The Killing

By Anietta Strong

Excerpt from The Killing

‘You heard her Mr Tarrant. By accepting that envelope you took on the responsibility to adhere to the requirements clearly laid out within the terms of the enclosed court order. This restraining order is now live Mr Tarrant and by remaining here when asked to leave now places you in breach of those terms. Leave now or I will call the police and you will be arrested for contempt of court. That is almost always a prison term Mr Tarrant. This is your last warning.’ Sal saw the realisation appear on Justin Tarrant's face. He looked across at Susan who glared back defiantly.

‘So, you're not the police then, you lied, you told me you were the police!’ The man tried one last desperate attempt to retrieve the situation.

‘No Mr Tarrant, I was careful to advise you I would have you arrested and that I wouldn't arrest you myself. Now I've warned you and I am now going to call the police and have you arrested – your choice!’ Sal pulled a mobile phone from her coat pocket and went to make a call.

‘Okay, okay, I'll leave but you haven't heard the last of this!’ Justin spat out the words and appeared to aim them at Susan who stood her ground and watched as he moved back into the hallway. Sal followed closely behind. Tarrant picked up both suitcases and moved towards the open front door.

‘I think you have everything that belongs to you Mr Tarrant, especially the implements you used on Susan, I don’t think I need to spell out what I mean. You’ll have to find another poor woman to brutalise now won't you - she’s moved on, she's out of that scene now. If you think of anything, we've missed you can call me at my office.’ Sal took a business card and slid it into his top pocket, patting it with her hand as a gesture of growing contempt. ‘Now fuck off you nasty piece of shit!’ The job was done and with legal niceties no longer required, Sal could be Sal and her disgust for the creature standing before her was beginning to spill over. No further words were exchanged, Justin Tarrant turned and left and walked back to his car.

Jaz Crealey is rebuilding her life after the tragic events leading up to the death of her husband. She has a new partner in Sal, a long-term friend who has now become a mainstay in her life. It is in her role as a professional counsellor, Jaz meets Susan, a woman who has led a troubled life, first as a long-term carer for her elderly, domineering mother and then as a victim of an abusive relationship. Jaz finds herself become so embroiled in this woman's life that she has overlooked problems much closer to home. Issues, which in the modern world of computers and social media quickly become every mother's worst nightmare. Finding out her own daughter has been groomed, then abused by someone she met on-line, Jaz sets out, with Sal's help, to find this abuser while protecting her daughter from further intrusions in her life and merciless bullying from those she had once considered to be her friends. Then, as Jaz delves deeper into Susan's life, the seedy world of sexual exploitation reveals uncomfortable links which eventually lead to a violent death with its aftermath threatening to turn Jaz's world upside down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anietta Strong
• Release date: Nov 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005526481

Anietta Strong

Hi, I'm Anietta, I've always loved to write even before my teens. Like most people who built a career and led a busy life,I took up writing seriously when life calmed down, which for me was when my family grew up and left the nest. I love to write about difficult issues, not shying away from areas where some writers prefer to avoid. Yes, they are edgy, maybe sexy too, but that is life. I'm particularly interested in women's issues and my characters reflect my own personality. I hate political correctness, the airbrushing of history, our cancellation society, Woke culture, and speak and write without fear. I hope you enjoy my books.Please note. all characters depicted in my books are over 18 when features in appropriate scenes in each book

Book preview

The steady buzz within the café was warm and comforting. The smell of freshly made coffee added to the atmosphere which was busy, but by no means frenetic. Jasmine Crealey often came here around lunchtimes, in between appointments. It gave her time to think. To reflect over the last client she had seen, maybe clarify updates she would make to the client notes. Equally it gave her a chance to prepare for her next client which looking up at the wall clock was just a short 30 minutes away. Always, and it was the only thing she found annoying about these places, her thinking was interrupted by the jarring sound of banging as the spent coffee grounds from the last order was cleared from the coffee machine and made ready to be refilled with a new fresh supply. Jaz, as she preferred to be called, imagined a fortune awaited the inventor of a quiet means of achieving the same result. Then again, perhaps that sound, regular as gunfire on a firing range, was part of the atmosphere, something customers expected to hear? At least it was an improvement on canned music. Nothing grated on her nerves more than loud intrusive music, always another person's choice and which contained nothing she would ever play herself.

