by Ruth Mancini
Before I get to the Crown Court building I can see the black metal and glass dome of the Hay’s Galleria which houses the Côte Brasserie. Ellie is waiting for me outside, under the black-and-white striped awning of the restaurant. She’s wearing a baby pink leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans with stylish brown riding boots. Her blonde hair hangs loose around her shoulders and falls across a pair of wide blue sunglasses as she stands with her hand on one hip, her thumb tapping away busily at the keyboard of her phone. I can see at least three waiters standing just inside the window with their tongues practically hanging out, but Ellie is oblivious to the looks she’s getting from both the people inside the restaurant and the passers-by.
As I approach the restaurant, my own phone rings and Alex’s name lights up the screen. My heart, as usual, gives a little lurch and I wonder briefly if his might do the same. We’ve been seeing each other several times a week since the evening in early September when we went dancing and he’s made it plain that he likes me as much as I like him. But I’m still half expecting something to be wrong each time he calls. I can’t quite believe he’s still here.
I glance up to see that Ellie is still absorbed in her own conversation, and Will is clearly nowhere in sight, so I walk back towards the exit and take the call.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi, babe.’
I laugh out loud. This is the first time I’ve heard this. ‘Hi, babe’ is not an expression that sits comfortably within Alex’s usual repertoire.
‘What?’ Alex’s voice sounds mock-offended.
‘It’s just... “Babe”!’ I giggle.
‘Hi, babe,’ Alex says again. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing,’ I smile. ‘It’s nice. It’s better than “Sugar-tits”.’
‘“Sugar-tits”?’
‘Ah. You obviously haven’t seen Gavin and Stacey? I have the box-set. You are in for a treat!’
‘I can’t wait. Is it porn?’
I laugh. ‘No. It’s a comedy series. It’s brilliant. You’ll love it.’
‘OK. Excellent. I’ll look forward to it. And, as it happens, I’ve taken the afternoon off. I’ve already been shopping and I’ve got all the ingredients for an excellent Thai stir-fry which I intend to have ready for you when you get home tonight. Coriander, chilli, lemongrass, ginger, galangal and prawns. How does that sound? If you don’t mind me letting myself in, that is?’
‘It sounds amazing. You spoil me.’
‘Good. I want to spoil you. You deserve to be spoiled. You are the most obvious candidate for a spoiling that I ever came across. I’m going to give you a good spoiling when I see you.’
I giggle again. ‘Thank you. Do you still have my spare key?’
‘Yep. So, I’ll see you and Ben just after six, then?’
‘OK.’
‘Where are you, by the way? You’re echoing.’
‘I’m on the South Bank. I’m just entering Hay’s Galleria.’
‘What are you doing there?’
‘I’m about to meet Will for a conference.’
Alex hesitates for a moment. ‘So, would that be Will, the good-looking, intelligent barrister who never stops phoning you?’
‘Alex! Are you jealous?’
‘Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?’
I can’t think of an honest answer to this. Will does phone me a lot. As my instructing-solicitor-to-instructed-counsel relationships have gone, the one with Will has been by far the most intense.
‘Because... because you’re gorgeous,’ I tell him. ‘And... because I...’
‘Because you what?’
My heart starts to race. ‘Because I love you,’ I tell him.
Alex is silent for a moment and I can actually feel my heart hammering against my chest. I had no idea I was going to say that. What have I done? What if I’ve scared him? Is he going to pack his chilli and his galangal and his lemongrass right back into his shopping bag and run back to Lewisham?
‘Sarah.’ That’s all Alex says.
‘Yes?’ I reply, meekly. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ellie flicking her hair back and sliding her phone into her handbag. She spots me standing at the entrance to the shopping centre and waves.
‘Sorry, Alex, I’ve got to go,’ I tell him.
‘OK,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’
*
Will orders a coffee each for him and Ellie and a lime and soda for me. We run through Stacey Bennett’s statement.
