by Wendy James
Bizarrely, this was the first mail I’d received that had provided anything that was even remotely anti-Ellie, and even though I knew it was likely to be a dead end – and a sleazy one at that – I was desperate to check it out. But Mary had other ideas. I put the note in my pocket; then helped her choose springy new dog beds for Rip and Ned, and after some pitiful but persuasive begging, one for her, too.
I didn’t get the opportunity to look at the site until late in the evening. Mary was in bed, Chip had tidied away the remains of dinner, and was dismally flicking through the various TV stations looking for something to watch.
I opened up my laptop, pulled out the crumpled note and keyed in the address.
The website contained nothing but images of young women, all posing provocatively, in various stages of undress. The shots were strangely old-fashioned, slightly kitsch: an attempt to recreate a respectable nineteenth-century gentleman’s idea of risque, but with twenty-first century raunch. Some girls were in lacy underwear – suspenders and corsets, with cigars suggestively placed; others, draped in sensitively revealing togas, held shimmering grapes between pouting lips. Clicking on any of the images took me to a gallery of stills featuring each model. It wasn’t long before I found a picture I was already half-expecting. I clicked on the image, which took me through to more.
Most of the of images were too pixelated for me to be absolutely certain of the subject’s identity, only one had the required clarity: a girl, somewhere in her late teens or early twenties, dressed only in lacy underpants, lounging invitingly on a velvet chaise. She was grinning at whoever was taking the photo, clearly enjoying herself. And just as clearly, I knew I was looking at Ellie Canning. Her expression might have been light years away from the innocent sunny smiles of her recent appearances, but it was brilliantly, wonderfully, indisputably her.
***
I was about to call out to Chip when my mobile pinged. It was a text from Hal. He’d sent a link to a YouTube interview between Ellie Canning and an English journalist. It had been up for less than a day and already it’d had fifty thousand views.
Apparently her lawyers tried to stop them putting it up, but failed, Hal wrote. I think this may be exactly what we need.
ABDUCTED: THE ELLIE CANNING STORY
A documentary by HeldHostage Productions © 2019
VOICEOVER
In December 2018, an interview between Ellie Canning and YouTube talk-show host, Andy Stiles, who is renowned for his aggressive take-no-prisoners interview style, went viral. Stiles’ interviews are estimated to have a weekly audience of over six million.
[Cut to footage from Andy Stiles Unplugged]
STILES
So, Ellie, you’ve got to admit that you’ve become pretty famous pretty quickly and for what I’d say are kinda spurious reasons.
CANNING
Oh. I’m not really sure what you mean. And I don’t think it’s um . . . spurious. It’s not like I ever planned any of this.
STILES
No. I’m sure you didn’t. But you have to admit that you’ve become something of a national heroine to an awful lot of people out there – and a role model. ‘The face of a generation’ I think someone put it.
CANNING
Yes – and it’s overwhelming sometimes. I have to, I mean I always try to do my best . . . to be, to make sure that I’m living up to . . . Actually, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what your point is, what you’re asking me.
STILES
Well, what I’m wondering is, do you ever wonder if any of this, ah, adulation is actually deserved? I mean, you were abducted, which was really terrible, and then you escaped – which is fantastic. Well done. I think everyone would be glad about that, yeah? But don’t you think it’s a weird kind of world when simply having something happen to you is enough to make you a celebrity? It’s not like you’ve . . . solved third world poverty or anything, is it?
CANNING
I, um – you know, I guess I do think it’s a whole lot more than that. I think people are interested in the things I did before this all happened: my background, all that. There is a wider . . . social kind of question here, isn’t there? And then there are the things I’ve done since. It might not be exactly ‘saving the third world’, as you put it, but I’m doing what good I can, whenever I’m asked.
STILES
So it’s just some kind of runaway train, yeah? This whole media thing? And you’re just riding it?
CANNING
I . . . well, you can look at it like that, I guess. But I don’t know why you’d want to.
STILES
So, when you’re talking about things you did before all this, you mean your backstory, right? Like coming from a really disadvantaged background – no dad, mum in rehab, foster parents. All that was hard, yeah? But you worked hard, getting in to good schools, university, college . . . You had it tough but you managed to rise above it?
CANNING
I know I’m not unique, and there are other girls in similar situations. That’s a big part of what I’m—
STILES
Sure, sure. But what I’m wondering is, what are we meant to make of other elements of your past? I mean it hasn’t all been hard work and no play for Ellie Canning, has it?
CANNING
No. For sure. I’ve had some fun times. Of course I have. Everyone has to have some fun, don’t they?
STILES
So what I’m wondering is how these ‘fun times’ fit in with the narrative we’ve been given.
[Stiles plays footage of a young woman having sex. A close-up shows the girl is clearly Ellie.]
I mean, this is you right?
CANNING
What? Where did you get this?
STILES
So is this you? You haven’t answered the question.
CANNING
[Long pause] Okay. Yes. It’s obviously me. I’m having sex. So what? Since when has sex been illegal? I was over sixteen.
