Friday 6th November, 1992- Becca

"Rebecca, you're a bright girl, surely you can see how ridiculous this story sounds?"

She contained a sob and nodded at the detective seated opposite.

"But...it's true, every word."

Detective Daniels, whose tone and demeanor until now had been soft and warm, began tapping his pen on the table quickly, his face showing signs of annoyance.

"Let's go back to when you took control of the wheelchair and walked down to the pier."

Again.

"Did you offer to take Mrs Hewitt for a walk?"

Becca shook her head.

"May I remind you Rebecca, we need you to answer the questions in full?"

"No. My uncle asked me to."

"Witnesses on the street tell us you were running to the pier and pushing the wheelchair in a rather reckless manner. Is that true?"

"Yes, err ... no, err ... I did run with the chair when we got nearer to the pier, but it was never reckless, and Mrs Hewitt was perfectly safe."

"Not for very long though, was she?"

Becca began to cry again. The image of the elderly woman launching herself into the sea below, played endlessly in her mind.

"My client is clearly very distressed and as you have been questioning her for nearly three hours, I would like to request a break and some time alone with my client."

Becca looked at the portly man with the flushed face seated beside her. Mr Adrian Prendergast- a stout man in his early fifties, wearing a dirt-brown suit with an egg-stained red tie- had so far said and done very little. Becca welcomed his request for a break.

"Very well. We will stop for thirty minutes. But, Rebecca, I strongly recommend that you take this time to think long and hard about what happened, so that we can get straight to the truth when I come back. Interview suspended, thirteen- forty- five." The officer switched off the voice recorder. "I'll send in some refreshments."

He left the room with his younger female colleague and the door closed with a heavy thump. She didn't feel any relief that they had left the room, if anything, she felt more isolated.

"Want one?"

The solicitor, who preferred to be called by his first name, Adrian, offered an opened cigarette packet to Becca.

"No, thank you."

Adrian shrugged, flicked twice on the bottom of the pack, and one cigarette rose up above the others. Placing it in his mouth, he lit it using a scratched steel lighter he'd taken from his top, right pocket. The smell of strong tobacco and lighter fluid quickly filled the airless room making Becca feel more nauseated.

"So..." Becca started to ask a question, but the door opened and the female officer came back in with a tray of tea and water. Adrian shook his head at Becca, warning her not to say anything further.

They waited in silence as the officer placed the drinks on the table and then left the room.

"Rebecca, we have a big problem. Quite frankly, your story is as flaky as hell. We've got a hysterical mother who can't remember a damn thing, except for the fact that you had hold of her son and to her it looked like you were about to throw him off the edge of the pier. Then, we have a woman who was in your care, who somehow ended up falling off the end of the pier of her own volition. The same woman, who, according to her husband and the consultant at the Norfolk and Norwich hospital, was also a paralysed stroke victim and was unable to move unassisted. And, unluckily for you, we don't have a single witness to verify your story."

"But it's the truth." Becca couldn't hold up under the scrutiny Adrian's observation of her; she looked down at the surface of the table.

"I'm not here to believe you, Rebecca, I am here to represent you and I'm telling you now, that if you don't change your story or provide new evidence, this isn't going to end well. Is there anything you're holding back?"

How could she tell him or anyone else what really happened? One mention of the word, demon and she would be in a padded room, drugged up to the eyeballs in a made-to-measure white jacket. Insanity or guilt, were they really her only two options?

"Let's run through your evidence again then. You reach the end of the pier and apply the wheelchair foot-brake, when you see a young boy climbing up the railings. You shout to the mother, but she isn't paying attention, so you rush over to help the boy. As you reach him you turn around and find that the old lady..."

"Mrs Hewitt."

"Yes, Mrs Hewitt, has got up out of her chair and is climbing the railings. Torn over who to help first, you grab the boy, who happens to be closer to you, but then you watch Mrs Hewitt tumble over the edge into the water. Is that your account?"

Becca nodded.

"And the mother, what was she doing, while all this was going on?"

Becca thought carefully about her answer.

"She wasn't doing anything. She was looking back towards the town centre, like she was in a kind of trance. I shouted to her but she didn't hear me. I thought she might be on drugs, or maybe she was drunk. One minute she was all zoned-out, the next she was screaming in my face, saying that I was trying to hurt her son. If I hadn't grabbed him, he would have fallen in too."

