Chapter 8 4
Highbury Clinic, Blackstock Rd, North London. Monday, 6pm.
I realised, as I travelled to the hospital, that I had been quite selfish in my pursuit of Dee Conrad. It was true that I loved her, and it was true that I had sensed that love was reciprocated, but for the last twelve days her life had been on hold whilst she stayed with me. We had talked about her flat mates and her social life, but I actually knew very little about her, and had never seen her flat. I had glibly assumed that if we loved one another we could just cohabit at my flat and perhaps get married. I was not considering her wants or needs; not because I thought mine were more important, but because they had just not entered my mind in the busyness of our lives for the last twelve days.
I was somewhat pleased, therefore, when I heard laughter and girlish giggling coming from Dee’s room. I walked into a girly fest; there were balloons, cards and all things pink, adorning the room. Two women, almost the polar opposite of Dee, stood either side of the bed. These women were dressed fashionably but in clothes that would have suited them more if they had been perhaps ten years younger. Their make-up was exquisite, though. I wondered whether their flat would maybe have three bathrooms, because if it didn’t then surely they must work in shifts in front of the mirror.
One was blonde and the other brunette, but both had long hair, expertly cut by a stylist who was worth every penny of whatever fee they charged. Either one of them could have fronted an advertising for L’Oreal; they both seemed ‘worth it’ to me.
I was introduced to Dana and Gemma by a much improved Dee, who was looking the picture of health, despite her bandages and bruises.
“Ooh, he’s older than I thought he would be,” Gemma said, curling her lip.
“Yes, I imagined he would be more handsome, too,” Dana agreed, contributing to what was obviously a well-practised double act.
“I wonder if his talents lie elsewhere, perhaps?” Dana continued, whilst looking me up and down but holding her gaze over my groin area.
In spite of myself, I blushed. I knew that was what they were expecting but I just couldn’t help it. Dee was laughing too.
We all had a sensible conversation for ten minutes or so, and then Dana and Gemma had to leave so that they could attend their ‘Jazzercise’ class at the gym. After spending another ten minutes hugging and kissing their way through their goodbyes, I was left alone with Dee. I wasn’t sure where to start, so in the end I took a deep breath and simply came out with it.
“Dee, I’ve been doing some serious thinking. I realise you probably feel that I may have taken you for granted. I know how I feel about you, but I haven’t really stopped to consider your needs, or your life, or what you might want.”
She smiled at me.
“There will be plenty of time for all of that, Josh, but for now the girls are looking for a new flatmate. Of course, it’s also quite likely they will convert my bedroom into a giant dressing room with all of their clothes on racks and their shoes stored in transparent stacking boxes.”
“Where are you going?” I asked nervously, knowing that there was only one answer I could live with. She looked me in the eyes.
“I rather thought that I might move in with you. You’ll need help to pay the mortgage now that you have so recklessly frittered away a quarter of a million pounds.”
***
We decided not to make any immediate plans, and to wait until Dee was out of hospital and back with me.
The next hour was spent explaining the events of the day and Lord Hickstead’s spectacular fall from grace. Dee seemed to understand the peer’s motivations, and whilst she couldn’t condone anything he had done, she expressed her opinion that the case would never reach a jury.
“What are you suggesting?” I asked.
“Josh, I love your innocence, but just think this through and then judge the likelihood of a trial being held. It seems to me that there are a number of options here, the least likely being incarceration and trial. First option, release his Lordship on his own recognisance, let him consider his future and give him the opportunity to take the easy way out.”
“Suicide, you mean?” I asked, surprised.
Dee nodded before continuing. “It’s a real possibility, Josh. He will be expelled from the Lords, he will lose the proceeds of his crime, he will be in prison for the rest of his life, and it certainly won’t be a cosy open prison, given the nature of his crimes. The second option is that he doesn’t have the nerve to end his own life and so he is, shall we say, helped along a little.”
I was aghast at the suggestion.
“That would be the equivalent of a state execution!” I stated. “Surely you’re not suggesting that sort of thing actually goes on these days?”
“Think back, Josh, and not too many years ago you will recall individuals who had, or would have, embarrassed the establishment. Scientists, spies and specialists in Weapons of Mass Destruction have died rather conveniently, or have apparently taken their own lives. Some of these people are placed under such enormous pressure that suicide seems to be the only way out, and if they still don’t act then there a thousand ways they can be assisted. Hickstead proved that, with Sir Max and Andrew. Josh, if Lord Hickstead goes to trial it will be broadcast around the world. The Press would have a field day. The ex-Prime Minister will be made to look incompetent for nominating him as a Peer. The new PM will be embarrassed that he allowed the nomination. They will both blame the security services who carry out the checks before anyone gets a peerage, and the House of Lords itself will be damaged. The hereditary and the life Peers will all be pilloried and discredited in the same way that the expenses scandal tarred all MPs, guilty or not. There will be outrage from the public when they hear of the deaths and the distress he caused; I wouldn’t be surprised if there were calls for the House of Lords to be disbanded. That part of the establishment is deeply unpopular, and Hickstead has handed its opponents a potentially lethal weapon.
The unions will disown him, his party already have, and he will have made dangerous enemies that he could not have foreseen when he started all of this. Our Secret Intelligence Services will be deeply humiliated and angry that they’re being blamed for a political blunder, and will already be preparing their defence.
What I’m saying is this, Josh. If he goes to trial there will be parliamentary commissions, committee hearings and so on, and none of them will show the system in a good light.”
I still couldn’t believe that a country like ours would stoop to those depths to save face. It seemed to me that such mistrust was at the heart of all conspiracy theories.
Dee could see the doubt in my face. She squeezed my hand and asked a question that sent a chill through my body. “Josh, earlier today, against all the odds and against all common sense, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police was instructed to release Hickstead on police bail. Into whose hands was he released?”
She had a point. Number two Parliament Street was guarded by MI5.
Chapter 8 5
No.2 Parliament St. Westminster, London. Monday, 6pm.
Lord Hickstead had concluded that the life he had carefully built for himself had gone forever. With his credit cards cancelled and his bank account frozen he had to rethink his strategy.
He had around four thousand pounds in his current account that he was free to use. His other accounts had almost seventy thousand pounds deposited in them, but he would never see that money again. They would claim it as the proceeds of crime, even though it wasn’t true. He did have a very good pension with the union, but it would not pay out until next year. He did, however, have two aces up his sleeve.