It was approaching late January. Christmas had arrived and gone and what a Christmas too! As she looked out of the window, seeing people moving endlessly past and going about their business, Jaz sipped a coffee now starting to chill. That was always the problem with coffee made this way, it was never really hot in the first place and needed to be drunk without delay. Perhaps that was the secret anyway, getting people through the doors, in and away before they got too settled. She tried to compare it to a pub where an old guy with his equally aged dog could sit and nurse a half pint of bitter most of an afternoon, take root and block the flow.

Jaz realised she was drifting, digressing. She had done this quite a lot of late. A year ago, if she had been sitting in this same place and reflecting on her life, things would have been so different. Her home life was shit then, she was married, although it was hardly one which could be described as happy. Technically married, yes, but other than that it was one which saw her sat at home alone most nights while her husband Geoff was out working late. She knew he'd been fucking someone. Probably more than one ‘someone’ too. Unless this other woman regularly dyed her hair from dark brown to blonde, there had to be more than one woman in his life. As a councillor she had sat and listened to similar tales often enough from female clients before and after a messy divorce. Then there were the stains on Geoff’s trousers. Jaz smiled as she had once considered DNA testing to see how many different results would come though on a test of his trousers when he'd casually asked her to have his suit dry cleaned.

Jaz had long given up sharing a bed with Geoff. She had moved her things into a spare room adjacent to her daughter Charley's bedroom. She never knew what time Geoff arrived home at night or even cared. A year ago, as she sat downstairs alone, usually in the kitchen which was cosy and close to everything she needed to make a drink or prepare a snack, her nearly 15-year-old daughter would be on Facebook or some other social media chatting to her friends until the early hours. Jaz couldn't see the point, but then this was a different generation and had this all been available to her when she was that age, she would have probably been no different.

Jaz reflected on the words of a politician who once said a week was a long time in politics. A year now felt like a millennium and so much had happened since. A year ago, she hadn't met Stephen Parish. Even now her heart felt a cold hand grip it hard as she recalled a few precious weeks with this man who had entered her life and turned it upside down. She still smiled at her wanton, outrageous behaviour when she had met him for a first date. Turning up wearing a tight dress – was it red or black? She had to think as she now wasn't sure! What she was certain of was her intentions that evening as she had put it on before heading out. Had she worn a note which said Fuck me!, in bold type she couldn't have made her intentions clearer. Her smile broadened as she recalled walking out of her house that night wearing that dress and a pair of high heeled shoes and together with her coat, nothing else whatsoever.

What she didn't know then, plus a single memorable follow up weekend at Stephen Parish’s home just outside Bristol, was she had already pulled away a single vital rock which had started the avalanche which soon followed. Jaz felt the smile melt quickly from her face and be replaced by tears which were already blurring the view ahead. What should have been the start of something new, a fresh and beautiful relationship with a caring, passionate man who she knew adored her, was replaced by heartache and sorrow when Stephen Parish had been mown down by a car as he took his morning run in a country lane near his home.

Jaz looked at her watch, she had to get moving as her next client was due in less than ten minutes. With the walk to her first-floor office just five minutes away she knew she had time enough to arrive and settle herself. She felt a little flustered as she got to her feet and made for the door. A young woman behind the counter, who Jaz had got to know from her frequent visits, waved farewell. Jaz waved back, knowing she would be back the following day. She opened the door, stepped out into the cold lunchtime air and started walking.

