Lost Innocence

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Now, I don’t wish to discuss this any more tonight. I’m going to sleep in the guest room to give you some time to think about what I’ve said, and to contemplate your relationship with your daughter. And before you ask again, I won’t be offering Alicia a lift. I can see it would send out the wrong message, and though I don’t give a damn about anyone else, I most certainly do about Annabelle,’ and leaving her staring after him, her face pinched with shock, he walked out of the room and closed the door.

  The following morning Alicia and Darcie set off early, wanting to make sure they arrived at the court in plenty of time. They were both dressed in sombre colours with their hair tied up, as though any flash of colour or perky curl might show some disrespect for the proceedings.

  As they drove out of the village Darcie began jabbing at the radio, flitting through stations, as unable to make a choice as she was to sit still. Alicia stared straight ahead, not wanting any eye contact with her neighbours this morning, even those whose good wishes were going with them.

  Thanks to a brief call from Marianne earlier, she knew that Nat and Jolyon were already on their way, and she’d felt buoyed by Marianne’s assurance that she was doing the right thing in ignoring Nat’s instructions to stay away.

  ‘Jolyon thinks he’s trying to shoulder everything himself, when really, like the rest of us in times of trouble, he’s very much in need of his mum,’ Marianne had told her.

  Wanting nothing more than to support him in any way she could, while feeling that she could shake him senseless for having been so stupid as to have sex with a girl who was so volatile and vulnerable, thanks to her nightmare of a mother, and, worst of all, underage, Alicia put her foot down as they wound erratically through the country lanes. However, on reaching the main road she eased off again, knowing that the highway was littered with cameras all primed to go off the instant she pushed past the limit.

  A little over half an hour later they were driving into the cobbled market square at the heart of Wells, where the town hall presided in all its pomp and stateliness over the olde English quaintness around it. It was a large eighteenth-century building with noble Romanesque pillars flanking its portico, tall arched windows and a yellowy limestone facade that was colourfully decorated by hanging baskets of flowers and an array of giant flagpoles soaring majestically over those who came and went.

  The court was inside, to the right of the main lobby, with a small waiting area adjacent to the main door, where Alicia and Darcie sat down quietly, able to hear voices echoing through other parts of the building, though no one was actually in sight. Then they heard footsteps crossing the flagstones towards them, and Alicia’s heart flooded with love and anxiety as Nat and Jolyon appeared in the waiting-room doorway. Even though Nat held back from hugging her, he didn’t utter a word of rebuke about her being there, but there was no time, anyway, because Darcie flew straight into his arms to hug him with all her might.

  ‘Hey, squirrel,’ he said, hugging her back.

  ‘Hey, yourself,’ she said. She drew back to look at him and her face started to crumple. ‘Everything’s going to be all right,’ she told him through her tears. ‘I just know it is. I have this feeling, and you know when I get them I’m always right.’

  His eyes were shining as he looked down at her. ‘I thought it was me who was always right,’ he teased.

  ‘No, never,’ she assured him. ‘It’s definitely me.’

  Handing her the victory, he said, ‘That’s quite a tan you’ve got there.’

  She glanced down at her arms. ‘It’s fading already,’ she complained. Then, dismissing it, she looked up at him again. ‘You’re coming home after, aren’t you?’

  He nodded. ‘Unless they lock me up straight away.’

  ‘Don’t even joke about things like that,’ Alicia chided, as she and Jolyon embraced. ‘Thanks for letting him stay,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sure it did him good.’

  ‘It’s been a pleasure having him,’ Jolyon told her, ‘apart from the awkward little moment when we were kicking a football around the Downs yesterday and he lobbed it into the windscreen of a passing police car.’

  ‘Obviously something in me can’t stay away from them,’ Nat quipped.

  Chuckling, Jolyon gave him a brief pat on the shoulder, and glanced at his watch. ‘Almost time,’ he said. Then, seeing Alicia’s face, ‘It’s all going to be very informal, so don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘No stodgy judges or standing up in the dock. This is purely a process that has to be gone through. Now, I’ll find out what’s going on, so you wait here, and don’t run away.’

