In the Blood

by Ruth Mancini

  Gareth picks up a pen and taps it against his desk. ‘I think that’s part of the problem.’

  I glance down at my lap and blink hard again. ‘I’m sorry. But I have Ben. I can’t...’

  ‘Do you not have a family member? Someone who could...’

  ‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘There’s no one I can ask.’

  ‘Then, a babysitter? And, before you say anything, I know it would cost you more than you’d earn. But if you could just show willing... If you were on call a few nights per month, plus one weekend, maybe, it would keep everyone happy, show you were doing your bit. What do you say?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ I tell him. ‘My son has special needs.’

  Gareth’s face is impassive. ‘Sarah, I’m aware that you’ve got... personal difficulties. But, at the end of the day, we all have busy lives. Everyone’s got their problems.’

  I don’t know what to say to that. I sit and look at him for a moment. ‘It’s hard to explain,’ I say. ‘But... but trying to get someone to look after him who... someone who can deal with him... I don’t know anyone who... but that doesn’t mean that I don’t work hard. It doesn’t mean I can’t do my job.’

  Gareth sighs. ‘Well, if you can’t go to the police station out of hours, you’re going to have to manage your time better.’

  I open my mouth and then close it again. Gareth surveys me in silence.

  ‘She gave the case to me,’ I say, finally. ‘I’m aware that Matt wants a shot at something bigger, but this is about doing what’s right for the client. For Ellie.’

  Gareth looks me in the eye for a long moment. ‘OK. I’ll send Matt to the mags tomorrow. But you’ll still have your other cases to run. So, do whatever you have to do to make up the time. You see your client, you take instructions, you say goodbye. The Robin Crowthorns – you bin them off. Send them away.’

  ‘That’s easier said than done,’ I object. ‘He’s in a bad way. In his mind, he’s being watched and followed. He’s frightened.’

  ‘We’re not social workers, Sarah. We don’t get paid to deal with that kind of stuff. Times are hard. It’s the way things are.’

  I stand up. ‘Is that all?’

  Gareth says, ‘Yes. For now.’ As I reach the doorway, he calls my name. I turn to face him. ‘A baby, you say?’

  ‘Yes. Eleventh months old.’

  Gareth narrows his eyes again. His tone is far from friendly when he says, ‘Just don’t get too involved.’

  *

  When I arrive at the pub, Anna’s sitting on a dark green leather sofa. She stands up to kiss me and I hug her tall, thin, somewhat bony frame. She’s almost the polar opposite of me, with her olive skin and her slim hips; I’m shorter, fair-skinned, blonde and just a little too curvy. But she’s naturally thin, it seems; she’s not one of those waif-like model types that never eats. On the contrary, she loves food and loves to cook. I remember her being addicted to Masterchef and bringing me delicious soups and stews into the office, wrapped in tinfoil, several times a week. That was my evening meal sorted out, more than once. It helped more than she knew. Or maybe she did.

  Today, she’s wearing a grey trouser suit and – since I saw her last – she’s had her curly jet-black hair straightened and cut into a pretty bob.

  ‘It suits you,’ I say, nodding at her hair. ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Anna sits back down again, stretches out her long legs and crosses her ankles.

  ‘Nice suntan,’ I add, smiling. ‘I’m extremely jealous. You look amazing.’

  Anna looks up and smiles. She can’t say the same back to me because I look like shit. Instead, she leans forward and pulls out the menu from a dark wooden cradle on the table. She chooses coffee and a cheese and ham panini and I tell her I’ll have the same. She goes up to the bar to place our order and I lean back into the soft leather folds of the sofa and close my eyes. I instantly feel the stress and tension melting out of me. The leather feels amazing under my legs and up against my back – it’s cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the heat of the August sun outside. I want to curl up into a ball and put my feet up and to never have to get up again.

  I feel the sofa move slightly against the pressure of Anna’s body as she sits back down beside me. I open my eyes and sit up slightly.

  ‘You were asleep!’ she accuses me, laughing.

  ‘No. Just resting my eyes.’ I smile. But I think I was asleep.

  She leans over and lifts a wisp of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look completely exhausted.’