Chapter Two

Jaz arrived back at the office with just five minutes to spare. She put on the heating again having been surprised how cold the room had become in the short time she’d been away having lunch. She put the kettle on too, this was a ploy of hers should she decide a cup of tea would help break the ice with a new client. Having a partially heated kettle ensured as little time as possible was lost, time which may shut down a rapport which might be developing and then be potentially lost through distraction. 2pm came and went. Not all Jaz’s clients were punctual which could be annoying, especially if another booking quickly followed on. Susan Renton had booked late the previous day, she sounded upset which was nothing new. Many clients contacted Jaz when they were at their lowest ebb, often at the end of their tether and she suspected this was one such client. Jaz waited 15 minutes more and when Susan Renton still hadn't arrived, she concluded her new client wasn’t going to show. Jaz hated those she termed time wasters. The kettle had long boiled and it had occurred to her to switch it back on and make tea for one. Instead, she flicked off the heating switch and grabbing her coat she left. Jaz now had a free afternoon it seemed, which wasn't a bad thing in the scheme of things. She could return home early and catch up on some neglected chores, prepare the evening meal, maybe pour herself a glass of chilled Australian Chardonnay and grate her teeth in annoyance.

After walking swiftly down the stairs Jaz exited into the street. She turned to walk away and then saw a woman of similar age to herself standing aimlessly, even nervously perhaps, a short distance away. Initially Jaz turned and walked away and then something occurred to her – a hunch maybe, some instinctive sense that perhaps she wasn't there by chance. Jaz turned back and walked over to her.

‘Susan Renton?’ she enquired. The woman jumped as if she had just touched a bare wire and had received an electric shock. She looked back at Jaz, her mouth moving but with no sound emerging. ‘It's rather cold out here, why not come upstairs and get yourself warm. I had the kettle on and I can make us tea – shall we?’ Jaz took her arm and the woman allowed herself to be led towards the door leading to the stairs and Jaz’s office on the first floor. Nothing was said throughout the short journey. This was obviously a compliant woman used to being obedient. This made Jaz wonder why she had booked the appointment although she had little doubt, she already knew the reason and was soon to hear a harrowing tale. Once inside Jaz invited her to sit - thankfully the room was still warm from its brief heating.

‘Tea, or I can do you a coffee instead, I haven't got anything stronger I'm afraid.’ That was a lie. Jaz did have a bottle or two stashed away but these were for her own personal use when required which was thankfully rare.

‘Tea is fine, milk and no sugar.’ Susan replied, saving Jaz having the ask how she took hers. At least she had spoken. As Jaz stood at the counter of a small preparation area, which had a sink for washing up as well as a kettle and a small fridge, she looked across at her latest client. From what she could see, Susan Renton was an extremely attractive woman but this was all played down in an appearance of complete dowdiness. Her hair was lank and without any form of style, she wore no makeup or jewellery. The coat she wore looked like she'd owned for most of her adult life or had been purchased from a charity shop. Jaz also noticed that the lower portion of her legs which protruded from it were bare. Susan Renton wore socks and flat shoes too. If ever there was an appearance designed not to be noticed and remain unremarkable this was a prime example. Her long downward stare spoke volumes. Her eyes were downcast - a woman unused to eye contact. Jaz suspected she had long learned to avoid looking at anyone and probably in her case just one other person - the controlling, violent partner she had come to talk about. Jaz squeezed tea bags into two cups and quickly joined her.

‘You can take off your coat Susan or are you worried you might show me your bruises?’ Jaz decided to get right to the point, she saw no point in fucking around or beating about the bush. A woman with her appearance and displaying all the obvious signs of total submission didn't get to be like that on her own. She watched as Susan visibly stiffened, she took her cup in hands which shook. Finally, her eyes were raised to meet Jaz’s.

‘What on earth makes you think that, what an extraordinary comment. I have no idea what you mean.’ Susan replied without any passion. Had Jaz missed the mark even by a short margin, she would have expected her reply to have been more forceful, passionate, angry even. There was none here. This was a woman in denial and ashamed. Jaz decided to let it go and instead tried another tack.

