Disordered Minds

yourself?'

'I'm not sure I can do this,' he said suddenly.

George, who had been prattling through his increasingly long silences, was unsurprised. A couple of glasses of wine had released his inhibitions long enough for him to accept the challenge, but the Dutch courage hadn't lasted the fifty-minute drive. 'He'll avoid any difficult confrontations for as long as he can,' Andrew had warned her. 'His expertise, as he'll tell you again and again, is researching documents. He'll want the longest paper trail you've ever seen before he'll tackle Roy Trent. It's a defense mechanism.'

'Against what?'

'Being in a situation he can't control ... being found wanting ... being afraid. I had the devil's own job persuading him down to Bournemouth to talk to you.'

'Why?'

Andrew shrugged. 'He didn't know who you were, or what to expect. He's a fish out of water with strangers.'

'Is it shyness?'

'Not entirely. He was badly bullied at school and it's left him paranoid about everything-rejection, in particular.'

'Like Howard.'

Andrew nodded. 'Except Jon's scars don't show, and I think that makes it harder for him. He doesn't have an obvious excuse to feel like an outsider-except his color-which is why he portrays himself as a victim of racism. It's easier than admitting that what he's really afraid of is derision.'

George made no response to Jonathan's remark until she was able to pull off the main road and draw up behind a parked car in the first side street she could find. 'What don't you think you can do?' she asked, killing the engine.

'Talk to Roy,' he said, rubbing his face furiously with his hands.

'Why not?'

'We don't have enough information. What are we going to say to him?'

She watched him for a moment, not doubting that he was in a genuine funk. 'I'm planning to describe Cill Trevelyan's gang rape as told to me by William Burton,' she said unemotionally, 'then make it clear that I believe Roy was involved along with his friends, Colley Hurst and Micky Hopkinson.'

'He won't like it.'

'Should I give a damn?' asked George with an amused laugh.

'He'll deny it. You don't have any proof.'

'I'm not planning to arrest him, Jonathan, just let him know what I know and see where it takes us.'

He lowered his fists to his lap and banged them against each other. 'I can't see the point of putting him on his guard before we need to. Supposing he gets angry?'

'You should be more worried about me getting angry,' she said mildly. 'I hate rape with a passion, Jonathan, particularly gang rape of a child. If Cill had been my daughter-if I'd been Jean Trevelyan-I'd have camped on Roy's doorstep thirty-three years ago till he confessed, then I'd have ripped his head off. He should count himself lucky I wasn't.'

Jonathan stared at her in wide-eyed desperation. 'I really can't do it.'

She put a hand on his arm. 'What are you afraid of? That he'll hit me? I quite hope he does, as a matter of fact-I'll have him charged with assault-but he won't do it for that reason.'

Jonathan shook his head. 'You can't be sure.'

'No,' George agreed, 'but I'm damned if I'll let that stop me. In any case, I have a pepper spray in my bag. It's highly illegal-I bought it in America-but I'd rather be in prison for zapping a mugger than dead because he had a knife.' She paused to let him take the information in. 'I'm not easily intimidated, Jonathan. I may not be the fittest thing on two legs but my dad taught me to stand up for myself, and it was a good lesson. I'll tackle Roy alone, if necessary, but it won't help you if I do.'

He raised a mirthless smile. 'It'll do me more good than having my jaw broken.'

'Has that happened before?'

'Once.'

'By bullies?'

'A bully,' he said flatly.

'Did you report him?'

'No. I pretended I'd fallen off my bike.'

'Why?'

'Because he said he'd break it again if I didn't.' His smile became twisted. 'I didn't have a father like yours, George. The last thing you did with mine was stand up for yourself ... unless you wanted more of the same, of course.'

There was no point telling him it was a variation on a theme repeated in every case study of physical abuse George had ever read. For Jonathan, and every abused child, their individual story was unique. A low-income family, struggling to survive. Secrecy, coupled with threats of retaliation if the abuse was exposed. A child who hid in the school lavatories because he was too frightened to go home. An angry father whose violent tendencies were aggravated by alcohol. A despised mother who allowed her son to be beaten in preference to herself. A