  ‘It’s Ben,’ I sigh. ‘He just doesn’t sleep. He goes down OK, but then he’s up again a couple of hours later. The minute he wakes, he thinks it’s time to get up and then that’s it until dawn.’

  She pushes a cup of coffee across the table towards me. ‘How old is he now?’

  ‘He’s nearly five. He’ll be starting school in September.’

  Anna reaches out and touches my hand. ‘I wish I could tell you he’d grow out of it, but I know it’s not that simple with Ben. Is there no one who can help? Give you a bit of a break for a night or two?’ she asks.

  I shake my head. ‘Not really. I don’t really have any family nearby.’

  ‘I could have him one night if you like,’ Anna offers. ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘That’s sweet of you, Anna. I may just take you up on that.’ I know that I won’t. It’s too much to ask of her. ‘So, tell me about Ellie,’ I say.

  Anna opens her briefcase. She hands me a plastic wallet with a charge sheet, police summary and conviction history inside.

  ‘This all you’ve got?’ I ask.

  ‘So far. Sorry, I can’t disclose the papers from the family proceedings,’ Anna says. ‘Not without the judge’s permission.’

  ‘Of course.’ I glance at the papers. ‘So. Her name’s Ellis. Ellis Stephens.’

  ‘Yeah. Calls herself Ellie. She has no family. She was an only child; her parents were drug addicts and she was removed from them as a baby. She’s spent most of her life in care and, despite her young age and the hand she’s been dealt, she hasn’t done badly. She seems to manage her life well enough. She works, she pays her rent, she stays away from the wrong people. Considering she’s been through so much and has virtually no support network...’ She pauses and glances up at me. ‘She’s doing far better than some that I know. And although history appears to be repeating itself, with the child being taken away... well, she’s still here, fighting to clear her name, fighting for her son. It would be too much for a lot of people, going through all that alone.’ She takes a pack of sugar from the table, tears it open and tips it into her cup. ‘On the other hand, of course, it’s the perfect storm.’ She picks up a spoon and gives her coffee a vigorous stir. ‘She has the textbook profile of a young woman who harms her child. That’ll be the prosecution case, for sure.’

  ‘So how’s the baby doing?’ I ask her. ‘Will he live?’

  ‘It’s touch and go. He’s in a critical condition. He’s had a blood transfusion, but there are still problems with his kidneys. The blood loss caused his heart to fail. There are other complications as a result.’

  ‘So the charge could become one of murder?’

  Anna bites her lip and nods slowly.

  I glance back down at the papers in front of me. ‘So the baby’s name is Finn. And what about the father? Is he around?’

  ‘Kind of. His name’s Jay. He’s older than her and from quite a well-to-do family: the Barrington-Browns. Old money. Father’s a life peer and mother’s from a family of doctors. Her father’s an Old Etonian, a fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons. Their backgrounds couldn’t be more different.’

  Anna pauses as our food arrives. The waiter leaves and returns again, bringing napkins, ketchup and mustard.

  ‘They met at a party, apparently, at a hotel in Chelsea. Ellie was working there as a waitress for a catering company and Jay was there – having a go
od time, it seems. He took a shine to her, she stayed the night, and the rest is history. They went out a few times, but it looks as though their relationship was fairly short-lived. I don’t know whether he ever actually cared for her, but I don’t think she stood a chance with him, to be honest. The Barrington-Browns own a ten-million-pound house in Richmond. Jay has a flat in Markham Square, Chelsea. Ellie, meanwhile, lives in a housing association flat in Camberwell. It was all pretty much stacked against her.

  ‘But then she fell pregnant. When she told Jay, she says she had no expectations, other than that he’d help her financially. She thought he’d want her to get rid of the baby and she says she considered it, but after the initial shock had worn off he seemed keen to help her bring up the child, or at least to do his share. All seemed fine for the first few months. Finn appeared to be thriving, no one reports any concerns. Then, when he’s around eight months old, Finn gets a chest infection and is admitted to hospital. The A&E nurses find a number of bruises and what appear to be cigarette burns. Social Services get an emergency protection order and Finn’s taken away while they investigate. Ellie’s got no family and Jay works long hours, so Finn’s gone to the grandparents – Jay’s parents. That’s when Ellie came to me. We spent the next three months working hard towards getting Finn back. We had a bit of a fight on our hands for a while. Ellie didn’t get on with her social worker.’