‘Okay Susan, you booked an appointment at 2pm, you didn't turn up, yet you felt the need to see me enough to hang around outside trying to find the courage to climb the stairs and ring the bell to announce your arrival. I'll reset the clock and by my reckoning you still have 45 minutes to tell me why you decided to come. It's your time, you are paying and the clock is ticking. I'm now going to shut up and listen. You can either tell me what brings you to my door or you can sit in silence. You also have the option to leave of course. It's now up to you.’ This was a method Jaz often used to get clients to open up. A councillor had to be a listener, a creator of questions if they spoke at all. Jaz had had some clients who’d sat through the whole session without saying a single word. This reminded her of a case she’d dealt with some months earlier which involved a fifteen-year-old girl, someone who now featured hugely in her life.

‘Was it that obvious, how did you know?’ Susan replied after a lengthy period of silence, one which Jaz felt would be enduring.

‘Several reasons Susan.’ Jaz had intended remaining silent but Susan had asked her a direct question and one which had to be answered. ‘I've been in this game a while now; you are not the first I've seen bearing all the hallmarks of abuse. Underneath that unattractive outer shell is a beautiful young woman. It doesn't take a genius to work out why you are deliberately not allowed to stand out. How long has this been going on?’ Jaz asked a blunt question and taking her tea, sat back and waited for Susan's response.

It took a while. Jaz could see the cogs slowly turning, delaying the moment of explanation. She could see Susan Renton had to constantly think carefully about her reply to everything. ‘Just over 5 years. It seems to be getting ever worse and I never thought that was even possible.’ Jaz decided to use Susan’s conditioning to show her the extent of the abuse.

‘Stand up Susan.’ Jaz deliberately spoke sharply and to her amazement Susan put down her cup and instantly obeyed. Had Jaz told her to strip, she knew the woman would have complied. ‘Take off your coat.’ Jaz had considered adding ‘NOW’ to the instruction but she felt that would have been going too far and rather cruel. She watched as Susan undid the buttons on her coat and carefully removed it. She meticulously folded it and laid it neatly beside her. She stood silently, awaiting the next instruction. The dress Susan wore was long and hung listlessly several inches below the knee.

Over the dress she wore an equally drab jumper, hand knitted and miles too big. Jaz knew her secrets lay underneath that garment so she instructed her to remove it also. There was hesitation, just an instant. Anyone else would have questioned the request, even uttered a Must I? Any delay was immediately corrected and she slid the jumper over her head and this displayed her bare arms which were covered in bruises and welts. Jaz had seen enough; she could have gone even further but this would have only confirmed her suspicion that Susan’s whole body would show similar marks. She’d seen enough.

‘Get dressed Susan, I will never, ever speak to you like that again – okay?’ While she replaced the jumper and put on her coat, Jaz took the opportunity to make further tea and when she returned Susan seemed to have relaxed slightly. Jaz felt Susan had surmounted a major barrier by sharing something very private and for her shameful.

‘You still haven't explained why you are here or how you feel I can help you.’ Once again Susan reached forward and took hold of the mug of steaming tea and sipped it. Jaz could see from the concentration on her face Susan was thinking about how best to answer the question.

‘I hope you can help me be a better person. I feel I am not good enough for Justin, he is always finding fault in everything I do. So, if I can improve, he will not be angry and I'll stop being a millstone around his neck. Do you think you can help me?’ Susan was speaking to Jaz, but she was still avoiding making eye contact.

‘Look at me Susan. Jaz asked.

‘I can't, Justin says it is wrong, that it shows a lack of respect.’ She replied and still refused to engage with Jaz visually.

‘What happens if you do make eye contact, how does Justin react?’ Jaz already knew the answer to her question but she still needed Susan to confirm it.

‘I'm punished. A lot depends on Justin's mood. Sometimes I'm shut in this small room, I'm left there until I understand the error of my ways, other times he gets angry and he hits me with slaps and punches. Quite often he uses a belt, I hate that.’ Jaz knew she would too, but the difference for her was that it would only ever happen to her once. This woman saw being assaulted and victimised as normal behaviour and accepted, without question, everything was her fault.