‘She was on lates that day,’ I tell Ellie, ‘which means she finished at ten. She says she remembers clearly that you got to the ward late, at around nine fifteen p.m. – and that it was quiet. There were no other parents on the ward; they’d all gone to the parents’ quarters for the night, which is what they generally do if they want to stay.’
Ellie listens in silence and then nods when I pause to look at her.
I continue, ‘She says that she remembers you, because you were a bit stressed when you arrived... that you buzzed repeatedly to be let in.’
‘They wouldn’t open the doors,’ Ellie protests. ‘My baby had been in intensive care all week. They’d moved him, and I wanted to see him. What does she expect?’
I look up. ‘I don’t think she was criticising you, Ellie. In fact, she says she felt sorry for you. She says you looked exhausted. She says that she asked you if you wanted to sleep next to Finn, since it was his first night off the ICU.’
Will sits down and the waiter brings the drinks over a moment later.
‘Did you always go to the hospital at night?’ I ask her.
Ellie nods. ‘Every night. Often not until around nine or even later. I waited until I knew she would be gone.’
‘Who? Finn’s grandmother?’
‘Well, there was her, yes. And Heather Grainger. Between the two of them, I knew they weren’t going to let me anywhere near Finn.’
‘But no one had stopped you seeing him at that point, or imposed any conditions on you?’
Ellie shakes her head. ‘No. No one had said I couldn’t see him. They didn’t know how he’d got ill. No one at the hospital was blaming me, not then... So, basically, I just kept out of their way.’
‘How did you work it out, then? The visits?’
‘I just waited outside until I saw everyone leave. Heather was never there after six, but Jay’s mum was sometimes there later. I worked out that night times were the only time I could be on my own with him, without being watched all the time.’
‘So, on the night in question, who did you see?’
‘No one. I got there late. Everyone had gone.’
I nod. ‘Stacey says she came back with a camp bed for you. She came back again to check on Finn before she left at around five to ten, and she says you were already asleep.’
Ellie nods. ‘Exactly. That’s what I told you. I was asleep.’
I look back down at my iPad. I swipe up from Stacey’s statement to Mary’s and back again. ‘So, Stacey left at ten, or just before. She confirms that Finn’s observations were all fine and that both you and Finn were asleep. But, then we have Mary Ngombe. She says she also checked on Finn at around ten o’clock, when she went off shift. She doesn’t mention seeing Stacey, and Stacey doesn’t mention her, so we don’t know for certain which one of them came along first. It seems likely, though, that Mary came shortly after Stacey had left. Stacey says she left on time that evening, while Mary says she’d finished her shift on the PICU and went to check on Finn on her way out. It’s one of the things that the CCTV might have told us, if we’d had it.’
Will takes over. ‘Crucially, as we know,’ he says, ‘Mary says that she saw you leaning over the cot with your back to her, and lifting Finn out. She says that you held him in your arms for a moment or two and then you laid him back down again. She describes you: five feet seven or eight, blonde hair, wearing jeans, a light-coloured top and a blue scarf.’
Ellie shrugs. ‘I told you,’ she says. ‘It wasn’t me.’
/>
‘What were you wearing?’ I ask her. ‘In bed?’
‘Jeans,’ mutters Ellie. ‘A light blue T-shirt. The police have them.’
‘Mary doesn’t mention the camp bed next to the cot,’ I say. ‘Which is curious. And I think I’ve found another angle that might show the jury that Mary doesn’t always get things right.’
‘But she names you,’ says Will. ‘She’s clear about that. She says your name is Ellie and she knows you as the baby’s mother. I know that she gets your age slightly wrong, but she is clear that it’s you she saw holding Finn – the last person to be seen with him before his dialysis line was pulled out. This is our biggest problem.’
Ellie shrugs again. ‘Well she’s wrong. It wasn’t me. I don’t know what else I can say.’
‘You said last time that you don’t even remember Mary?’ I ask her.
‘No.’
‘So, who do you remember, then? Who did you see?’
Ellie shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. That nurse... Stacey, was it? I’m not sure.’
‘Anyone else? Any doctors? Did you talk to anyone about Finn and how he was doing?’