  Fifteen minutes later they were entering the claustrophobic little courtroom where the air of its chequered history assailed them, seeming to seep up from the shadowy cells below, and clamber like cobwebs over the dark wood panelling. The windows were tall and frosted, allowing views to nowhere, the smell was stale and dusty, and the lawyers’ benches were cramped so tightly together that there was barely room for Jolyon to squeeze in alongside prosecuting counsel.

  As Alicia, Nat and Darcie made their way into the row of seats Jolyon directed them to, Alicia felt a strange sense of dissociation trying to pull her from reality. It was as though they’d lost their bearings on a journey that should have had no stops, and were now being swept along the wrong tracks. There was no way to change course, no chance of turning back. It shouldn’t be happening. Her son wasn’t meant to be in court like this, he should be here as a lawyer, not the accused. Something was going horribly wrong and she needed to find a way to make it right.

  Feeling Darcie’s hand slip into hers, she struggled past the panic rising inside her and tried to force herself to get a grip.

  The lawyers in their dark suits stood as the Youth Panel began filing in, coming to perch like jackdaws on the high bench over the court. To her, they were hanging judges with only one outcome in mind, whereas in reality they were three very ordinary-looking middle-aged people, two men and a woman, who undoubtedly had families and issues of their own tucked away behind their implacable facades.

  Nat was asked to stand and feeling him rise beside her, Alicia forced herself not to reach for his hand. After he’d confirmed his name the charge was read out, and Alicia felt sick. Had she known it would be so explicit she’d have put her foot down about Darcie coming here.

  ‘… in that you did intentionally penetrate the vagina of Annabelle Preston aged fifteen, with your penis, when she did not consent, and not reasonably believing she was aged sixteen or over.’

  Nat’s face was taut and pale, his hands bunched into iron tight fists. He wasn’t expected to plead, so he remained silent.

  ‘Thank you, Nathan,’ the chairman said mildly, ‘you can sit down.’

  It didn’t take long for the prosecuting lawyer to lay out the case, his words swooping around the old room like bats. Alicia, feeling Nat beside her, stiff and unmoving, found herself thinking about the wretched souls who’d appeared here before, the evil and oppressed, the terrified and the insane. There would be more stories attached to this place than could ever be told, more secrets hidden in its cracked wood panels and underground chambers than would ever be known. She felt as though they were impostors, or actors who’d stumbled on to the wrong stage. They were out of sync with a reality that was trudging on somewhere, regardless of them.

  Jolyon rose to outline the current bail conditions and requested that the same terms be granted, with the exception of custody. Nat wanted to return to his home.

  After consulting his colleagues, the chairman levelled a grave look Nat’s way. ‘Nathan, I hope you understand that if you breach your bail you’ll be arrested and held in custody until the time of your trial,’ he said.

  Nat nodded.

  After murmuring to his colleagues again, the chairman said, ‘Then you can be released into the custody of your mother.’

  Next came the setting of a date for the service of papers, which was to be in exactly four weeks, five days before Nat and Darcie were t
o start their new school. Then proceedings were ended by the chairman saying, ‘Nathan, you are to report to the Youth Court in Taunton at eleven a.m. on Thursday the eleventh of September for your case to be committed to Crown Court. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ Nat answered huskily.

  ‘Thank you, you may go.’

  Outside on the market square uninterested shoppers were going about their chores, and a newly married couple were posing in front of the town hall for photographs to capture their special day. As Alicia waited for Nat to finish speaking to Jolyon she found herself watching the newlyweds and thinking of her own wedding, almost twenty years ago. She’d been happier that day than she ever had in her life, and only having Nat and Darcie had managed to eclipse that joy. She wondered, if she’d known then what she knew now, would she have married Craig, and the answer was immediately yes, because in spite of the affair she’d loved him with all her heart, and still did, and without him there would be no Nathan or Darcie, and without them, there would be no point to anything at all.

