Fifty-two. Sephy

I sat in Anada's, the famous seafood restaurant, waiting. I'd never been in this one before. It wasn't exactly the sort of place I could afford. The walls were an in-your-face sunshine yellow and the carpet on the floor was a deep sea-blue. It was the sort of restaurant where they had tablecloths on the tables and shining silver cutlery. And draped across the ceiling were fishing nets full of shells and starfish and seaweed and other stuff from the sea. The strange thing was, it actually worked. It stopped the place from being entirely too pretentious. I studied the menu as I waited for my sister Minerva to arrive. I'd called her to ask for a meeting and to my surprise she'd jumped at the chance, suggesting this restaurant as a meeting place.

I needed her help. And I wasn't sure if she'd be prepared to give it, so I was going to have to resort to a bit of subterfuge. But the thought of deceiving my sister didn't sit easily with my conscience. So I forced myself to focus on the menu and not on our forthcoming meeting. Desserts were always my favourite part of any menu so I looked at them first. With a start, I noticed they had something called Blanker's Delight. A light-as-air white chocolate mousse flavoured with brandy and served with cream or crème fraîche. Charming! I looked around the restaurant. No Noughts eating and only one serving. I wondered how he felt when someone ordered a Blanker's Delight?

Disenchanted, my gaze slid back to the main courses. Big mistake. The whole menu was beautifully presented and had some delicious-sounding dishes on it. But not a single one had the price next to it. After a quick glance around, I picked up my bag and surreptitiously opened my purse. I wondered what my meagre funds would buy me in this place. Maybe half an after-dinner mint – if I was lucky. I could try putting it on plastic but I wasn't sure if the credit card companies would authorize yet more spending on my part. I decided to plead a full stomach and just stick to a glass of sparkling mineral water. Perhaps if I told them to hold the ice and not bother with a slice of lemon or lime then I might just be able to pay for it. This restaurant had been my sister's idea. I might've guessed she'd pick a place where you needed a mortgage to pay for the meal.

'Hello, Sephy. How're you?'

I glanced up, then sprang to my feet. 'Hello, Minerva. Thanks for agreeing to meet me.'

Minerva shrugged. 'Of course I'd meet you. What else did you think I'd do?' No hug. No kiss. We both sat down. 'So how've you been? And how's Callie Rose?'

'Rose is doing fine,' I replied. 'She's with Meggie at the moment.'

'Would Meggie mind if I came round to see Callie Rose some time?'

'Of course she wouldn't.' What a strange question.

'Would you mind?' Minerva asked me.

'No. Why would I?'

Minerva shrugged again, her expression noncommittal. She had some bizarre notions and no mistake. What did she think I'd do? Take one look at her and kick her down the street? Mind you, Rose and I had been living with Meggie for a while now. Strange that Minerva wanted to start visiting us. She studied me critically, her lips slightly pursed.

'Have you lost weight, Sephy?'

'Some.'

Minerva regarded me for a few moments more, then waved at a waiter, who was across the restaurant one second and beside our table the next. He must've hitched a ride on a bolt of lightning to get to us so quickly. It wasn't the Nought waiter; he'd disappeared into the kitchen.

'D'you mind if I order for you?' Minerva asked.

'Well, actually, I was only going to have a mineral water,' I began.

'Nonsense.' Minerva turned to the waiter. 'Can we have the smoked haddock and monkfish chowder to start please. No saffron in mine. And we'll both have the swordfish steaks.'

'Of course. And if I may say so, an excellent choice,' smarmed the waiter.

I mean, could he be any more obsequious? I'd never seen such oily toadying. Just as he was about to slime off, I asked him, 'Don't you think it's rather insulting to have something called Blanker's Delight on the menu?'

The waiter frowned. 'The chef sets the menu.'

'That doesn't make it right,' I replied.

'Blanker's Delight is a dessert that's been served for centuries.'

'Then it's about time its name was changed, don't you think?' I said evenly.

'Er . . . I'll see to your order,' said the waiter, keen to avoid any kind of confrontation at all costs.

'Was that necessary?' Minerva said. 'My newspaper brings lots of clients to this restaurant. My editor won't thank me if we upset them.'

'How can a junior reporter afford this place?' I frowned.

'I work for the Daily Shouter – remember?' Minerva smiled, a trace of pride in her voice. 'And I may be only a junior reporter but I'm working my way up.'

'So the job is working out then?'

