Free When the Music's Over by Peter Robinson

come. “You don’t have to tell us all the details right now,” he said, “but did Danny Caxton rape you?”
    Linda looked Banks in the eye first, then Winsome. “Yes, he did.”
    â€œAnd did you struggle?”
    â€œAs best I could. I didn’t know what was happening, what he was doing. It might be hard for people to believe this today, but I was a virgin, and I was ignorant of the realities of sex. Oh, we talked about it at school, but that was all a load of nonsense, like rubbing willies and so on. It wasn’t anything like . . . Yes, I struggled because I was scared. But he was far stronger than me. And it hurt.”
    â€œThen what happened?”
    â€œAfter?”
    â€œYes.”
    Linda averted her eyes, staring down at a robin hopping over the lawn by the fence. “It gets very hazy, but when Caxton finished, he rolled off me. I made to stand up. It was hard. I was winded, and he’d made me sore . . . you know. I felt sick from the champagne. But Caxton said I couldn’t leave yet, and he pushed me down again, then he told the other man it was his turn, to hurry up.”
    â€œAnd what happened then?”
    â€œThe younger man raped me, too. There was something . . .” She stopped, as if trying to find the right words. “Something reluctant about him. Like he didn’t really want to do it, but he wanted to please Caxton. Maybe he’d been pushed into it, you know, maybe Caxton was challenging him to be a man or something. But what happened had excited him, and he’d passed a point of no return. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being fanciful, using hindsight, but I don’t think he felt comfortable.”
    â€œBut he did it anyway? Did he rape you as well?”
    She turned her head away. “Yes.”
    â€œSo this man was both a witness and an assailant. You didn’t mention this to DI MacDonald?”
    â€œNo. I just told her someone else was there. I never told my mother, either.”
    â€œOr the Leeds police?”
    â€œNo. I was too ashamed. Somehow, it seemed . . . being raped twice . . . I just couldn’t.”
    â€œDid you tell your friend Melanie?”
    â€œI’ve never told anyone.”
    â€œWhere’s Melanie now?”
    â€œShe died a few years ago.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear it,” said Banks.
    â€œWe’d lost touch, more or less, over the years.”
    â€œDid they talk to each other, this man and Caxton, use names or anything?”
    â€œNot that I remember, no.”
    â€œI know this is a bit delicate,” said Banks, “but did either of them use a condom?”
    â€œNo. I thought later it was a miracle I didn’t get pregnant, but I didn’t.”
    â€œWhat happened next?”
    â€œI was crying and I just wanted to go home. It was like I didn’t exist for them anymore. I just walked out of the room in a daze.”
    â€œNobody tried to stop you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHow did you leave the hotel?” Banks asked.
    â€œThrough reception, out the front.”
    â€œCaxton didn’t make you go by the back entrance, where you’d come in, have his driver take you?”
    â€œHe didn’t even give me bus fare.”
    â€œDid anyone see you leaving?”
    â€œI should imagine so. I felt as if everyone could see what I’d just been doing. I was so ashamed. They had to know, just from the way I was walking, though I probably didn’t seem odd at all, just a bit disheveled. I know it’s ridiculous, but it just felt that way, like ‘whore’ was emblazoned on my forehead. I suppose it’s because that was how I felt inside. I thought everyone could see it. I can’t say I saw them, though. I was in a daze. I didn’t really notice anything.”
    â€œWhat did you do?”
    â€œI don’t know. I must have just walked around. I don’t know where or for how long. Maybe the Pleasure Beach.