by Ruth Mancini
“What happened, Lindsay?” Dan asks. “What did you see that upset you so much?”
“He tried to rape her,” she says, and the courtroom erupts.
“Silence in court,” yells the judge and the hubbub subsides. The prosecutor is whispering to a junior lawyer, who’s sitting behind her.
The judge takes over Dan’s examination of the witness. “Ms. Spears, can you tell us exactly what you saw?”
“Yes.” Lindsay blows her nose and wipes her eyes and passes the wet tissue from one hand to the other, before holding it against her nose for a moment. Then she turns to the judge and says, “I saw Martin grab hold of Lizzie by the wrists and force her to the ground. He got on top of her and he had his hand over her mouth. They were struggling on the floor. I bent down and looked through the cat flap and I could see her legs, kicking out from underneath him. She was trying to fight him off, but he was too heavy for her.” She breaks into a series of sobs. “It was horrible. Horrible to watch. She was trying to scratch his face and push him off her, but she just couldn’t do it. There was a big struggle. He slapped her really hard in the face and called her a bitch. Then he started trying to pull her trousers off. Jeans. She was wearing jeans. I saw him put his hand inside them. And I thought, ‘Oh no. God, no. Please don’t let him do this’. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t have let him know I was there, but I couldn’t just stand there and let him rape her. I feel such a coward, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“What did you do?” asks the judge.
“I kicked over a load of bottles. They were right next to the back door, waiting for the recycling. I kicked them over, as hard as I could, and then I picked up the ones that hadn’t broken and I smashed them into the broken ones, really quickly, as many as I could, onto the concrete, and then I legged it. I ran. I ran out of the garden. And I just prayed to God that it had been loud enough and had frightened him enough to stop him, to give her time to get away.”
I put my face in my hands and I take several deep breaths. My head feels dizzy and I think I’m going to be sick. Is it the shock? It’s mid August and the courtroom has air conditioning, but the heat inside the dock is suddenly too much for me. Weeks of not eating, the concussion from the cut on my head, I don’t know what it is or what happens, but suddenly I’m on the floor.
I’m only out for an instant, but when I open my eyes again, all hell, it seems, has broken loose. The door to the dock has been opened and the usher and a security guard are there, holding onto Helena, who is pushing them away. She breaks free of them and runs into the dock, where she kneels down beside me and takes me in her arms. Oh shit, I think. This isn’t another dream, is it? Not after all that?
“Mum,” Helena says. She sits back and I can see she’s sobbing. “It’s okay, Mum. You’ve just fainted.”
“You can’t come in here,” says the usher, furiously. “Can you please leave the dock? Now?”
Helena takes my face in her hands and looks intently into my eyes while she sobs, “Mum, I’m so sorry. I should have believed you. I’m so, so sorry.”
I smile. I’m feeling really woozy and I’m not really sure if she’s real anyway, so there’s probably not much point in going to the effort of answering her just yet. Although, to be fair, this is the part where I usually wake up. Instead, a second security guard arrives and they both enter the dock and take Helena by the arms. That’s definitely not how the dream usually goes.
I try to sit up. “Go with them, love. Just do as they say,” I advise her quickly. I have significant experience in this area; resistance is useless, as I well know, to my cost, and I don’t want Helena to be arrested for contempt of court.
Helena nods as she is pulled out of the door. “I’ll be outside. I think. That’s if I’m not in a cell downstairs. If I am, I want your lawyer.”
“Of course,” I say, though I’ve no idea what’s actually going to happen next.
I’m still on the floor of the dock but I’m aware that the courtroom is clearing. The atmosphere is less heavy and the usher is holding my hand. In what seems to be a very short amount of a time a paramedic arrives and checks me over. He takes my blood pressure (which is always low, I tell him. “Well, it’s low now,” he responds) and asks me several questions. When he finds out that I’ve lived on bananas, Weetabix and the odd cereal bar for the past six months, he lets me sit up and says that I’m fine and could benefit from some fresh air, not to mention some food. The usher agrees that this is a good idea and I get up slowly and wobble out of the dock.
