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Monday 5pm
From: Local radio drive time
DJ: We have a Jeff from Llanfair. What did you want to say Jeff?
Jeff: There are all these stories about Llanfair and I wanted to say that it’s a great place to live.
DJ: Great to hear, Jeff. What about these attacks on students we keep hearing about?
Jeff: That’s for the police to deal with. We need more bobbies on the beat. Sometimes the police station isn’t open for days. Dunno why it’s there really.
DJ: That doesn’t sound good.
Jeff: There’s always a copper around if you go a mile over the speed limit though.
DJ: Ain’t that the truth, Jeff? Now, what about a bit of music…?
It was Mags who was crying. Patsy sat awkwardly on the other side of the low table, holding out a piece of kitchen roll. Both women looked up as Charlie and Eddy entered the room. Mags grabbed the kitchen roll from Patsy and blew her nose, mopping up the tears. Her face was left red and blotchy, with smears of mascara on her cheeks. Patsy got up for more kitchen roll and passed it over. Mags took the paper, but mumbled an apology and ran out of the room.
“Coffee,” Charlie said, heading for the kettle. They would all feel better fortified with caffeine. Well, he would, anyway.
The carpet in front of the mini-kitchen was worn. It wasn’t quite through to the underlay, but the woven tan fibres of the backing were starting to show. All around the worn patch were dark stains from dripping tea bags and dropped milk. In the middle of the room, the carpet was blue, though it too was patterned with stains and ground-in dirt. In the background, the phone was still ringing, clicking on to the answering machine, stopping for a moment and starting to ring again. It reminded him to call both Kaylan and Rico’s parents. It was something he should have done earlier. How the hell was he supposed to keep all these plates spinning at once?
The kettle boiled and clicked off. Charlie found four clean mugs on the draining board — either Patsy or Mags had washed up. It was time to open a new jar of coffee. Charlie peeled the foil back and inhaled the scent, wishing that instant coffee tasted half as good as that smell. He felt Eddy looming behind him, very close. Was it deliberate? Patsy interrupted the moment before he could decide.
“There’s sandwiches in the fridge. Mags’ husband brought them. Home-made, nice. We saved you some.”
At the word ‘sandwiches’ Charlie suddenly felt his empty belly. Neither he nor Eddy had eaten anything since the cookies at lunchtime, and even if Eddy had eaten half the bag, he must be hungry too.
“Thank God for Mr Mags,” Eddy said, opening the fridge door. He took the cling-film covered plate of triangular sandwiches made from thick-sliced multi-seed bread to the table and unwrapped it. Yellow cheese and dark brown pickle showed between the slices of bread, and Charlie could almost feel his teeth cutting through the cheese, and the salty taste on his tongue.
“Don’t you dare eat them all,” Charlie warned.
The answer was no more than an acknowledgement, mumbled around half a sandwich. Cheese and pickle. I love cheese and pickle, Charlie thought, salivating as he picked up the sweet smell of the pickle. The truth was, he would have loved any kind of sandwich filling, up to and including fried horse. He put four cups of coffee on the table, with the bag of sugar, two clean spoons, and a carton of milk. Then he grabbed a sandwich, and managed to eat half of it before Mags came back. Her eyes were still red, but the mascara smudges had gone.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
Charlie swallowed, and pushed one of the mugs of coffee towards her.
“Sit down,” he said, “and let’s have a catch-up. Thanks for the food.”
Eddy was inhaling sandwiches as fast as he could, so Charlie grabbed himself another one before the plate was empty. It was cold from the fridge, so he warmed his hands on the mug of hot coffee.
“You two first,” he said, looking at Mags and Patsy.
“We watched the videos on the data stick,” Patsy said. “We did everything else on the list too, in case you were wondering, and answered the phone and took a report of a lost dog from a member of the public. In between, we watched the videos. Mags is upset because we think they’re videos of the assaults on students, and we think one of them is from last week. One that neither of us think was ever reported.”
“Because,” Mags said, “the dinosaurs running this police station said it wasn’t assault if the perpetrator didn’t touch the victim. But it is.”
“Sexual Offences Act, 2003, section 66,” Patsy said. “Showing your genitals with the intention of frightening someone gets you up to two years inside. And that’s what’s on the video. This poor woman cowering in a corner, while a bloke whose face we can’t see is having a wank. Bastard.”
The sandwich turned to cotton wool in Charlie’s mouth. He put the remains down on the plate, and saw Eddy do the same. Charlie took a swallow of his coffee, though it tasted of nothing. It was something to do, something that didn’t involve running around, screaming, and breaking things.
“It was horrible,” Mags said. “This poor woman was terrified, and then the bloke just zips himself up and walks off.”
Charlie fixed on something Patsy had said.
“What makes you think this woman didn’t report the assault?” he asked.
