He didn't answer. He sat down on the edge of the bath, his back to her, staring down into the wine-glass. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. After a while he turned, swung his legs out of the bath, put the glass on the floor and held out his hand to her.
"Come here."
She took his hand and he pulled her on to his lap, wrapping soapy arms around her. "That's good," he said. "That's really good."
She bent her head and smiled secretly against his neck, getting soap on her face. The water was soaking into her T-shirt.
"My T-shirt's wet," she said. "Look at me."
"Shall we go to bed? See if it works this time?"
She smiled. "Except you're covered in soap."
"I don't care. Come on."
And they crawled between the sheets, wet and soapy, and he pulled her T-shirt over her head and used it to wipe the soap off his chest, his stomach, his legs, then threw it on the floor and fell forward, groping at her bra. "If this is what a little smack does for you…"
"Oh, stop it." She kicked him in the shin. "Don't tease me. You know it's not that."
"I know." He was smiling as he pulled at her shorts, as he pressed his hard, damp body against hers, and she had to stop herself turning to him and saying it out loud like an idiot: I am so sure, so, so sure it's going to be OK.
Twenty-nine.
(27 July)
Tracey Lamb had to go to the Narey hearing that morning but she didn't want to come back and find Steven had made another mess in the caravan. "Come on." She put down some bits and pieces on the bunk, some Cokes, some Caramel bars, some biscuits. "Come and sit down here and we'll play a game."
The chocolate and the idea of a game cheered him up. He sat down on the bed, on top of his tangled sleeping-bag, and started to rock back and forward, grinning, showing the gaps in his teeth where they'd rotted from too many sweets. "Gaaayhb. Gaaayb."
"That's it. Now give me your hands."
He held them out, delighted that Tracey was paying him attention.
"Good. Now keep still, while I…" She used the electric flex to fasten his hands together. "Good." She reached around his back to pass it behind him and slowly wound it around his body. She kept things light, laughing and poking him in the ribs to keep him smiling. "Come on this is fun. See, what the game is, is that Tracey ain't all that good at tying Steven up -see? Steven can always get out, can't he?"
"Yeeeeth." He nodded, grinning. "Yeth." He stared in rapt attention as she tightened the electric flex so that one arm was fastened at his side. She stood and fed the remaining lead first around the handles of the cupboards, then around the window catches and the base of the table. Now he could move around in a circle of only about two or three feet. He could reach the sink but he couldn't reach the windows or the door or do any harm.
"There." She stood back, wiping her hands on her leggings. "Now, I bet Steven can get out of that I bet Steven's too clever for Tracey, ain't he?"
"Ye-ehth!"
"Let's see, then. Let's see him get out of that." "Kay, 'kay." He grinned, rocking back and forward, his eyes rolling in his head. He struggled and writhed, the flex becoming tighter around his hands until the flesh bulged and the veins in his neck stood up. Tracey folded her arms and watched, her head on one side. Yeah get out of that you little shit.
Then suddenly he was free. He jerked forward, arms flailing like a baby trying to get out of his high chair, a big rotten-toothed grin. "Dud id!"
Oh, you fucking piece of shit. She kicked the bottom of the table. "Yeah you done it, didn't you?" "Gain, 'gain."
"OK again. We'll try again." "Kay 'kay." He jolted forward, excited. "Gaaaybb!"
"But this time," she pushed his hands back in his lap, 'this time Tracey's going to try harder."
This time she used a second piece of flex and an oily towrope from the boot of the Datsun. She left one of Steven's hands free but this time, although he struggled for ten minutes, while she stood at the door and watched with a cool smile, he couldn't get out. Eventually, trussed up on the bunk like a Christmas turkey, he looked up at her and grinned. He was out of breath but he was thrilled that the game was going so well.
"Well done." Tracey nudged the slop bucket towards him with her toe. "Right. I ain't going to be long. I'll be back this afternoon. And then, if you've been good," she put her face near his and grinned, 'if you've been good, maybe you'll meet someone special."
"On your list number 103, number seven, sir." The list caller allowed the district judge to find the case on his list. "This is Ms Tracey Jayne Lamb. Kelly Alvarez is representing."
Bury St. Edmunds' combined crown and magistrates' courts were housed in a high-vaulted red-brick building tucked away behind the grounds of the ruined abbey. The interior was full of wood veneer and wall-to-wall carpeting. Kelly Alvarez, dressed in a slightly scruffy off-white suit and a red silk blouse, sat on the defence side of the big bench, directly under the huge central atrium. To her right, in the dock, Tracey Lamb stood patiently, clutching her sputum cup and chewing a ball of strawberry bubble-gum.
The clerk read out the charges. "Tracey Jayne Lamb, you are charged with conspiracy to commit an act of indecent assault with others unknown, contrary to common law."
The district judge frowned at Lamb as if he hadn't noticed her in the dock and now was slightly offended to see her as if she had just walked in unannounced.
"Miss Lamb." He took off his glasses, pressed his hands flat on the desk and sat forward in the high-backed leather chair. "You understand that this is a very serious offence and it can't be tried here. We're here today only to set a date for a transfer hearing and talk about bail."
Lamb gave him a sarcastic smile as if he was asking her whether she knew the alphabet. "Ye-es." She pushed the gum into the corner of her mouth, spat a gobbet of phlegm into the cup, and straightened up, allowing herself a small smile. "I know."
"Right." He closed his eyes in disgust and turned back to the CPS solicitor. "You've said you won't oppose bail?"
"That's right."
"Are you sure you don't want to oppose?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure."
"You know I have the right to overrule that decision."
"Yes-I '
"Good." He tapped his pen loudly. "Because I think that's what I might well do."
"Sir." Alvarez half stood, accidentally knocking a pen off the table. "Sir, it's important to recognize that this offence is very old, there's no evidence that the defendant is still in contact with the victim."
Tracey chewed a little harder, narrowing her attention on the district judge. No one had said she might not get bail. She hadn't even thought about it. Now the CPS solicitor was standing, nodding at the judge. "That's common ground, sir, we agree with the defence."
"And," Alvarez pushed her hair behind her ears, 'the defendant has no of fences for the last eight years. Miss Lamb was given police bail and appeared on time today for the Narey hearing. There is absolutely nothing to suggest that she might fail to appear. Um…" She scanned the papers in the Narey bundle. "She has been living in the same place for thirty years, and the alleged offence took place over twelve years ago. And my learned friend, the prosecution, has already indicated that he won't be obstructing or asking for conditions."