Damaged Goods. Helen Black

was broken and Miriam was glad to see Lilly laugh.

      ‘What can I do for you, Jack?’ asked Miriam.

      He pulled Charlene into view. ‘I caught this one on the rob.’

      The girl pulled at her dirty boob tube. ‘I didn’t do nothing.’

      ‘Those trousers just fell into your bag, I suppose,’ he said.

      ‘It’s a fit-up.’ Charlene pointed a stubby finger in his face. ‘You planted them on me.’

      Jack pushed her hand away. ‘You watch too many films.’

      ‘Go to the television room, Charlene, I’ll speak to you in a moment,’ Miriam said.

      Charlene bristled with indignation, but sloped off all the same.

      Miriam was glad to be on well-trodden ground. It felt firm beneath her feet. ‘What happened, Jack?’

      ‘She tried to steal a pair of trousers from the market. Got caught,’ he replied.

      ‘Damn. The stupid girl’s still on a caution from last time.’

      Jack waved his hand. ‘Don’t worry, I squared it with the stallholder. He’s not pressing charges.’

      ‘You’re a saint, McNally,’ said Miriam.

      He glanced at Lilly. ‘Not everyone thinks so.’

      Miriam caught the look that passed between them but couldn’t decode it. ‘Let’s read her the riot act.’

      Charlene was alone in the television room, the other children not yet back from the market.

      ‘You lot wanna see this,’ she laughed.

      On the television was their MP, Hermione Barrows, her face contorted into something she no doubt called sincerity.

      ‘From your comments it would seem you believe Grace Brand’s daughter was responsible for her death,’ said the Look East reporter.

      ‘I am not party to the evidence in this case and have no idea whether there is anything to substantiate that. It isn’t my job to say who is innocent and who is guilty. However, it is my job to speak out if I believe the police are not investigating fully.’

      Hermione paused and looked directly into the camera. ‘If the police have reason to believe that Grace Brand’s daughter was involved then she should be arrested and charged. If she is guilty then she should be punished. It is time to stop making excuses and make the streets of Britain safer for everyone.’

      ‘For fuck’s sake,’ said Lilly, and walked out.

      Jack and Miriam watched the programme to the end. Spurred by the MP’s comments, the great and the good came out of the woodwork to lend their support, and a spokeswoman for the regional constabulary confirmed that the murder was still very much the subject of an investigation. Finally, the reporter reminded the viewers of other murders committed by children, including Mary Bell and the killers of young Jamie Bulger.

      When she heard the sound of the others arriving, Charlene sprinted off to spread the word.

      ‘It doesn’t look good,’ said Miriam.

      ‘No,’ answered Jack with a sniff.

      ‘Lilly’s going to take a lot of heat.’

      Jack shrugged.

      ‘What’s with you two?’ Miriam asked.

      ‘Dunno.’

      Miriam patted his shoulder. ‘You’ve crossed swords before.’

      Finally she noticed Jack’s hangdog eyes and the teenage pout. How had she missed it? Had she been afraid of intimacy for so long that she had failed to detect the sexual tension between Lilly and Jack?

      ‘She won’t even talk to me,’ said Jack.

      ‘You’re on different sides of the fence right now,’ said Miriam.

      Jack shook his head. ‘It shouldn’t be like this. We’ve always worked together.’

      Miriam bit her lip. Apart from a couple of uninspiring and guilt-inducing flings, Lilly had been on her own since the divorce. Jack was just the sort of honest and decent man she’d want for her friend, so why wasn’t she happy for her? Why instead did Miriam want to turn this situation to her advantage? She could dress it up as commitment to her cause, but she accepted that calling it manipulation was closer to the mark.

      ‘Lilly doesn’t believe Kelsey killed her mother. Maybe you should take her seriously and look into this Max thing. He and Grace had a history you know.’

      ‘Does Lilly have any evidence about this? Has Kelsey said anything?’ asked Jack.

      ‘That’s a matter for Lilly and her client, Jack, you know that, but maybe he’s the one you’re looking for,’ Miriam answered.

      Jack got up to leave. ‘I can’t chase maybes.’

      Miriam nodded, but could see she’d steered him in the right direction. Lilly was his Achilles heel and she had just touched the spot.

      Jack left the unit and got into his car. Miriam had a point. Recalling Kelsey’s tiny frame, bent over so he couldn’t see her eyes, wasn’t it more likely that Max had murdered Grace? He was a pimp, a user, a lowlife. Checking him out made perfect sense; at the very least he could find out where he was on the night in question. And it would surely cheer Lilly up. Not that that would be a priority in the murder case, more a happy by-product.

      ‘You, Jack McNally,’ said Becca, ‘can make anything right in your own mind.’

      Becca was Jack’s last serious girlfriend. His only serious girlfriend, if truth be told, although he’d had a few short-lived flings. She had imparted this piece of wisdom whenever he blamed hangovers on bad pints and dodgy curries. And she’d repeated it, more vociferously, when he told her she was better off without him on the morning he’d left Belfast for good.

      He pulled out his mobile to tell Lilly of his plan when he noticed he’d had a message. He was shocked to hear the voice of the Chief Superintendent in person.

      * * *

      The drive from The Bushes to Sam’s school took less than twenty minutes, but Ring Farm and Manor Park existed in parallel universes. Within five miles Lilly had left behind the grey tombs of the sink estates and arrived in the countryside. She avoided Harpenden and took the winding lanes through the villages which danced round it.

      She always felt Harpenden and Ring Farm were both soulless in their own way, but the villages were alive. Cottages and houses jumbled around a post office, a newsagent and a couple of pubs. Each dwelling was incongruous and bubbled with its own personality.

      Not for Lilly an estate of any variety, even those where every home had five bedrooms and a double garage.

      Lilly’s mother had hated uniformity. When the council had painted every door on the estate brown she had got up an hour early and sprayed it silver before heading off for work.

      ‘The joy of life is its twists and turns,’ her mother had always said, and Lilly couldn’t agree more.

      As she neared the school, the trees that flanked each side of the lane stretched over to meet, their branches entwined like limbs. Only dappled light fell through the canopy. Lilly enjoyed the calm of this living tunnel before she pulled into the school gates.

      She parked and then stood in the bright sunshine and waved at Sam. He giggled and chatted with a friend as he made his way towards her.

      ‘Can Toby come to tea?’ he asked.

      Oh God. Lilly had hoped to throw a pizza in the oven and let Sam eat in front of Star Wars while she got on with some research.

      ‘I’ll ask his mum,’ she said.

      She