STILES
It’s not just a question of sex, actually. There’s also the question of ti—
CANNING
Oh, come on. Are you trying to say that I somehow deserved what happened to me because I had sex? Isn’t this just blatant slut shaming? What century is this?
STILES
Oh, come on. You can’t keep playing the—
CANNING
I’m not answering any more of your bullshit questions, so you can turn that fucking camera off—
[Interview terminated.]
***
VOICEOVER
Initially Canning and her legal team made efforts to have the Andy Stiles interview, along with the offending clip, blocked from YouTube, claiming that Canning’s interview had been filmed without permission. While these efforts were ultimately unsuccessful, Stiles’ attempt to smear her backfired. Canning’s fiery response to Stiles’ slut shaming went viral, and Canning’s popularity soared.
Her subsequent comments regarding the sex tape, made during an interview with US talk-show host, Antonia Saltis, brought her an international audience, and by the time of the committal hearing in January 2019, Canning had become a global sensation.
PART THREE
There is no end to the extravagances of human conduct.
JOSEPHINE TEY
SUZANNAH: JANUARY 2019
THE COMMITTAL HEARING WAS HELD IN ENFIELD WASH. I recalled visiting a courthouse at some point during my childhood, on a school excursion perhaps, but I’d never been inside a court that was in progress, let alone one that was charged with deciding my fate. I arrived early, but even so the court was already packed. I’d expected the media to be out in force – despite the fact that as the victim, Ellie herself wouldn’t be attending – but I was surprised by the presence of so many onlookers. Most were unknown to me, other than a few media people, and a handful of my fellow teachers – all of whom were as careful to avoid making eye contact as I was – and one or two parents. Although I wasn’t going to be questioned, the court was intimida
ting, and the prospect of coming face to face with Honor was terrifying. I scanned the crowd quickly, when we entered, but there was no sign of her.
Mary, Chip and I sat just to the right of Hal and his junior counsel, Sylvia, and a young legal clerk who nobody had thought to introduce. We had considered leaving Mary at home, worried she might be restless or loud, or cause some sort of a commotion, but she was strangely subdued, perhaps overwhelmed by her surroundings and the solemn atmosphere. When the judge (who was straight out of central casting: bewigged, portly, glowering) finally arrived, Mary moved as close to me as she could, clutching my hand tightly.
Without Ellie, there were actually very few prosecution witnesses. The young farmer who’d found Ellie was called first. He answered the prosecution’s questions nervously but straightforwardly. Next up, a doctor and pathologist gave evidence on Ellie’s physical state and the blood samples taken in the hospital. Then Sally O’Halloran took the stand. The prosecution team, led by an elegant woman in her late thirties, had nothing new to ask her; Sally’s answers to their questions tripped easily off her tongue, never deviating from what I’d read in her statement. But when Hal stood to begin his cross-examination, the poor woman looked suddenly terrified. Hal was careful to make his initial questions gentle, innocuous – asking her where she lived, how long she’d worked at The Franchise, whether she liked her job. His next question seemed to throw her.
‘Can I ask you, Miss O’Halloran, whether a Mr Albert Fielding is one of your . . . er . . . one of the residents at the home?’
She gave the prosecution lawyers an anxious look.
‘Mr Fielding. I, ah. I think so? Yes.’
‘And are you aware that he is Honor Fielding’s father?’
‘Yes. That’s right. Yes, he is.’
‘So I take it you know Ms Fielding then?’
‘I . . . er. Yes. I knew her a bit at school. And I see her occasionally when she comes in to see her father.’
‘So you would recognise her if she happened to visit Suzannah Wells’ home. You’d know who she was?’
‘I guess. I mean, of course.’
‘And did she?’
The woman blinked. ‘Did she what?’
‘Did Ms Fielding ever call in when you were there?’
‘I, ah. I don’t remember her—’
‘We actually have a statement here from Mary Squires, Miss O’Halloran. She says that she remembers Honor Fielding visiting the house while you were there.’
The prosecution’s counsel interjected. ‘Objection, your honour. Miss Squires is hardly a reliable witness. If she was we’d be prosecuting her, too.’
‘The prosecution seems to have allowed Miss Squires’ testimony where it suited them, Your Honour. They’ve brought in medical experts to have her statement included in the brief—’
‘Yes, yes. That’s fair enough. But perhaps you could get to the point, Mr Gascoyne?’
‘Miss O’Halloran, if you could answer my question. Do you remember Ms Fielding visiting Ms Wells’ residence while you were there?’
‘Oh. I . . . I don’t—?’
She paused, looked imploringly at the prosecuting counsel, who responded with a not terribly encouraging smile.
‘You must answer the question Miss O’Halloran.’ The judge spoke sharply. ‘And remember, you must answer truthfully at all times.’
‘Well, maybe she did call in once.’
‘Can you remember when that was?’
She frowned, concentrating fiercely. ‘It was a Monday, I know that, because she came when I was watching my serial.’
‘Can you remember which Monday?’
‘Not really.’
‘Was it in winter?’
‘It must of been. I remember thinking her feet must’ve been freezing. She was wearing sandals, and there was still frost outside.’
