by Maria Farrer
“Is there anything you’d like to ask me or tell me?”
“No.” I say more aggressively than I mean to. I kick at the base of the chair with my heel. “I’d just like to know what’s going to happen to me next. I thought that’s what this meeting was about.”
“Partly,” she smiles. “I want you to know that I am here to help. That you can talk to me and ask me as many questions as you want.”
“Thanks.”
She pauses. Once again allowing me space to speak. I don’t.
“As this is your first offence, and as you’ve owned up to your part in the burglary, it has been suggested you are given what’s called a conditional caution.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you won’t have to go to court or stand trial. As long as you can show us you are sorry for what you’ve done, and that you are prepared to take steps not to re-offend, no further action will be taken at this stage. Of course, it’s also a warning. If you get into trouble again, you won’t get off so lightly.”
“So I just say sorry and that’s it? No criminal record or anything?” There must be a catch somewhere.
“You won’t get a criminal record, as such. However, a record will be kept on police files, which could be disclosed under certain circumstances – you know, certain jobs, that kind of thing.”
“That’s all?”
“Not quite.” She pulls her file on to her lap and rests her hands on it. “We need to be sure that you understand the seriousness of what you’ve done. We’d like you to learn more about the effect your actions have had on the victims – on the people whose house was burgled.”
“But I didn’t go into the house.”
“I realize that. But you were part of it and whether you were in the house or not doesn’t necessarily make it any easier for the family. Is this something you’ve thought about?”
I hang my head. I haven’t – not really. I was too far removed from it all. I’ve had too much else to think about. “No,” I say. “I suppose not.”
“We’d like you to think about it and that’s what this meeting is about. Often hearing the other side of the story can help you to make better decisions in the future; help you not to make the same mistakes again.”
“I’ve already said I’m sorry. I meant it. I know what I did was wrong.”
“And the others who were involved? Do you think they know what they did was wrong? Would you be able to stand up to them if the situation arose again?” Her voice is still kind, not accusing. She doesn’t push me.
Would I? If Declan was there with a knife – would I stand up to him? This is stuff I have to work out. Am I kidding myself that if I say nothing, no one else will get hurt and Declan will go away and never come back again?
“Have you ever heard of restorative justice?” she asks.
I shake my head. Siân puts down her cup and settles herself back in her chair. “A restorative justice conference is when we arrange for you to meet with the victim of your crime. Both of you have to agree to the meeting. It gives you the chance to hear how your actions have affected him and his family and you also get the chance to explain your side of the story. We will try and help you both towards an outcome that can help you move on.”
I try to process this idea in my head, pushing the thought this way and that.
“Why would he want to meet me? After what I’ve done?”
“That’s a good question and not easy to answer. It often helps the victim to understand more about why the offender did what they did and to understand you as a person. Sometimes it can help to take away the fear.”
“Whose fear?”
“The victim’s.”
I nod. Not mine then. No such luck.
“We prepare for these meetings very carefully. I’d be there with you and you can choose someone to bring with you to support you. It could be your mum, perhaps, or your dad.”
I shake my head. I don’t want Mum or Dad with me.
“Would I have to answer a lot of questions again?”
Siân seems to know, instinctively, what I’m talking about.
“I know there are things that it’s difficult for you to talk about. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to say. It’s hard to predict exactly how these meetings will go, and they are not always easy, but they really do give you an opportunity to make a difference – both to yourself and to the victim. I’d like you to at least consider it.”
“Could I have Gran with me?”
“You can have whoever you want, within reason!” She laughs, opens the file for the first time and makes a note. Then she flicks on a couple of pages and I watch her eyes run down the page.
“Am I right in saying your grandmother hasn’t been well? How is she?”
“She’s getting better. She’s home now.”
“That’s good. I’m glad. And she lives nearby?”
I’m certain Siân already knows the answer to this. She seems to know a lot about me – but I nod anyway.
“Do you think she’d be happy to support you; that she’d be up to it?”
“Depends when this meeting will be,” I say. “She’s getting stronger every day. Yeah, I think she’d like to be there with me.”
“I’ll need to talk to your grandmother. Are you happy for me to do that?”
“Yes,” I say again. “Can I tell her first though?”
“Of course.”
She gives me a card with all her contact details and we make a time for the next meeting.
“If you have any questions, just call me. I may not be able to take your call straight away but I will always ring you back. Is there anything else you want to discuss before I go?”
“I don’t think so.”
We finish our tea and Siân asks me about my interests. I say I like cooking and movies and she says she could do with a few cake-baking lessons. She’s probably not interested in baking at all, but it’s the kind of thing you say when you want to be friendly. And I do like her – she’s OK.
“Shall we take this out to the kitchen?” Siân stands and picks up the tray. She carries it through to the kitchen and has another quick chat to Mum before she leaves.