'So far.' Minerva looked me straight in the eye. 'Sephy, I'm ambitious. Very ambitious.'

'Fair enough.' I smiled at her. Her gaze fell away from mine. 'So have I made trouble for you then by complaining about the name of the pudding?'

'I doubt it. And even if you have – I'm a survivor,' said my sister.

'Don't you think this place should drag itself into the twenty-first century like the rest of us? Why don't you write about that?'

'My editor wouldn't publish it,' said Minerva calmly. 'It's not news.'

Which I could've guessed. The status quo is never news, only challenges to it.

'Besides, you have to be patient, Sephy. No one can change things overnight – not even you.'

'But it's not overnight, is it?' I argued. 'We've had decades, centuries, to change people's attitudes but things are getting worse, not better. D'you know I went shopping in town with Rose two days ago and three different people asked me whose child she was? And when I said mine, one man actually had the cheek to tell me it would've been better if I'd put Rose up for adoption with a blanker family – his words, not mine.'

'So what did you say to him?' Minerva asked.

'If I repeat it, they'll chuck us out of this restaurant,' I said.

Minerva laughed. 'Good for you. Stand your ground. But the ones who speak the loudest don't necessarily speak for the majority.'

'No? Most people would rather cross the street than get involved. This man stood in my way, shouting verbal abuse at me and not one person helped out. They all walked around us whilst that bastard stood there telling me I should've had an abortion or never gone with a Nought in the first place. He actually told me Rose would be better off dead.'

'But you told him where to go, didn't you?'

I sighed, trying to calm down. "Course I did. And he's not even the one who really upset me. It was all the ones who walked past, or crossed the street and let it happen. They're the ones I'm angry with.'

'Don't give them another thought,' said Minerva. 'They're not worth losing sleep over.'

'Easy for you to say.' I was going to argue further but sighed and let it go. I didn't want to ruin Minerva's lunch with my woes.

Minerva said, 'I hope you don't mind me ordering for you. All the food is good here but I can recommend the soup and swordfish I ordered.'

'It sounds fine,' I said, 'but I really was just going to have some water.'

'The bill gets put on my company's credit card so we can both enjoy ourselves,' said Minerva. 'And if the paper cuts up rough, I'll pay for it out of my own pocket.'

'The Daily Shouter pays you well then?' I asked, surprised.

'Are you kidding? Hungry junior reporters are ten a penny,' Minerva frowned. 'If I didn't get my allowance from Dad each month, I don't know how I'd manage.'

A sudden flare of pain shot through me. It wasn't so much the money, although that would've been wonderful, but the fact that Dad could so easily forget he had two daughters, not one. In spite of everything that'd happened, all the things that we'd both said and done, a part of me still missed my dad. I'd be lying if I said otherwise.

'So Dad's still looking after you, is he?'

Minerva's eyes widened. 'Oh Sephy, I'm sorry. I didn't think.'

I shrugged. 'Don't worry about it. If lunch is on you, then I'll enjoy myself.'

I sat back in the chair, trying to relax.

'So have you heard about Jude McGregor being arrested?' asked Minerva, smoothing her napkin down on her lap.

'Of course. I haven't just arrived from the South Pole, you know.' Funny, but Jude was just who I wanted to talk about as well. Quite a coincidence.

'So how d'you feel about that?' Minerva asked.

'About Jude?'

'Yeah.'

'Are you interviewing me, Minerva?'

Minerva suddenly found the tablecloth fascinating. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it.

'You are, aren't you?' I persisted. 'Is that why you agreed to meet me for lunch?'

'It wasn't the only reason,' she told me.

'But it was high up on the list, wasn't it?'

'It's my job, Sephy.'

'To use your own sister to get a story?'

'It's not like that,' Minerva protested.

'Then what is it like?'

'I need your help, Sephy.'

I sat back, waiting for Minerva to grow enough of a backbone to get to the point.

'I've got something to ask you and I just want you to hear me out – OK?' said Minerva.

I didn't reply. The flutterings in my stomach were beginning to make me feel nauseous. That in itself was enough to warn me that Minerva was about to hit me with something that I wasn't going to like. But before she could continue, a man wearing an apron and a spotless white T-shirt was fast approaching our table – and he had a face like thunder.

'You are the woman who complained about my menu?' he asked me directly.

