Guilty One

by Lisa Ballantyne

  The world was at once very quiet and very noisy. Everything seemed to stop and Daniel felt the pause, the hush. There was a ringing in his ears. It was like earlier, before the fight. It was as if he lost equilibrium for a moment or two. The noise in his ears made him distrust what he had heard and yet the dread that he could taste in his throat – sour, black – meant that he could not bear to hear it repeated.

  Daniel stood up from the table, and felt at once Minnie’s warm hands on his shoulders.

  ‘It’s all right, love,’ she said. ‘Don’t run from this. I’ll always be here for you.’

  *

  In later years, when Daniel remembered these words, they would always make him run faster.

  It was a shock, but a strange joy. He felt the jolt of it, as if shaken or punched, but then the smart and the strange thrill. His heart pounded, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his eyes were wide and dry.

  Dead?

  Air lapped in his mouth as if his throat was cut.

  Dead.

  He looked down and saw Minnie’s hand on his arm; her warm fingers so much surer than his own mother’s hands. They were strong, like a rope he could trust enough to leap off a rock, knowing it would hold him – poised in space and time – and take the weight as gravity pulled him down.

  Dead.

  Danny curled into Minnie. She didn’t ask it of him. She didn’t pull him into her, but he curled into her nonetheless, as a leaf curls in autumn, because its energy is spent.

  ‘There,’ she said. ‘There, there, my love, my precious child. You don’t feel like it, but you’re free – you’re free now.’

  He didn’t feel free, but he felt unattached and the fear of that made him press into Minnie again, for the first time really giving himself to her: asking her to love him.

  Later, she made him a cup of tea, and he was full of questions.

  ‘How did she die?’

  ‘It was another overdose, love. A big one.’

  He held the mug of tea in two hands and sipped it.

  ‘Can I go to see her? Will she be buried somewhere?’

  ‘No, love, it was a cremation. But you still have your necklace and you can think about her any time you like.’

  ‘I should have been with her. I could’ve got the ambulance. I always get the ambulance to come in time.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Danny.’

  ‘It was because she was on her own.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  The thought of leaving Brampton came to him, of hitching a ride to Newcastle like before, but now that she was gone there was no point. Minnie was his mam now and he would try to make good.

  23

  The prosecution were now clearly trying to depict Sebastian as an evil child. The witness list for the day included neighbours of the Crolls, children from Sebastian’s school and his teacher. Out of the presence of the jury, Irene objected to the line of questioning as an attempt to elicit irrelevant evidence of bad character, but the judge allowed some leeway, particularly to do with Sebastian’s reputation as a violent bully, seeing as it related to the offence.

  Sebastian was alert today and focused on the trial. There had been no doodling, no swinging of his legs. His father was no longer in court. Daniel had spoken to Charlotte, who said that Kenneth had been called overseas but would return in a few days. Charlotte seemed overwrought: all tendon and sunken eyes and trembling fingertips. She was terrified to go outside for a cigarette, she told Daniel, in case she was set upon by the journalists. She couldn’t bear the lies that people were writing about her son. Daniel had squeezed her elbow and told her to stay calm. It’ll get worse before it’s our turn, he told her. You’d better prepare yourself.

  *

  ‘The Crown calls Mrs Gillian Hodge.’

  Daniel watched her make her way to the witness box. The journalists in the gallery all scribbled furiously as she raised her right hand and swore to tell the truth. She was neighbour to both the Crolls and the Stokeses and the mother of two young girls. Daniel had spoken to Irene about her at the chambers party. Her voice was clear and strong, her gestures confident and composed. She was professional yet maternal, with honest bright eyes and straight, prominent teeth. Daniel clasped his hands and waited, almost dreading her evidence. He felt Sebastian’s small hand on his thigh and leaned down so that his ear was nearer to the boy’s mouth.

  ‘She hates me,’ was all he said.

  ‘Just relax,’ said Daniel, almost to himself.

  Gordon Jones swished his robe aside and assumed his stance by the lectern.

