him,’ Janet said. ‘He said it was such a serious allegation that he had to consult his colleagues. There were three of them. Three men.’
‘Who else was there?’ Matthew could only imagine how intimidating that must have been.
‘One was another trustee. Dennis Salter. I hadn’t met him before. And there was someone else who they said was their legal advisor.’
Colin Marston. Though what someone who’d overseen contracts in the car industry might have to do with a criminal case of sexual assault, Matthew couldn’t imagine. He’d be there solely to intimidate.
‘It must have been frightening for you. Facing those men.’
‘It was the word allegation. As if I was making it all up. Mr Preece said he couldn’t understand how it had happened there at the Woodyard with all the staff around. I told him it had happened in a counselling session. They’d started that when the centre first moved to the Woodyard. One-to-one chats in the small meeting rooms, the users talking about the place, their ideas and hopes for the future.’ She looked up at Matthew. ‘He asked if I had proof. If I’d been to a doctor or the police. As if I wasn’t telling the truth. I told him I couldn’t have put Rosa through that. Not yet. That’s why I was talking to him, so he could help us through the process. Rosa wouldn’t understand without support. She’d get in a state and she wouldn’t be able to explain. Imagine her having to go to court!’ Another pause. ‘But I told him I’d kept the torn knickers. They were stained. I didn’t tell him about the skirt, though, and the fact that the skirt was stained too. I kept that. My secret.’ She looked up. ‘I was thinking about the American president and that scandal with the young girl. It was a skirt that proved she was telling the truth. I didn’t trust them, you see. There’d be DNA, wouldn’t there, on both of them?’
‘There would.’
‘I don’t think they were expecting that I’d have proof.’
‘What happened, Janet? Why didn’t you pursue it?’
She stared up at him and he saw she was crying. ‘Because they bought me off. They gave me money to keep quiet. It was a dreadful time. My husband had just lost his job and there was no cash coming in. We were waiting for the welfare people to sort out his payments. I get attendance allowance for Rosa, but that’s nothing, a pittance. We were weeks behind on the rent. And Preece offered me money.’
She shook her head as if she was trying to shake out the memory. ‘I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but he was so persuasive. It was as if it wasn’t about the money at all. Not really. He said the Woodyard was such a great project and any bad publicity would mean the funding would stop and all those service users would be left without care. He promised to keep the perpetrator away and make sure that he got help. He’d never be allowed to do anything like that again.’ A little gasp. ‘And then he wrote the cheque. Buy something nice for Rosa, he said. Take her away for a break, a weekend. It wasn’t huge but it was enough to pay back the rent that we owed. It was enough to keep us going.’ Another pause. ‘That’s why I didn’t tell you about Rosa when you came looking for Chrissie Southcombe. I was still ashamed at taking their money. They told me when I took it that it was a kind of contract. I was promising to keep quiet. To keep the secret.’
‘Was Preece the only person to sign the cheque?’ Matthew asked. ‘Or did Mr Salter sign it too?’ If it was a joint signature, it would have come from the Woodyard account, not from Preece’s personal bank, and there’d be a record of that. A record that Walden might have come across. None of the office doors in the building were ever locked and Jonathan would never have picked up any discrepancy in the accounts.
‘They both signed it.’
Matthew nodded, but still he showed no emotion. ‘Has anyone else come along to ask you about Rosa’s story? A man called Simon Walden?’
‘Is he the man that was killed out at Crow Point?’ She seemed shocked.
‘That’s right. He was a volunteer at the Woodyard. I think he was taking an interest in what happened to Rosa.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve never met him.’
Matthew felt