Chapter 33 Thursday 20 June 2024 Sally
Sally
Her phone pings as she and Corinne are walking across the hotel lobby to the lift.
More news from Ree, Sally thinks, and stops to see what this latest update is, though she’ll be in the same room as the rest of her family in less than five minutes.
That’s not soon enough, though; she needs to know whatever it is right now this instant.
Things are happening fast, and every ping so far has been something amazing and miraculous: rapidly rising numbers of supporters, the conversion on a mass scale of the previously unconvinced, whole extended families who have filmed themselves performing harmonized a cappella choruses of Champ’s night song.
This latest one’s the best yet: Ree has forwarded a photo of a…
Sally can’t tell if it should be described as a tweet or a post, or which channel of the internet it hails from, but it’s a short statement from Cambridgeshire Police to the effect that they’re taking the recording of Lesley Gavey’s confession very seriously and will be investigating as a matter of urgency.
Ree’s added commentary says, “Thats the actual feds awesome work mum gaveys going prison yay ahaha.”
Is that true? Sally isn’t sure. Is it a crime to bite your daughter and pretend a neighbor’s dog did it?
Since dogs can’t commit crimes—which they can’t, because they have no understanding of the law—doesn’t that mean that trying to frame a dog can’t be illegal either?
Cambridgeshire Police might take a dim view of it and will hopefully administer a stern rebuke, but is it an imprisonable offense?
Sally doesn’t want Ree to be disappointed.
She would love it if Lesley Gavey got sent to prison, but…
An uncomfortable thought accosts her: What if Lesley gets punished for the grievous bodily harm she committed against Tess’s arm (grievous bodily arm, Sally thinks) but not for what she did, or tried to do, to Champ?
That would be awful. She should be, must be, punished for all the things or else it won’t be proper.
“So what’s it going to be?” Corinne scoops a handful of wrapped sweets out of the bonbonnière as they wait for the lift.
“Are we going back to Swaffy T and fighting, now that we’ve got our proof and most of the world is behind us, or are we still running?
Have you decided?” She presses a wrapped orange sweet into Sally’s hand.
“Swaffy T?” Sally makes a face. “Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve always called it that.”
Sally isn’t in the mood to give the village an affectionate nickname. The Gaveys live there, after all. “I’ve decided,” she says. “I can’t go back yet. Mark might, but I’m not. And most importantly, neither is Champ.”
“As I guessed!” Corinne laughs as they step into the lift.
“Did you? How?”
“Because you’re Sally Lambert, and Sally Lambert believes that even when things look very, very good indeed, you shouldn’t take even a 0.00001 percent chance when it comes to Champ’s safety.”
“Exactly.” Sally smiles. “I’m glad you understand. I’m not sure Mark or the kids will.”
“But, Sal—”
“I know. For as long as the Gaveys live there, the village won’t be safe for Champ. Unless they’re all locked up for a very long time…but let’s face it, that’s not going to happen, and I can’t be worrying every day that they might poison him or kidnap him. I know they’ll stop at nothing now.”
When the lift doors open on the fourth floor, Ree is waiting there. She throws her arms round Sally’s neck. Disentangling herself almost immediately, she says, “Mum, you aren’t going to believe it. Something absolutely incredible has happened!”
“What?” says Corinne. “Let me guess: King Charles has publicly called the Gaveys twats and decreed that they be exiled from his kingdom?”
Champ, Mark, and Tobes are standing behind Ree: an exuberant greeting committee.
Champ rushes over to Sally and bounces up and down on his hind legs, pawing at her and licking her face as she bends down to hug him.
“Hello, baby boy,” she says. “Hello, my darlingest one. So, how many listens are we at now, guys?”
“The numbers are huge, but that’s not it,” says Tobes. “That’s not the incredible thing that’s happened. It’s Auntie Vicky. She’s saved the day. I mean, it was already saved, but she’s saved it even more.”
Sally frowns. This sounds unlikely. “My sister Vicky?”
“The very same.” Mark is smiling. “Apparently she’s been messaging you and you’ve been ignoring her?”
“Yup. Didn’t want to give her a chance to tell me about her latest love-life melodrama, or that Champ’s just a dog.”