  ‘Mrs Hodge, could you tell us how you know the Crolls and their son, Sebastian?’

  ‘I’m their neighbour, also neighbour to Madeline and Paul Stokes. I’m right between the two.’

  Daniel listened to her carefully. Her London-public-school voice was assertive and she almost didn’t need the microphone in front of her.

  ‘And their children,’ Jones prompted, ‘would you say you know them well?’

  ‘My children used to play with both Ben and Sebastian, so I know the parents and their children well.’

  When she said, and their children, Madeline turned distinctly towards Sebastian. Daniel straightened his spine as he felt her stern stare.

  ‘You have two daughters, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how old are they’

  ‘One is eight and the other twelve.’

  ‘Your younger daughter is the same age as Ben Stokes?’

  ‘Yes, they were in the same class at school.’ Gillian’s large bright eyes sought out Madeline Stokes, who hung her head. Gillian cleared her throat.

  ‘And your older daughter … a similar age to Sebastian?’

  ‘Yes, she’s older, but doesn’t play with the boys so much. My youngest is the tomboy. She liked playing with Ben …’

  ‘Did you encounter any problems when your daughter played with either of the boys who lived near you?’

  ‘Well, like I said, Poppy, my youngest, really did get on well with little Ben, but often Sebastian would try to join in, or else he would want to play with Poppy even when Ben wasn’t there.’

  ‘Was this in any way problematic?’

  Irene jumped to her feet and Daniel held his breath.

  ‘With your lordship’s leave, I must object to this line of questioning. It really is hearsay.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m going to allow it.’ Philip Baron’s voice was deep and authoritative, although he sat slumped on the bench, lost in his robes and corpulent. ‘I am satisfied that it is admissible in the interests of justice.’

  Irene sat down. She turned to glance at Daniel. He nodded in support of her frustration.

  ‘Sebastian could be very violent, very bullying …’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Once, when Poppy didn’t want to play a game he wanted, he threatened her with a piece of broken glass. He was holding her hair so she couldn’t get away and had the piece of glass right against her throat … I saw from the—’

  Irene was on her feet again. ‘My lord, I must protest this prejudicial line in front of the jury. My client has no opportunity to defend himself.’

  ‘Well,’ said Judge Baron, his fingers fluttering upward like an exalting Christ, ‘I see he has a more than adequate defence in you, Miss Clarke.’

  Irene opened her mouth to speak, but reluctantly sat down. Daniel scrawled a note and passed it to her junior, Mark. It read: Ask her about domestic violence in Croll house?

  Irene turned when she read the note. Daniel met her gaze as she considered. The abuse brought context to Sebastian’s behaviour to the neighbours’ children but Daniel understood that it was also risky. It could hint that Sebastian had learned to be violent; that he was driven to act out the scenes that he had witnessed in his family home.

  ‘… Poppy was quite terrified of him. She had told me before that she didn’t like Sebastian, but I had encouraged her to try and get al
ong. After seeing my daughter being threatened in that way, I forbade her to play with Sebastian again.’

  ‘Did you speak to Sebastian’s parents about this incident?’

  ‘I spoke to his mother, yes.’ Gillian stiffened, as if the memory was offensive to her. ‘She took no interest at all. She seemed utterly unconcerned. I just made sure that Poppy didn’t play with him any more.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Hodge.’ Gordon Jones tidied his notes and sat down.

  *

  ‘Mrs Hodge.’ Irene was composed.

  Daniel leaned forward on the table, one hand under his chin. A second later, Sebastian did the same, mirroring Daniel’s posture.

  ‘Tell me, how long have you lived next door to the Crolls and the Stokeses?’

  ‘I … don’t remember, about three or four years.’

  ‘That’s when you moved to Richmond Crescent?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The children played together. Did you spend time socially with any of the other parents?’

  ‘Yes, of course, there was the odd glass of wine or cup of coffee – more with Madeline, I would say – although I have been to visit … Charlotte once or twice.’

  ‘You told Charlotte Croll about Sebastian’s behaviour towards your daughter and you say she took no interest? A neighbour with whom you had socialised? Do you expect us to believe this?’