"You're saying that you rescued the boy, while his mother wasn't paying attention. That you are actually the hero today."

"I'm no hero."

He didn't seem to hear her comment. "I can work with this, but it's the fate of Mrs Hewitt, which is so far unexplained." He opened a file on the table and scanned a piece of paper, before closing the file again. "I checked the weather reports before I entered the room. It was windy today on the end of the pier, was it not?"

Becca thought back to the moment they stepped onto the pier. She remembered the sea battering the wooden support beneath her, the swirling grey water crashing against the shore. She also remembered Mrs Hewitt's hair being blown about despite the considerable amount of hairspray that had been applied by the care assistant at the home that morning.

"It was windy, but ..."

"Could a freak gust of wind have lifted Mrs Hewitt up and onto the railings?"

"No...yes...I don't know."

"Maybe it looked like she was climbing, but it all happened so quickly, you didn't see it properly, because you were too busy trying to save the life of a small child, while the mother was derelict in her duties as a parent."

Becca realised Adrian had just given her an alternative story to tell, one that sounded ridiculous, but not quite as ridiculous as the one she had already given or the real story she was too afraid to mention. In not telling the truth about him, she was lying anyway. What was one more lie? He was going to come for her again, of that she was certain, and if she was locked up, there would be no escaping him, the next time. If she was free, then she could at least try to run. So she had to lie and lie well; it was her only option. There would be no justice for Mrs Hewitt, but there could still be survival for herself.

"It was the wind, I have just remembered what happened. Will you call the officers back in?"

The solicitor smiled as he stood up. "A wise decision, Becca. Very wise indeed."

An hour later, having told her amended story to the detectives, who seemed even more sceptical, a plain-clothed policeman entered the room and whispered into Detective Daniel's ear and they both, immediately left the room.

"For the benefit of the tape, Detective Daniels has just left...," said the female detective, whose name Becca had forgotten.

The oppressive silence in the room, was making Becca feel even jumpier. She chewed on her fingernails while her brain whirred through the terrible images of the day. It didn't matter if she closed her eyes or kept them open, the images were there before her, as if someone was projecting them onto a screen. If she did manage to get out of here, how could she ever face Mr Hewitt again? His life-long partner was gone, and there wasn't a thing she could do to change that. No apology would ever be enough.

The door opened and Detective Daniels, sat down.

"For the purposes of the tape Detective Daniels has re-joined the interview at ..."

Becca watched as he passed his colleague a small scrap of paper. The female detective read the note, her dour face changing to one of surprise, her brows furrowing. Detective Daniels shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Rebecca, it appears we have a witness who has corroborated your story."

Adrian sat upright in his chair and nodded his head. Becca couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. She had been convinced there was no one else nearby.

"A young, local man was also on the pier."

"But why didn't he help me?"

"It appears he was too busy trying to break into the amusement arcade on the pier, to help. "

"So why has he come forward now?"

"That is a good question. He apparently felt compelled to, when he got home. He said a freak gust of wind caused the wheelchair to tilt forward pushing Mrs Hewitt onto the railings and then she toppled in. He also said that had you not helped the child; he too would have drowned. In his words, you were entirely helpless to save Mrs Hewitt and that you should be commended for helping the child."

"Really?"

"Yes, I am as amazed as you." The tone of his words betrayed the fact he didn't believe the new witness statement for one minute. "However, despite my doubts to the validity of this witness, a health and safety officer has completed an investigation and told us that the railings were defective. As Mrs Hewitt's weight was applied to the railings, they buckled, causing her to fall. There will be a public inquest, but I imagine this will be put down to accidental death."

The detective stopped talking and studied Becca for a minute.

"Is there anything else you might like to add... or change in your statement."

"No," Becca replied, barely audibly.

"Okay then, so I just need you to sign the statement and then you can collect your personal belongings. You are free to leave."

Was that it? Just like that, over.

Both detectives left the room, leaving Becca floored.

"A good outcome, Becca. A very good outcome. What luck that a witness came forward when he did and with a story that matched your own."

Becca nodded, not really listening to what the solicitor was saying.

"I will, of course come with you to collect your things and then I will bid you goodnight."