Ellie shakes her head. ‘They just said he was OK. Doing well.’
‘Who did?’
‘I’m not sure. That nurse, I think.’
‘Mary or Stacey?’
‘Stacey, I think.’
I ask, ‘Do you remember a doctor called Dr Kent?’
Ellie shakes her head. ‘No.’
I glance up at Will, who narrows his eyes behind his glasses and purses his lips. I know that he’s thinking the same as me: if this is going to be the quality of Ellie’s evidence, we’re going to have to consider carefully whether we want to put her on the stand.
I pick up my phone to check the time and realise with alarm that I’ve missed a call from the school. I apologise to Ellie and Will and quickly dial the number and weave my way through the tables to the exit.
There’s no answer from the school office, which has in all likelihood now closed. The after-school club staff aren’t answering. I check my voicemail and am told that I have one new message. I dial to listen.
‘Hello, Sarah,’ says Amy from the after-school club, cheerfully. ‘Nothing wrong, Ben’s fine. But we’ve had two staff members go home sick. It seems there’s a bit of a tummy bug going round and one of the children has gone home with it too. Could you collect Ben by four thirty please? We can’t stay open any later, unfortunately, as we don’t have enough staff. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.’
I end the call and check the clock on my phone. I know instinctively that there’s insufficient time for me to get back to the school by four thirty, even if I called a cab. I’d need a helicopter, not a taxi.
‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit,’ I say, mild panic rising inside me.
Will pokes his head round the door. ‘What’s happened? Are you OK?’
‘It’s Ben,’ I tell him. ‘I’ve got to pick him up.’
‘When?’
I look at my phone again. ‘I needed to have left about half an hour ago.’
‘Oh, crap. What are you going to do?’
There’s only one thing I can do, I already know that. I don’t like it, but it’s all I’ve got. I silently vow that I’ll somehow change my life so that I am never south of the river in the afternoon again.
‘Do me a favour, Will? Can you just go inside and explain to Ellie? I’m really sorry, but I just need to sort this out.’
‘Of course.’ Will narrows his eyes in sympathy and pats my arm, before heading back inside.
I call Alex and he answers straight away. ‘Sarah.’
There’s no ‘Hi, babe’ this time, but I can ask him this, can’t I? Will he mind? Will Ben? Will I?
‘Alex, I’m in a bit of a pickle.’
‘Why, what’s up?’
‘I’m still at Hay’s Galleria, having my con... my meeting. But Ben needs picking up. I just got a call. They’re having to shut the after-school club early. I’m so sorry to ask you this, but I’ll never get there on time...’
‘OK, calm down. Remind me where the entrance is?’
‘You’ll go and get him?’
‘Of course I’ll go and get him. Stop panicking.’
‘Oh, Alex, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without you...’
‘Sarah, just tell me where to go,’ Alex laughs.
‘Right. Yes.’ I give him directions to the entrance to the after-school club and tell him which buzzer he has to ring.
‘Give them a call and tell them I’m on my way now,’ Alex instructs me.
‘OK. They’ll ask you for my secret password. It’s... “Tallulah”.’
‘Tallulah?’ Alex laughs. ‘Sounds like a porn name.’
I giggle. ‘It’s the name of my rabbit.’
‘You have a rabbit?’
‘Not any more,’ I laugh. ‘She was my first pet. Tallulah Louisiana. Will you remember that?’
‘How could I forget?’
‘And, Alex... I hope he’s all right for you.’
‘He’ll be just fine.’
‘Just give him... well, you know. Bread, or bananas or whatever. Nothing too difficult to swallow. No fruit with stones, or pips...’
‘I know, Sarah, stop worrying. I’ll take good care of him.’
‘OK. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Take your time. Finish your meeting. We’ll be fine.’
‘OK.’
‘And, Sarah,’ he adds.
‘Yes?’
‘I love you too.’
I end the call and allow myself a moment to breathe a sigh of happiness and relief. But my joy is short-lived; almost as soon as I end the call to Alex, my phone bleeps again. It’s the office, another missed call. I press and hold ‘1’ for voicemail and listen. It’s not Lucy, it’s Gareth. ‘Sarah, I need to talk to you. It’s important. Come back to the office please.’