  Turning to find out where they were, she felt a trip in her heart as she spotted them wandering, arm in arm, towards the gate of the Bishop’s Palace. Nat seemed unaware of the way he was turning passing girls’ heads, as did Darcie, who was apparently engrossed in whatever he was saying. Towering behind the medieval buildings they were heading towards was the magnificent cathedral, where, until recent years, they used to attend midnight mass every Christmas Eve. It was a tradition Craig had loved, even though he hadn’t been particularly religious. It was a time for family, he used to say, and an opportunity to give thanks for how blessed they were to have one another.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Jolyon asked, coming to rest an arm on her shoulders.

  ‘Mm,’ she murmured, still watching Nat and Darcie. ‘I was just thinking that no matter how well you think you know someone, or how much you trust them, you can never really be sure of what they might do.’

  ‘Are we talking about Nat?’ he asked in surprise.

  ‘No, no,’ she assured him. ‘About Craig, actually.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ he said regretfully.

  In a sudden spurt of need, she said, ‘What do you think drove him to have an affair? Was it me, because he didn’t …’

  Jolyon’s hand closed tightly around hers. ‘Put that thought out of your head now,’ he urged. ‘Whatever else might have gone on, Craig was devoted to you and the children, and don’t ever doubt it.’

  Feeling steadied by his assurance, and embarrassed by her outburst, she tried to smile as she returned her attention to Nat and Darcie. ‘I wonder what those two are gassing about,’ she said, trying to lighten the moment.

  Following the direction of her eyes, Jolyon’s lit with fondness to see the youngsters in such an earnest exchange.

  At the other end of the square Darcie was saying, ‘…but I thought you were dead set against this Cameron bloke.’

  ‘I am, I mean, I was,’ Nat replied, ‘but I’ve been thinking about it. I know Dad’s not been gone all that long, but there are things… Look, she’s probably not interested in him anyway, so what I’m saying is, he can really help her as far as her art’s concerned. Think about it, it would be great if she could make a go of the shop, wouldn’t it? And we have to ask ourselves, is it fair to want her to be on her own just because we don’t want anyone to replace Dad?’

  Darcie looked appalled. ‘But she doesn’t want anyone to replace him either,’ she protested.

  ‘Not now, obviously, but later she might, and we have to think about when I’ve gone off to university and you’re more interested in your friends than staying at home. She’ll want some company then.’

  Darcie stopped walking and when he turned to look at her, to his surprise her confusion had gone and she was grinning.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘You said, when you go to university, which is only next year, so it means you think everything’s going to be all right too.’ She threw her arms around him in joy. ‘I told you it would be,’ she said, ‘all you have to do is believe it.’

  Sabrina gave a cluck of appreciation as she gazed out over the perfectly pampered gardens of Babington House. ‘Isn’t it wonderful having The Buzz meetings here instead of at the office?’ she commented, watching a family of doves pecking about the lawn.

  ‘Heaven,’ June agreed, sipping an iced lemonade. ‘Makes me feel quite decadent.’

  Sabrina smiled, showing nothing of the angst she was feeling about Robert and his continuing coolness towards her. And about Annabelle and how far apart she and her daughter had drifted. She was constantly trying to think of ways to repair the damage, but it wasn’t easy, and to her mind Robert was being far too hard on her anyway, trying to load her with guilt for behaving in a way she hadn’t been able to control.

  ‘Wasn’t Nathan Carlyle due in court this morning?’ June said, letting her head fall back to expose her face to the sun. ‘I wonder how he got on.’

  Sabrina shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she replied, ‘but please don’t mention it in front of Annabelle when she comes out, she’s being very touchy about it all at the moment.’

  June looked sympathetic. ‘I expect she’s worried, and nervous about the time when she’ll have to go in front of the judge herself,’ she said.

