Surrey
Tuesday, August 17, 1999
Dear Alan,
I shall be at your mother's house at midday on Friday, August 20. Please ensure that you and she are both there, otherwise I shall carry out my threat to go to the police despite the pain this will cause your wife, children and brother. You should be aware that I am writing to Sharon Percy and Geoffrey Spalding to insist that they, too, attend.
Yours sincerely,
M. Ranelagh
From: Mrs. Wendy Stanhope, The Vicarage,
Chanters Lane, St. David's, Exeter
Wednesday, August 18
I can certainly be outside Richmond station by 11:30 a.m., which, as you say, should give us ample time to reach Graham Road by midday. 1 can't imagine why you think I might be reluctant to support you against the Slaters. I'm not easily intimidated! Also, I've always regretted that Annie didn 't think of me as a friend while she was alive. So thank you for asking me, my dear.
With love,
Wendy
*26*
It wasn't until we approached the Kew Road intersection on the outskirts of Richmond that Sam asked me if I knew what I was doing. The drive from Dorchester had taken over three hours and he was remarkably restrained throughout with only the odd bout of swearing at other drivers to betray his anxiety. We had discussed tactics the previous day while sitting over a glass of wine in the sunshine, and the plan had seemed reasonable then-perhaps plans always do under the influence of alcohol-but the friendly, rolling hills of Dorset were a far cry from the congested rat-runs of London's link roads, and the idea of taking on four potentially violent people in the most anonymous city in the world began to seem dangerously flawed.
Even then, I might have abandoned the whole project if Sam hadn't agreed with Sheila's view. The story wasn't mine to control anymore. And it wasn't a question of the lesser of two evils, he said. More of a Pandora's box. I'd opened the lid and the secrets were out. Danny for one-Michael Percy for another-would start asking questions: of Alan, of their mothers, even of Derek if they could find him. And it wasn't fair for the innocent to be tarred with the same brush as the guilty.
I laid an affectionate hand on his arm as he drew up at the traffic lights. "Thank you," I said.
"For what?"
"Holding back. I know how worried you are, but it has to be more sensible to take an open-minded woman with me than an angry husband who's likely to lose his temper."
"We can still go to the police."
I shook my head. We'd been through this a dozen times. "They wouldn't do anything ... certainly not today ... probably never. It took Stephen Lawrence's parents seven years to win an inquiry, so I can't see myself walking into Richmond Police Station out of the blue and being believed." I sighed. "I tried that twenty years ago and all it achieved was to persuade everyone I was a head case."
He nodded.
"In any case I really do want the truth this time, and Wendy was the only person I could think of. Sheila's too conservative to work outside the rules-and Larry wouldn't have let her come, anyway."
"Could he have stopped her?" asked Sam in surprise.
"She'd have insisted on it," I said cynically. "She uses him as her get-out card whenever her involvement becomes too onerous." I recalled Sheila's horrified refusal when I invited her to confront the Slaters-Good God, I couldn 't possibly. Larry would never allow it for a minute-and I thought how wrong I had been to think that Annie's doctor would be the best support I could have. If I'd had any sense I'd have realized how passive she was when she admitted abandoning Annie's cause at the first sign of irritation from Larry, but I'd been seduced by her sympathetic report on Annie to the coroner and her gutsy defense of herself against accusations of negligence. The real irony, of course, was that I need never have upset my mother by moving the family to Dorchester if only I'd known in advance that an eccentric vicar's wife in Devon had more courage and crusading spirit in her little finger than Sheila Arnold would ever have. "And, apart from my ma," I went on with a sigh, "I couldn't think of anyone other than Wendy who had the guts to come with me."
Sam gave an abrupt laugh. "Did I hear right? Did you seriously consider asking your mother? Is this progress ... or what?"
"Actually, she was the first person I thought of," I said with a wry smile, "until I realized she'd handbag the lot of them and leave me worse off than when I started." I gave an indecisive shrug. "But it is odd ... maybe it's true that blood's thicker than water."
He sobered rapidly as we approached the station. "Well, just keep that in mind when you're talking to Alan Slater," he advised. "Unless he's a complete idiot, he's bound to realize that the best way to keep his children in ignorance is to stand by his mother..."
We were fifteen minutes early but I refused to let Sam hang around to meet Wendy. I was afraid he'd be shocked by her age and her thinness-in his mind I believe he thought of her as a larger-than-life person, a mighty Valkyrie come to conduct me through a battlefield-and I had visions of him putting his foot down about the whole enterprise when he was presented with the reality. It was worse than I feared. Wendy's early start and long journey from Exeter had exhausted her and, away from the secure confines of the vicarage, the impressive vulture had given way to something with about as much substance and solidity as a stick insect.
"Oh dear," she said cheerfully as she crossed between the taxis on the forecourt in response to my wave, "do I look that bad?"
"No," I lied, giving her a warm hug, "but are you sure you want to go through with it? There'll be four of them and two of us," I warned, "and it could get very rough."
She nodded. "Nothing's changed then. You made that all very clear on the phone the other day. But don't forget I have the advantage of knowing a few of their secrets"-she gave a little chuckle-"so if all else fails I ought to be able to shame them into behaving well."
Or fire them up even worse, I thought worriedly. "It just seems more real now," I said lamely.
She tucked her hand through my arm and turned me firmly in the direction of Graham Road. "If you'd wanted someone to tan their hides, you'd have invited your husband and your sons to go with you," she pointed out. "Instead you invited me. Now, I can't promise not to let you down-I may fold at the first huff and puff-but I have no intention of giving up before we've even tried."
"Yes, but-"
She rapped me sharply over the knuckles. "You haven't come this far to walk away at the last hurdle, so let's have no more argument about it."
Sharon and Geoffrey were standing in their open doorway when we came abreast of their house, but they made no move to come out. "This is pure bloody blackmail," snapped Geoffrey angrily. "And what's she doing here?" he demanded, catching sight of Wendy at my side. "What the hell business is it of hers? She was always poking her long nose in where it wasn't wanted."
"Hello, Geoffrey," said Wendy with an amiable nod. "I see your temper hasn't improved much since I left. You really ought to have your blood pressure checked, my dear." She switched her attention to the woman. "And how are you these days, Sharon? You're looking well."
A tight little smile thinned Sharon's lips, as if she suspected the compliment was insincere, although as she'd taken so much trouble with her appearance-Intent on putting Maureen in the shade, I thought-Wendy had spoken only the truth. "We're not coming," she said. "You can't make us."
I shrugged. "Then the Slaters can say whatever they like about you and I'll have to accept it because this is the only opportunity you'll have to set the record straight before I go public."