I hadn’t gone into work on the Friday; I was too fragile. The memory of the interrogation, the suspicions, were still painful. Later that evening, my phone rang. It was Oliver. “Stay there,” he ordered. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.” He didn’t give me a chance to argue. What could this mean? He sounded serious.
He was carrying that evening’s Courier. “Have you seen the paper?” he asked. I hadn’t. He showed me the front page. ‘Gangster’s Moll?’ it read. He told me to read it.
Seamus Flynn, also known as Sean O’Flynn, a local café proprietor, has been arrested on a warrant issued by the Garda in the Irish Republic. It is alleged that Mr Flynn stole more than 50,000 Euros which funded the purchase of his café, ‘Rainbow’s End’. With him when he was arrested was his girlfriend, Caroline ‘Rusty’ Simmonds. Courier reporters have learned that Ms Simmonds was also linked to the murder of Crispin de Longue, suspected of having been involved in smuggling class A drugs. Can this be just coincidence?
Unconfirmed sources have identified Ms Simmonds as having had a steamy relationship with Crispin de Longue involving group sex and drugs. Suggestions of high-end prostitution have also been raised.
It appears Ms Simmonds has been involved with Seamus Flynn since his café opened.
Police have questioned Ms Simmonds regarding her connection to two major crimes. She has been released but police sources state they will ‘almost certainly’ wish to interview her again.
“It’s lies, all lies,” I blurted out. “How can they say these things? Where did they get their information?”
“The only possible source is from the police,” Oliver said angrily. “It’s all innuendo, intended to put pressure on you if they do interview you again. We’ll fight it. I take it what they’ve written is untrue?”
“What they’ve said about Crispin is true. But I swear what was said about me isn’t.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Some of what they said about Sean is true but not in the way they’ve portrayed it. I was Sean’s very first customer, that’s all. The rest you know about.” This was said quietly. Oliver was here to help me despite my having picked Sean over him. I was embarrassed.
“I’ll speak to Hamish. I think this could be libellous. Hamish really is the best person to represent you,” Oliver said quietly. “Plus, I think it would be unwise for me to get involved. If the Courier is determined to hang you out to dry, they’d have a field day if I was also involved. Can you imagine the headline? ‘Gangster’s Moll and the Solicitor Boyfriend’. I smiled weakly. The reference to ‘boyfriend’ wasn’t lost on me, but I wasn’t sure it would work out. Right now I couldn’t contemplate having another relationship for a very long time.
“And if it can be proved the police have been leaking this information, we’ll probably sue.”
Jane arrived just then. She insisted she would stay the night with me. Oliver took his leave. I was relieved he didn’t try to hug me or, worse still, kiss me, even on the cheeks. I wasn’t sure if he would have done anything if Jane hadn’t been there. He was genuinely a nice man. Too nice, really. And I had made a fool of myself in choosing Sean over him. I knew he wouldn’t mention that fact to me but I wasn’t sure if he still had feelings for me. And if he did, I didn’t want to hurt him a second time. But my mind was made up – I wouldn’t be rushing into another relationship.
Jane and I ventured out on the Saturday morning. I needed to buy food and the rest of my weekly shop. Jane insisted I was imagining things, but I was convinced that people were recognising me and whispering about the story in the paper. I felt embarrassed and angry. I’d done nothing wrong. How could I convince people that what the paper had written was lies and innuendo? Jane suggested I had a few more days at home. She would tell the people at work the truth. It would come better from her. She wouldn’t be as upset and she did know a lot of the story. When I returned to work, colleagues would be sympathetic and leave me alone.
For a few days, there were no more references to me in the Courier. I didn’t go into work for fear there would be reporters stalking me. And then on the Thursday, a week after Sean’s arrest, Hamish called to see me, together with Oliver.
“I have some good news, Rusty,” Hamish said once we’d sat down. “The Courier has accepted there was no foundation in their report. They’ve offered £20,000 to settle the libel claim. I’ve told them I would consult with you. Personally, I’d hold out for more. They won’t want it to go to court. Costs would push the settlement even higher. And I’d hold out for a front page apology. But, of course, it’s up to you.” I looked at Oliver.
“I can only reiterate what Hamish has said. I cannot offer advice. It could be construed I have an interest in the outcome,” he added. I asked Hamish how much I should ask for.
“£50,000 is a nice round figure,” he replied. “Then we could compromise on £40,000. But I wouldn’t compromise on the apology. Oh, and could I suggest you offer to donate part of it to charity. Anything you like. That always goes down well with readers.” I agreed. I decided to donate half of whatever I received to an Alzheimer’s charity in memory of Granny Wise.
Hamish took out his phone and called the Courier’s lawyers to relay our demands. As Hamish had anticipated, they wanted a compromise. He hung out for £40,000. Almost as soon as he had ended the call, Jane appeared. It seemed she had some sixth sense. Hamish and Oliver left and then she explained what had happened. Oliver had phoned her to say he and Hamish would be calling to see me and could she possibly stay with me when they had left, in case I was feeling down again. She had been waiting outside. Oliver had sent her a text message as soon as Hamish’s call to the paper’s solicitor had ended. It was her signal to enter.
Once again, Oliver was being considerate by not putting me in an awkward situation. I did want company that evening, but I didn’t want to be alone with him. For once, I wasn’t tearful. I just wanted someone to talk to me. Someone who wouldn’t ask questions that I would find it difficult to answer. And someone who wouldn’t try to give advice I wasn’t ready to accept.
Jane kept my spirits up by telling me some funny stories Simon had told her about his job. She tried to tell me jokes, but couldn’t remember the punch lines. That made me laugh more than the punch line probably would have. She insisted I had dinner with her and Simon the following evening. I was beginning to feel better.
The following day, an apology appeared on the front page. It wasn’t as prominent as the original article but the wording was as Hamish had agreed including the mentioning of the donation and Granny Wise.
The Courier wouldn’t reveal their sources – papers never did – but the police referred the leak to the IPCC. It was several months later that one of the policemen was suspended from his job and charged with misconduct in a public office.