Nothing tastes sweeter than well-merited victory. Charlie and Bella celebrated Charlie’s release by polishing off the rest of the brandy, and sank into bed in a cloud of happy fumes.
Freddie called as they were dressing, sounding barely able to shape words into coherent sentences. ‘The police have been. A man called Weatherall. He said the police made a dreadful mistake, and are going to apologise. Then a man arrived from the Daily Mail, with a photographer. He asked me a whole string of questions, and took my picture, and now he’s on his way to you.’
‘Oh, sweet heaven!’ Bella was already scrabbling for a dress. ‘A photographer? I can’t handle it.’ She scooped up a clean bra and panties from a drawer and vanished into the bathroom. ‘Go down and talk to them when they arrive, keep them at bay for long enough to let me fix my hair.’
Charlie was struggling to pull on the chinos he had worn the night before. He hurriedly found himself a pair of clean socks, and performed his toilet at speed. A clean shirt, a quick brush through his hair, and he was ready.
Bella came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, as he prepared to face the world. But there are times when a man cannot resist temptation. He grabbed one end of the towel and tugged at it.
‘No, Charlie!’ Bella’s voice rose sharply. ‘This is not the time.’
Charlie advanced towards her. The bed might be a mess, but it was just the right place.
The telephone rang, and they both froze.
Bella moved first. ‘Go down and keep them talking.’ She pointed towards the door. ‘You’re dressed.’
Charlie grinned. ‘Later?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake man, don’t be so impossible.’
The telephone rang on.
‘Later?’
‘Oh, all right, anything.’ Bella surrendered. ‘But please, please, please go and talk to them.’
Two men were waiting in the lounge. Charlie had not seen Tom Jennings for a good many years, but people really change comparatively little with time. Hair may grey, or fall out, waistlines may bulge, and suits may move upmarket. But journalists’ eyes always retain a certain tigerish quality, and Jennings had the look of a tiger with prey in his sights.
‘You’ve certainly stirred up a hell of a lot of shit.’ He beamed at Charlie. The story was good, and appeared to be growing better and better with each passing moment. ‘Berks and Bucks Police and Chiltern County Council are holding a joint press briefing later this morning. The man running the childrens’ home hanged himself after your visit – he went into the hut where he buggered the boy and threw a rope over a beam.’
‘Nasty.’
‘Very. The police are grovelling. There’s talk that heads may roll.’
‘What about Freddie?’
‘Not a stain on his character. The press briefing will probably issue a public apology, the lawyers are hinting at substantial compensation.’
‘And Gay Manion?’
‘We’ve got a couple of people on her doorstep, but she appears to have vanished.’
Charlie felt as though he was dancing on air. He could sense Bella now standing at his shoulder, and he half turned. ‘Do you think we should offer these gentlemen a drink?’
Bella dimpled. ‘Do you think we could order a bottle of champagne?’
Jennings beamed. ‘How I do like interviewing journalists. They understand things so well.’ The photographer was busily snapping off pictures. Better to get them taken whilst his hand was still steady.
Berks and Bucks Police held the press conference in the council chamber at the Chiltern County Council offices. The chamber was packed with reporters and photographers and TV teams as David Swinton, the Berks and Bucks chief constable, and Mrs. Margaret Thornton, chair of Chiltern County Council, came in. Swinton was in full uniform, with garlands of silver braid on his epaulettes, his uniform making something imposing of a very ordinary-looking middle-aged man. Thornton was icy in a grey woollen business suit. Both looked nervous as they took their places behind a table on a low platform, flanked by DS Weatherall on one side, and Alison Holderness on the other. Charlie noted that Freddie sat in the front row of the audience, along with Jennifer, Leticia and Agatha Hoskins.
Swinton quickly read a prepared statement, offering an unreserved apology together with a promise of appropriate compensation, to be agreed between lawyers, and Mrs. Thornton grimly nodded her assent. Then both signed, and Freddie got up to collect it. He had already recovered a good deal of his bounce, and almost strutted as myriad light bulbs flashed.
