The Story of Us

by Barbara Elsborg

  Today was the first time he’d leave the prison in almost a year. He didn’t want to return to serve a sentence at Woodbury or anywhere else, but he knew that’s what would happen. He was resigned to it. He just hoped it wasn’t for long. Maybe another year. He could do that. Yet how could a couple of years satisfy the parents of the girls who died, the father who’d lost his wife as well? Not pleading guilty made him look uncaring, but… He just couldn’t.

  Caspian’s school trousers and shirt were too small. Time spent in the gym had broadened his chest and he’d grown taller. A dark blue suit, white shirt, grey tie and black shoes had been delivered to his cell, presumably purchased by his father. Caspian put them on. They were all too big and somehow diminished him. Maybe that was deliberate. Making him look like an eighteen-year-old boy not an eighteen-year-old man.

  He had to take his belongings with him to court. His lawyer said they didn’t know how long the trial would take and until it was over, he’d have to spend the nights in a police station because it was too far to keep taking him back and forth to the YOI. At the end, he might get sent to a different place anyway. Maybe a nice cottage by the sea, Caspian thought and managed a half-smile. He was put in handcuffs to be transferred to the vehicle and his plastic bag of clothes and toiletries, notebooks and letters were stored in a locker under the van used to transport him.

  There were men and women already in the vehicle, collected from other prisons. Caspian couldn’t see them because they were behind screens, but he could hear them calling him and each other. He stayed quiet. He was put in a small cubicle with a plastic seat and a yellowing Perspex window that was hard to see through. Graffiti had been scratched onto the panels: names, swear words and images like the one he and Zed had made in the wheat field. Once his cuffs were removed, he was locked in.

  He had a moment’s panic thinking if there was a crash he’d be trapped, before he pushed the worry back. There were worse things ahead of him. The lack of seat belt meant every time the van accelerated around a tight corner Caspian was thrown sideways and banged his knees or head. The driver’s erratic driving drew a chorus of protests from the other occupants though he doubted the driver could hear or would care.

  Caspian pressed his face to the window and watched a yellow-tinged world flashing past. Once he knew how long he’d be inside, he’d start planning his future. He needed a job so he’d have to pick from the training courses offered even if he didn’t fancy any of them. He wouldn’t be asking his father for help when he came out. Though was he just cutting his nose off to spite his face? Yeah, he would be. He’d already done that in spending the year at Woodbury.

  When the van turned and came to a stop, instead of the abusive calling coming from inside the van, it came from outside and Caspian flinched away from the window. People were banging on the sides, photographers pressing their cameras against the Perspex and Caspian covered his face. Not for me. He didn’t warrant that sort of attention.

  Or did he? His heart rate soared.

  He was handcuffed before he was led off the vehicle and he was horrified when he realised they were in an area overlooked by the clamouring public who were jeering and shouting. Someone spat at him but missed. His guard rushed him inside at such speed that Caspian almost fell. He was taken to a booking-in desk, given his rights to read—forget that—and then led to a court cell where his handcuffs were taken off. After a pat-down search, he was locked in.

  He waited. And waited. He could feel his anxiety level climbing. Whatever happened today wouldn’t be good. Lachlan wasn’t going to stand up and confess. The accident would be rerun in minute detail and everyone was going to look at Caspian and hate him, even his own family.

  When the door opened, Caspian glanced up from the bench he sat on. Appleby came in with Caspian’s father and a tall, black guy in a wig and gown.

  “Right, this ends here,” his father said. “You’ve made your point. Plead guilty. Say you’re sorry and you can be home with us tonight.”

  “Er…Sir Gerald,” Appleby said. “There’s no certainty of that.”

  “Even so.” His father continued to stare at Caspian. “It’s not too late to do the right thing.”

  No, it isn’t. But Caspian was doing the right thing. It was others who weren’t.

  “Spare these girls’ families further distress,” his father snapped.

  Because my distress doesn’t matter. How dare he snap at me? No word of concern for him from his father. No rush to hug him after not seeing him for so long. No choked emotion. Not even a whispered sorry.

  “The jury are going to find you guilty.” His father glared down at him. “Even at this late stage, a guilty plea is better than letting the trial proceed.”

  Caspian stayed silent and finally, realising he wasn’t going to speak, his father stormed out. The black guy held out his hand. “I’m Jonathan Cross, your barrister. Did Robert explain how today is going to go?”

  Caspian nodded, then stood and shook his hand.

  “Still determined not to speak?” Cross asked.

  “I won’t speak in my defence. I don’t want you to challenge what the prosecution say. I don’t want you to suggest anyone else might have been driving.”

  “It’s the only defence I can put forward. Your reluctance to give up a friend. Or if you’d explain exactly what happened there might be a case for careless rather than dangerous driving.”

  “No,” Caspian said. “There was no friend. Let them say what they want to say, then offer no defence.”

  The barrister sighed. “The judge is going to ask why you didn’t just plead guilty.”

  “Maybe I wanted my day in court.”

  “You’ll regret it,” Cross said. “Particularly when you have to sit and listen to the victim impact statements.”

  “Then they’ll get their day in court.”