  Gillian seemed to flush a little. Her large eyes searched the courtroom and then looked upwards. ‘She was … understanding … but nothing changed. She didn’t seem to have any control … ’

  ‘Mrs Hodge, this incident to which you refer, where Sebastian purportedly threatened your daughter with a piece of glass, did you report this to anyone other than the boy’s mother?’

  Mrs Hodge’s eyes were wide. She looked up at Irene and shook her head.

  ‘You’re shaking your head. Did you not report the incident to the police or even the school – a social worker?’

  Mrs Hodge cleared her throat. ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I saw it happen and I told him off, severely, and then stopped Poppy playing with him again. That was the end of it. No harm was done.’

  ‘I see, no harm was done. When you told Sebastian off – severely – as you say, what was his reaction?’

  ‘He was … apologetic. He is … very polite.’ Gillian cleared her throat. ‘He said sorry to Poppy when I asked him to.’

  At his side, Sebastian beamed up at Daniel, as if pleased at the praise.

  ‘Mrs Hodge, we have heard you say that Sebastian could be a little aggressive. But did you ever have cause to report his behaviour to the authorities in the nearly four years that you lived next door?’

  Gillian Hodge reddened. ‘Not to the authorities, no.’

  ‘And as a good mother, if you had ever felt that Sebastian was any kind of real threat to your child or your neighbours’ children, you would have done so immediately?’

  ‘Well, yes …’

  ‘You are the mother of two children, ages the same as the deceased and the defendant, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Tell me, have either of your children ever acted in an aggressive way?’

  Mrs Hodge coloured again.

  Jones stood up, a hand held high in exasperation. ‘My lord, I must query the relevance of this line of questioning.’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll allow it,’ said Baron. ‘I have already ruled on the admissibility of this.’

  ‘Mrs Hodge,’ Irene repeated, ‘have either of your children ever acted in an aggressive way?’

  ‘Well, yes. All children can be aggressive.’

  ‘So they can,’ Irene retorted. ‘No further questions.’

  ‘Very well, in view of the hour, I think this might be a convenient moment … ’ Baron twisted to face the jury. ‘Enjoy your lunch, but I’ll remind you once again not to discuss the case unless all together.’

  There was a hush, a waterless wave, a rush of fabric and air in the stifled room, as the court rose with the judge and then sat again in his absence. The clerk asked for the public gallery to be cleared and Daniel looked up to watch the reluctant faces turn away from the spectacle.

  Daniel stood behind Sebastian’s chair and squeezed his shoulders gently. ‘You OK, Sebastian?’ he asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Sebastian started jumping up and down, nodding his head at Daniel as he did so; then he was touching his toes and spinning round. The sharp edges of his too-big suit rose up to his ears and down again as he jumped.

  ‘Are you dancing, Seb?’ the police officer asked. ‘It’s time to go back downstairs.’

  ‘In a minute, Charlie,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ve been sitting down so long.’

  ‘You can dance your way downstairs then, Fred Astaire, OK?’

  ‘Bye for now, Danny,’ said Sebastian, turning, the police officer’s hand on his shoulder. ‘See you after lunch.’

  ‘See you later,’ said Daniel, shaking his head as he watched his young client go. Part of him wanted to laugh at the boy and his antics, but another part of him was deeply saddened.

  *

  Irene reached over and squeezed Daniel’s elbow. ‘I just didn’t feel it was right, Danny.’ Daniel smiled and looked her in the eye, thinking how pretty her eyes were. ‘It’s a double-edged sword.’

  ‘Hey, I know, it’s a value call,’ he said. ‘And honestly, it’s probably the last thing Sebastian or his family want to have revealed in open court.’

  She smiled at him.

  ‘I trust your judgement,’ he said, as they made their way out of court.

  Daniel went down to the cell to speak to Sebastian. Charlotte was there too. As the guard let Daniel in, Sebastian kicked his mother in the thigh. She made no sound, but moved away, flat palm against her leg.

  ‘Easy, Seb,’ said Daniel.

