Page 110 of Maybe Tomorrow

‘I don’t think Anthony has time,’ Pauline said.

‘The detective who was leading the investigation, DI Bishop,’ Freya said. ‘He died last night. He’d been retired for almost two years, but he still had a stranglehold on his old team. I think– I know– that Bishop falsified witness statements to get a conviction. We’re trying to track down the prostitutes and get the truth from them. It’s just going to take time. You need to tell Anthony to hang in there.’

Pauline swallowed back her tears. ‘What you’re saying is kind and generous and I thank you both, but one day in the real world is like a week in prison. Anthony really won’t survive much longer. They’re killing him in there.’

‘We can speak to the governor of the prison,’ Jennifer said. ‘And have Anthony moved to a wing for vulnerable prisoners. He’ll be safer there.’

‘He’s already on a vulnerable wing. How do you think his attackers were able to spend so long beating the life out of him?’ Pauline said. Her body was so tense she started shaking.

Jennifer picked up her mug of tea. She took a sip, glanced over at Pauline who was looking at her hopefully, then back at Leo who had the same expression on his face. She could even feel Freya’s gaze burning into her. What could she do?

A realisation hit her, and a smile started to appear on her face. ‘Do you know something, I think thereissomething I can do. But it’s not going to be an overnight thing. I know it’s been almost six years, but you all need to be so strong right now. All I ask is that you trust me.’

‘What are you planning?’ Freya asked Jennifer once they were back in the car. ‘I actually saw a twinkle appear in your eye. You’ve got something, haven’t you?’

Jennifer looked across at her. ‘Not at the moment, but if there’s one thing Inglethorpe and Bryce have taught me, it’s that we use every tool and every contact at our disposal, no matter how tenuous.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘My husband is an MP. He’s so close to being a member of the Cabinet. If that doesn’t help get Anthony back into the spotlight, I don’t know what will,’ she grinned.

‘Do you think he’ll back us?’

Jennifer thought about the packet of contraceptive pills in the bottom of her bag. She knew exactly what her husband wanted. She hoped he would give something in return.

ChapterForty-Eight

Tuesday 5th February 1991

Time spent in prison: six years, eight months

Jennifer Ripley stood at the window in a room on the third floor of the Clermont Hotel in Charing Cross and looked out over London. The hustle and bustle of the capital city was a far cry from the quiet streets of Whitby. As much as she enjoyed her visits to London and supported her husband whenever she could, she didn’t think she’d be able to live here. All she could hear was the constant noise of traffic and sirens. Even last night while she was trying to sleep, the sound of the streets broke her dreams. As did Malcolm’s snoring. He was out like a light. Today was a big day for him. It could be for her, too, if everything went the way it should.

She looked at her watch. It was a little after five o’clock. Surely it wouldn’t be long before Malcolm returned. It was a five-minute drive from Downing Street. But would he come straight back or go to the offices and introduce himself to his new staff who were no doubt waiting for him? That’s if he’d been given a position in the first place. But then, if he hadn’t, why summon him? So many thoughts were charging around Jennifer’s mind. She went over to the king-size bed and sat on the edge.

All day, Malcolm had been in meetings, leaving her alone to see the sights the capital had to offer. She wasn’t interested in shopping. There wasn’t anything here she couldn’t get up north at much cheaper prices. She met up with an old university friend she had lost touch with. While Jennifer was content with a backstreet solicitor’s office in East Yorkshire, Juliet Wilson was swanning the corridors of the Old Bailey.

They met at a wine bar and had a good catch-up. Juliet’s stories were all of high-profile cases, successful trials, swanky parties and the renovations of her penthouse apartment. While Jennifer found it interesting, she wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. She enjoyed her life, her clients, her cases, and the charity, and she wouldn’t swap it for the world. She had refilled her glass, sat back in the velvet chair and listened to her old friend’s glamorous life. It was good to forget everything for a few hours.

Once back in the hotel room, she remembered the reason for her and Malcolm visiting London and the nerves took hold once again.

It was almost seven o’clock when the hotel room door opened. Jennifer had nodded off and she was woken by her husband pushing her hair out of her eyes and behind her ears and planting a kiss on her forehead.

‘Hello sleepyhead,’ he said softly.

She looked up at his smiling face. There was a note of triumph about him. His eyes sparkled, his face was red, and nothing would take that grin from his lips.

‘You got it.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I got it.’

Jennifer sat up and wrapped her arms around her husband, kissing him hard on the lips.

‘You are now looking at the Secretary of State for the Home Department, commonly known as the Home Secretary,’ Malcolm beamed.

Jennifer took a breath. ‘I can’t believe it! I’m so proud of you.’ She placed both hands on his face and kissed him passionately. He fell on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around him.

He sat up and began taking off his jacket and tie. ‘Let’s make that baby,’ he grinned.