smelled musty, but she’d been round every corner and it was clean. The toilet and the shower behind the screen were spotless. She tried both and they worked perfectly. The sheets on the bed were clean as well, even though the bed was harder than she was used to. There was one small window up near the ceiling through which she could see the grey and white sky outside. She remembered the sky in Lahore when she’d left—a brilliant blue which looked as though it had been there forever and would carry on into an indefinite future.
There was a knock on the door, then the key twisted and the very tall police officer entered—she couldn’t instantly recall his name. “Your niece is here,” he announced. “Do you want to come outside to see her? That’ll be all right if you do.”
Helena shook her head. “No, I’ll see her here.” Seconds later after Croft withdrew Shamira came rushing in and embraced her sobbing. Helena kissed her and pushed her gently away.
“Auntie, this is awful. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Sh—the hearing’s tomorrow but I’m not expecting any bail so I have to get used to it. They’ve told me that they’ll do their best to keep me here rather than putting me in an actual prison to await the trial. I’ve seen the man from the High Commission. He can come any time and he’s promised to come every day. It’ll probably give him something to do. And the police have said they’ll order me food in, whatever I like, so it’s not so bad.”
“But you shouldn’t be here.”
“That’s for the court to determine. Now, there’s something very important you must do for me.”
“I’ll do anything—you know that.”
“Good—because I want you to make the keynote speech tomorrow.”
“But I can’t make your speech—not the way you do it.”
“I don’t want you to make my speech—I want you to make your own. We’ve always fought for women’s rights, you and I, for women to be heard no matter where they are. Just say it from the heart as I do.”
“You think I can?”
“I’m sure of it. Now go—I need to sleep. They’ve appointed me a lawyer, one recommended by the High Commission. He’s coming tomorrow morning. I want to be ready for him.”
“As long as you’re sure you’ll be all right?” Shamira was poised hesitantly by the door.
“I’m all right. It’s not the hotel I was expecting but they’re usually fairly bland. This is a bit different, but they’re looking after me.”
Shamira vanished with a sob trailing after her and Andy Croft reappeared, his tall frame bent almost double as he came through the cell door. “These places weren’t built for you,” Helena said.
He looked and felt awkward as he put down three menus on the table. “These are all from local restaurants which do takeaway, so we can get food here quickly.”
“I’m not hungry. I ate on the plane and I don’t feel like eating now but I’ll keep the menus—thank you. I would like a cup of tea, no milk and sugar, just black tea.”
“Certainly.” He came back with the tea in a takeaway cardboard cup with the tail from the tea bag hanging limply over the side. “Are you sure that’s all you want?”
“I’m sure.”
When Croft returned a little later and dusk had settled in he found her kneeling on the floor with her eyes closed and her mouth moving silently in a familiar pattern, so he moved back as quietly as he could and left her. The grey sky through the little window turned gradually to black and Helena took herself to the hard bed, but sleep was hard to come by. It was made even harder by the sudden shaft of light which pierced the cell as the slider to the screen in the door was pushed back at regular intervals. She took to counting down the minutes until the next time it happened. Four times an hour—the night staff were taking no chances.
**
The lawyer came the next morning as promised. If Helena had expected tall and distinguished or young and thrusting she was destined to be disappointed on all counts. Shafiq, or Shafiq Narwaz to give him his full name, was short and slightly bent over, slow-moving to the extent that each step appeared to have to be negotiated with care and well, in his well-worn suit, somewhat unprepossessing. He gave her a reassuring smile which lit up his otherwise solemn face and sat at her table, pushing the growing assembly of teacups to one side. “The High Commission sent you?” she asked.
“They did. I’ve had a relationship with them for many years and as I’m a human rights specialist they thought of me for your case, which I felt privileged to take. I’m selective these days about what I do.”
“I’m not surprised—you look almost as old as me.”
“We’re exactly the same age—I checked. With age comes experience, as you’ve demonstrated yourself.”
“Why did you take my case?”
“Because I’m very mindful of what you stand for and what you’ve achieved. I want to ensure you get the best possible defence. And I was born in Lahore. Will that do?” The gentle smile still crinkled his lips and she found it impossible not to respond to it. “Good—let’s get down to basics, shall we? I assume we’ll be entering a ‘not guilty’ plea.”
“Yes.” The reply was unequivocal and harsh compared with what had gone before.
“Well, that will be this afternoon at the hearing. You know the form. I shall ask for bail but I’m ninety percent sure it will be refused. The judge is TJ McCracken—his first names seem to have been lost somewhere along the way. He’s a high court judge, experienced, very fair, and his summings-up at trial are always first-rate, not favouring either side. He doesn’t tolerate any, if you’ll forgive the term, bullshit. My opposite number for the prosecution is William Hook, young, talented and persuasive. I think that combination may well mean the chance of your being a flight risk will hold sway.”
“I don’t want bail. Where would I go? To some hotel with people looking at me and discussing me round every corner? To my niece? She has enough issues in her life, in particular her work. No, if you wish to strive for something for me, it would be to stay here.”
“It would be very unusual. Police cells are designed to be for short term occupation and the norm would be to consign you to prison, but I’ll do what I can. Is there anything else at the moment?”
“Yes—please ask them to stop viewing me like some prize exhibit at a museum every fifteen minutes during the night. I am not suicidal. I’ve much I still want to accomplish in my life and I’ll do it even if I have to from a prison cell.”
“Understood.” He rose to his feet. “I’ll see you later then.”
“Have you any idea when the case might come to trial?”
“My hunch is that the judge will want to hurry this one along. It depends on court availability and how long the prosecution needs to put its case together.”
“What about the defence?”
“Oh, we’ll be ready when they are. I’ve already had a look through what they’ve presented so far. Much of the evidence against you seems circumstantial and I think we’ll find some holes in it.”
“Circumstantial evidence can impress a jury.”
“Depending on how it’s presented, of course. But more of that later. I’ll be back for another discussion when we know how much time we have to play with.”
“I’ll need some more clothes,” Helena said as he turned to go. “Unless they plan to issue me with some sort of prison jumpsuit.”
“I’ll see to it.” And with that he was gone. Left alone Helena allowed herself a luxury she had forgone since the moment of her arrest. She sat down and burst into tears.