Page 17 of The Last Bench

‘You said you’ve spoken to the Grants about the court case in 1998? After their son Stephen overdosed on MDMA bought at the Havana nightclub?’ John interjected quickly.

‘Yes.’

‘Anne and I went to Hinges’s trial every day, thinking we would witness the man who murdered our daughter get his punishment. The club’s management had installed CCTV, but hadn’t informed the public. And the footage clearly showed Hinges on camera, huddled in a corner with Stephen Grant, selling him drugs,’ John said.

Anne cut in, ‘If you saw the way he strutted in every day, like he owned the place – a bloody smirk on his face, completely uncaring of the Grant family. Stephen’s poor mother cried every day of the trial. We became friendly with them – you’d be surprised how much time is spent outside the courtroom, waiting for the proceedings to begin or continue.’

‘Elaine Grant said you’d been a huge comfort to her,’ Vega said.

Anne shrugged. ‘Nobody understands a parent’s heartbreak better than another heartbroken parent.’

‘We had our chance to confront him on the second day of trial. We arrived at the courthouse at the same time as him,’ John said.

Anne’s voice turned cold as she remembered the encounter. ‘I told him that Margaret Davis was our daughter. That she died from an overdose of ecstasy, bought from him six years earlier.’

‘How did he react?’

‘He rolled his eyes, and carried on walking,’ John said, his jaw clenched and eyes ice-cold.

Vega sighed, remembering the details of the case. The video footage became the crux of both the defence and prosecution, and ultimately got Hinges off. The prosecution insisted it showed Hinges in conversation with Stephen, heads bent low. The defence used the footage to create a reasonable doubt because the camera’s timestamp was set to the wrong date and time, thus throwing its accuracy into jeopardy.

‘It must have been difficult to watch him walk free,’ Vega said.

‘Hearing that monster get off scot-free, and the heart-wrenching cries of Stephen’s family will never leave me,’ John said.

‘He took away much more than Margaret,’ Anne added. ‘He changed every one of us. The girls and Michael rarely left their bedrooms for a year after she died. And now they carry their grief every day, like we do. That was all on Hinges.’

Was on Hinges, not is on Hinges, Vega thought. Interesting that Anne used the past tense.

‘If he’d shown some remorse even, it might have been bearable,’ John said.

‘You said you confronted him twice,’ Vega said, turning to Anne.

John threw another warning look. This time, Vega was one hundred per cent certain of it.

‘Did I? It was once,’ Anne said, shrugging. ‘Let’s go down the slide.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ John said. ‘Would the ladder be safer?’

‘I disagree. It’s an excellent idea. But tell you what, you can go first. Go on . . .’ She pushed him towards the slide and laughed happily when he obliged and whooshed down. Anne went next, where John waited to catch her at the end. Then Vega swung her legs over and on to the slide, landing in an undignified heap on the grass.

They began to make their way towards the final bench in the garden. John up front, and Anne falling into step again with Vega.

‘The maze is a beautiful memorial to Margaret,’ Vega said. ‘It’s an extraordinary feat. Did you begin building it straight away after she died or later on?’

‘Later. The twenty-eighth of August, 1998,’ Anne replied.

‘Wow, you remember the exact date again!’ Vega said, looking at Anne in surprise.

John stopped dead in his tracks in front of them and turned round. ‘We’d spent a long time considering ways to honour Margaret. When we decided to plant the blossom tree, it was a special moment.’

Somehow that statement seemed untrue. And why did Vega have a nagging feeling about that date? It felt like a loose thread was hanging in front of her, but she couldn’t quite grasp it with her fingers.

Fourteen

John

25 August 1998