Jaz saw the time she had allocated with Susan Renton was drawing to a close. She now had to summarise where she felt things were and where they needed to go in the future. From what she had heard and even seen with her own eyes, this wasn't a case of whether or not she could help her. Jaz knew in her situation it was essential she did help her and in a way Susan had not even considered. Jaz also knew from past experience of such cases and this was far more extreme than any she had previously encountered, any success in the help she was about to offer was entirely down to Susan wanting to be helped? ‘Your time is nearly up but before you go, I need to summarise where I think we are. The good news is I can help you, but it isn't going to be the sort you are expecting. Tell me, do you feel the things which go wrong at home with Justin is all your fault? Is any of it your fault?’

‘It has to be, Justin always explains in detail what I have done wrong so it’s got to be me.’ Susan replied, still refraining from looking in Jaz’s direction as she spoke.

‘That isn't what I asked you Susan. Do YOU feel in your heart it's your fault – honestly?’

‘I suppose not, no, not really. I know he explains but I cannot see why he makes such an issue of things; it all looks common sense to me. I cannot see how I could have done most things he complains about any differently?’ Jaz detected something akin to annoyance in her reply. She felt this was a good sign and it could give her an edge, something to work on in the future. The fight back had to start today.

‘Okay Susan, this is now going to seem odd but if you look across the room you will see a white board. I don't use it very often but today we will put it to good use. I'd like you to get up, walk over to the board and somewhere, you choose, I'd like you to write the following words in large lettering – TODAY IS A NEW BEGINNING. When you have done that sign it and put today's date.’ Jaz saw immediate confusion, perhaps even bewilderment. Susan even looked up at Jaz who realised for the first time Susan had soft blue eyes. Jaz moved forward and held out her hand which was taken after some initial hesitation. Jaz eased her to her feet and she noticed Susan winced slightly as she straightened up. Clearly the result of some recent injury or just severe bruising from her latest beating.

Jaz saw Susan's resolve arrive belatedly like a bus everyone had been waiting for. She wasn't on board yet but Jaz could see she was thinking about it. Susan was led to the board and after picking up a felt tipped pen she wrote the words while Jaz stood back and watched. There was no hesitation this time. Susan Renton attacked those five words and Jaz could see from her breathing a seething anger being unleashed. This was working even better than Jaz had ever imagined. Afterwards, with the task completed, Jaz could see Susan was hyperventilating. Jaz had often thought about having a punch bag installed, something to allow her clients to express their anger and frustration physically. How she wished there had been one right now. Jaz decided to pick up on this anger.

‘SIGN IT – Date it and mean it!’ Jaz spat the words out. Susan threw herself at the board and complied, then she leaned against the hard-white surface and started to weep. Jaz moved forward, removed the pen from her hand and forcibly hugged her. Jaz encircled her arms around Susan and only then she realised how thin the woman actually was. Jaz couldn't let her go yet so she released Susan and drew back. Standing a foot away and placing her hand under Susan’s chin Jaz made her look back at her. Susan’s blue eyes glistened with tears and her lips were still trembling.

‘See, you can look someone in the eye Susan. Actually, it's disrespectful not to. You are a very beautiful woman and the world wants you to share your beauty with it. Now let's sort a few things out before you go. That…’ Jaz pointed to what she had just written, signed and dated. ‘That is the start point and it will remain on this board until this is all over, then you will erase it. In the meantime, I need you to come back and after each session I will take you over to this board and remind you of the progress you have made. I can help you but it will be in two very different ways. Firstly, we need to get you away from what is an abusive relationship. It is of the worst kind. Yours is not just physically abusive but it is controlling and cohesive also. Once we have achieved this goal, and I warn you it will not be easy, we then have to mend you. You are a broken woman Susan, the way you live, from what you wear to your whole being is not normal. I can help fix the latter over time, but the former, getting you away from the clutches of Justin, will need specialist help. You need to meet my partner, Sal.’ Jaz knew there were legalities to consider and she knew the best person around to provide that help.

‘I thought it was just you here, so you have a partner?’ Susan replied so innocently. Jaz wasn't quite sure how to explain about Sally Jameson.

