He was the devil incarnate, her spawn.
Something broke inside her. This was her boy, her lovely boy, lying sick in a coma, his skull broken, and they could write all this about him. The cruelty of it sang through her, circulated like acid in her blood. And a great swell of doubt came crashing after it. Was it her fault? Could she have done more? Done better? Was this a broken home? She had filled it with love and encouraged laughter, tried to keep it warm, kept the fridge stocked, their clothes clean. Revelled in them, even when she was ragged with fatigue. She’d have done anything to prevent Eddie’s death; she had not chosen to be left on her own raising a family. And in her heart she did not equate lone parents with broken homes. Weren’t they simply victims of unsuccessful relationships? While a broken home was a dysfunctional one, surely, one without love or care or comfort.
She recalled the visits to school, her attempts to broker some sort of peace between Luke and his teachers, Luke and the attendance officer. She had done her level best to listen, to try and find out how she could help him, why he was so unhappy and restless.
The possibility that she had fallen short, that there were mistakes, inadequacies in what she had done, made her sick with guilt. Shame clawed through her.
But when she returned to the papers and read them anew, the anger returned. This was not Luke, this was not fair.
Shivering with rage, she rang DC Illingworth, never mind how early it was. ‘Have you seen the papers?’ she demanded, a tremor in her voice.
‘No,’ the woman replied. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s bloody character assassination,’ she said, close to tears, ‘that’s what it is. My boy’s a victim here and they’re making him out to be a right villain.’
‘Louise-’
‘Please,’ she blurted out, ‘read them!’ She ended the call.
‘Mum?’ Ruby was there in her school uniform. ‘What’s going on?’
Louise only hesitated for a moment – there was no way she could keep it from Ruby; she was bound to hear about it. ‘The papers, they’re saying things about Luke, things that aren’t true.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘That he was a criminal, that he was terrorizing the place.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Ruby’s eyes filled.
‘I know it’s not true and you know it’s not true, but it’s there in black and white and some people will take it as gospel.’
‘Can’t we sue them, then?’
Oh, Ruby. ‘I doubt it.’ She tried to focus, to concentrate on what was important. ‘Listen, you might get some bother at school. Do you want me to talk to Miss Morley?’
‘No, it’ll be all right.’
‘But you would let me know if…’ A spike of panic in her guts; was she neglecting Ruby too? Should she keep her off, cocoon her here?
‘Course.’ Ruby poured cereal, drained the last of the milk, pulled one of the papers closer.
‘How do they know all this?’ Louise wondered aloud. ‘The stuff with the police, the cautions, that’s not public knowledge. He was only fifteen, it’s meant to be confidential. So either the police have leaked stuff, or someone who knows Luke told them. But why? Why would anyone do that?’
‘It makes him sound horrible,’ Ruby exclaimed. ‘There’s our house.’ She pointed at an inside page. The picture made the place look smaller, meaner than it really was. Barren. Taken so that the great tree, with Luke’s lights in, was not in view.
The only reference to Luke’s attackers was right at the end of the piece, which repeated that the police had issued e-fit pictures of two men and a young woman wanted for questioning in the assault that led to the death of Good Samaritan Jason Barnes.
‘Why would they write all this?’ asked Ruby.
‘Because it sells papers. They can stir it up, get people talking. You know what spin is; this is spin. Your great-grandad called them the gutter press, this lot. Best used for wiping yer arse on.’
‘Mum!’
‘His words, not mine.’ She drew a breath; her chest ached. ‘Just remember, if anyone says anything at school, you know Luke, and what sort of person he is. And this isn’t him.’
DC Illingworth rang back before they left. ‘I’m so sorry, Louise.’
‘Can’t you do anything? Make them take it back? What if it affects how people see things when we get to court? Isn’t that illegal if there might be a trial?’
‘They’ve been very careful; there are no details about the incident itself in what they’ve written.’
‘Aren’t your press office meant to stop them printing stuff like this?’
‘We do our best, but we have a free press. Publishing material like this doesn’t help anybody, but as I say, there’s nothing there that might materially affect our ability to press charges or mount a prosecution. You could try for a right of reply or an apology, but we really wouldn’t advise it. It could make things even worse.’
Louise felt boxed in, nowhere to turn. ‘How did they find all this out, the stuff about the cautions? I was told at the time that none of it would be disclosed.’
‘That’s right, it’s common practice with young offenders.’
‘But someone’s disclosed it.’
‘This hasn’t come from us, Louise, if that’s what you’re implying, I can assure you of that.’ There was a tart edge to her tone.
‘So I just let it go, do I? See him slandered like this?’ Tears of frustration started in her eyes.
‘I know, it’s hard. But it’s like feeding the machine: anything you give them can come back and bite you. You speak to them and they’ll want more. Our press officer is already in touch, so there shouldn’t be anything else. And even if we make arrests and charge people, the trial wouldn’t be for several months.’
Louise glanced at the clock, signalled to Ruby that she should set off. ‘Why hasn’t anything happened yet?’ she asked. ‘You’ve got the name. What are you waiting for?’
‘Let me check with the team and get back to you.’
‘So you don’t actually know?’ Louise felt she was being fobbed off.
‘I want to make sure I’m completely up to date. I’ll speak to you later today,’ the detective said neutrally.
Hadn’t she done her best? Should she have been harder on Luke? Tough love? She had lived all her life in the belief that people were basically good, that with children you set boundaries and you loved them, you praised them, and they would come good. So where had it gone so wrong? She felt wretched. She had not been able to protect him when it came to it. They had ridden him down and savaged him. And now she could not even protect his reputation. She could not defend him and set the record straight. Tell the world that the reckless arson was just a firework in a wheelie bin; that he was cheeky, never malicious. That he had never been violent, never a thug, terrorized no one.
All day she wrestled with it, a net of worry, of impotent rage. A web of doubts and questions. Deanne called her mid-morning, then Fee and even Carl. All of them outraged, spitting tacks at the injustice of it. She was grateful to them; it helped to know she had them rooting for Luke. But the dribble of unease, the seasick lurches of guilt, wouldn’t go away. Louise felt dirty, tarnished, the smears undermining her self-belief. Yet she had to squash this, bury it deep, in order to be a rock for Luke, for Ruby.
Mrs Coulson regularly took one of the tabloids. It always sat on the tray table at the side of her chair, but today when Louise visited it was absent. Louise didn’t say anything and neither did the old woman. The kindness disarmed Louise and she felt a lump in her throat as she said goodbye.