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He made the drinks strong and black for him, weak and black for Jellicoe, and builders’ tea with lots of sugar for Eddy. He handed them out, indicated the seats and sat down. Across the table, Jellicoe wrapped her fingers around the hot mug, and stared down at the steam rising from the coffee.
Edwards overwhelmed his chair. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, with the face and body of someone who had played a lot of rugby, but from the softening around the middle, not recently. His shoulders looked like battering rams, with thighs to match, very short hair and features that had spent too long face down on a muddy field. Charlie imagined him as the kind of player who is slow to start, and then unstoppable. He was at least six foot four, maybe taller, and made Charlie feel decidedly petite in comparison. He was the second person to have that effect in two days, and he couldn’t decide if he liked it. He’d quite liked it in from the hot guy in the Rainbow, less so at work.
“Right then,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get this show on the road.”
Internationally renowned art college
Monday 9.30am
From: Listen to Women’s Stories, a podcast about sexual violence
Trigger Warning: explicit account of sexual exposure/flashing. Account of threatening behaviour.
Art student Jordie Miles spoke to WS about her experience in Llanfair.
WS: Thank you for speaking to us Jordie. Why have you decided to do this?
JM: I know that the listeners to this podcast will believe my story. When I reported it to the police, they weren’t interested. When I reported it to the college, I wasn’t believed. But it happened, and it was horrible. Women need to know what’s going on in Llanfair. It’s important.
WS: Would you tell listeners what happened to you? Take as long as you need to.
JM: Yes. It happened when I was in the library at the Art College. It’s in the basement of the college, and it’s full of nooks and crannies. I used to love the place… Sorry.
WS: Take your time.
JM: I was in the section with the DVDs. There are DVD players with headphones so we can watch movies, documentaries, videos of exhibitions and so on. I was watching a documentary about David Hockney. I hadn’t realised I was on my own in that part of the library …
WS: And I suppose you couldn’t hear anything? Because of the headphones?
From: Breaking News
A series of assaults on young women has created a state of terror in the sleepy north Wales town of Llanfair. Internationally renowned Llanfair College of Art refused to comment on whether the victims were all students at the college. A spokesperson for the college students’ union said that no action had been taken by college authorities or the local police. “Women in the town are frightened,” the spokesperson said.
“I’ve had a report that two students from the college are missing, Rico Pepperdine and Kaylan Sully, both American,” Charlie said. “That’s why I’m here. The fallout from the assaults is going to affect the way we work, but I’m not here to investigate them. We aren’t going to get co-operation from anyone after what’s happened, but we still have a job to do. And that means opening the door to the public.” He looked at Jellicoe.
“We got an email from Superintendent Kent, sir, telling us not to. Or to answer the phone.”
“Let’s give him a call and ask why he sent that, shall we?” Charlie knew no such email had been sent. With only four officers available, opening hours would have to be restricted, but one of the promises Clwyd Police had made was to maintain a police presence in the town. Someone had sent the email in Kent’s name, or someone was lying abut receiving it. It was another thing to be investigated, but not by him. PC Jellicoe didn’t look worried by the idea of calling Superintendent Kent. She appeared to believe in the veracity of the email. Charlie was prepared to accept that she hadn’t sent it. Perhaps there was one person he could trust, at least. The others were wait and see. He sent a text, and the answer was immediate.
Supt Kent: No email sent. Leave it with me. There must be opening times for the public. Phones must be answered, or messages taken.
He showed it to the other two.
“Oh,” Jellicoe said, in a small voice.
“Start by answering the phone,” Charlie said, “and we’ll work on some times for public access later.”
She nodded. “I’d better go then, sir,” she said, and Charlie realised that he had been hearing the noise of a constantly ringing phone somewhere in the building since they’d sat down.
“Hang on,” he said. “DC Edwards and I need computer access and keys to the building. I want the place locked up when there’s only one person here.” He wanted the locks changed too. With a sinking feeling he knew that meant he would have to be the only key holder, because someone was still playing games and he didn’t know who. Jellicoe stood up, and he could see new colour in her cheeks.
“I’ll give you a guided tour.It’ll be quick.” She smiled and Charlie was pleased to see it.
The tour didn’t take long, though it was accompanied by the sound of the constantly ringing telephone. It stopped, and a heartbeat later, started again. Upstairs was one big room with a single office for the senior officer, who Charlie supposed was him. Downstairs consisted of the room they had been in, a dingy interview room, plus the reception for the public and male and female locker rooms with toilets and washbasins. There was evidence of the officers who had resigned and been suspended, in the shape of untidy desks and grubby computer keyboards. Equipment for officers on patrol was hung from pegs in one corner of the big upstairs office, with radios charging on the floor underneath. It was dark and long overdue for new furniture and redecoration.
“This place is like a reverse-Tardis,” Edwards said. “It doesn’t look big from the outside, but it looked bigger than this.”
“There are two cells,” Jellicoe said. “Accessed from outside. Upstairs from them is what used to be a police flat, for a single person. But there was a leak from the roof, and it’s not been used for years.”
