‘If you’re not sure, just say you’re not sure,’ added Mel.
‘It was sort of confusing. There were loads of people in the room. The light was dim. I think there was candles and stuff. I just know I pushed him to get him out of the way.’
‘Do you remember what you’d had to drink?’
‘Two or three beers. Not much,’ said Jacob, facing his accusers.
‘Go on.’
‘One of his mates pulls a knife. Like, I see it gleaming.’ He turned to Mel. She remembered her own fear on the ground near the railway line. His fear felt worse. More than anything in the world she wanted him safe. To hold him tight in this horrible room. She wanted everyone else to disappear, to erase this toxic hour like chalk from a blackboard. ‘And, like, I don’t have a knife so I’m just standing there, and I tell him to put it away only he has a go and I move, and it cuts me. Mum saw it. You seen it.’
‘Who cut you, Jacob?’
‘Dunno. Don’t know his name.’
‘And who else was there?’
‘Don’t know their names. Only know Nik and Don.’
‘And Don. Where does she… ze live?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Are you sure you don’t know? She might be able to help, corroborate what you say.’
‘I said I don’t know. Anyway, ze might not want to.’
‘Because it’s not true?’
‘Because ze might not want to talk to you. People don’t. I didn’t. You arrested me.’
‘Because you hit Nik?’
‘I told you I didn’t hit him.’
‘Isn’t the truth of it that you were angry with Nik for harassing this girl? You fancied her yourself, didn’t you?’
‘That’s crap.’
‘It’s what Nik says.’
‘Fuck what he says.’
‘Isn’t the truth that you fancied this girl and you had a go at Nik? You hit him, and he fell back and hurt himself, hurt himself badly. Because of you.’
Mel’s heart was surging in her chest. She thought she would explode. She caught O’Hare’s eye. He was shaking his head, indicating to her to stay calm. She had never attended a police station interview though she had read enough transcripts. She couldn’t remember every detail of the Code on questioning suspects, but she could remember the prohibition on questions that were oppressive.
‘Don’t speak to him like that,’ she said.
‘Mrs Goddard, if you could just allow us to continue,’ said Williams. ‘The sooner he answers, the sooner this will all be over.’
‘This is not an interview; this is an inquisition. My son has been slashed with a knife. Wounded while defending a friend. Are you going to make any effort to find the real criminal?’
‘Mrs Goddard, you are not helping Jacob.’
The words were like a lance in her heart. How dare Williams say she was not helping Jacob? Every word, every breath, every action of her life was done to help Jacob. She stood up.
‘Mrs Goddard, if you wish to remain present at the interview you will confine your comments to support and advice. Please sit down.’
Mel remained standing. She would not let this woman bully her son. She would not be bullied herself. In her low, calm voice, the one she used in negotiation with difficult opponents, she began to explain.
‘This is support and advice. You asked two identical leading questions. My son has made it clear that he did not hit this boy. He has answered all your questions. It’s time to stop.’
‘She has a point,’ said O’Hare. And Mel couldn’t help wondering why he hadn’t intervened himself.
Williams looked at her with a supercilious smile. She appeared to be contemplating her reply. And though the rage had passed, Mel thought she would like to strangle her. No, she must not go mad. She continued to speak.
‘The manner of questioning is oppressive,’ she paused a moment and added, ‘contrary to Code C.’ She couldn’t remember whether it was A, B, C, or D. Or possibly F. But it did the trick. Williams looked confused. A bleeper sounded, and Williams put on headphones. Someone must be speaking to her. Mel sat down.
‘Are you all right, Jacob?’ asked O’Hare, as if it were Mel who had caused the problem.
Jacob nodded. Williams took off the headphones and said, ‘I am ending this interview now. The time is 11:56 a.m. Jacob, you will be subject to police bail. The conditions are that you are to live at home and you are not to contact or attempt to contact any prosecution witnesses. That includes Nikita Vasiliev, Donna Seymour and anyone else who was present at the party at Jimmy’s that night.’
Mel felt her body slacken with relief. She heard the solicitor’s voice. He was saying something to Jacob. The bail conditions were written out and he was taken to have his wound photographed. Afterwards, accompanied by Mel, he was shown mugshots of young men to see if he could recognise his attacker. He couldn’t. The boy had come up beside him, the light was dim, and he had seen him for only a fraction of a second. The police didn’t seem too troubled about finding the culprit. Mel was enraged. Jacob had been seriously injured. He was lucky it had not been worse. The attacker could have severed an artery. Jacob could have died. The evidence was in front of them. Yet the police treated him as if were the guilty one. She felt sick with fury. At worst he had pushed a boy who was bullying a girl, a young person, standing in his way. He had defended someone vulnerable. He had suffered a serious wound. Surely, they wouldn’t charge him? They had twenty-eight days to decide.
She declined the offer of a lift home in the police car. They took the bus. She tried to reassure him.
‘It’ll be all right. They’ll drop it. What did the solicitor say?’
‘Not much. He didn’t say they’d drop it.’
‘Was Nik a friend of the guy with the knife?’
‘Dunno. I don’t wanna talk about it.’
The bus edged through traffic. It was Sunday, yet the streets were packed. Rumbling buses, cars packed with families and luggage boxes trundling off on their holidays. She had forgotten about holidays. It was years since she’d had one. Claude had been planning to take Jacob away. Now he wouldn’t be allowed to go. Not unless they dropped the investigation.
Eventually they reached the stop near the bridge where the boy had jumped her. Something turned inside her as she looked at the place. They still hadn’t found GJ. A different police station. Different officers. Initially they had seemed sympathetic. Occasionally they asked her to come in and look at another picture. But they hadn’t contacted her for a couple of weeks and last time she spoke to the case officer he seemed uninterested, harassed by other duties. Not like the pair who had picked up Jacob.
Williams would pursue it; Mel was sure. She would try to get him on ABH. Jacob was there, he wouldn’t run away. Nikita had named him. They’d pick on the easy one. That way there’d be a tick in the box. Crime solved. Never mind the boy who slashed him. A kid in the shadows who got away with it. Like GJ.
It was a warm bright day; the sky was a clear cobalt blue behind the huge trees. They walked past the corner shop.
‘You hungry?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
They stopped and bought croissants, eggs and bacon. Back in the flat she cooked. Jacob gobbled it down.