'Mr Sewell, my sister didn't complain about your menu as such.' Minerva tried to soothe his ruffled feathers. 'She agrees with me that your cooking is second to none.'

I stared at Idris Sewell. I had no idea he was the head chef of this place. He was a famous chef who was on the TV regularly. He was a lot taller in real life than he appeared on the box. And at this moment, a lot more menacing.

'You criticized my menu,' he challenged me, ignoring my sister completely.

I took a deep breath. 'I just think it's a shame you have something called Blanker's Delight on the menu.'

'The recipe for Blanker's Delight was handed to me by my grandmother, who got it from her mother before her,' Idris informed me. 'So what is wrong with it?'

'I'm sure it tastes wonderful,' Minerva interjected.

'Yes, but its name is insulting,' I said, warming to my theme.

'Sephy!' Minerva pleaded.

I shrugged. 'He asked for my opinion so that's what he's getting.'

And I must admit that part of me was enjoying the confrontation with the chef. I wanted to shout at him and everyone else in the restaurant. I wanted to shout at the whole world for the casual way they condemned me and dismissed my daughter.

'It's just a name,' Idris Sewell told me with belligerence. 'There are nursery rhymes and songs and ads on the telly that all feature blankers. What's wrong with that?'

'They may feature "blankers" but they don't use that word,' I replied coldly. 'They're Noughts, not blankers.'

'If you have a dessert named after you, you ought to be glad. We've had milk-white noughts in here who didn't complain,' said Idris stonily. 'And if they didn't complain, then why should you?'

'Because I can't speak for anyone but myself and I find it offensive.'

'Perhaps you'd like to dine elsewhere if my menu offends you,' Idris suggested.

I looked around. Most people were listening if not watching. 'You don't get rid of me that easily,' I told him. 'I'm here to eat, if you don't mind serving someone whose daughter is half-Nought, half-Cross.'

'I don't care if your daughter is a duck, as long as you pay the bill at the end of the meal,' said Idris. 'But I don't appreciate having my food disrespected.'

'I'm not disrespecting your food, just your menu.'

But the chef was already stomping back to the kitchen.

'Oh dear,' sighed Minerva. 'He'll probably curdle his béarnaise sauce or something now and it'll be all your fault.' But the last was said with an amused smile.

'Are you sorry you invited me here?' I asked.

'No. This has been the most entertaining lunch I've had in a long while.'

'It may be just entertainment to you, Minerva, but it's my life. I can't walk away from it – and neither can my daughter.'

'Of course.' Minerva's smile faded. 'I didn't mean to be insensitive.'

Let it slide . . . I shrugged to imply that it was OK.

'D'you think the chef is going to spit in our soup?' I teased to ease the mood.

Minerva laughed. 'No way. It'd be beneath his dignity. Besides,' she leaned in closer, 'I'll make sure it's known that I work for the Daily Shouter. He won't risk a bad write-up.'

The power of the press.

'Is working for the Daily Shouter all you thought it would be?'

'It's better. I've still got a couple of months left of my six months' probation. But at least they're giving me a chance,' Minerva replied carefully.

'But how did you get the job in the first place?' The Daily Shouter was the most popular tabloid in the country. They could pick and choose who they wanted working for them.

'Sephy, use your brain. Dad is the Deputy Prime Minister. Mother is Jasmine Adeyebe-Hadley. I have connections,' said Minerva. 'Less than I implied at the job interview, to be honest, but still more than most junior reporters.'

'I see,' I said. And I did see.

'Like I said,' Minerva looked at me with defiance, 'I'm ambitious.'

I shrugged. Who was I to argue with her about what she wanted to do with her life? At least she had a purpose, a goal that wasn't wrapped around someone else. 'So what were you going to ask me?'

'You first,' said Minerva after a brief but distinct pause. She smiled. 'Why did you want us to meet up – apart from my scintillating company?'

'I wanted to talk to you about Jude as well,' I admitted.

'Oh! Well, that makes things easier,' said Minerva.

'Did he do it?' I came straight to the point.

'The evidence seems to indicate he did.'

'What evidence would that be exactly?'

Minerva studied me, trying to decide whether or not to part with the information.

'I don't intend to broadcast what you tell me,' I tried to reassure her. 'But I have a good reason for asking.'

'Look, this is all confidential,' Minerva said earnestly. 'I'm not supposed to tell anyone, so you're not to pass this on. Not even to Meggie, OK?'

I nodded.