  ‘Heather Grainger,’ I say, referring to the papers in front of me. ‘She’s one of the key prosecution witnesses.’

  Anna nods. ‘Ellie will tell you that Heather had it in for her, right from the start.’

  ‘And did she?’

  Anna looks at me and wrinkles up her nose. ‘No. I don’t think so. She’s a professional. She wouldn’t let things get personal.’ She leans back in her seat. ‘But, to be fair to Ellie, Heather’s not the most sympathetic of people. And she goes by the book. She can be a bit... prescriptive.’

  ‘You mean, controlling?’

  Anna laughs. ‘A little.’

  ‘So they clashed, basically.’

  ‘Well, yeah. Heather was “on her case all the time” as Ellie saw it – which, of course, she was. Quite literally. Ellie, in the meantime, was highly defensive, said she’d done nothing wrong. There was a bit of a battle of wills.’

  ‘Over what?’

  ‘Oh, the usual stuff. Prop-feeding, co-sleeping – things that are probably normal to most of the mothers on the estate where Ellie lives. Ellie was willing to be educated, but not by Heather; she came on too strong.’

  ‘But she got Finn back, didn’t she? She must have done something right?’

  Anna nods. ‘Like I said, Social Services couldn’t prove definitively that the injuries had been deliberately inflicted. Ellie learned to toe the line. We were at the stage where she’d been given unsupervised contact a couple of times per week. And then she gets to have him overnight, for the first time.’ She takes a sip of her coffee and looks up at me. ‘But something happens during the night. When Heather turns up in the morning, Finn’s seriously unwell. He’s awake and conscious, just, but not moving. He’s floppy and his eyes are glazed. She can see straight away that there’s something really wrong. She calls an ambulance and he’s rushed back to hospital. He’s vomiting and having seizures on the way.’

  I feel a familiar knot in my gut, a tightness forming in my chest as she talks. I breathe in deeply and hold it there for a second or two. Anna pauses for a moment and looks up at me, her face softening.

  ‘Carry on,’ I say.

  ‘They didn’t know what it was at first,’ she continues. ‘They knew that his blood sodium level was high, but presumed he was dehydrated. They suspected meningitis, or some kind of virus, until the tests came back. Meanwhile, Finn has been treated, he’s turned a corner and seems to be on the mend. He’s released from the ICU to the renal paediatric unit – Peregrine Ward – where he’s having treatment for the damage the sodium has done to his kidneys. So, it’s his first night on Peregrine Ward. Ellie arrives – she stays the night. Nurses on the evening shift all say that Finn was fine when they left. Then one of the night shift nurses spots a pool of blood on the floor under his cot and there’s Finn lying there, unconscious and bleeding heavily, with Ellie asleep on a camp bed next to him, or so she says. She says she woke up to a commotion, the nurse calling for the doctor. She swears she knew nothing about what happened.’

  ‘And no one saw anything?’

  ‘No. Except one nurse, apparently, who says that as she was going off shift at around ten p.m., she saw Ellie leaning over the cot and picking up the baby. That’s all they’ve got. But someone disconnected his tube not long afterwards, and as Ellie was the last one seen with him... and she was there, right next to where he was found... the doors to the ward are security protected, they’ve viewed the CCTV and say no one else came in or out. Then the tests come back showing these hugely elevated sodium levels in his body at the point he came into hospital... and well, with everything put together, they obviously believe they’ve got enough evidence to convict.’

  I sweep up a few stray crumbs from the table and fold them into a napkin. ‘Is there... any way the baby could have dislodged the tube himself?’

  Anna shakes her head. ‘The hospital say no. He was still sedated from the operation.’

  ‘What about the nurses? Is it possible that the tube hadn’t been taped in place properly?’

  ‘Well, I suppose it’s possible, but the nurses say they’d left him uncovered, in line with procedure, so that they could see the exit site of the line at all times. Someone had covered him with a blanket. The medical tape had been completely ripped off. That, combined with the position of the tube when they found him, has led the doctors to believe it was deliberate.’