I quickly dial the office number. Lucy puts me through and Gareth answers on the first ring. ‘Are you on your way back?’ he asks.
‘Well, no,’ I say. ‘I only just got your message. But I have to go home. Ben’s after-school club’s closed early. I have to get back for him.’
There’s a silence on the other end. I can hear Gareth sighing. He says, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning then. First thing.’
‘I’m in court tomorrow—’
‘I’m taking you out.’
My stomach flips. ‘What’s this about?’
‘There’s been a complaint about you, Sarah.’
I sigh. ‘Not Matt again? Seriously? Is this because I didn’t go to Charing Cross this morning? I told him, I had an interview with a witness booked, a con with Counsel.’
Gareth says, ‘That’s part of it. But it’s a little more serious than that. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, first thing. Don’t be late. In the meantime, say goodbye to your client and tell Counsel that Matt will be in touch. I want you off this case.’
13
Before I even reach the door to the flat, I can hear loud music playing and I instantly recognise it as Toy Story’s ‘You’ve Got a Friend in Me’. Inside, Alex and Ben are seated at the computer, eating crisps and watching a video clip. The combination of the music and the words to the song, the anxiety I’ve been left with following my conversation with Gareth and the sight of them both, the two boys that I love, sitting there side by side, is overwhelming. Alex’s head is bobbing around in time with the music, even though it keeps stopping and starting up again. Ben has the mouse and is making Woody fly down the banister repeatedly, sliding the cursor back and clicking at precisely the same point in the video each time, the same few bars of music playing over and over again. Alex freezes like a statue every time the music stops and then starts to jig around as it starts up again. He’s singing in a lovely deep baritone voice and I realise in an instant that this is what I’d wanted and desperately waited for from Andy, but never got: total, uncondi
tional, absolute acceptance of Ben.
‘Oh, hello, Mummy.’ Alex turns his head and beams at me. ‘Look, Ben, it’s... Sarah, what on earth’s wrong?’ He lowers the volume on the speakers, jumps up and puts his hands on my arms. Ben flashes me a smile and turns back to the video.
‘Nothing.’ I wipe my eyes. ‘Ignore me. It’s just... you looked so sweet together. And that song...’
‘I know. It’s a bit cheesy, isn’t it?’ Alex grins. ‘But he loves it. He’s been playing it repeatedly for close to an hour.’
‘Oh God, poor neighbours,’ I say, smiling. ‘And poor you. You must be about ready to shoot yourself.’
‘Not at all.’ Alex grins. ‘I love that movie. And that particular bit... well, it’s my favourite bit, as it happens.’ He raises his eyebrows and laughs.
I reach up and touch his cheek. ‘Thank you,’ I say. I turn towards Ben as the music stops, ready to go and select another video for him. Alex grabs my arm and pulls me back.
‘Watch,’ he says. ‘Just watch.’
So I watch, with growing astonishment, as Ben, having finally finished with Toy Story, deftly clicks on the ‘Exit Full Screen’ cross at the bottom and scrolls his way through a list of suggestions on the right-hand side. He deliberates the pros and cons of the Teletubbies Tubby Toast Accident and Frozen’s ‘Let It Go’ before finally settling for a song that I recognise from The Lion King. ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight’ opens in full screen and a hippo begins to sing.
‘Oh my God!’ I exclaim. ‘That’s... incredible.’
Because it is. Here’s my son, the one with no speech and very little understanding, who doesn’t even know what ‘Sit down’, ‘Come here’, or ‘Wait a minute’ means, who barely responds to his own name. And yet he can somehow use a computer mouse to click and navigate and find his way round a music website. He recognises the images and can meaningfully select and play the videos that he wants. I don’t have to do a thing to help him. I know in an instant that the world has opened up, not just for Ben but for me too. For the first time ever, I can see a future in which I might get to eat a meal or read a book, while Ben occupies himself happily on his own.