‘Sal is a lawyer, Susan; she specialises in the very sort of issues you have. She now lives with me as my partner - it's rather a long story.’ Jaz wasn't sure if she correctly read the expression on Susan Renton’s face. She was waiting to hear the words I see. Instead, Susan kept silent and just slowly nodded her head. ‘I'll speak to her tonight and when you come next time, I will arrange for her to be here – there IS going to be a next time isn't there?’ This was Jaz’s greatest concern, that despite Susan Renton’s problems and desperate need for help, this might be a one off? Women like her were dependent women and often returned to an abusive relationship.

‘I'd like that, although it is going to be difficult. Justin rings me from work several times a day to check up on me. I rarely go out and even today I might have some explaining to do – why I didn't answer the phone. I'll pick up some milk and bread on the way home, I'll think of something.’ Jaz was never surprised at the control some men inflicted on their partners. She wasn't sure that lame excuse would be good enough and the last thing Susan needed was for him to beat the truth from her lips.

‘I see, it's as bad as that is it? Let's provisionally book you in for Thursday at 2pm, only this time you won't need to hang around outside - okay.’ Jaz suddenly thought of something. ‘Can you hide things? Is there somewhere Justin never looks – where do you keep your sanitary towels for example. Could you hide something there?’ Again, Susan looked at her. It was starting to become a habit.

‘I can, yes. Justin hates that time of the month; he calls it my revolting time. Amazingly it’s almost the best time for me because he tends to leave me alone. Funnily enough I started this morning.’ That gave Jaz another idea.

‘In that case forget the bread and milk, buy some sanitary towels on the way home instead. Tell him you ran out.’ Jaz smiled and Susan returned it. Walking over to a cupboard on the other side of the room Jaz looked inside and found what she was looking for. She kept a couple of Pay as you go mobile phones and quickly switched one on and found it was fully charged. ‘Here, take this. Keep it switched off until you need to use it then you won't lose charge – it won’t ring unexpectedly either. My name is in the address book, Sal’s is in there too. It's just the two of us. I won't ever contact you, Susan. Call me tomorrow and we'll sort out the final arrangements for Thursday.’ Susan took the phone; she looked a bit bewildered and it quickly dawned on Jaz that she had probably never used something even young children now took for granted these days. A couple of minutes of tuition later and Susan had it cracked.

The session was over and already Jaz saw a different person emerge in Susan Renton. She was more confident, even smiling although Jaz knew there was much work to do in that area. Jaz shut everything down and locked up and then followed Susan down into the street. It was done, the ice was well and truly broken and the two women embraced one final time before Susan turned and walked away. As she often did, Jaz waited until Susan was out of sight. She liked to see if an impact had been made, a connection created. Jaz measured this by waiting to see if the person stopped, looked back or even waved. She was just about to give up on that hope when Susan did indeed hesitate. She turned, looked back and then gave the merest of shy waves before disappearing around a corner.

Chapter Three

Jaz was home just before 4pm. Sal would soon be home with the girls too and it gave her just enough time to change into something non work related and to think about preparing their evening meal. This was something else so different from a year ago. As well as still being married, it had been Jaz’s job to collect Charley from school with Sal doing likewise for her own daughter Georgie. This had been how they had met. There was always a gaggle of mothers at the school gates and like geese, making an incessant racket with their gossiping tongues although thankfully there was no pecking or flapping of wings! Jaz felt this is what had brought them together. Both distanced themselves away from the flock like they were another species. Jaz was sure they had both became to butt of their gossiping and were pulled apart and castigated. She’d now known Sal for some years and while her marriage slowly went down the toilet, Sal’s seemed to be heading in a totally different direction. Her marriage was as open as a barn door and it seemed Sally Jameson thrived on exploiting it.