“Yeah, well, she was actually trying to help. She read about all the Champ stuff online and has been trying to get in touch with you ever since. When it didn’t work, she texted me.
Sal, she’s got proof that Champ couldn’t have been in Bussow Court at 4:15 p.m. on 17 June biting Tess Gavey.
So, just in case the police decide that Lesley confessing to lying on tape isn’t enough, we’ve now got independent proof of Champ’s innocence. ”
“What?” Sally asks. She can’t understand how any evidence exonerating Champ can have come from her sister, who was nowhere near Swaffham Tilney when Lesley bit Tess and Champ did not.
“Come to our room. I’ll show you,” says Mark.
They all hurry along the corridor, past a polished wooden table with curved legs and two trays strewn with dirty crockery and shapeless chunks of cold food, the remnants of someone’s room service.
Once inside their room, Mark jabs at his phone for a few seconds, then hands it to Sally.
There’s a photo on the screen of a text Sally remembers sending to Vicky, though she can’t remember when.
Then she sees the date: 17 June—the Day of the Bite, the Day of Detective Connor Chantree coming to the Hayloft’s front door to say that a complaint had been made about Champ…
That’s right, Sally remembers now: She’d tried to have a WhatsApp chat with Vicky while she walked Champ by the lode that afternoon. She’d spoken most of her bits out loud and then her phone had converted them into text, because that was easier if you were holding a dog’s lead with one hand.
“The time you sent Auntie Vicky that message is on it, at the bottom,” Ree says. “Four sixteen p.m., see? One minute before Tess claims Champ bit her outside her house in Bussow Court. Read it, Mum.”
“But it just stops with a dot-dot-dot after the first sentence.” Sally frowns.
“No, you have to click where it says ‘Read more,’” says Ree impatiently. “The clue’s in the… That’s right. Good.” Corinne, reading the message over Sally’s shoulder, suddenly screams, “Fuuuuuuuck!”
“What? I don’t get what you’re all so excited about,” says Sally. “It’s just me banging on about work and this couple who wanted us to do their wedding but—” She stops as she sees it. “Oh, my God,” she whispers, barely able to believe what’s in front of her eyes.
Her message to Vicky reads as follows: “V, I can’t stress this strongly enough: don’t go to Fort Collins Colorado to stay with a man you’ve never met in the flesh.
You don’t even know if he looks like his photos no not in the water my baby oh you’re a sweet baby aren’t you yes, you are you are you’re my lovely baby boy and that’s why I don’t want you to fall into the water no I don’t I don’t look let’s say hello to the ducks instead and the fact that he says you can’t stay with him in his house and he’ll put you in a hotel instead?
Well, bloody dodgy! And why won’t he chat on Zoom? He’s almost definitely married.”
“I… That’s me talking to Champ in there,” Sally says, excited. “How did I… No, I know exactly how. I know why I pressed Send without checking my message for mistakes like I usually do: I was too annoyed. Vicky was being so stupid and oblivious to the obvious risks—”
“None of that matters,” says Tobes. “What matters is we’ve got those Gavey fuckers bang to rights.”
Sally is too overwhelmed to speak.
“Thank God you didn’t notice and delete the Champy bits before sending it,” says Ree. “Now we’ve got concrete proof. You were with Champ at 4:16 p.m. on 17 June, and since there’s no water and no ducks at Bussow Court, which is at least ten minutes’ walk from the lode—”
“More like twenty if you’re with Champ,” Sally corrects her.
“As you kids would know if you ever walked him,” Mark adds.
“He likes to inspect every plant we pass very thoroughly,” says Sally. “Don’t you, my babiest of boys? Yes, you do, my boy-est of babies!” Champ raises his chin to make it easier for her to stroke underneath it.
“Mum, cringe,” Tobes protests.
“Thank God for Mum Cringe,” Ree says sharply. “We can go home now, clear Champ’s name, and grind the Gaveys’ reputations into the dust where they belong—all thanks to Mum having no clue how to use her phone properly.”
Sally can feel Corinne trying to make eye contact with her. She keeps her eyes on Champ. Corinne must be wondering why Sally isn’t telling her family what she’s decided and whether she’s changed her mind in the face of this new information.
It doesn’t matter, Sally thinks to herself. There’s going to be a happy ending either way. She’s just not yet sure what form it will take.