Page 56 of Maybe Tomorrow

‘What did you do with his clothes?’

Pauline looked at Bishop and fixed his stare. ‘They were put into the wash.’

‘All of them?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you still have them?’

‘Well, yes, but he’s got lots of shirts and trousers. I couldn’t tell you which ones he was wearing that night. I’ve done several washes since then.’

‘None have been thrown away, though?’

‘No.’

‘In that case we’ll take all his clothes to be tested.’

‘All of them? Why? What are you looking for?’ Pauline’s voice broke as she reached into her cardigan sleeve for a tissue.

‘Despite your son having confessed, we’d still like hard forensic evidence to back up the case.’

‘He wouldn’t have confessed. I don’t know what you said to him in that interview room, but there is no way he would have confessed to doing something he hasn’t done.’

‘He said he did it, Mrs Winstanley. I know it’s difficult to hear, but the sooner you face up to what your son has done, the better. We can leave this for now, but I’d like you to come down to the station tomorrow to give a statement.’

‘Does she have to?’ Leo asked.

Bishop looked at him with a dead stare. ‘No. No she doesn’t. But is there any reason why she wouldn’t, if she wants to help her son?’

‘I don’t think you should say anything, Pauline. At least not until you’ve spoken to a solicitor,’ Leo said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Pauline thought about it momentarily before nodding. ‘Leo’s right. We need professional help here. I’ll get my solicitor to contact you.’

Bishop chewed on his lip and slammed his notebook closed. ‘As you wish.’ He stood up and made his way to the door leading into the hallway. With his hand on the handle, he stopped and turned back. ‘Oh, one more thing, just as a precaution, you know what the press are like these days. I’m afraid a few of the more militant reporters saw us leaving the station earlier so you might find one or two camped out on your doorstep. Good evening to you both.’

An hour later, and Pauline and Leo were sitting on the sofa in the living room. Leo had had to prise Pauline out of Anthony’s bedroom. It had been stripped of all his clothes: jumpers, trousers, shirts, even his pants and socks. They’d taken everything. And they’d even rummaged through the drawers in Pauline’s bedroom. The cupboards in the kitchen and the sideboard in the living room, everything had been searched.

Despite Pauline having been around with the vacuum cleaner, the house didn’t feel clean. She’d been into the kitchen, grabbed the bleach and a couple of cloths and was all for scouring the house from top to bottom, but Leo stopped her.

‘Not tonight. It can wait until the morning,’ he said, holding her by the shoulders.

‘It’s a mess, Leo. The house is a complete mess.’

‘No. It isn’t. You just think it is. You need to calm down. Youneed to rest and get some sleep. Tomorrow, you need to put all your energy into getting a solicitor and getting Anthony out of that police station.’

Reluctantly, she agreed. ‘Are they still out there?’ She nodded to the door.

‘I’m afraid so. There’s more of them now, too.’ Leo had kept getting up and peering around the living room curtains every time he heard another car pull up.

‘He did that on purpose. That detective.’

‘I know he did. That’s something else we can bring up with the solicitor.’ Leo put his arm around her.

‘Will you stay with me tonight?’ Pauline asked after a lengthy silence.

Leo was about to reply when they heard a loud smash from the kitchen. They both jumped and ran into the room to see a brick on the floor surrounded by broken glass. A strong wind was blowing in from the hole in the window. In the distance, sounds of laughing could be heard and heavy footsteps running away.

‘It’s started,’ Pauline whispered.