What brought them together to where we were now living as a couple and sharing a bed was one extraordinary week. Sal had invited Jaz to a legal function in Bristol, one where it was obvious Sal’s legendary matchmaking skills were to be tested. It had been obvious Sal was on the pull as soon as they had arrived and Jaz had turned and found Sal had disappeared. Jaz recalled just seeing Sal’s head as she spoke to another older woman on the far side of a large function room. Jaz remembered this was when she first encountered Dorothee Gaudet – their eyes had met, or at least she thought they had and an instant later, while Jaz was still trying to digest this strange woman's interest in her, she then met Stephen Parish. What happened after that was as they say – history. Jaz knew, had she tried to explain to anyone the means by which they had met, their puzzlement would have had no bounds.

That event and what subsequently took place afterwards was not the only thing which drew Jaz and Sal closer and created their intimacy. A meeting with another reluctant client, a fifteen year of Afro-Caribbean girl eventually produced that. Incredibly both eventually ended up living with Jaz and while she lost one member of her household, Geoff, her husband, who was a victim of one woman's jealous madness, she gained two others. Jaz still recalled that crazy day when Dorothee Gaudet, together with her then husband who was an unwitting accomplice, abducted their daughter and Amber Jackson who was the girl Jaz had counselled and was living with her then under a fostering arrangement. Jaz had never seen herself as one who could ever be attracted to another woman although Dorothee Gaudet had unmasked strange emotions when their eyes had met that first time across a crowded room, but it was Sal who was the greatest shock. Jaz knew she put it around, but she’d always imagined it was men who made her blood race. Nothing prepared Jaz for the shock of her reaction towards Sal at a moment of deep emotional turmoil and this was compounded when Sal had confessed, she had always fancied her – everything had fallen into place after that!

The sound of the key in the front door announced Sal’s arrival with the girls. Jaz heard Charley snap at Amber and then repeated the harshness of her voice towards Sal. Jaz felt Charley had been a bit off recently, but she had put this all down to losing her father. While they had not been especially close in recent years, they had been very close when Charley was just a little girl. Jaz couldn't imagine Charley had found the mourning process easy, yet while she allowed some leeway for her daughter’s tetchy behaviour, this felt like unusual behaviour all the same.

‘Anything wrong?’ Jaz asked Sal as soon as she appeared in the kitchen. Both girls had gone upstairs and shortly afterwards Charley’s bedroom door slammed shut.

‘Nothing that a smacked arse wouldn't fix!’ Sal marched over and landed a wet kiss on Jaz’s lips. Jaz stepped back and hooking her fingers around the stems of two wine glasses she put them down and walked to the fridge which was stocked with her favourite Australian tipple.

‘I must admit she has been a bit off of late, I put it down to us losing Geoff although the way she was at the funeral and for quite a while since, I can't see what has changed to bring this on. I heard her having a go at Amber, what was that about?’ Jaz asked.

‘I'm not sure. I'll have a word with Georgie and see if she can shed some light. It's probably some fall out over a boy or someone has disrespected her on Facebook. You know how it is these days!’ Sadly, Jaz most certainly did. Being part of a Facebook circle meant everything to most kids these days and to be left out or banished from a group was tantamount to being marooned on a desert island. Even Amber, who due to her late mother's manic religious zeal, was never allowed to even have a phone let alone join a social media group was on Facebook now. Jaz decided not to get involved. She’d brought up Charley to tell her anything and everything which might be creating a problem for her. She trusted her and Jaz hoped that trust was reciprocal enough for her to not let things get too bad before she either sought advice or just wanted to share a problem.

‘So how as your day Jaz. I've been in court most of the day and I had to think about placing matchsticks between my eyelids to stop me falling asleep. Mind you I didn't get much sleep last night and that was not all my fault!’ Thankfully Sal smiled at the memory. She was a bundle of energy in bed and Jaz soon came to realise what she’d been missing for the best part of ten years which was the most part of her married life to Geoff.

‘Well Sal, I can honestly say mine was far more interesting than yours. Let me refill your glass as this might take a while.’ Jaz had prepared dinner before setting out for work that morning so as well as taking the bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge and placing it on the table, she switched on the oven too. Over the next 30 minutes Jaz filled Sal in on her session with Susan Renton. Jaz certainly had her full attention and she had little doubt Sal would wish to get involved in this case and free the poor woman from the hell which was her life.