‘Can you recall the month?’
‘Frost was late this year. Not till the last week of July. I know because of my roses,’ she added helpfully.
‘So after the July school holidays, then?’
‘It must of been.’
‘And before news of Miss Canning’s escape.’
‘I guess.’
‘And can you recall the purpose of Ms Fielding’s visit?’
‘I don’t really know. I think she . . . Yes, she said that there was something she needed to pick up. She was borrowing a dress, maybe? She thought it was in the laundry.’
‘And did she go into the laundry?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘You didn’t accompany her?’
‘No. I was . . . busy. And she said not to worry, she knew what she was doing.’
‘So you didn’t actually see where she went?’
‘No. But she told me she was going to the laundry.’
‘Do you know how to access the laundry from inside the house?’
‘I’ve never had any reason to go there, but I know it’s downstairs.’
‘Yes, it’s downstairs. You can get to it from outside the house, too, but it’s generally accessed through the door in the hallway – that very one you say you were told not to open in case Mary fell down the stairs. The same one that you say you heard strange noises emanating from.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh, indeed. So, as far as you know, Ms Fielding went downstairs to retrieve an item from the laundry.’
‘Yes.’
‘And she didn’t have any trouble opening the hallway door?’
‘Not that she said. No. You’d have to ask her, though, to be sure.’
‘But you’ve stated that the door to the downstairs rooms was always kept locked – that you were expressly told never to use it.’
‘Maybe . . . maybe Honor had a key?’
‘This visit – if you’re correct about the day – must have been during the time that Ellie Canning was allegedly being held downstairs.’
‘Oh, but . . . I’m not sure.’
‘Did you happen to see the item of clothing that Honor Fielding retrieved from the laundry when she left? What it was that she borrowed?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Miss Squires has suggested that the visit had something to do with Ms Wells’ birthday. Some sort of surprise, apparently.’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘And you didn’t think you should mention the visit to Suzannah Wells when she arrived home? Just to let her know what had gone on that day. Wouldn’t that be the standard thing to do in such a situation. ’
‘I must – well, we’re always in a bit of a rush in the afternoon. I guess, I guess I just . . . forgot all about it.’
‘And you didn’t think to “remember” it later, when all this happened, like you “remembered” the noises?’
‘I don’t see what difference it makes. That girl could of still been down there. Maybe Honor just didn’t see her . . .’
‘And didn’t hear anything, either, apparently. These shouts that you say you heard coming from the basement rooms. Did you hear them when Honor Fielding was visiting, when she went downstairs to the laundry?’
‘I don’t know, exactly. I mean, it’s not like I heard them all the time. Maybe it was when she was . . . asleep, or unconscious or whatever.’
‘Perhaps it was. I just have a few more questions if you don’t mind. Now, Miss O’Halloran, if you can cast your mind back a little further, to a few days before Ms Fielding’s trip downstairs to the laundry.’
This was something new. I looked at Chip inquiringly, but he shrugged, whispered. ‘No idea. I know Hal got an investigator to do some hunting around. He must have found something else.’
Sally took her time, frowning. ‘A few days before? I’m not sure. It’s a long time ago now.’
‘It is, isn’t it? But I’ll see if I can narrow it down for you. This time we have an exact date: July twenty-seventh. It was a Friday. On that evening Ms Fielding visited your home.’
‘Oh. Maybe.’
&
nbsp; ‘No, maybes. She did. We have a witness, one of your neighbours, who says she saw Honor pull up outside your home and go inside. The witness was surprised, because she didn’t realise you and Honor were friends.’
‘We’re not.’
‘But she visited your home?’
‘I . . . yes. She did.’
‘Would you be able to tell us why?’
‘I . . .’ Sally looked at her counsel again, her growing desperation evident.
The prosecution’s counsel stood. ‘Objection. The witness doesn’t need to answer that question, your honour. It has no bearing on the case.’
The magistrate gave Sally a long thoughtful look. ‘Actually, I think I’d like to hear this. Miss O’Halloran, please answer Mr Gascoyne’s question. Why did Ms Fielding visit you at home?’
‘She . . . wanted to talk to me.’
‘Can you tell us what she wanted to talk to you about?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘You can’t or you won’t? Is that because Ms Fielding wanted you to do something unlawful?’
‘Objection!’
‘You may ignore that, Miss O’Halloran. Mr Gascoyne, the witness has told you that she can’t remember. Have you anything further to ask?’
‘No more questions, your honour. Thank you, Miss O’Halloran. You’ve been a great help.’
Sally got to her feet, then stood, unmoving, as if dazed. The usher spoke to her quietly, then led her gently from the box. She exited the court quickly, her head down, careful not to make eye contact with anyone.
Chip turned and glared as she passed us, but I looked straight ahead. Hal turned around in his seat and nodded before turning back to call the defence team’s first and only witness, David Lee. The prosecution team were struggling to hide their alarm, shuffling through papers, passing notes. ‘We haven’t been advised of this witness?’
The magistrate looked up briefly. ‘Apparently the witness has only just been located. No matter – you’ll get your cross-examination, Ms Battisti.’