He reached over and grabbed her hand, which he shook vigorously.

"The best outcome we could have hoped for."

The door opened and Detective Daniels re-entered the room and asked Becca to read her typed statement. The words written down, were her own, but they felt alien to her; a sheet of paper, full of lies that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Fat tears slowly rolled down her face.

"Is that your true and final statement?"

"Yes," she sniffed.

"Please sign, here and here?"

With a trembling hand, she took his pen and signed the truth away.

"Thank you, Rebecca. Please follow me."

They walked back down the painted, yet scuffed corridors till they reached the custody suite reception. A uniformed officer passed her a tray which held her belongings. She picked up her doc martens first and put her feet inside them; they had made her remove them when she first arrived at the station due to her emotional state. Becca left the laces untied and tucked the ends into the tops of her boots. Next, she retrieved her coat and then her purse, which was lying unclasped, its contents loose in the tray. Becca fed the few coins and notes back into the purse and put it into her coat pocket. Finally, she looked for her necklace but couldn't find it.

"Is there a problem, Becca?"

"Yes, my necklace, it's not here."

"Officer," Adrian called over to the desk sergeant. "My client's necklace is missing."

The officer picked up a piece of paper from under the counter.

"Boots, coat, purse, ten pounds and twenty-eight pence in change and small notes, a cherry chapstick and one necklace with black and clear stone pendant. One minute, please."

"Back in a second, Rebecca, I just need to check on something," said Adrian, who wandered off down the corridor they had just come from.

Meanwhile, the officer walked over to a large cabinet standing against the back wall. He took hold of the key chain attached to his belt loop and finding the correct key, turned the lock and opened both doors.

After a little searching, he called to Becca. "Ah, here it is. Must have fallen out. Very strange."

He returned to the counter.

"Is this your necklace?"

Becca looked at the piece of jewellery before her. It was hers, she was sure of it, but the stone looked different. Where before, it only had a small black smudgy line inside, now over a third of the stone was jet black in colour. The separation of the light and dark glass wasn't in one clear division either. No, the blackness looked almost fluid, like it was slowly leeching into the remaining parts of the necklace.

"Is this your necklace, ma'am?"

"Yes."

"Back again," Adrian said cheerily.

"It's okay, they found my necklace," Becca said, smiling with relief at the solicitor, as she hung it around her neck and fixed the clasp at the back.

As if he had been pushed by an invisible hand, Adrian launched himself backwards, banging into a coffee machine and dropping his briefcase on the floor. Papers fluttered out and the remains of a cheese sandwich landed on his foot.

Becca rushed over to the poor solicitor who was looking up at her in a daze.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Getting down on her knees, she leaned over him, her necklace hanging down.

Adrian looked dizzy as his eyes rolled in his head.

"Adrian, are you okay? Officer, could you get a first aider, please? I think he might have bumped his head or fainted"

"Right away." The officer picked up the desk phone and dialled, while Becca gripped Adrian's arm. He flinched but didn't take his eyes of her. She moved a little closer to him, but he began to try to lift himself up and back away into the coffee machine. His head collided with the glass door again.

"Stand back."

A female officer was running towards them carrying a green first aid kit.

"What happened?"

"I don't know, he just fell back and hit his head. He looks concussed and can't seem to talk."

"What's his name, love?"

"It's Adrian. Adrian Prendergast. He's a solicitor."

"Okay, I can take it from here. Hello, Adrian, I'm Stella. I'm going to take a quick look at you."

Becca stood back letting the first aider examine Adrian, who continued to stare fixedly at Becca, but was now mumbling incoherently, foam coming from his mouth. His pallor had also taken on an odd, grey colour.

"Becca. I think it's time we left here, don't you?"

His voice jolted her whole body. Slowly, she turned to see her uncle standing behind her. Disheveled, with a shadow of grey stubble on his chin, he looked tired and old beyond his years. She waited for him to blast into her, to lecture, to sermonise, but he did nothing of the sort. Instead he held out his arms and mouthed, "Come here, child."

Becca took a final glance back to her solicitor who was now quiet and laid out on the floor. She then moved cautiously towards her uncle, who after a moment's hesitation, wrapped his arms around her, and for the first time in many months she felt some sense of comfort and security.