‘Shelley?’
Shelley woke from dreaming about the buildings of her old school, long closed and demolished.
‘I’m sorry … I overslept …’
‘Don’t worry about it. But I need you to come in as soon as possible.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Richard Serrailler was arrested late last night, and charged with rape.’
It was terrifying to hear the words spoken. Shelley was shaking.
‘What happens now?’
‘He’ll appear before magistrates, he’ll ask for bail which will almost certainly be granted. Then it goes to the Crown Prosecution Service and they decide whether there’s a case to answer.’
‘And … and how long does that take?’
‘Usually between a week and ten days – the CPS in this area are actually pretty quick. Once they decide there is a case to answer – that’s when the waiting starts, I’m afraid. It could be quite a long time.’
‘How long?’
‘Six months or more before a hearing is set.’
‘But … what happens to him in the meantime?’
‘Nothing.’
‘But I might meet him … he might come here.’
‘But – if the CPS decide if … that …’ She gripped the phone.
‘Listen, Shelley, it would be best if you came in to see me and we can talk about this face-to-face. Can you do that?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course … I’ll … I just feel …’
‘If you think you’re not safe to drive, get a taxi. All right? I’ll see you in half an hour?’
As she put the phone down, she heard the front door.
‘Only me. I need to get my head round all this paperwork in peace and quiet so I’m doing it at home. Are you all right?’
‘Yes. No … Yes, of course I am.’
Tim came closer. ‘You’re white and you’re trembling. What’s happened?’
‘Nothing. Can you take me into town?’
‘Not if I want to get this finished. Something wrong with your car?’
‘No … I just felt a bit … sick. I think I’ve eaten something.’
‘Well then, don’t go into town, silly girl.’
She stood, not knowing what to say, do, decide.
‘Where were you going, anyway? Can I do it for you?’
‘Oh no. No, it’s fine. I’ll be all right.’
She picked up her bag and the car keys. But she knew she wouldn’t be safe to drive.
‘I’d like a taxi please, to –’
‘Shelley?’ He took the phone from her and disconnected. ‘Of course I’ll take you in if you really have to go but not before you tell me what on earth is going on.’
She told him.
‘You’re really going ahead with this charge? For God’s sake, Shelley, what’s this about?’
‘It’s about him raping me.’
‘He didn’t rape you. Listen – sit down. Now listen to me … please, drop all this!’
‘Well, it’s too late. He’s been charged. The case is with the CPS. I can’t.’
‘Yes you can. Just go into the police station.’
‘Bugger the rape crisis centre, leave them out if it – they’ve got a vested interest.’
‘Don’t be so stupid.’
‘As I say, go to the police – I’ll take you and I’ll come in with you – and simply say you’re withdrawing the charges. All charges. That you won’t proceed, there’s no case to answer, you won’t appear in court – make it crystal clear. They’ll tear it up. They’ve no alternative. And then it’ll be dealt with and you and I will go away and you’ll start to get over it.’
Shelley looked at her husband’s angry face. He loved her, she had no doubt of that, but he had not for one moment believed what she had told him and he cared too much about the things that did not matter. About reputation. Public show. Appearances.
Quite suddenly, everything fell into place and she was calm again. She redialled the taxi firm and walked out of the front door, to wait for the five minutes they had said it would take.