The minute the door closes, I expect Mum to want to know everything that’s happened. Instead, she tells me she’s feeling very tired. She asks me if I’d mind holding the fort at Gran’s. I guess Mum’s overheard most of our conversation anyway. Our house is hardly soundproof.
“I’m not going to be sent to prison,” I say and Mum nods. “I don’t even have to go to court.”
She gives the smallest smile. “That’s a relief then. I think I’ll go up for a rest.” I recognize the look in her eyes, the desperation for oblivion, and I watch her climb towards it stair by stair.
“But it’s good news Mum. We could go together to Gran’s. Celebrate.”
She keeps walking. Hopelessness pulls at my stomach. I wish I could show her there’s another way. She’s held everything together so well over the last few weeks. I suppose it couldn’t last for ever. Still, I wish it wasn’t me that sent her racing back to the bottle.
I wash up the tea things and think about Siân. It wasn’t nearly as bad as I expected. All I have to do is meet the victim. Will he hate me? I stare into the bubbles and watch the tiny rainbows of light. I remember how I felt when the boys were all standing, uninvited, in my kitchen – how I’m scared to leave a window open now. Is this how he feels too? Violated? Scared?
I can’t do this without Gran. I need to make sure she’ll come with me. I empty the sink, grab my things and leave the house. I know I should’ve checked on Mum, but some things are too hard. If I don’t see, I can pretend I don’t know.
Gran is pottering in her kitchen when I arrive. It’s incredible how quickly she’s back on her feet. She wants to hear all
about the meeting with Siân and I tell her every last detail.
“Well,” she says, “that all sounds very sensible and, of course, I’m honoured that you’d like me to support you.” She puts her arm around me. “Did you really have to ask?”
“I thought it might be too much for you?”
“Strong as an ox,” she says. “Albeit rather an old ox who could do with sitting down!”
I help Gran to her chair.
“You know what you said about making peace with myself? Do you think this might be it? Having this meeting with the victim?”
I push Gran’s footstool towards her and lift her feet on to it.
“Who knows,” says Gran. “You’ll have to wait and see what happens.”
It’s the waiting that’s the worst. I didn’t think this would be such a hard thing to do. But it makes you think a lot about the kind of person you are – and I don’t like the person I am. The more I talk to Siân, the closer to the meeting I get, the more I’m forced to confront the fact that Declan is still a threat, and not just to me. For all I know, they could be watching me this very minute or they could be breaking into another person’s house, creating another victim. Are there a whole load of other people like me out there – people too scared to speak out?
Mum’s on a downer. I know it’s my fault; Dad doesn’t need to keep reminding me how my situation makes things very difficult for my mother. It doesn’t make things very easy for me either, but she is allowed not to cope and each day I resent it a little more.
I’ve talked to Dad about the restorative justice conference and he listened. He’s pleased I don’t have to go to court. I avoid telling him about Gran coming with me until the last minute. I didn’t think he’d care that much, but I’m wrong.
“I don’t think you appreciate how much we do for you, Amber. We could’ve thrown you out, you know?”
I feel like I should be grateful. I wish he was the dad that I did want to have with me, that I did appreciate. “You’re never here to meet Siân,” I say. It’s easier than trying to explain. “You’re always at work. And I thought it would be too stressful for Mum.”
He gives a kind of hmmph. “This restorative justice thing – it all sounds like trendy twaddle to me anyway,” he says.
“It’s what I have to do, Dad, like it or not.”
Clearly, he does not like it and yet, when the day arrives, he takes the day off to drive Gran and me to the meeting. Perhaps he’s determined to show who is boss, or determined to show that he can control this process in some way. He isn’t and he can’t. On the way there he keeps making comments about how I should prepare myself for a right grilling. The last thing I want to do is discuss any part of this with Dad. The atmosphere in the car reminds me of driving to running competitions. I’m surprised Dad doesn’t slide in his favourite CD and play “We are the Champions” over and over; as if this is some kind of competition between me and the victim.
Gran must see the effect Dad’s having on me because she stops him mid-sentence. “Amber knows what to expect,” she says. “Siân has explained everything and perhaps it is better if neither of us interferes.”
Dad’s face turns red. I can see he’s bursting to answer back, but he must think better of it. I wind down my window a crack and feel the thin stream of air on my face. The closer we get, the more I want to run away. Dad slows in the final stretch of road as he searches for the right building and then a parking space.
“Come on,” says Gran, giving me a shove, “imagination is usually far worse than reality.” I get out and then help Gran on to the pavement. She takes my arm and we walk together towards the meeting place. “Remember what I told you. This is your chance to put things right and you should count yourself very lucky. You’ll feel better when it’s all over.”
When, I think to myself. When it’s all over. It hasn’t even started yet. I picture Dad watching us walk away. Maybe he just wanted to be here to witness my humiliation.
Siân is waiting for us. “Are you ready, Amber?”
I need the toilet badly. Nerves. Siân shows me where to go. I use the time alone to try to breathe. To get my head clear.
