Behaving Like Adults (30 page)

I blinked, surprised at the question. Was Stuart's punishment up to
me
?

‘Well, I suppose . . . arrest him!'

I blushed at my boldness but Caroline nodded, a satisfied nod. ‘I only ask because some women
don't
want us to arrest the man, and if they don't want that, there's not much we can do.'

I swallowed. ‘Would I have to go to court?'

‘Not necessarily. If it went to court, you could give evidence via a video link. And if you do go to court, you'll remain anonymous. You do have options.'

I sighed.

Caroline smiled. ‘Tell you what. Why don't I explain what tends to happen? After your examination, we'll sit down – and it doesn't have to be today, it's whenever you prefer – and you can tell me what happened from beginning to end. How you met him, where he lives, details, what happened at the time of the rape, anything you remember like moles, scars, a peculiar smell, a complete description. I'm what they call a chaperone – I'll be with you right through the investigation, and if you remember anything, or want to talk, he contacts you or
anything
– you can call me. What I do then is hand over your statement to the detective investigating the crime, and CID take over. They make checks, then they arrest him.'

Her saying it made it real. ‘Where will you arrest him? He'll be
so
angry.'

‘I know what you're saying, Holly. That's why it's important to decide now if you want him arrested.'

I thought for a second, then said grimly, ‘I do.'

Caroline nodded. ‘You're doing the right thing. We'll arrest him at his home, either late at night or early morning. If you like, we'll tell you when we arrest him. Then he'll be brought into the station and interviewed by CID.'

I felt like crying. ‘But what if he convinces them he didn't do it? He's very devious. I mean, he wore a
condom
.' I paused. ‘I, see I told you, I mean, a real rapist. . . .'

Caroline shook her head. Her blonde hair was shoulder length but looked to have been heated and dyed too often to swish. ‘There are some wicked men out there, Holly,' she replied, ‘and they all have their methods. Let's hope he trips up in interview. He'll make out it was consenting, and say he was being careful, but the condom could also mean he'd thought it out. Rape is the physical act of sexual intercourse without your consent. He forced himself on to you. And that is rape.'

I could see Claudia nodding vigorously out of the corner of my eye.

My throat dried up. ‘I do still want him arrested. But, but what happens after they let him go? He'll want to kill me.'

Caroline patted my arm. ‘If he's bailed, there'll be conditions, Holly. We might put conditions on where he travels, he won't be allowed within, say, a mile of your home. He won't be allowed to contact you and if he does, you'll tell us and we'll arrest him immediately.'

She made it sound so simple. As if the law could control Stuart.

I met her eyes. ‘Now, love,' she said. ‘If you're ready and you're sure you want to do this, I'll take you to the examination suite. Now it's not pleasant, but Dr Atkinson is a love, the best there is. If you've got any questions, do ask.'

She led me and Claudia down another corridor and into a room which looked like a lounge belonging to a person with indiscriminate taste. ‘We'll chat here, afterwards,'
said Caroline. ‘Much nicer.' I looked around. It
was
nice. Very unpolicey. A burgundy carpet, a sofa and easy chairs in shades of peach, and pale pink pastel walls, hung with prints of flowers and fields and trees. There was even a stereo. It was softly lit and well aired. I noticed tea and coffee facilities in a corner, and another big tin of biscuits. I was beginning to understand how the Met functioned.

Caroline gestured for Claudia to sit in a comfortable chair, and took me through to an adjoining room that looked like it meant business. It contained a doctor's couch, bright lights, white work surfaces and Dr Heather Atkinson.

She was right. Dr Atkinson, a tall sallow woman with thick black hair and a gentle manner,
was
a love. But even though she told me what she was doing before she did it, and kept checking if it was uncomfortable, the procedure was hateful. I felt I was living someone else's life. Afterwards, Dr Atkinson asked if I wanted to take a shower or bath. I'm not mad on other people's baths at the best of times, but the police had certainly made an effort with theirs – fluffy towels, scented soaps, lotions and potions – and I did feel better for it. I thought of all the women who must have tried to purify themselves here.

