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have done it?’ he said instead.

      ‘I don’t really know you,’ she said, her teeth chewing at her lip.

      ‘So if you’re not ruling it out, why have you let me in?’

      She shrugged but didn’t answer.

      He put his cup down. ‘I need a proper drink. Have you got anything?’

      Donia shook her head. ‘I don’t drink much.’

      ‘Sensible.’

      ‘You drink too much.’

      ‘Depends on the reason. If I’m drinking so that I don’t have to face up to my life, I’m not drinking enough.’

      ‘Is your life that bad? It looks good to me.’

      ‘Go on, make it better for me. Why is it good?’

      ‘You live in a nice place. It’s got countryside, views, fresh air, and you can walk everywhere. You’ve got an interesting job, and you’re healthy. My mum once wanted a career like yours. You should be grateful for what you’ve got.’

      Charlie gave a small laugh, but it was bitter. ‘Thank you for the life-coaching. I’ll tell you about this town; it is stagnant. No, it’s more than that. It’s dying. Everyone is waiting for it to be rescued as a Manchester commuter town, but there isn’t enough charm to make it work, and it is too bleak in winter. Pound shops, they’re the only things that work, and don’t start me on my job.’

      ‘I want your job,’ she said.

      ‘Good. You can buy me out when you qualify, because I’m sick of it.’

      ‘You don’t mean that.’

      ‘Don’t I? What is there to like? At the beck and call of people who think I’m their friend because I speak up for them in court, but I have to say things I don’t believe, about how prison won’t work and bullshit like that. Because prison isn’t good, I know that, but at least it gives everyone a break from them. So my whole life is a fake, because people who don’t deserve my help spend their lives making other people miserable, and it’s all about them when they get caught, bleating self-pity. So you want to be a lawyer? Well, don’t, because you’ll never get to do what you want to do, just what other people want you to do.’

      Donia raised her eyebrows and then started to laugh.

      ‘What’s funny?’

      ‘I’ve never seen anyone so wound up,’ she said.

      She had an infectious smile, her teeth bright against her skin, but Charlie couldn’t muster a smile.

      ‘Okay, maybe I’ve just having a bad day,’ he said. ‘No, more than that. I’m having a stinker of a day, the worst fucking day I have had for a long time. I’ve got a hangover, and now my business partner is dead, perhaps because of a file I’ve now got,’ and he nodded towards Donia’s bag. ‘So let me have a look.’

      ‘Can I help you?’

      ‘You’re here for work experience.’

      She pulled the file out of the bag, resting it on the table with a thump. ‘Just let me get changed out of these clothes,’ she said, and then she went out of the room.

      Charlie watched her go and shook his head. She was young and pretty and she wanted to spend some time with him. Then as he went towards the table, he caught his reflection in a mirror. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was grey and messy, his graze darkening. His eyes looked tired, as did his skin, and he knew then why Donia was relaxed around him. To her, he was middle-aged. He was safe, not a sexual threat. Good old Uncle Charlie.

      His smile faded, and instead he sat at the table and opened the file.

      It wasn’t the usual sort of file for criminal clients. They have separate inserts for the different things that make up a file. The legal aid forms. The prosecution statements. Defence witness statements and the typed-up version of the defendant’s bullshit, something for him to rehearse for his trial. All the correspondence on a clip. But Billy’s case never got as far as the court, and so it didn’t have all that clutter. Instead, there were just the sheets from the police station, with Billy’s details and a summary of what he had told Amelia, along with a deep pile of correspondence and attendance notes. There was a separate insert for press cuttings.

      Charlie’s fingers trembled as he put the police station forms on the table, along with the correspondence. Was he going to find something out that should stay secret, or might even suggest that Amelia had been less than frank with the police and courts? It wouldn’t bother her now, but he didn’t want her name dragged through the press. At least let her name retain the dignity that her death had taken away.

      Donia came back into the room, pulling on a baggy grey jumper over loose jeans.

      ‘You’ve started without me,’ she said.

      ‘You haven’t missed anything,’ Charlie replied flatly.

      As he pulled the contents of the file out onto the table, he knew that the next hour could change his life.

       Chapter Thirty-Two

      John scoured the barn with Gemma, looking for ways to make the house more secure.

      Gemma kicked a roll of barbed wire. ‘Can we use this?’

      He nodded. ‘We can wrap it round the grilles, or nail it to the window frames on the inside.’

      ‘What are we defending against?’

      John licked his lips nervously, not knowing how much Gemma knew. ‘The authorities don’t like what we do,’ he said. ‘Henry is worried that they’ll do a raid. We’ve got cannabis here, remember, growing in one of the barns.’

      ‘But we can’t stop that with wire and mesh on the windows.’

      ‘I know, but it will slow them down and give us more time.’

      ‘For what?’

      ‘Just to defend ourselves. Or even get away, if we can hold off until nightfall.’

      Gemma didn’t look satisfied by that. ‘Do you think Henry wants us to be martyrs or something?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ John said, not meeting her gaze, ‘but if we are going to change anything, we have to be prepared for that. It might just be prison, and that will be easy. We’ll be out in less than half, and we’ll be heroes, because we’ll have made a stand. We’re fighting back, but we must be ready for it.’

      ‘It won’t be prison,’ Gemma said.

      ‘How do you mean?’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Because we don’t recognise their courts, silly. Don’t you remember what Henry said, that their laws only bind us if we agree to it? That’s why we are free.’

      He nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sorry. Henry told me about the Magna Carta thing, that we can carry out lawful rebellion.’

      ‘I don’t understand all the details, because every time Henry explains it, I get lost, but I trust him, because it isn’t just us who feel this way. You’ve just got to remember to give up everything.’

      ‘What, you mean my property?’

      ‘More than that, because you have to give up your legal name. If you are dealing with anyone official, don’t go by the name you used to have, because your birth certificate is just your membership card to their society, and so if you use that name, you accept membership. But this is the clever thing; if you don’t use your given name, you have opted out. If you have no contract with society, they can’t enforce the penalties under the contract.’ She grinned. ‘Clever, don’t you think?’

      ‘It can’t be that simple.’

      ‘It

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