'The Shouter will bounce me straight out of there if they think I'm passing on information I pick up at the paper.'

'Minerva, I get it,' I said patiently.

'Well, all I know is Jude McGregor's fingerprints were found all over Cara Imega's house. He gave Cara a false name but the police know it was him. He called himself Steve Winner when he was going out with her—'

What on earth was she talking about? 'Jude was dating Cara?'

'That's right. They were an item apparently.'

'No way. Jude would never date a Cross. Never in a million years.' I wanted to put her straight on that one.

'Well, I must admit, I thought the same when I heard. But the senior editor got this straight from a friend of his who's a police officer working on the case. Apparently several witnesses at Delany's hair salon where Cara worked have identified Jude as Cara's boyfriend. They've signed sworn witness statements to that fact. And after Cara's death, a number of her cheques were cashed at banks throughout the city.'

'And that was Jude?'

Minerva shrugged. 'It's inconclusive but the police intend to make the case that it was. The CCTV footage from the banks shows a nought man cashing the cheques but he invariably wore a cap and sunglasses and kept his head down. The general height and weight match though.'

'But none of the tapes really show his face full on?'

'I don't think so but I'm not sure,' said Minerva after a noticeable pause.

'Did they find any bloody clothing? Any DNA evidence?'

'They didn't find any clothing but he had plenty of time to get rid of what he was wearing. He's not stupid. Evil – yes; stupid – no,' said Minerva. 'And he didn't leave much by way of DNA evidence but the forensic scientists are still working on it.'

I sat back in my chair.

'Why all the questions?' Minerva asked.

Our soup arrived in teacup-sized bowls. It looked and smelled absolutely delicious but I didn't have much of an appetite.

'In your opinion, is the evidence enough to convict him?' I asked.

'From what I've seen so far – yes,' said Minerva. 'And good riddance.'

'Isn't it all a bit circumstantial – apart from the fingerprints?' I asked. 'And they only prove that he was in Cara's house at some point. They don't prove he killed her.'

'True. But all the other evidence, including the eyewitness statements, seems to indicate that he did. And the police are confident that forensics will turn up more evidence against him eventually.'

'And what does Jude say?' I asked.

'How would I know?' said Minerva. 'I'm not his lawyer.'

'I know.' I couldn't keep the trace of impatience out of my voice. 'But you must have heard on the journalists' grapevine what's going on.'

'Last I heard, Jude's not saying a word. He admits that he knew Cara but that's it. Unless his lawyer surprises everyone by coming up with an alibi or something, I reckon Jude's got no defence.'

'If he's found guilty, will he hang?'

Pause. 'Almost certainly.'

'I see.' I sipped at my soup, which might as well have been wallpaper flavour.

'Why're you so concerned about Jude?' asked Minerva. 'The bastard shot me and threatened you and your baby – remember? And he meant every word. He's dangerous.'

'I know that.'

Minerva scrutinized me. 'Are you going to answer my question now?'

At my feigned puzzlement, Minerva smiled. 'Nice try, Sephy. But I'll ask you once again, why all the questions?'

Prevarication or the truth. I decided I was too tired to beat around the bush.

'I just wanted to know for Meggie's sake. No one will really tell her what's going on so I said I'd try and help.'

'Don't get involved, Sephy,' Minerva warned. 'It has nothing to do with you and if you stick your nose in, Jude will grab it and drag you down with him. And for God's sake, please don't pass on what I've just told you. And it's not as if any of it would make Meggie feel better even if she did know.'

'I just want to help her. She's lost so much already. And ever since Jude was arrested, she hardly goes out of the house and she's barely said a word to anyone – except Rose, her granddaughter. I'm worried about her.'

'Jude's actions are his responsibility, not hers.'

'Meggie lost her daughter Lynette in a road accident. Her husband Ryan was electrocuted trying to escape from prison and . . . and her youngest son was hanged. If Jude were to die, I think it'd just about finish her off. You weren't there when it came on the news that the police wanted Jude in connection with Cara Imega's death. She broke down completely.'

'I'm sorry, but if Jude's guilty—'

I interrupted harshly. 'Her other son was innocent and that didn't get him anywhere, did it?'

Minerva let her spoon clatter back down into her now empty soup bowl. She regarded me speculatively. I didn't flinch from her gaze.

'Sephy, don't make the mistake of confusing one brother for the other.'

'What?'