The judge has risen and the jury have gone. Dan is busy talking to the prosecutor, but there’s no one else left in the courtroom, so I slip out with minimum fuss. When I walk out, my mum and Helena are outside in the glass-windowed waiting area with their arms around each other, and Zara is there too, with Tim, Annalise, Pete, and Shelley. There’s no sign of Lindsay, or Catherine, or Sky.
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” I say to the usher, who seems to be trying to comply with the paramedic’s orders and accompany me out of the building. “Really.”
The usher agrees, reluctantly, but insists that I take a biscuit out of the pack in her hand.
Helena comes over and puts her arms around me again. I hold her tight and stroke her hair. Tim and my mum and the others are all hovering nearby excitedly. It’s been a hell of a day so far.
“I’ve just been speaking to Shelley. You were telling the truth about him all along. I should have listened to you. I don’t know why I didn’t. I’m so sorry,” Helena says, again.
“Shhh,” I tell her, “I don’t blame you one bit. He’s a clever man.”
“I love you so much.”
“Not half as much as I love you.”
Dan exits the courtroom and comes over towards us. He’s looking serious.
I look at him apologetically, remembering my bail conditions. “Sorry, I know I’m not supposed to be...” I hold Helena away from me a little.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says and smiles, seeing that I’m better. “But if you’re feeling okay now, the judge wants us all back inside.”
I enter the courtroom and walk towards the dock, but the usher takes my arm and seats me on the front benches, next to Dan.
Soon, the public gallery fills up again.
The jury, though, are nowhere to be seen.
“All rise,” says the usher.
The judge walks in and takes a seat. Everyone else sits while I remain standing, as is the norm. “Sit down, Ms. Taylor,” he says, kindly. I sit down next to Dan.
“I understand, Ms. Collins,” says the judge, “That there will be no cross examination of the defence witness, is that correct?”
The prosecutor stands. “Your Honour, that is correct. I’ve sought the views of the senior crown prosecutor and the detective in charge of the investigation and I can, in fact, confirm that it’s the Crown’s position that it’s no longer in the public interest to prosecute Ms. Taylor. I am therefore offering no evidence. In fact, there will in all likelihood be a separate prosecution arising out of Ms. Spears’ evidence.”
“A separate prosecution?”
The prosecutor looks round the courtroom as if she doesn’t really want to go into any further detail. But the judge has asked. “Yes, Your Honour. Against Martin Brown, the complainant in this case. We’re looking at potential charges of perjury, rape, and attempted rape.”
“They seem to be very suitable charges,” the judge says. “I’ve no doubt that you’ll have better luck with that particular prosecution.” He turns to the court clerk. “In that case it falls to me to make a direction to the jury. Can we have them back in?”
“Yes, Your Honour,” says the clerk.
The judge then turns to me. “Ms. Taylor, Do you understand what is about to happen? Please, don’t stand.”
“I... I think so.”
He smiles. “Good.”
The jury are back and the foreman is standing. The judge speaks directly to him
and before I really have time to catch my breath the judge is asking, “How do you find the Defendant? Guilty or Not Guilty?”
“Not Guilty,” says the Foreman.
The judge turns back to me. “Ms. Taylor, I hope that your illness is not serious, and I’m very sorry that this case has had such a devastating effect on you. You appear to have been the victim of a great injustice. You have been found not guilty of the offence of attempted murder. Your bail conditions no longer apply, and you are free to go.”
I feel weak again, quite suddenly, and my forehead is prickling, so I stay where I am as Zara is called into the courtroom. She is thanked by the judge for coming and told that the case is concluded, that I’ve been acquitted and that she is no longer required to give evidence.
Zara stands at the back of the courtroom and actually curtseys to the judge. Helena bursts out laughing, and the judge looks at her sternly, but then relaxes a little and smiles.