  Sebastian was slumped against the wall, his lower lip pouting.

  Charlotte seemed agitated after the evidence. ‘Why did they have to call her? She’s always putting her nose in where it doesn’t belong.’

  ‘She hates me,’ said Sebastian again.

  ‘Gillian hates us all,’ said Charlotte.

  ‘Can I talk to you outside, Charlotte?’ Daniel asked.

  She nodded in assent and turned from him to pick up her bag. Daniel could see her shoulder blades through her suit.

  When the door closed, Charlotte wanted a cigarette. Daniel begged permission from the security officer for her to go outside directly from the cells, without going upstairs. Daniel was surprised that the guard allowed it, but it seemed that Charlotte had asked to be let out there to smoke before. The back door of the cells was isolated and free of reporters.

  Her hands shook as she tried to light her cigarette. There was a breeze and so Daniel cupped his hand around it. When it was lit, she sucked hard before turning to him, deep frown lines cutting into her brow.

  ‘I know it’s hard on you, Charlotte, but think how it is for Sebastian. Right now every single person that gives evidence is castigating him.’

  ‘He’s my son. They’re castigating me too.’

  ‘You have to be strong. This is just the beginning. It’s only going to get worse.’

  ‘They shouldn’t be allowed to say such things,’ she said. ‘That I can’t control him; that I didn’t care when he threatened other kids. I wasn’t there when he tried to cut another child with a piece of glass.’

  Her voice was shrill, her face crumbling. She seemed so old suddenly.

  ‘Try to remind yourself that when they stoop to things like this – bad character, hearsay – it’s because they need to. Their evidence is mainly circumstantial. With his school reports showing a history of aggression this was bound to come up, but try to remember that it doesn’t prove—’

  ‘I’m to blame – that’s what they are trying to say. This is to be my trial. Find him guilty and say it’s all my fault?’

  Daniel reached out and squeezed Charlotte’s shoul
der. ‘Nobody’s saying that …’

  She turned away and when she turned back to take another drag from her cigarette, Daniel saw that she was crying. Her tears were black and they washed fragile white veins through her foundation.

  ‘You’re his mum,’ said Daniel. ‘He’s eleven years old and on trial for murder. It will affect the rest of his life. He needs you to be strong for him.’

  The prison vans were huddled dark and forbidding in the courtyard. It reminded Daniel of the farm at night: the sheds where the animals were kept. The emergency exit door they had slipped out of banged in the wind.

  ‘Strong like you, you mean?’ she said, knuckle to her lower lids, careful not to smudge. She placed her palm on Daniel’s chest. Under his shirt, he felt his skin tingle at her touch. ‘Feel how strong you are.’

  ‘Charlotte,’ he whispered, taking a step back and feeling the building behind him. He smelled her heady perfume and then her cigarette breath. Her lips were millimetres from his own. A column of ash trembled and fell on to the lapel of her jacket. Daniel stood up straight and let the back of his head touch the outside wall.

  She let her hand fall slowly and he felt her long nails on his lower abdomen. He tightened his stomach muscles, and, under his shirt, the skin of his stomach withdrew from her.

  There was something almost abhorrent about her, eye makeup smudged, foundation thick over her pores, but he felt a flush of empathy.

  ‘Enough,’ he whispered. ‘Your son needs you.’

  Charlotte moved back, chastened. She seemed almost heartbroken, although Daniel knew that it was not just this rejection which had crushed her. Her eyes were smudges, her yellow fingers shaking the butt to her lips. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed.

  She let the cigarette fall to the ground. Daniel held the door.

  *

  ‘The Crown calls Geoffrey Rankine.’

  Daniel watched the man stand and walk to the witness box. He seemed too tall for the courtroom, trousers skirting the tops of his shoes. He had neatly trimmed, receding hair and eyebrows that were perpetually raised. When he swore to tell the truth before God he had a slight smile on his lips.

  ‘Mr Rankine, you reported to the police that you witnessed two boys fighting in Barnard Park on the afternoon of 8 August. Is that correct?’