When the Music's Over by Peter Robinson Read Free Book Online Page A

remained fixed on whomever she was talking to. Her hands, usually a giveaway sign of age, seemed even younger than the rest of her, long tapered fingers and soft skin. No rings or jewelry of any kind. There were certain women, Banks thought, such as Cherie Lunghi and Francesca Annis, who seemed to become more attractive with age, and Linda Palmer was one of them.
    â€œAs I understand it,” he began, “you rang county HQ two days ago after being advised to do so by Childline, and you talked to a Detective Inspector Joanna MacDonald. Is that right?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy did you call?”
    â€œI didn’t know who else to talk to. Was I wrong?”
    â€œNo, I mean, why now? After so long. What was special about the day before yesterday?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œSo why?”
    â€œI can’t explain it that easily.”
    â€œWas it anything to do with other recent events?”
    â€œOf course it was. It’s a need that’s been slowly building up in me. I’ve been plucking up the courage. You might not believe it, but I’m nervous as hell about this meeting. Would I have come forward if all those women hadn’t complained about Jimmy Savile? I don’t know. I like to think so, but probably not. I don’t think they would have all come forward, either, if they hadn’t known there were others with the same story to tell.”
    It was true, Banks knew. At one point in the Savile investigation, the police had their knuckles rapped for not letting the accusers know they weren’t alone. In some ways, though, it was hardly their fault; they were only thinking of what possible repercussions such collusion might have if the case went to trial. “So it wasn’t that you forgot about it and just suddenly remembered?”
    â€œNo. I never forgot it. And before you ask, I’m interested in neither money nor notoriety. In fact, I would prefer it if you kept my name out of the papers.”
    â€œAnonymity is guaranteed in cases like this,” said Banks.
    â€œEven if I had to . . . you know . . . testify in court?”
    â€œEven then. There are special protocols in place to deal with this matter in the courts and so on. And you can’t be cross-examined by your alleged attacker.”
    â€œThank you.” She paused a moment. “May I ask you if any others have come forward?”
    â€œIt’s early days yet,” Banks said, “but yes, there are others. Believe me, you’re not alone.”
    A blackbird sang in the garden next door and bees hummed and crawled inside the foxgloves and fuchsias, legs fat with pollen. The sound of the river was a constant background, threaded with the Beethoven Pastoral.
    â€œIt’s something I never thought about back then, when it happened,” Linda said. “That there would be others, that he would have done the same thing to someone else.”
    â€œYou were fourteen,” Banks said. “Hard to be anything other than the center of the universe at that age.”
    Linda managed a sad smile. “I did report it to the police at the time, you know.”
    â€œDo you remember who you spoke to?”
    â€œI can’t remember his name,” said Linda. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone, not even my mum. I was frightened, and I was ashamed. But I’d been unable to sleep, I was off my food, just not myself at all, not functioning well, and mother was desperate with worry. She even took me to the doctor’s. She kept on pushing me, and finally I told her what happened.”
    â€œBut not your father?”
    She hesitated. “No. He . . . he wouldn’t have handled it well. I know it would have come out eventually if . . . well . . . but at the time, no.”
    â€œDid the doctor examine you?”
    â€œNo. He just said I was run-down and needed a tonic.”
    â€œHow was the policeman? I mean, how did he treat you?”
    â€œSympathetic,