No. This is definitely not a dream, I tell myself. I’d never have dreamed up this outcome, not in a million years.
*
The same two detectives are outside the court building when we leave, and for one frightening moment I think that they are here to arrest me again. The feeling is indescribable. Someone once told me a story about a man who, blind from birth, miraculously regains his sight. He is overjoyed at the prospect of experiencing the world with every one of his senses for the very first time. He takes a train journey, but when the train enters a tunnel, he thinks that he has lost his sight again and suffers a heart attack. That’s how I am feeling in that split second before the female officer sees my face, steps forward and puts up her hands, shaking her head.
“It’s okay,” she says.
She tells me she’s sorry for what I’ve been through. The male officer stands next to her in silence and looks down at his feet. They want to know if I will now give evidence against Martin. Lindsay has promised to give them a statement in the morning, and I tell them that I will do the same.
Lindsay is waiting on the Thames Path with Catherine. They’re sitting on the wall, deep in conversation, whilst the gulls are circling the tail of the huge ship behind them. The river in front of me is grey and rippling heavily in the breeze, and I can see Tower Bridge up ahead, looking elegant and timeless, along with the turrets of the Tower of London emerging from the bank on the other side. I’ve never actually been to the Tower of London. I should go, I think. I think I’ll get Zara and Helena to come with me. Maybe I’ll visit the Clink, too. Maybe it’s some form of survivor guilt, but I feel I should say a silent prayer for all those people who had their heads chopped off, now that mine is still so very much intact.
I turn to Helena. “Do you know that three of the last men to be hung in Britain turned out to be innocent?
”Really?”
“It’s true,” Zara agrees. “We watched a programme about it on TV last week.”
“Do you fancy visiting the Clink with me?” I ask them.
“Now? Are you serious, Mum?” Helena looks at me and bursts out laughing. Then she bursts into tears, and Zara and I stop in our tracks and put our arms round her. “I hated the thought of you going to prison,” she sobs. “I never wanted to give a statement against you, you know. But his injuries were so serious. I just thought it was the right thing to do.”
I hold her tight. “Then it was. You should always do what you think is the right thing to do.”
“I feel so guilty, though.”
I turn to her and take her in my arms. “No. No more guilt. No more recriminations. We’ve all been caught up in something crazy. When you’re dealing with someone who doesn’t play by the normal rules, then the normal rules go out of the window. You just fly by the seat of your pants and do whatever you feel is the right thing at the time. That’s what I did and that’s what you did too. But it’s over. Okay? This time, it’s really and truly over.”
Lindsay and Catherine stop talking and look up as we draw closer. Catherine jumps off the wall and shakes her head. She bursts into tears. “Do you forgive me?” she asks.
I put my arms round her and hold her close, by way of an answer.
I turn to Lindsay. “I don’t know how to thank you. What you did...”
Lindsay smiles. She, too, jumps off the wall and holds out her hand, which I take, before I pull her to me and kiss and hold her tight. They say that when someone saves your life you will always have a connection with them, and I know without a doubt that that will be true of Lindsay and me. In fact, I will make it my mission from this moment onwards to ensure that this beautiful and courageous woman in front of me one day recognises just how amazing and talented and wonderful she really is, and has always been.
“Anyone fancy a trip to Borough Market?” I ask. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Then we head down the Thames Path together, all five of us – me, Lindsay, Catherine, Helena, and Zara – our arms linked together in what I now know is a truly unbreakable bond.
*
Martin is arrested early the following morning, once his doctor has confirmed he’s fit to be detained and shortly before the police arrive at Zara’s. Helena has had over thirty text messages and missed calls from him overnight, all of which she has ignored.
“If you want to speak to him, I’ll understand,” I’ve told her, more than once, but Helena simply glances at her phone each time it beeps or rings, shakes her head, and pushes it back into her bag.
