the dishwasher. I felt a wave of guilt that I’d never made more effort with her.
‘It’s Ali, yes?’
‘That’s right.’ Everyone else had called me Mrs Morris, as if I was Mike’s mother, someone old and fragile. Oh God – someone would have to tell his parents, ring them at their villa in France. I knew that I absolutely couldn’t face it just now. ‘Can you tell me what’s happening?’
Anna folded her foot, neat in a ballet pump, over her leg. ‘Right so. As you might know, they did find semen in Ms Rampling, consistent with sexual intercourse. They’re trying to rush through the DNA testing on that I believe.’
‘But he . . . he told me they’d had sex earlier that day. Consensual. So they might . . . find something from that.’ My mind shied away from it. Was he saying they hadn’t used a condom? That small extra betrayal sent a flare of rage through me, burning my oesophagus like acid. How could he. How could she?
I watched Anna’s face to see if she was judging us, the mess of our lives, but she gave nothing away. ‘Hmm. That does make it a bit complicated.’
‘What about the bruising? They can match it to his hands or something? I mean it wouldn’t match, of course.’
‘They can try, but that’s not always conclusive. Now, Ali, we need to make sure we have all Mike’s clothes from last night. He mentioned a jumper?’
I pictured it, bright red and glowing. The Hugo Boss one he’d left lying on the decking. ‘He didn’t have it when they took him in?’ I remembered going up to him in the swing seat, noticing the gooseflesh on his arms. ‘No, he wasn’t wearing it, I remember now. He took it off. I don’t know where it is.’
She tapped her pen against her notebook. It had owls on the cover, I noticed. A thing that a child might use to write their sums in. ‘OK, well, we need to find that jumper. If any of his clothing’s gone it’ll seem dodgy. Now. They’ve made a decision to charge him, as you know, so that means it goes to the magistrates’ court tomorrow.’
‘Will he get bail?’ I was realising how little I knew about this process.
‘Most likely, yes. Even with the suggestion of violence it’s rare not to.’
‘So . . . he comes home?’
‘Sure. Then you wait until the trial. Your husband is a lawyer?’
‘Corporate, yes.’
‘So, it’s likely he wouldn’t be allowed to work until cleared in the trial.’
‘What?’ I’d spoken too loudly.
She blinked. ‘It’s standard procedure, Ali. You can’t practise law if you’ve a criminal record. Most companies would at least suspend an employee accused of something this serious, if not start disciplinary action.’
I thought of our bank accounts. I hadn’t even looked at them for years now, too scared of the sums involved. Mike assured me it was all OK, we spent a lot but he made a lot too. He’d pay off the house move in a few months, and then his Christmas bonus would come. But now – the kids had school fees. I was barely earning. What would we do if he lost his job? Could they do that when he hadn’t been convicted of anything? It occurred to me how this really was a case of her word against his. I’d never fully understood it before, for all my knowledge of rape. The same act between them could have been consensual or a crime, depending on the point of view. Was it possible he’d thought she consented a second time? But then again I thought of the grass stains on her face, the bruises round her neck. How could someone not know?
I realised Anna was looking at me expectantly. ‘Your phone?’
It was ringing. I hadn’t even noticed. By the time I’d fumbled it out, it was on voicemail. Giving the solicitor a tight polite smile, I keyed into it, hearing Vix’s cool, confident voice. ‘Ali, it’s me. Trying to reach you. If you have time, can you swing by the office, please? I’ll be there.’
Chapter Ten
Since when did Vix work Sundays? Sundays were for roasts and films and walks in the woods, not the office. Or maybe I was hopelessly out of touch and wrong to nag Mike when he checked his emails over the weekend or went up to London on Saturdays. Maybe this was expected now. I made a distracted note to bring it up in her next supervision.