Dirty Old Town

by L M Krier

  All those watching and listening could sense the jury members’ reactions as Trev gave his reply, looking directly at Warboys in the dock. The accused was looking more mildly irritated by the whole procedure rather than worried about his future.

  ‘I’m not mistaken about my age at the time. Harvey had convinced me that ours was a special relationship. A love affair, if you like. I was naive enough to think that we had a future together. I wanted to tell my parents. He said we should wait and do it together. I was too impatient.

  ‘Harvey and I had spent most of one particular afternoon together at his London town-house. Very much together. In bed, most of the time, in fact. My parents were also in London at the time. I had an exeat from school so I could visit them. I decided to tell them myself, which I did.’

  Trev turned to look towards the jury for a moment, then looked at the judge as he continued.

  ‘I told my parents all about my relationship with Harvey Warboys, and our supposed plans for our future together. I said he’d helped me to understand that I was gay.

  ‘They were horrified. Revolted. And they didn’t believe me.

  ‘A lot of things were said that day. Hateful, unforgettable things. It ended with me being thrown out. My father gave me enough cash to get myself to Manchester where I had an aunt, who took me in. I lost everything. My family, my home, my education, the horse I loved. I was fifteen. I had to finish my schooling at a place in Manchester. The records of my time there are on file.’

  The defence team must have known this was the one big weakness in their attempt at discrediting a key witness, but had perhaps been praying it would somehow not come up. Their counsel made a valiant attempt to recover, suggesting that Trev had perhaps not severed all ties with his parents after moving away, as he had said, but had continued to visit them after moving. That if, indeed, any relationship had taken place with their client, it had been during holiday visits to his parents in London, after he had turned sixteen. And that nothing improper had taken place between him and the defendant before his sixteenth birthday.

  Trev was unshakeable in his testimony. Ted was used to weighing up juries, getting a feel for how a trial was going. He could sense how much the jury believed Trev. He’d even seen one of them dab their eyes when he told of being thrown out by his parents at the age of fifteen.

  Ted had kept the seat next to him reserved so that once Trev had finished testifying, he could sit beside him for the rest of the proceedings. As soon as Trev took his seat, he got hold of Ted’s hand, fingers interlaced, and leaned close to him to ask quietly, ‘Was that all right?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Ted told him, squeezing his hand.

  Trev’s testimony had been damaging to the defence. That of his father, Sir Gethin Armstrong, which followed immediately afterwards, was devastating.

  Armstrong was brutally frank, making no attempt to defend his own actions. He stuck to factual accounts of the reasons why Warboys would know perfectly well that Trevor Armstrong was under age when he seduced him. Attending as a guest at his christening and his first communion. Taking his place with the family in church for Trev’s confirmation. Being present to see him collect prizes from various schools he’d attended. Having been invited to most of his birthdays, when they were all in the same country at the same time, particularly his fifteenth, not long before the news came out about their liaison.

  The defence were quick to pounce on his own admission that he had chosen to believe Warboys’ word over that of his son. That, their counsel suggested, spoke to the high esteem in which Warboys was held by his friends and colleagues, and indicated how improbable the allegations were.

  Armstrong’s words, addressed directly to the judge, reduced more than one of the jury to tears.

  ‘Your Honour, I did what no father should ever do. I chose to accept the word of someone I considered to be a trusted friend above that of my own son. I have never forgiven myself for that and I doubt I ever shall.’

  Ted reached in his jacket pocket for his clean hanky which he passed to Trev who was unashamedly crying at his father’s words.

  Jono was waiting outside for Ted and Trev to come out when court rose at the end of the first day. He greeted them both with a handshake, then slapped Trev on the back.

  ‘Bloody well done, Trev. Really good. I’m reading that as prosecution ten, defence team nil at the end of the first day. What d’you reckon, Ted?’

  Ted was more guarded in his reaction.

  ‘I’d like to think so. But we both know juries can be hard to read and very fickle.’

  ‘I’m going for a pint before I get off home to my silly little dog. Fancy joining me?’

  One pint turned into several for Jono, a bottle of wine for Trev and curries all round to follow. Jono turned out to be good company, the life and soul of the party. Ted hoped his dog had a strong bladder as it was much later than planned when Jono finally called himself a taxi to head home.

  Ted had changed the usual arrangements he made for their cats while they were away. Instead of contacting the regular pet sitters he used, on a whim he’d phoned his old office cleaner, Mrs Skinner. He’d remembered her telling him one time how much she liked cats but could no longer have one because of where she lived. She’d been so delighted to be made to feel needed once more she had offered to visit twice a day without charge, although Ted had insisted on paying her. At least he knew he could trust her in his personal space.

  Trev was quiet and thoughtful on the short taxi ride back to the hotel where they were staying for the duration of the trial. He only spoke when they got back to their room.

  ‘Is that what he wanted to say to me, when he tried to get back in touch? I will never, ever, forgive my mother. No mother should ever throw their child out, no matter what. My father was always under her thumb. But what he said in court today? I could forgive him, after hearing him say all of that in public. I can imagine the effort it must have cost him.’

  The defence team were now paddling a canoe with several holes in the hull and they knew it. Each subsequent witness only added to the damage. It was no surprise to anyone present when, after a short adjournment to consider, the jury returned a unanimous guilty verdict on the fourth day. It was approaching time for the lunchtime break so no sentence was expected before the afternoon.

  Ted and Trev joined others who had given evidence during the trial at a nearby pub for lunch. The mood was jubilant. Ted had to suggest that Trev should limit himself to one glass of wine before returning to court, but he could imagine that whatever celebration was planned for the evening was going to be a lively one.

  The courtroom was filling up rapidly ahead of sentencing. Ted stood aside to allow Trev to take a seat on a row which was already nearly full. Ted sat next to him, leaving one spare place at the end. He looked up in surprise as Sir Gethin appeared and stood next to the empty seat.

  ‘Would you mind if I sat here?’

  Trev blanked him. Ted, feeling compromised, simply gave a brief nod, then everyone was being instructed to stand for the return of the judge to pass sentence.

  She spoke little, except to describe the crimes of which Warboys had been convicted as abhorrent and a heinous breach of the trust of friends. Then she announced the sentence as a total of twenty years imprisonment and the courtroom erupted, despite repeated calls for order and silence.

  Trev jumped to his feet, pulling Ted with him and engulfing him in the biggest of bear hugs. Once he slackened his grip, Ted could see Sir Gethin was also on his feet, holding out a hesitant hand.

  Ted turned to shake his hand. Then Trev was pushing past him, putting his arms round his father, pulling him close and hugging him tightly, for what Ted knew was the first time in his life. He could see tears running down his partner’s face as he buried it against his father’s shoulder.

  Sir Gethin looked directly at Ted over the top of his son’s head. His lips moved silently.

  ‘Thank you.’

  The End

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