“Don't worry Alice. I understand what you mean. Nobody is trivialising anything.”
“Thanks.”
“Good. Alice. We can do a forensic examination for the court case if you wish. Have you showered since?”
“No.” She shivered as she remembered the sticky touch of Flanagan’s hands on her body, and the need to scrub him off became urgent.
“We’d advise you not to. Just in case.”
“I think I can still feel him now you say it.”
“I understand. Get here as soon as you can, and we’ll take great care of you.”
When she ended the call, she rang Ian but got his voice mail. She groaned and shook her head, then left a message telling him she’d gone to the Haven and the police had arrested Flanagan.
74
It took Ian several heavy blinks to remember he was on the train to Euston and not in an uncomfortable position in his hotel bed. He rubbed his eyes and finished the last of his bottled water, wishing he'd bought another. A glance at his watch showed the train would arrive in ten minutes. He’d left his phone off for the journey so he could sleep off the hangover and dull the guilt. Despite the sleep, his head still pounded.
The train pulled in at platform 6 on time at 10:12 and Ian turned his thoughts to Alice. Should he have mentioned the broken window? Would it have made any difference? He stepped from the throng of disembarking passengers to the side of the platform and powered on his phone. There were messages from Alice and Paul Flanagan. He called Alice straight away, but her phone went to voice mail. “Hi. It's me. Sorry. I had the phone off on the train. I’ll be home in about 40 minutes. Just got into Euston. Call me.” Then he listened to her message which said she’d gone to the Paddington Haven for a post assault exam and she asked him to meet her there.
He rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand and decided to get a cab to Paddington. Paul could wait. He grabbed the handle of his wheelie case and hurried towards the taxi rank. People milled around the concourse and he dodged his way through the crowd. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered without looking. “Alice?”
“No Ian, it’s Paul. Why didn't you answer my calls earlier? What the hell’s going on?”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Ian rolled his eyes and muttered an obscenity.
“What? I didn't hear that.”
“Nothing. Go ahead.”
“Mark. My son, Mark. The police arrested him. Something to do with a sexual assault in your house. He says he didn't do it, but your girlfriend claims he did. What’s going on?”
“Er, hold on, Paul. Let me explain. Someone let themselves into our house last night and sexually assaulted Alice. They had a key to the house and knew the alarm code. The police must have joined the dots. And, er, you know...”
“Mark’s not their only employee. Are you trying to get at me, Ian? Is that it?”
“What?” Someone swerved to avoid Ian and gave an angry stare, but Ian ignored him. “No.”
“Mark wouldn't assault anyone. I know him. Why would you and your girlfriend accuse him of such a despicable act?”
Ian’s mouth was dry, and he swallowed hard. “If Alice says it was him, that's good enough for me.”
Paul scoffed. “I am meeting the legal people shortly to discuss the situation. Your input will be critical, and I want you present.”
“Alice is getting treatment in a specialist centre and I am going to meet her.”
“From the limited knowledge I have from Mark, this is a sexual assault, not a rape. So it’s not as bad, right?”
Ian closed his eyes and inhaled. Just as he did, he barged into a large man and the phone fell from his grip. It clattered to the ground in a forest of scurrying legs. By the time Ian retrieved his phone and found a space away from the crowd, his shirt stuck to him and beads of sweat trickled down his nose. The phone had shut off and he held his breath as he pressed the power button. It beeped into life with notifications. A text from Paul. My son's future is at stake. Your future in this company is at stake. Conference room. 45 minutes. No debate. Be there.
A Twitter DM from Jo. Hows the head? You’ll get some later!! Will I? #returnthefavour Promises, promises, yeah? J xxx
He stared at the phone and shook his head. His first thought was Jo had put the message on public Twitter because of the hashtag, then remembered she had a habit of using hashtags instead of emoticons. She now appeared to have another habit of adding ‘xxx’ to every message. He knew he had to reply, but he didn't know what to say. Seeing Jo was like driving a high powered stolen car. Exciting, but risky. Now it was time to get out. As he considered the best choice of words, a well-dressed man in his thirties approached.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
Ian looked at him. “Huh?”
“You look stressed. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes.” Ian put the phone in his pocket and rubbed the tip of his nose. When he took his finger away, it was wet. “I’m fine.”
“Are you a friend of Jesus?”
Ian let out a long breath that sounded like a chesty wheeze. “Jesus?”
“Ask yourself, what could Jesus do for you today? What do you need more than anything else in the world?”
Ian pointed downward with his finger. “Right now?”
The man smiled at him. “Yes. Right now.”
Ian clenched his fists tight and stared at the man. “I need everyone to leave me the fuck alone and stop hassling me.” Then he wrestled the handle up from his wheelie case and trundled
