Keep My Secrets by Elena Wilkes (management books to read .txt) 📕

her eyes and rested her cheek on her hand, feeling the bones of her knuckles digging in.

‘You okay, Frankie?’ She realised that Vanessa was leaning across to her, concerned.

‘Just a bit hot in here, that’s all.’ She smiled weakly back.

Vanessa grimaced in sympathy, but her eyes were unbearably sad. ‘Not long now.’

No, not long until they would be forced to live with the knowledge that the man that had killed their daughter was going to walk free – and then what? Then what would happen? What would she do?

‘I’m going to go for a walk during the lunch break,’ she whispered.

‘I’ll come with you.’ Vanessa put her hand in the middle of Frankie’s back.

‘Would you mind if I went by myself? Is that okay?’

‘Of course! But if you still feel unwell, you ring me, yes?’ Vanessa frowned, concerned.

She watched the judge’s face, waiting for the signs that he was about to wrap up the morning session. As soon as he leaned back in his chair, she gathered her jacket and was on her feet.

‘I’ll ring.’ She managed a quick smile back. ‘I promise.’

Her quick footsteps echoed down the stairs as she made her way to the ground floor. Her palms were sweating and her hair was sticking to her forehead. Air, that’s what she needed. To be able to think straight, to be able to—

The doors of the courtroom suddenly opened.

‘Ah good! I was hoping to bump into you!’

She stopped abruptly.

‘You’re Ms Turner, am I right?’ A chubby-cheeked man with pale-coloured hair, stood there with an armful of papers. She realised it was Mr Saunders, Martin’s barrister. She felt her face colour.

‘I was on my way out.’ She made a weak gesture towards the door.

‘Yes, yes…’ he said distractedly as though that was of no consequence. ‘Mr Jarvis tells me that he’s been trying to get to speak to you.’ His voice boomed, unnaturally loud, and she winced, looking round nervously.

‘He saw you in the public gallery and said that if I saw you, I should have a word.’

She suddenly felt very hot and dizzy.

‘Oh my goodness! Are you alright?’

She thought she might throw up.

‘Dear, oh dear!’ He immediately ushered her to the row of chairs behind them. ‘Let me get you some water…’ Dumping the papers on the seat beside her, he went over to the water cooler and pulled a plastic cup from the stack. ‘Here we go.’

He handed her a half-filled cup. She drank greedily and then held the wet plastic against her cheek.

‘I’m sorry… I’m really sorry.’ She swallowed thickly. ‘I’m fine now. It was a bit too warm in there, that’s all.’ She fanned her face and smiled.

‘Ah good. As I was saying…’ His eyes were sympathetic and kind. ‘Mr Jarvis has asked—’

‘I can’t talk about it all right now,’ she interrupted and made a move to get up. ‘It’s too difficult. He’s acting as though what happened is nothing – he’s already saying that after he gets out, he’ll want—’

‘Gets out?’ Mr Saunders gave her an odd look. ‘I’m not quite following—’

She took a deep breath. ‘The way the case is going, I mean. They’ll release him, won’t they? He’ll be out.’

‘I think…’ He faltered a little. ‘I think we should have a little chat.’ He took the cup, refilled it, and passed it back. ‘That’s why Mr Jarvis wants to speak to you so urgently I believe, so that you’re fully aware of how the case has changed.’

‘Changed?’

‘Regarding the charges. He hasn’t told you?’

‘No.’ She started to feel dizzy again.

‘Oh now, now! Don’t upset yourself!’ He stopped, suddenly making a decision. ‘Look. Miss Turner, I know this is a little irregular, but I have to go and speak to Mr Jarvis now and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?’

‘Me? Here?’ she sniffed, drying her eyes. ‘Is that allowed?’

‘It is if I say it is,’ he smiled kindly. ‘He’s downstairs in the cells. Would you like to see him? It would give us a chance to talk, just the three of us, and I can explain what’s happened. It can only be literally a few minutes but perhaps it might make this whole horrid situation feel a little better.’

‘Okay.’ Her head was buzzing.

‘That’s settled then.’ Mr Saunders bent and swept up the papers from the chair. ‘Come with me.’

He strode away with her trotting behind trying to keep up. He halted at a plain wooden door with no handle. There was just an intercom and a bell-button that he pressed and then waited, staring impatiently off into the middle distance. It felt like an age. There was a faint fizzing noise and then a bored voice crackled.

‘Yes?’

‘Mr Saunders and Ms Turner to see Martin Jarvis.’

More silence and then the door buzzed and opened.

They made their way down a blank set of concrete steps to where two prison officers sat; one had his feet on a chair that he only just managed to lift in time for them to pass. The narrow corridor had nothing of the ornate grandeur of upstairs. Here, the plain tiled walls were grimed with the hundreds of bodies that had passed by them. The lino floor was the colour of dirty luncheon meat.

‘Cell three,’ the officer called out behind them.

Mr Saunders raised his hand in mute response as they stopped at a cell door. The officer came up behind jinking a set of keys, and with a metallic clatter, the door swung wide.

The man sitting there wasn’t the Martin she knew. Her heart cleaved wide. He looked up, startled, and the eyes she knew caught hers. He looked small and beaten.

His expression changed. ‘Why’s she here?’ He gave Mr Saunders a nettled, questioning stare.

‘You wanted to speak to Ms Turner, and I just happened to bump into her.’

Martin gave a sullen nod.

‘Please.’ The barrister gestured and pulled out a plastic chair for her to sit. Martin perched on the end of a narrow bed that jutted from the wall.

Frankie sat with her knees pressed together. She