Claire gave a little moan, Sammy glanced at her quickly and she smiled to reassure him. Then Claire exchanged a look with Maria – she had seen how alert he was to her mood.
Hypervigilance, thought Janine, the term they used, a response to the trauma.
‘It won’t be for several months,’ Janine said. ‘And if they plead guilty then we won’t have to go through the process of a trial.’
‘Another biscuit,’ Sammy said.
‘Here.’ Clive reached for the plate and Sammy picked up one, then glancing first at Clive and then at Claire, he took a second.
‘Go on then,’ Claire said, smiling, ‘special treat.’
Janine told them about the photo shoot and then said, ‘Is there anything else you want to ask me?’
Claire shook her head.
‘I’ll be on my way. Bye bye, Sammy.’
His mouth was stuffed with biscuit and he gave a little wave.
Clive got up and so did Claire.
‘No, stay there,’ Janine said, ‘please. I can see myself out.’
‘Thank you,’ Claire said, a break in her voice, ‘thank you so much.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.
‘Yes,’ said Clive.
Janine accepted their thanks, smiled and left them to it.
‘CPS?’ Louise Hogg said crisply.
‘I’m preparing the file now and hope to speak to them early tomorrow. I think it’s looking very promising.’
Hogg’s eyebrows twitched as though she thought Janine’s observation arrogant or overconfident. She looked back at Janine’s interim report, turned a page, then closed the file.
Here it comes, Janine thought, the dressing down for last night. The questions about judgment and competency, about boundaries and professionalism. Had she mentioned Pete and Tina? She still couldn’t remember.
‘Anything else?’ Hogg said.
‘No, ma’am. If you’re… erm… well, the team are having a drink, I’m popping in now.’
‘Is that wise?’ Hogg said.
Oh, God. Her heart sank. Here it comes. When Hogg didn’t hold forth, Janine rallied. ‘I’m on the fruit juice,’ Janine said.
‘No hair of the dog?’ Was she joking?
‘No. I’m driving,’ Janine said.
Hogg nodded. ‘I’ll see this one out,’ she said, ‘give them my regards.’
‘Thank you,’ Janine turned to go, feeling the weight lift.
‘Pint?’ Shap said to Butchers.
‘You buying?’ Butchers said. He fancied a bevvy. They deserved to celebrate a job well done.
‘Your turn, mate,’ Shap said.
‘Skint,’ Butchers said, ‘had to shell out for the do.’ Just thinking about it made him uneasy.
‘And nothing to show for it, apart from that black eye,’ Shap said. ‘I can sub you,’ he offered. ‘We could go on after, see about some action.’ He winked.
‘Get in!’ Butchers scoffed.
‘You should try the Internet,’ Shap said, ‘hundreds of birds on there looking for love.’
‘Looking for trouble, more like,’ Butchers said.
‘Can’t do worse than the lovely Kim.’
‘She wasn’t that bad,’ Butchers said.
Shap stared at him.
Butchers shuffled. ‘Mebbe she was,’ he allowed.
Shap pulled on his ear and grimaced. ‘Thing is,’ he said, ‘you’ve got to know what you’re after.’
‘Bit of peace and quiet’d do me,’ Butchers said.
‘She messed with your bearings, mate, didn’t she? Mucked up your sense of judgement. Sent you banging on about Luke Stafford and Phoebe Wray.’
‘With good reason,’ Butchers objected.
‘What reason?’ Shap sneered. ‘You were way off, mate, way, way off.’
‘You coming,’ Lisa called from the corridor, ‘only neither of you stood me a round last night so it’s your shout.’
Chapter 29
Claire felt jittery, her pulse racing, thirst raging. She fought to appear calm for Sammy.
Once the photographer had been and gone and the social worker and the family liaison officer had left, obviously delighted by the happy event, the three of them were alone together.
When she wondered how it had been for Sammy, away from home, in a strange house, without his toys or books or anything familiar, in the presence of a man who had killed his child, her heart ached and burned. A swarm of questions hummed in her mind but she had been advised to let Sammy talk at his own pace, if he chose to talk. And that the best care they could give was to re-establish all the routines he knew.
So with her heart fluttering, Claire asked him if he’d rather have egg and soldiers or beans on toast and then, when he said beans she went to make them while Sammy sat watching television nestled on Clive’s lap.
And after tea, Clive took him up for a bath and it was all she could do not to run up there and watch. She wanted him in sight, in earshot, every moment.
Resisting that impulse and eager for distraction, she stripped and changed their double bed and then cleaned the fridge.
Clive brought Sammy down, pink-cheeked, his curls damp and honey coloured from the water.
‘I’ve just spoken to Phoebe,’ Clive said, ‘she’d like to see him.’
Claire’s first reaction was hot defiance but as she took a breath to rebuff the idea Clive said steadily, ‘She’s been worried, too. She’d like to see her brother. I said it would only be for a few minutes, near bedtime.’
‘You said yes?’ He’d already arranged it.
‘Yes.’ Clive turned to Sammy, chucked him under the chin. ‘You remember Phoebe?’
Sammy gave a nod.
‘She’s coming to say hello.’
Clive set Sammy down on the sofa and then looked at Claire. ‘No more messing about, no hiding,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s a new start.’
She wasn’t sure what she felt but she wasn’t going to make a scene about it. And she felt herself relax a little, the tension ease across her shoulders.
Sammy played with his dinosaurs and Claire watched, alert for any change to his actions or his commentary, keen to find any clues as to the differences he’d encountered but there was nothing new or unusual in what he did.
His face lit up when Phoebe arrived, which astonished Claire. They had only met once before. But Phoebe had an easy way with him and kept up a stream of chatter and Sammy insisted on showing her all his special things, bringing one item after another, taking Claire with him to fetch them each time (Tyrannosaurus, my big stone, the red digger, baby mouse) until the floor was littered with them.
‘Bedtime now,’ Clive said and Phoebe left promptly, kissing Sammy on the cheek, hugging her father and thanking Claire on her way out.
Claire had an image of Phoebe coming round to babysit for Sammy and the new baby and felt her eyes sting with tears at the prospect of normality and the rift between Clive and Phoebe healing.
She took Sammy up to bed. He insisted on counting each step like he did. In his room she sat beside him on the bed, and read the customary two books.
He took his glasses off, put them on his bedside table and pulled his teddy bear close, burying his nose in the fur.
‘Night, night, lovely boy,’ Claire said but she stayed there, listening to Sammy’s breathing, gazing at him until her eyes closed and she sank into sleep.
Clive woke her a little later, shaking her shoulder, whispering her name.
‘I’m going to sleep here tonight,’ she said.
He looked worried.
‘Just tonight,’ she said, ‘I promise.’
And he accepted that and when he bent to embrace her, she was happy for it. ‘We’re so lucky,’ she said quietly.
‘We are,’ he said, ‘I love you.’
‘Yes,’ she knew he did. ‘I love you, too,’ she said. And she knew that for the first time in weeks she meant it.
Chapter 30
Richard was removing items from the incident boards when Janine came in. The rest of the team were having a well-earned beer. Hair of the dog for some. But tomorrow they’d be back in early, putting together all the reports needed to build the case for trial.