Then Swinton read a second apology to Charlie, adding another compensation offer, and more light bulbs flashed, and the chief constable looked around as though he wanted to leave. But Charlie had been roughing out a little speech of his own, and now the time was ripe. ‘I don’t want your money.’ His voice was harsh. ‘But I do want to see some justice.’ He raised his arm to point first at Weatherall, and then at Holderness. ‘I want that man to apologise for abusing his position, and I want that woman to apologise personally to Freddie for attempting to ruin his good name.’
Weatherall looked startled, and Alison Holderness was thin-lipped.
Swinton and Margaret Thornton whispered for a moment together, and then whispered again with a man who had stepped onto the platform behind them. He had the air of a solicitor or legal adviser. The chief constable and the County chair both looked grim, and nodded a couple of times, and then Swinton held a whispered conversation with Weatherall, whilst Margaret Thornton whispered to Alison Holderness.
Weatherall got to his feet, his face formal and expressionless as he looked down at Charlie. ‘I very much regret what happened in this case. We were given information, and we felt we had a duty to act on it. I am sorry for what happened, and I apologise to everyone who may have suffered in this matter.’ He sat again, and closed his eyes. He had blotted his copybook, and he feared that he might have severely blighted his career prospects into the bargain. But what had been done had been done.
Charlie looked at Alison Holderness. She stared back at him. It was plain that she had no wish at all to apologise to Freddie Hoskins, or to anyone else for that matter. Margaret Thornton whispered to her again, and she got reluctantly to her feet.
‘I apologise to Mr. Hoskins. But we were also given information, and we felt we had a duty to act on it.’
Now Freddie stood. ‘You didn’t give me a chance. Why didn’t you ask me, before calling in the police?’
The Youthguard team leader hesitated, but Margaret Thornton whispered again.
‘We were given information alleging a very serious crime. It was our duty to act on it.’ Alison Holderness spoke like an automaton. It was very possible that her career had run into a brick wall, and she was defeated.
Swinton got to his feet. ‘I think we should move on. Serious mistakes have been made. I hope we draw lessons from them.’
Charlie stood again. ‘What you mean is that arrogance never listens.’
Swinton bowed his head. But the assembled journalists had scented blood, and wanted a kill. The top table was bombarded with a stream of questions. Would the police and the county hold an enquiry? Would Weatherall and Holderness be suspended pending the outcome? Would one, or the other, be sacked?
Swinton struggled to control the questioning, looking more and more beleaguered. He was saved by Alison Holderness suddenly standing, holding a handkerchief to her mouth as though she was going to be sick, and hurrying towards an exit. A group of photographers immediately gave chase, and the conference broke up in chaos.
Freddie Hoskins flung his arms around Charlie’s neck as light bulbs flashed. ‘You saved my life.’
Charlie grinned. They were now side by side, with photographers flashing as though demented. ‘I did what I had to do.’
‘And you don’t mind about Jennifer?’
Charlie put his arm around Freddie’s shoulder. ‘She’s made a man of you.’
There were more photographs, with Charlie and Freddie centre stage, flanked by Bella next to Charlie, Leticia at Freddie’s side, and Jennifer out on the end. But she did not speak to Charlie, though she did manage a rather frosty smile.
Then they drifted out into the building’s carpark. Freddie whispered to Leticia, but she shook her head. He had suggested a victory dinner. But Leticia knew the idea was out of the question.
Charlie and Bella made their way back to Bella’s Mercedes. Bella reached up to put her arms around his neck as they reach the car.
‘My hero.’ She spoke in French. ‘Would you have liked a Vin d’Honneur?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘I want to go back to Mondain.’
Some hours later they were queueing for a P&O ferry at Dover.
It was night, and cars began to file slowly aboard the ferry. Charlie knew that he was crossing one of the world’s last challenging frontiers. He also knew that he would not return.
The end