When I returned to what, when they forgot themselves, the police referred to as the ‘rape suite', Caroline was sitting in a hard-backed chair next to a small table, and Claudia was hunched in one of the squashier chairs. She was clasping her hands round her knees and Caroline seemed to be reassuring her. Both of them jumped up when they saw me.

‘Are you alright?'

She must have piles of paperwork to get through, and she was treating me like an honoured guest! I nodded. The tears threatened to roll if I spoke.

‘Are you hungry?' said Caroline. ‘Anything you want. Sandwiches, McDonald's, steak and chips – just say. We can't have you answering quesions on an empty stomach.'

My request of a baked potato with tuna and cheese was granted. Another female police officer delivered it, and when she left the room I burst into tears. Caroline looked concerned but didn't say anything. She nudged the box of tissues on the table towards mc. Claudia said, ‘Steady on, Hol, you haven't
tasted
it yet.'

I giggled while sniffing – a bad move which nearly resulted in a bogey bubble. ‘I feel so bad, coming here, all this.'

‘Holly,' said Caroline patiently – she seemed to have infinite patience – ‘you were the victim of a crime, and the man who did it deserves to be inside. I
want
you to be here, I
need
you to tell me. This is what I'm here for. He violated you. He needs catching. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Remember that.' She stopped. ‘You're doing the right thing. It's good to release your feelings. I've seen girls who bottle it up and they're ruined for ever. Listen. If you don't feel up to it today, we can wait a few days and take your statement then. You're in control, okay, you're the boss. Do you want to go for a wee?'

I sighed. ‘No. Today is fine.'

She smiled. ‘Now what about making a start on that potato, it's starting to shrivel.'

Claudia, who'd requested a cheese sandwich, bit into it and said ‘nice'. I could tell she was trying to be unobtrusive. She hadn't worn her red patent boots. ‘Hol,' she added, ‘I'm going to give a statement too. It's going to be fine.'

I glanced at Caroline to see if she too thought it was going to be fine. Her face was a mask.

I finished my potato and we began my statement. (‘This is going to be hard work,' warned Caroline, ‘so if at any time you want to stop, you tell me.') Claudia was ushered off to a less fluffy room to give
her
statement. (‘We don't want Claudia being influenced by what you say, Holly. I'd rather she wasn't here if she wants to make a statement, do you see?') At first, I talked and talked – only two panic attacks, not bad, considering – and Caroline listened.

Then she asked me a stream of questions I thought I'd already covered.

When did I first meet Stuart? Describe him. When did it start? How did he behave towards me on the first date? How did he respond when I asked him not to mess about in the plane? Had I ever given any indication that I wanted a relationship? Were there any indications on the evening of the assault? What were my feelings towards him when he first arrived? Were the drinks he bought me normal drinks? Did he drink? Did I feel drunk? Did I feel he tricked me into letting him into the house? What was I wearing?

‘A pink top but it wasn't that low cut,' I said quickly.

Caroline shook her head. ‘Listen love. It was a
party
. You're entitled to wear what you damn well please. I've always said if you've got it flaunt it. It doesn't matter what you were wearing in
that
sense. I'm asking, well, we ask to find out how exactly the act was committed.'

What did you say when he started kissing you? What were his hands doing? What did he do after you said no? Was there any conversation? What were your hands doing?

This particular query started me off on a grizzle. ‘I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. I tried at first to push him but I was too scared. I couldn't fight him, I didn't know how. I feel like I let him do it,' I wailed. I felt my throat beginning to close. I fought it, squeezed the sides of the chair so hard I broke a nail.

‘Holly, try to control your breathing,' said Caroline. ‘Slow . . . breathe out for a count of three . . . and in for a count of five. Okay. Owwwwt . . . and iiiiiiin. Good. Perhaps you'd like a sip of water?'

‘I feel like I let him do it,' I said again, when my windpipe allowed me.

Caroline tutted. ‘You did
not
let him do it. You didn't want him to kiss you and if he was a gentleman he would have left immediately. You don't even know if his dizziness was real. You told him to stop kissing you, what did he do next?'