  ‘She’ll probably do it by video,’ Sabrina informed her, wanting to get off the subject. ‘It’s not so traumatic that way.’ After finishing her drink, she pulled a handful of files out of her Prada briefcase and set them down on the table. ‘OK, let’s take a look at what we have for the next issue,’ she said, crisping up proceedings with a businesslike manner. ‘I still haven’t heard back from BT about the rural-phone-box issue, so I’ll chase that up. I’ve been in touch with our useless MP to get his comments on the affordable-housing problem in the area. With any luck he’ll be voted out next time, because the answer’s definitely not to extend that ghastly estate on the outskirts of Holly Wood, which he’s currently proposing. Now, what else do we have here?’ she went on, continuing to leaf through her files. ‘This is all “what’s on” stuff, oh yes, here are some notes I’ve made on starting a volunteer recruitment drive to spare time for the elderly. Perhaps you could take that over while I’m away.’

  June looked up. ‘Away? Oh yes, I’d forgotten you’re going to France. When do you leave?’

  ‘Next Monday. I can hardly wait. Ten days on the French Riviera. All those gorgeous yachts and fabulous beach restaurants.’ She gave a shaky sigh of rapture. ‘Have you fixed things up with your sister yet?’ she remembered to ask.

  June pulled a face. ‘Actually, I was thinking I might just stay here,’ she said bleakly.

  Spotting Annabelle sauntering towards them, Sabrina affected her best motherly smile as she said, ‘Ah, there you are, darling. How was your massage?’

  Annabelle slumped into a chair and picked up Sabrina’s glass. ‘It was OK,’ she answered. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Lemonade, but there’s not much left, so let’s get some more.’

  After summoning a waiter and giving him their orders, Sabrina returned to her files, hoping to find something that might interest Annabelle.

  ‘I expect she’s been telling you all about her new book club, has she?’ Annabelle said to June.

  Sabrina’s eyes darkened. ‘I haven’t been to a meeting yet,’ she said, ‘so there’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘Which book club is this?’ June enquired, all interest.

  ‘Robert calls it the royal book club,’ Annabelle informed her, ‘because someone eighty-fifth in line to the throne belongs.’

  Sabrina rolled her eyes. ‘Actually, she’s married to someone who is fourteenth or fifteenth in line,’ she told Annabelle, ‘but that’s not why I joined.’

  ‘Pffft!’ Annabelle snorted. ‘You don’t even read, so I can’t think why else you signed up.’

  ‘Please ignore her,’ Sabrina said to June, ‘she’s clearly in one of her moods again.’

/>   ‘So how did you manage to join this club?’ June wanted to know.

  Sabrina waved a dismissive hand. ‘It came up when we were at the Willoughbys’ having dinner the other night, so I said I would. You know how these things happen, you’re on the spot, so you have to say yes, or it would seem rude.’

  Annabelle was regarding her incredulously, but before she could say anything June was lamenting her fate.

  ‘This is the trouble with being divorced,’ she grumbled, ‘I never get invited to anything any more.’

  Sabrina was all compassion. ‘It’s very difficult when you’re on your own,’ she agreed. ‘I have to admit, we were all couples on Saturday night, with not one unattached person to be seen. It’s going to be just the same at the Bingleighs’ in France, apart from madam here, of course.’

  Annabelle’s face told how much she was looking forward to it.

  ‘You know, June,’ Sabrina continued, ‘Joanna Willoughby was talking about someone on Saturday who might be interesting for you to meet.’ Her eyes were narrowing as she tried to remember exactly what had been said. ‘Apparently she’d invited him to join us,’ she continued, ‘but he couldn’t make it. He’s staying in the area, though, somewhere over Wyke way, and from what she was saying, he’s going to be here right through the summer.’

  June didn’t bother to hide her interest. ‘Do you know who he is? Did she tell you anything about him?’ she demanded.

  Now it was coming back to her, Sabrina’s expression was lightening with eagerness. ‘Actually, he’s quite a catch,’ she replied, ‘and I think you’ll probably have heard of him. Cameron Mitchell? The art critic.’