The Reunion

Chapter 6

THE ACCUSER AND THE ACCUSED

It took us an hour and thirty minutes to drive to Bristol. Jude always likes to go the Clifton Suspension Bridge way. She loves that route and looking at the River Avon meandering carelessly below. She's often wondered, out loud, how anybody could end their life jumping from that historic bridge. Jude had wanted to do some shopping in the newlook arcade. I say new-look but it had been revamped about five years ago.

I parked in the car park on Lower Castle Street. We went in to one of the Classics brand pubs, a modern-day version of Wetherspoons, for a breakfast. Jude went for the eggs Benedict whilst I chose the breakfast wrap. We both had the refillable coffee.

After we had finished our meal, we made our way to the arcade. I accompanied my wife into a couple of shops. She doesn't usually like me going shopping with her. She once asked me if her bum looked big in what she had tried on and I, jokingly, replied that her bum looked big

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in everything. Now, fellas, I bet we all get to realise that there are certain things that you should never joke about. They also remind you, about ten to fifteen years later, if you survive that long, of that "humorous" comment you once made about her bottom being huge. We had only been in the shop five minutes when my dear wife picked an outfit off the rail and casually said that she reckoned her bum may look big in it. I took this as the hint that I had outstayed my welcome and left to find the café. We did arrange to meet up for lunch at one o'clock at a restaurant nearby.

The arcade itself was fairly busy. The high street had fought back against internet shopping over the last couple of decades. Samantha and the other fashion brands had done their bit. Youngsters wanted to try on and wear the items they had just purchased immediately, and not have to wait at least twenty-four hours before it arrived.

I found the café and went in and ordered a latte. The barista informed me that they would bring it to my table so I went and sat near the window. I looked at my watch as I sat down and saw that I was ten minutes early. My drink arrived after a couple of minutes. I stirred it a couple of times with the longhandled spoon; force of habit as I don't take sugar and haven't for a couple of years.

I then noticed a woman walk in. She looked around the café before her eyes came to rest on me. She came over.

'Mr Avery?' she asked.

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I stood up and proffered my hand. 'It certainly is,' I replied. 'So you must be Tanya Sinclair.' She nodded and I gestured to the chair opposite. 'Can I get you a drink?'

'A latte will be fine,' she replied.

She hadn't changed much since that photograph of her had appeared on the internet at the time of her court case. She had the same style haircut; fringe cut straight and the back length was just down below her shoulder blades. She had aged quite well and she didn't use much makeup. To be fair, she didn't require much. She was fairly tall. I'm 1.8 metres so she must have been just over 1.7. I ordered her drink and went back to the table and sat down. I took a brief sip of my drink.

'Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,' I said.

'I was intrigued,' she responded. 'Why on earth would the novelist want to meet with me? I guess you're doing research on a new book and you want to ask me about a certain MP.'

'You're partly correct,' I admitted. 'I'm not researching for a new book but I do want to discuss Richard Yeoman. I'm investigating something linked to the death of Susan Adams, Graham Longmuir's sister.'

'Oh, right,' she said. The name of the famous celebrity had certainly piqued her interest.

'I've read your case against him,' I began. 'It seems that he escaped punishment on a technicality.'