‘I'll have to juggle a couple of meetings on Thursday but otherwise I'm free to join you. Do you think she'll turn up? This is not straight forward Jaz. Women like Susan Renton are so conditioned, so in denial it is possible she will dismiss what was discussed today. Submissive women need to be in a strong, often controlling relationship. Thankfully, most are less about control and more about having someone around to make all the decisions. In her case it appears she is just about allowed to breathe and this is only because breathing is an involuntary action!’ She knew Sal had lots of experience in this field, but Jaz suspected even she hadn't come against such an extreme case as that of Susan Renton.

‘I think we'll know one way or the other by tomorrow. I've given her a phone which she will keep well hidden.’ Sal smiled because she knew where Jaz would have suggested that place should be. ‘I'll stress the importance of arriving on time and if she does decide to back out to at least let us know well in advance. Personally, I think she will be there Sal, when I saw her writing on that white board, I saw raw anger. I feel that woman is capable of extreme violence and I'm more worried about her snapping one day. I just hope, if and when she does, she hasn't got something sharp or heavy in her hand. Once she got going, I'm not sure when she would stop. I really saw that Sal - I'm not kidding!’ Suddenly there was shouting from the next floor. Charley and Amber were at it again. Jaz looked at Sal and both put down their glasses simultaneously and left the kitchen together.

‘Is everything okay up there?’ Jaz called up. She knew it wasn't, something was seriously wrong so while Sal returned to the kitchen Jaz mounted the stairs. Both bedroom doors were now shut. Jaz knew it was unlikely both girls would be together so it was a toss up to see whose door she should try first. Jaz decided on Amber.

‘What's wrong? I heard shouting which is almost unheard of these days?’ Amber was sat on her bed. She looked downcast and sullen. Something was wrong and she wondered if Amber could give her a clue - an in, something she could use to pick away at Charley's defences and try to open her up – to talk? Instead, there was silence. She tried a different approach. ‘Okay, is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?’ That got her attention. She’d never raised her voice towards Amber before. After what had happened during most of her childhood with an abusive and violent mother, Jaz never wanted her to be reminded of those times through her actions.

‘You need to ask her; she's just being horrible. It's nothing to do with me.’ Jaz expected that response. When she had been a teenager nobody wanted to be labelled a snitch. Even so Jaz had hoped for even a clue, something to take to Charley and trust her to open up.

‘Has there been a fall out, a boy perhaps or has someone said something. It's so unlike Charley?’ Jaz probed deeper. She hoped that was the reason and it wasn't anything to do with their relationship? Following the death of Ernestine Jackson, Amber's mother, during a frenzied attack on her daughter, Jaz had taken the girl into her home under a fostering agreement. She had been considering adopting Amber but there was always the nagging doubt about Charley’s reaction, especially after losing her father in such tragic circumstances. Was this the reason for the fall out?

‘As I said, you will have to ask Charley about that. There is a lot of bad talk at school and all I've tried to do is support her. I don't deserve the abuse she is throwing at me – I don't need it!’ Jaz could see anger in her dark blazing eyes. Tears were forming too. She didn't want to press and bully the girl into saying more. She knew the answer lay in the room on the other side of the corridor.

‘I'm sorry Amber, why don't you go downstairs and get yourself a drink, Sal’s down there.’ Jaz got up and gently stroked Amber's face before leaving the room. She closed the door quietly and walked over to Charley's door. Jaz tapped softly.

‘Can I come in?’ Jaz called just as softly as her knock. There was no reply. She tried again with the same result. Jaz didn't like to intrude or invade her daughter's private space without her permission, but something was wrong and it needed to be sorted.

‘I'm coming in!’ Jaz spoke louder, not a shout but loud enough so her daughter had time to prepare for her mother's entry. Jaz opened the door and Charley was seated on her bed with her back towards her. Beside Charley