'Jude isn't Callum. Don't start looking for the good in him 'cause you'll go blind trying to find it. He tried to kill us – remember?'

'I'm not likely to forget.'

'I hope not – for your sake. Callum had his faults but—'

'I'm not here to talk about . . . him,' I dismissed.

Minerva studied me. 'Why are you finding it so hard to even say Callum's name?'

'I'm not finding it hard at all,' I denied.

'Say it now then.'

'Why? What's the point? Because you tell me to?'

'No, but because if you can open up and tell someone how you feel about Callum and how you feel about . . . his death, then maybe you'll be able to move on with your life – and Meggie'll be able to do the same. That way you might both stand a chance.'

'Neither of us wants to live in the past,' I said. 'Meggie reckons we should both move on.'

'Unless you can both fully discuss what happened to Ryan and Callum and then let it go, wherever you move on to, you'll just drag the past behind you. And it'll get heavier and heavier,' Minerva said seriously.

'Studying psychology on the side, are you?' I challenged.

'No. But it's obvious. No one's asking you to forget the past. I'm saying both you and Meggie need to let it go.'

How do I do that? I wondered. 'Out of sight is out of mind' sure wasn't working. Not when every time I looked at my own daughter, all I could see was Callum. At times I almost wondered if Callum's soul had been born into Rose's body. Then I'd tell myself I was being fanciful. But then I'd ask myself – why not? Callum's soul might've entered Rose's body. It was possible. After all, Rose laughed the same way as Callum, she looked more and more like him with each passing day, and her eyes . . . It was so much like looking into Callum's eyes that it scared me. Rose's eyes were a different colour but that was irrelevant. Everything else about them was the same – the shape, the lashes, the way they looked at me with that contemplative stare.

'Are you close to Meggie?' Minerva asked.

I shrugged. 'I guess.'

'Then I'm glad you're going to be there for her,' Minerva said sombrely. 'Because, make no mistake about it, Jude is going to hang.'

The main course arrived. We both picked at our fish in silence. All I could think was that if I didn't try to do something, Meggie was about to lose the only child she had left.

'Your turn now. You still haven't told me why you wanted to see me,' I pointed out.

Minerva took a deep breath. 'I'd like an interview with Meggie.'

'Excuse me?'

'I'd like an interview with Meggie, for my newspaper,' Minerva repeated. 'Can you arrange it for me?'

I stared at her. 'Are you drunk or what? I'm not going to ask Meggie to let you interview her. What d'you take me for?'

'Sephy, I need this interview. If Meggie does this, my future on the Daily Shouter is secure.'

'No way!'

'Sephy, I need this job.'

'That's not my problem,' I told her. 'And I don't intend to make it Meggie's either. Didn't you hear a word of what I just said? Meggie is going through hell – again. How can you even ask me something like that?'

'I'll make sure she has a sympathetic hearing in my article.'

'Minerva, which part of NO are you having trouble with? The "N" or the "O"?'

'If you could just ask her,' Minerva persisted. 'Let Meggie make the decision.'

I began to shake my head.

'Please, Sephy. For me. Just ask her – that's all I want.'

I studied my sister, not attempting to keep the disdain off my face.

'It's my job, Sephy,' Minerva said. 'And it means a lot to me. Please.'

'No, I can't. . .'

'I got shot for you,' Minerva said quietly. 'Do this for me and we'll be even.'

My head and my heart went very still at her words. It was as if something inside of me took a step back from her and just curled up into a ball to hide.

I got shot for you . . .

'I see,' I said at last.

'Look, forget what I just said.' Minerva shook her head. 'I don't even know where that came from. I didn't mean it.'

I said nothing.

'Sephy, I'm really sorry I said that. Forgive me?'

I shrugged. 'It's OK, Minerva. I'll do what you want. I'll ask Meggie – but that's all I can do. The decision is hers.'

'That's great. Thank you so much,' Minerva beamed.

'I can tell you now – Meggie will say no,' I warned.

'You'll swing it for me – I know you can.' Minerva was all smiles.

I didn't bother to reply. There was no point. Minerva was convinced that given time and a little pressure from me she'd get her exclusive interview with Meggie. A few choice words on her part and she had me where she wanted me. Her job meant more than the world to her. Which was fair enough. Besides, I had no doubt that once Minerva found out what I intended to do with the information she'd just given me about Jude, she'd change her mind about asking me for anything ever again.

Using people was a two-way street.