When I tell her the news, Lindsay nods and gets up from the sofa where she has spent the night. She’d been happy to stay in London until after the arrest had taken place, so that we can both give our statements, one after the other this morning. Catherine has been home and returned again. We’re all a little worried about Sky, who has disappeared, though Helena lets on that he’s got a new girlfriend and that he’s probably just gone to stay with her.
Catherine and I go for coffee while Zara has a bath and Lindsay talks to the police. It’ll be my turn next, and then there will be no going back, not that I’m afraid of him any longer. There’s nothing more that he can do to hurt me or Lindsay. And, anyway, the detectives have said that the offences at which he’s looking are pretty much the most serious you can get, if you don’t count murder, of course. Sarah also reassured me, when I phoned to thank her and Dan properly this morning, that in all the circumstances – the threats, the violence, the lying on oath – there’s no way any judge will give him bail.
Catherine and I order our drinks and take a seat at a table near the window, which looks out onto Goswell Road. It’s an ordinary Wednesday morning for everyone in this coffee shop, for everyone out there on the street, but for me, it’s the first day of the rest of my life. Never, for me, has that expression carried more weight.
“I’m so sorry,” says Catherine, for the millionth time. She picks up a sachet of sugar and taps it against the table before tearing it open. “For not being a better friend. Deep down, I knew you were telling the truth about what he did to you. I just couldn’t admit it to myself. Pride, I suppose. Foolish pride.”
“Pride’s not foolish,” I tell her. “Having too much must be better than having too little.”
She nods. “Although, when I say ‘pride’, I wasn’t really proud of myself at all, not deep down. Like Lindsay, I just never believed that I was loveable enough, or sexy enough, to keep him. I think I’ve always had such a negative self-image that the truth was more than I could bear. It was easier to blame you and accept his version of what happened than it was to really admit to myself that he wanted you more than he wanted me.”
“He only wanted me because he couldn’t have me,” I say. “Rape isn’t about being attracted to a woman. It’s about having power over them, having the last word. He just couldn’t bear the fact that I didn’t want him. He couldn’t bear the fact that I loved you and our friendship more than I cared about him.”
Catherine smiles, but her eyes mist up at the same time. “I’m so luc
ky to have a friend like you. I’m a bit of a coward. I can be a bit self-centred, too. I do know that.”
I shrug. “Well, we’re all a bit ‘this’ or a bit ‘that’, aren’t we?” I take her hand across the table. “We have all the time in the world to talk this through. But I want you to know that you’ve always mattered to me. Some friendships just fade away, and others you can just walk away from when someone hurts you. But when it really matters, you can’t. I tried to forget about you once before. But you were always there, taking up this big space at the back of my mind. There are some people, like Martin, that are so bad for you that you shouldn’t just walk away – you should run, as fast as you can, in the opposite direction. But even the people that love you are going to hurt you at some time or another. If we walk away from them all, there won’t be anyone left.”
Catherine nods. “And there are some people who might be really good for you, but you’ll never know that, if you don’t give them a chance in the first place. So, are you going to call him?”
“Who?”
“Oli, silly. Now that this mess is all over. You’ve been acquitted. You’ve no reason not to contact him, to see how things stand.”
“It’s probably too late.”
“It won’t be too late,” she says. “Not if he loves you.”
I sigh. “What about Christian? He’s still living in my house and looking after my dog.”
Catherine shrugs. “So, talk to him, too. Talk to both of them. Something tells me that Oli will be over the moon to hear from you, and that, whatever happens, Christian will remain a good friend.”
“Do I deserve that?” I ask. “After what I’ve done to him?”
Catherine places her other hand over mine. “We all deserve good friends, Lizzie. You, more than anybody. He might just believe that you’re one of those people you were talking about a moment ago – the ones you can’t walk away from. The ones that matter too much.”
I smile. “Touché.”
My phone bleeps. It’s Zara; the police are ready to talk to me.
We pick up our bags and head out onto the street.