I dabbed my eyes with a tissue. ‘He sort of pushed me to the floor.'

‘Well, that in itself is not the action of a normal person.'

How exactly did he push you to the floor? Did he try and touch your breasts or any part of your anatomy? Try to remember exactly what happened. Was he talking? Trying to kiss you? Were his legs now pinning you to the ground in any way? What can you remember about him? Was he already aroused? Had he dropped his trousers? Was he wearing underpants? Did you see him put on the condom?

I didn't know that many questions
existed
, although Caroline took care not to overwhelm me. We had more biscuit breaks than at Girl Meets Boy, which is saying something. When, for the third time, she queried a specific detail about – as she always put it – ‘the time of the rape', I started to feel odd.

‘Feel sick. Do you think I could have another glass of water?' The act of breathing didn't appear to be delivering oxygen to my brain. I felt dizzy, my hearing went and my vision turned blotchy with yellow and orange light. Even though I was sitting down I feared I might collapse. I ripped off my cardigan, unbearably hot. It was as if gravity had left my head and it might detach itself from my neck and float off, a highly unpleasant sensation. So
that's
what light-headedness feels like, I realised a second later. Far worse than it sounds.

‘Come and lie on the sofa,' said Caroline, hauling me there as she spoke, with strong hands. She sped over with a glass of water. ‘Here, lie down, rest your legs up the back, that's it, upside down, let the blood flow to your head.'

The feeling passed after five minutes and I felt foolish. I also felt relieved that with all the physical symptoms I'd had that day, I hadn't flashed back. It had only happened twice and, oh my God, that
feel
back, when I relived the sensation of that man shoving into me – but never in my life did I want to experience those mind tricks again. It was like my brain was punishing
me
, sending me back to my
worst nightmare for being stupid. Since I'd confided in Claudia neither the flash or feel backs had reoccurred, but I no longer knew what my subconscious was capable of, what would trigger it to mischief.

‘I think that's enough for today,' said Caroline, shutting her notebook.

‘I'm alright now, really,' I insisted.

‘I can see you are, but I think
I
need a break, I'm not made of such strong stuff as you are. Would you like to talk again tomorrow? You don't have to come back to the ni—station. If you prefer, I could come to your house. What time is good? Ten thirty? Very civilised! I'll bring the biscuits, shall I?'

I smiled. ‘I've always got. Thank you, Caroline. You've been really great.'

She put her hand on my arm. ‘No, Holly,
you've
been great. Look, here's my direct line, give me a call between now and then if you need to. For any reason. Not if your lights fuse, I'm hopeless at DIY – but seriously. If anything bothers you, anything occurs between now and tomorrow morning, I'm on the end of the phone, and if I'm not, someone here can contact me. Okay?'

‘It's like having an extra mum,' I remarked to Claudia, two days later, after emptying my memory of every tiny grain of information about Stuart and myself. By the time Caroline was satisfied with what I'd told her, I was sick of the sound of my own voice, and convinced that if I never thought of or heard the name ‘Stuart' again, I'd want nothing more out of life. A good thing, surely. It was as if the more grim detail Caroline got down on paper, the less ugliness there was contaminating my head. I shouldn't have felt dirty to begin with, but after giving a statement, I felt cleansed. Weak, and more terrified than ever, but cleansed all the same.

THE FIRST THING
I did on returning to work was to pair up Sam and Bernard. What can I say? I was in the mood for love. I rang Bernard first, apologised, and explained that I'd fled the restaurant because (may God forgive me) I'd had what I thought was an epileptic fit. Before he had time to consider this whippet-thin excuse, I added that I wanted him to
formally
meet a gorgeous woman the following Tuesday, and would he be available? He pretended to check his diary, then said, ‘Yes.'

Sam also admitted to being free on Tuesday. I decided to give them the last date, so it would be easier for either one to approach the subject of sharing a cab. (It's amazing, at Girl Meets Boy, how often Wimbledon turns out to be en route to Islington.)