  “Is this your way of punishing yourself for what happened?”

  It’s not me I’m punishing.

  Cross stared at him. “Don’t you think being remanded for a year was punishment enough? Do you want to serve more time in jail?”

  “No,” Caspian whispered. “But I accept that’s what will happen.”

  The barrister sighed.

  Caspian’s heart moved from a canter to a gallop as he was led in handcuffs from the cell. The court room was like an over-sized headmaster’s office, the walls clad in wooden panels. It was overpowering, intimidating. There were rows of desks and a raised platform and bigger desk where the judge would sit. Caspian was put behind a three-sided wooden barrier and his cuffs removed by the custody officer who sat close by. Behind him was the public gallery. He hadn’t looked that way when he’d been brought in, but he could hear people muttering. Not only would his parents be there but so would those of the dead girls. He swallowed hard.

  Everything seemed to happen so fast. Everyone stood for the judge who was an old man with glasses.

  “Please state your full name and address,” a woman said to Caspian.

  Oh fuck. “Caspian Ulysses Octavian Nathaniel Tarleton. Woodbury Young Offender Institution.”

  “Your home address?”

  To which he’d never return. “Barton Hall, Lower Barton, Kent.”

  “Are you maintaining your not guilty plea?”

  “Yes.”

  That brought a ripple of shuffling noises and whispers from behind him.

  A jury were sworn in but Caspian didn’t look at them. He kept his gaze fixed on his lap. The prosecuting barrister stood and introduced himself and Caspian’s barrister to the jury. The guy on the opposite side was a hyena, someone who’d rip Caspian to shreds to get what he wanted. The way he outlined the case against Caspian had some members of the jury gasping even before he called a number of witnesses.

  No one had seen the accident, just the aftermath. A policeman, a paramedic and a scene of crime officer spoke. After listening to what they had to say, Caspian would have found himself guilty. The skid marks on the road an
indication of excessive speed at several points along the road. Photographs were shown to the jury. Caspian had been found behind the wheel. His fingerprints were on the wheel. Why would they look for anyone else?

  When the prosecuting barrister sat down, Cross stood up. “My Lord, I should now present the case for the defence, but I find myself in a difficult and rather unique position. My client maintains his not guilty plea. He declines to give evidence, as is his right, and has instructed me to make no defence on his behalf.”

  “He’s eighteen years old. He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Caspian’s father shouted from the gallery.

  “He was old enough to drive and kill my child,” someone called.

  “Order,” the judge banged his gavel. “One more word and I’ll have you removed from the court.” He turned to look at Caspian and Caspian met his gaze. “Is what your barrister said correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You maintain that you’re innocent, but you won’t offer evidence to prove it?”

  “Yes.”

  A few moments later, after the judge had summed up and made it clear Caspian’s silence was not to be taken as a sign of innocence or guilt and they were only to consider the evidence, the jury were ordered out. Caspian returned to the cell. Fifteen minutes later, he was back in court. The verdict was guilty. Caspian was surprised it had taken them that long.

  Listening to the victim impact statements read out by the prosecuting barrister had Caspian pressing his nails into his palms. The policeman’s daughter had wanted to be a ballerina. Another loved animals and hoped to be a vet. The last had been a gifted mathematician. She was the one whose mother had killed herself. Slit her wrists in the bath to be found by her husband.

  Caspian had been told the statements weren’t supposed to materially affect the tariff imposed by the judge but how could anyone fail to be moved by the tears of the girls’ parents for their lost children, for futures that wouldn’t happen.

  When Cross rose to his feet, Caspian froze. “While my client declines to offer any defence, I do wish to say a few words about him on behalf of his family.”

  Caspian rose to his feet. “No.”

  The custody officer pushed him down.

  “Don’t speak on my behalf,” Caspian said.

  The judge sighed. “Your barrister wishes to make a statement of mitigation. You know what that is?”

  “Yes, and I don’t wish him to say anything.”

  “Very well.” The judge looked over his glasses at Caspian. “Stand up.”

  Caspian pushed to his feet.

  “You have been convicted on overwhelming evidence of causing the death of three young girls by driving dangerously on the morning of July 29th last year. You had only passed your test a month earlier. You took your father’s car without permission and drove it recklessly at an excessive speed along a narrow country lane failing to have proper regard for vulnerable road users. No prison sentence can reflect that three young lives have been lost, that three families will grieve forever, that one father has not only lost his child but his wife because of your dangerous driving.

  “You have some agenda of your own for appearing here today that you decline to share with us. You have wasted court time in not offering any defence. You have obligated these grieving families to relive their ordeal. You have shown no remorse for your actions. Indeed, you appear to be in denial about what happened.”

  Caspian’s heart thumped hard and he clenched his teeth.

  “But I’m taking into account your age when the incident occurred and although the lives of three young girls were lost, you did not set out that day to cause those deaths. It was a tragic accident but one that could so easily have been avoided. You will have to live with that as will the families and friends of those three girls. I sentence you to ten years in a Young Offender Institution, minus the time already served on remand, plus a two-year driving ban on release.”