  I look up. ‘Well, they’d be bound to say that, wouldn’t they? If the hospital had allowed an accident to happen, they’d hardly admit it.’

  Anna looks doubtful. ‘St Martin’s is a leading paediatric hospital,’ she reminds me.

  I nod. ‘It’s where Ben was. They’re brilliant there. But it only takes one person to make a mistake.’

  Anna presses her lips together. ‘But then there’s the poisoning too. How do you explain that?’

  I think about this for a moment. ‘Was he definitely poisoned?’ I ask. ‘Are there other reasons why a baby’s sodium levels might be high?’

  ‘Possibly. But he was really sick when he came into A&E. He was fitting. He nearly died.’ Anna glances at me. She’s still wondering if I’m OK with this.

  I give her a wry smile, to reassure her. ‘Well, there are a lot of things that can cause a seizure.’

  Anna shrugs. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Look, I’m the last person who would want to criticise the nurses or point my finger at the hospital,’ I tell her. ‘Not after everything they did there for Ben. But I’d have to explore that as a potential defence. If Ellie says she didn’t do it, any of it, then it’s my job to find out who did.’

  ‘Sure.’ Anna looks at me and her nose twitches.

  ‘Things aren’t always as they seem,’ I say. ‘Especially when it comes to children.’

  Anna takes a last bite of her panini, chews and swallows it and then picks up her coffee cup. ‘That’s why I wanted you on this case.’

  I study her face as she takes a sip of her coffee. I notice that Anna wears no make-up other than a thick line of navy eyeliner, which streaks across her eyelid and up at the corner. Dark lashes frame her almond-shaped eyes.

  ‘But you don’t believe her, right?’ I ask, shaking my head. ‘You think she did it?’

  She sips at her coffee and peers at me over the rim of the cup. Her dark eyes meet mine. ‘Persuade me otherwise,’ she says.

  2

  When I pick up Ben, he’s as exhausted as I am. I pray that this means he’ll sleep tonight. Helen is clearing up, and one of the newer girls, Kayleigh, has him laid across her lap on a heavy blue crash mat on the floor. She’s sitting str
oking his thick hair away from his face, in soft regular movements, so that it’s standing up in a big blond halo. When he lifts his head at the sound of my voice, he looks startled, as if he’s been through a wind tunnel. I laugh and Ben starts laughing too, even though he doesn’t know what he’s laughing at. His giggle is infectious and Kayleigh and Helen both join in.

  I bend down and stroke Ben’s hair back, before lifting him into my arms. His glasses are smeared with food and it’s obvious that he can’t see properly. Well, it’s obvious to me; I’m the only one who seems to have noticed. I take them off his nose and rub them on the hem of my blouse.

  ‘Dirty specs.’ I smile at Kayleigh, hoping she’ll get the hint.

  But they’re so good with him here, so loving and caring, that I can’t find it in myself to complain. Not after what happened at his first nursery. I still feel the hurt as if it was yesterday, when I think about the owner taking me aside and telling me that Ben was too much work for them. ‘We have to allocate one full-time playworker to him,’ she told me. ‘We can’t help him. He needs too much attention. It’s not fair on the other children... I have to think of them.’

  I’d cried on and off for days after that conversation, and though I knew it was wrong of them, that in law they ought to have made the appropriate arrangements to accommodate him, it had felt just about as personal as it could possibly get. I didn’t want my son spending his day with them if they didn’t want him; I’d find somewhere else.

  I took a week off work and sat with my laptop in my little living room with Ben, looking at every nursery between Finsbury Park and Islington and asking questions on the phone. I walked the backstreets along Blackstock Road with Ben in his buggy and Google Maps open on my phone, poking my head through doorways or watching through railings, spying on the pre-schoolers – or more specifically the nursery staff – to see if the children were happy and the staff kind. It had only been a few weeks since I’d moved with Ben to the two-bedroomed ground-floor flat in a converted terraced house behind the Holloway Road from the flat in Southwark where we’d lived since he was born, and Little Angels, not far from Angel Tube station, had come to me on recommendation from one of the ushers at court. I didn’t know any other nurseries in the area, so I’d given it a go, much to my regret.