“OK.” I take a breath and puff it out audibly. I take another. And another. “OK,” I say again. I tell myself over and over that this guy waiting in the conference room can’t do anything to me. Come on, I tell myself. Come on.
I splash a little water on to my face and dry it with a paper towel, then return to Siân and Gran and we go into a room where he is already waiting. His gaze is so direct that I’d reverse straight back out again if Gran wasn’t standing behind me. I turn my eyes to the floor, a nasty mustard-coloured carpet. I am the offender, he is the victim. I don’t feel like an offender. I feel like it should be the other way round. I try to get an idea of what he’s like without looking at his face. His shoes are polished, his trousers smart. Money.
I sit down, my back to the door and Gran sits next to me. Siân takes her place at the end of the table and starts to speak.
“I’d like to welcome everybody here today and thank you all very much for coming. I appreciate that this may not be easy for any of you. As you all know, my name is Siân.”
She smiles at each one of us.
“This is Amber and this is Ruby, Amber’s grandmother.”
We sound like a jewellery shop. My leg jitters up and down and I can’t make it stop. Gran puts her hand out and tries to steady it. It doesn’t work.
“And this is Dr Levine.”
I force myself to meet his eyes for a moment and he gives a small nod. I wonder why he hasn’t brought anyone with him. Maybe he doesn’t need anyone to support him. Maybe he’s got no friends or family. I’m sure Siân mentioned family in one of our conversations.
“During this meeting we’ll look at what happened earlier this month at Dr Levine’s house. It is important to understand that the focus of the meeting will be on Amber’s actions and how these have affected others, specifically Dr Levine and his family.”
I see Dr Levine rub one of his eyes. So he has got family.
“As you know, none of you are here to decide whether anybody is a good or bad person. You are here to explore how people have been affected by what has happened, and hopefully for all of you to work towards repairing the harm that was caused.” She goes on to explain that we must respect each other and that we have to take it in turns to talk; that we will each be given the chance to have our say and to ask questions. I’ve been told all this already, in our preparatory meetings at home, but I try to listen carefully so I don’t get anything wrong.
“Normally, at this point, I would ask you to check that your mobile phones are switched off. However, Dr Levine has asked to be allowed to keep his on for personal reasons. Is that all right with you?” Siân looks towards Gran and me. I wonder what his personal reasons are. Gran nods. I shrug.
“Perhaps we could start by looking at what you all hope to get out of this meeting. Amber, would you like to start?”
I would not like to start even though I’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. My mouth is dry as cardboard. I look to Gran for support and she gives my hand a small squeeze.
“I want to tell Dr Levine that I’m sorry for what I did – for the part I played in the burglary. I want him to understand that there were some reasons I did it, but now I know those reasons were the wrong reasons.”
I say my whole speech to the table and I stick to the script. It makes it sound insincere. In the silence that follows I force myself to look up. Dr Levine is kind of smiling at me. There’s doubt there, for sure, but his eyes are kind.
“Thank you,” he says, “for your apology. I hope you don’t mind if I ask you some questions.”
My eyes flick towards Siân and she indicates that I should let him continue.
“First, I’d like you to tell me exactly what part you play
ed. Most of all, I’d like to know why? Why us? We’ve never done anything to hurt anyone. What did we do that made you pick us out? What did we do to deserve it?”
That’s a lot of questions and in the short silence that follows, it strikes me that I’m not the one with the answers. In fact I could ask the very same questions: Why did Declan, Joel and Tyler pick me? What did I do to deserve it?
“Amber, perhaps you could tell Dr Levine exactly what happened,” says Siân, prompting me to say something.
I outline, as best I can, what happened on that afternoon. It’s all a bit garbled – not what I intended and the unfairness of it hammers in my chest. I want him to know that I never actually went into his house. It wasn’t me who stole his stuff.
Was it planned in advance he wants to know? Had someone been watching his house and knew when the house was empty? He seems to be getting more worked up with each question.
I try to think. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I think they’d scouted the area before.”
“You say they so not you?”
I shake my head.
“Anyone watching our house would know it’s empty a lot of the time. I suppose that makes us an easy target.” He rubs his thumb against the tip of his forefinger as he thinks. “But that still doesn’t make it right, does it? I mean what gave you the right to make our life worse than it already is?”
I’m shaking my head. He should try living my life. What would he say if he knew about Liam and Mum and Tyler and Declan? He hasn’t got a clue. Whatever he’s seeing when he looks at me is wrong – it’s not the real me.
Siân starts to speak, but he stops her. “I’m sorry,” he says, clasping his hands together. I watch him regain control. “I think it might help Amber to know something about my family – if that’s all right.”
I can hardly say no.
“Whatever your reasons for doing what you did,” he speaks to me directly now, “it might help you to understand how deeply your actions have affected us. It may have been totally unintentional on your behalf, but I believe you need to know so that next time – well, so there won’t be a next time.”