  There was a buzz of noise, but all Caspian could hear was the word ten. What the fuck? He was led out of court in a daze and put back in the cell he’d been in before. Ten years? How long was he going to be locked up? He’d serve at least half of his sentence and more if he got into any trouble. Five years and he’d served one, so another four years. Fuck. He hadn’t thought it would be that long.

  The door opened and the custody officer stepped inside.

  “Your parents want to speak to you.”

  “No…thank you.”

  The door closed again. What would they say? It serves you right, you stupid boy? He could hear his father arguing on the other side of the door, talking about an appeal, but eventually he went away. Caspian felt numb. He was having difficulty taking in that all this had actually happened. His life destroyed to save his brother’s. He straightened his shoulders. Not destroyed or ruined or wrecked. Not unless he let it be. Why hadn’t he just pleaded guilty? I should have. Oh fuck.

  The door opened again. “Someone else to see you.”

  “Who?”

  “Me.” Zed moved into sight.

  Caspian gasped. The last person he wanted to see. The only person he wanted to see. Zed walked into the room, flung himself into Caspian’s arms and the door closed. Caspian told himself not to hug him. He’d refused to see him all this time, hadn’t written to him because he needed Zed to be free, but his treacherous, pathetic, needy arms crept around Zed and he clung to him as if Zed was the only thing keeping him from being swept away in a raging flood.

  But then he came to his senses and shoved Zed so hard, he almost fell. At least four years in jail. I will not do that to him. And after I come out, who would want a guy with a prison record?

  “Caspian.” Zed stood with his arms hanging limply at his sides, his bright eyes brimming with tears.

  “I don’t want to see you again.” Caspian kept his voice as cold and calm as he could. “Didn’t you get the message?”

  “I know you don’t like writing. I didn’t mind not hearing from you.”

  “I threw your letters away without reading them.” Oh fuck.

  Zed dragged his arm across his eyes. “I sent you an MP3 player.”

  “That? I sold it to buy drugs.”

  It killed something inside Caspian that he was hurting Zed, but it was the right thing to do.

  “You ought to know that I hooked up with my new pad mate. Fuck…the things he’s taught me.”

  “Oh.”

  “And don’t get it into your head that I’m lying about any of this, some sort of cruel to be kind crap. I’ve grown up and moved on. Which is what you need to do.”

  “Caspian.” Zed took a step in his direction.

  Please. I need this to work. “We had fun. But that’s it. We’re done. Just fuck off now like a good boy.”

  Zed turned his back and knocked on the door to be let out. Caspian’s heart broke into so many pieces, he knew he’d never be able to put it back together.

  Appleby came in and Caspian rubbed the tears from his face.

  “We’ll appeal,” he said. “That sentence is too harsh.”

  Caspian didn’t say anything.

  “Though unless you admit your guilt, I’m not sure there’s much point.”

  Caspian felt as if heavier and heavier weights were being piled on him.

  “Are you okay? Your parents would like to see you.”

  “No.”

  “Let them talk to you.”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything you want to ask me?”

  “Such as.”

  “I usually get asked—what happens now?”

  Caspian shrugged.

  “You don’t want to know?”

  “What does it matter?” Caspian turned his back.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The moment the door closed on Caspian, Zed crumpled into Jonas’s arms. “He doesn’t want me.”

  “Oh Zed.” Jonas wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

&nb
sp; Jonas bundled him down the corridor and a security guard opened the door for them to get back into the public area.

  Henry had fixed it for Zed to see Caspian and yesterday, Zed had been so grateful and excited, and now he wished it undone. Jonas guided him out of the building past a TV crew doing an interview with the parents of the girls. Tears blurred Zed’s vision.

  “Ten years is nowhere near long enough,” said a man who had his arm wrapped around his sobbing wife. “Our girls are gone forever. He should have been given the maximum sentence—fourteen years. And spend that time behind bars, not be released after he’s been inside for five.”

  “Are you considering an appeal?” a reporter asked.

  Zed groaned as Jonas hurried him along the pavement, his arm still wrapped around him. Zed was stumbling, barely holding it together. He wanted to fall to the ground and weep. He wanted to bang his head on the pavement until it bled, let that pain swamp the pain in his heart. Jonas helped him into the car, fastened his seatbelt when Zed’s hands shook too much to do it, and squeezed his hand.

  “We’ll go home and talk.”

  Zed turned his face into the window, pressed his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. When he’d seen Caspian walk into the courtroom, his heart had leapt. In spite of what was happening Zed was still thrilled to see him. But Caspian was wearing a suit that was too big for him and he looked pale and scared which made Zed want to rush over and hug him. The people sitting in front of Zed and Jonas were clearly the parents of the girls who’d died. Zed had felt their anger, seen it in their tight faces as he’d passed them, and now he’d heard it on the steps of the court. He didn’t blame them. He blamed Caspian’s father and brother.

  Lachlan had sat on the far side of the gallery next to the wall. Whenever Zed had glanced at him, Lachlan had his lips so tightly pressed together they’d lost all colour. Caspian’s father was grim-faced. The woman in the pink dress and sunglasses had to be Caspian’s mother. How could they just sit there and let this happen?