“Could you not have come to another agreement?” Gardener asked. “He knew where you lived. He could have come back the next day, or you could have gone to the office and paid with a credit card.”
“He didn’t look the type to give credit. He was undressing all of us with his eyes the minute we got in. For Christ sake, we all had micro skirts on. He probably used his mirror to see as far up the skirts as he could. In fact, he probably didn’t need to, we were all as pissed as farts, so we probably had our skirts round out chest anyway.”
“Are you saying he raped you?” Reilly asked.
“No.”
“You did it willingly?” Gardener asked. “You didn’t put up a fight?”
She didn’t answer straight away. “Look, I’m not proud of myself.”
Gardener remained silent.
“I suggested it,” said Sally Summerby.
“It was your idea?”
“I thought it was a one-time fix. I could get him off my back. It was only sex, for God’s sake!”
“Only sex?”
“Yes. Only sex. A lot of women use their bodies to get what they want. It’s no big deal.”
“And you called Nicola Stapleton a loose woman,” said Reilly.
She turned on him. “I’m not a prostitute.”
“What would you call it, then?”
“I’d never done it before, and I’ve never done it since.”
“So how did you feel when you found out you were pregnant?”
“A bit shocked.”
“A bit?”
“Like I said, I’m not proud of myself. I was shocked at first. When I’d calmed down and I thought about it, I realized I could probably turn it to my advantage.”
“I think I’m losing the will to live here,” said Reilly. “Advantage, how?”
“Me and Gareth had been trying for a baby. Nothing was happening, so we went to the doctors. Took all the tests. There was nothing wrong with either of us, but Gareth had it in his head that it was probably him. He reckoned he hadn’t always been a good person, a good Christian, and maybe the Lord was punishing him.”
Gardener quickly made a note.
Sally Summerby continued. “The doctor said it was probably stress, and that all he had to do was stop trying so hard and calm down. It would all happen naturally – eventually.”
Gardener couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Is that why you lied at Barry Morrison’s trial?”
“Pardon?” Sally Summerby paled even further. “How do you know about that?”
“Barry Morrison was involved in a collision with a motorcyclist called Chris Rydell, December two years ago,” continued Gardener. “It happened near the station in Horsforth. You and your daughter were his passengers. You lied when it went to court. Would you like to tell us why?”
“Oh my God. You two are a pair of bloodhounds. Do you like ruining people’s lives?”
“Most people don’t need us. You were in the taxi at Horsforth, but you denied it to the police, and in court. Why? You said that you were in a taxi that night, but you were miles away in Shipley.”
She finished her tea and used another two tissues. “You don’t know what Barry Morrison was like.”