Read Online Ten Days by Gillian Slovo - Free Book Online Page B

Rockham incident – the bare bones of what happened, the fact that the IPCC will now be in charge of the investigation.’
    â€˜Yes, sir. I can certainly do that.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ He glanced down at his diary. ‘I’ve got a brief window at 1.15, shall we set it for then?’
    â€˜You will be doing the briefing yourself, sir?’
    â€˜I think that’s best, don’t you? First week and all that – give the public an opportunity to get to know their new Commissioner. I trust that’s not a problem?’
    â€˜No, sir, it’s not a problem. I’ll set it in motion for 1315 hours.’ A pause and then: ‘You mentioned two matters?’
    â€˜Yes, I did. Given this is early days for us, I want to make sure that you are aware that incidents like the one in Rockham should be reported to me as soon as they occur. I have no intention of interfering in the chain of command, but I do expect to be kept informed.’
    â€˜Of course you do, sir.’ Chahda nodded to reinforce this affirmation. ‘A report of the Rockham death is highlighted in the summary of yesterday’s events. It is on its way to you. But I will certainly take note that you wish for more immediate notification.’
    As ever, a model response. ‘Thanks, Anil.’ Joshua couldn’t help feeling that his determination to take control of the job might have made him slightly overdo his domination of his deputy. ‘That will be all.’
    1 p.m.
    Cathy was about to head up the gangway when she saw the fox. It was a big one and decrepit, its fur matted and its tail a ragged thing.
    There were many foxes that haunted the estate – more of them recently since the Lovelace had begun to stink of blocked drains and rotting rubbish, and especially in this heat – but she had only ever spotted them at night or in the early morning, and then just out of the corner of her eye. But this one was limping forward in the full light of day, and when its path crossed with hers it did not run away. She stopped and it did too. She looked at it and it held her gaze. Its legs, she saw, were shaking. She shut her eyes.
    When she opened them again, the fox had gone. Too fast a disappearance, surely, given how sick it had seemed?
    She’d not had enough sleep; she shook herself into motion.
    The door to Ruben’s parents’ place was ajar. She gave the bell a quick press to warn them that she was there, and then she walked in and down the corridor.
    For the second time that day, she couldn’t help but be struck by the pictures of Ruben that lined the walls. They brought such a lump to her throat that she quickened her pace. But there was no escape. The living room, which she soon reached, was also dominated by a large full-colour portrait of Ruben that hung above the mantelpiece. It was Ruben on one of his better days, lit by an open smile.
    Despite the room containing a vast array of objects – plastic flowers, china shepherdesses, a large red plastic heart, a sign that flashed the word ‘smile’ in neon, as well as many gilt-framed photos of the wider family – Cathy’s gaze kept being pulled back to this portrait. And every time she looked at him, and he seemed to look back, that same thought occurred: that she did not know what she would do if Lyndall were to
die,never mind in such a terrible way.
    â€˜Mrs Mason, you’re back, and with provisions for us all.’ Ruben’s mother’s face was blotched by tears, but her voice was strong and she even managed a smile. ‘Here, let me unburden you.’ She took the bulging carrier bags from Cathy and passed them to another woman. ‘There are plates in the kitchen,’ and to Cathy: ‘We were looking at the albums. Come, join us.’
    The room was crowded – relatives, friends and neighbours rallying as word of what had happened spread. There were many, including the Reverend Pius and