by Ruth Mancini
Eleanor turns to the jury and then sweeps her gaze around the courtroom. ‘Look at you, you... bunch of commoners, you dare to sit there judging me? Who are you to judge me? You’re not fit to lick my boots!’ Her voice rises to a scream.
The courtroom doors burst open and two security guards run in. They stride over to the witness box and grab hold of Eleanor’s arms. She flaps them violently and slaps the face of one of the guards. ‘Get your filthy hands off me, you low-life scum. Do you realise who I am?’
With that, she is dragged out of the door, screaming a torrent of abuse at the security men.
A stunned silence descends over the courtroom. We can still hear Eleanor outside in the grand hallway, her rants and screams echoing round the marble walls and up into the domes above. We continue to sit in silence as her voice becomes more and more muffled, as more security staff arrive and she is dragged away. After a moment, Judge Collins regains his composure and announces that if anyone wishes to leave the courtroom, now is the moment to do so. Nobody moves a muscle.
A second later, the door to the courtroom opens and a member of court staff announces to the judge that the police are on their way. Carmel confers with Will for a moment and then speaks to the judge and I hear the staff member being given instructions that a local police escort and Social Services will need to be contacted as a matter of urgency to go to the Barrington-Browns’ house in Richmond and ensure that Finn is safe.
Judge Collins clears his throat and takes off his spectacles. He turns to Carmel and says, ‘Your position, Ms Oliver?’
Carmel stands. ‘I offer no evidence, My Lord.’
‘Good. Well, in that case, members of the jury, it falls to me to make a formal direction to you.’ He explains to the members of the jury that, since the Crown no longer wish to proceed with the case against Ellie, they must find her not guilty. The foreman is asked to stand and the court clerk reads out the charges.
To each one, the foreman says, ‘We find the defendant not guilty.’
Judge Collins thanks the jury and dismisses them. He then thanks Will and Carmel for their assistance and gives me a nod. The usher unlocks the door and lets Ellie out of the dock. Within moments, the courtroom is surreally empty, all except for Will, Ellie and me.
I don’t know if Ellie feels anything like the way that I do, but my heart is still thumping gently against my chest and my legs feel as though they are lead weights, glued to my seat.
‘Are you OK?’ Will asks both of us.
I look at Ellie, and shake my head in disbelief.
Ellie shakes hers back at me. ‘Crazy bitch,’ she says.
I suddenly remember something. I glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s five to one. Am I too late?
I stand up on my jelly legs and grab my phone. ‘Excuse me a minute,’ I tell Will and Ellie and run out of the courtroom. I can see a big commotion halfway down the staircase as Eleanor, surrounded by court staff, security staff and police, is put into handcuffs. I dial the number for the school and move through the double doors into the corridor, where it’s quieter.
The receptionist answers. ‘Oh, hello, Ms Kellerman. I’m glad you called. We never got your email. I’ve been trying to call you.’
‘Am I too late?’ I say, quickly. ‘Is it too late for Ben to go to Farmer Fred’s?’
‘No, you should just make it. They’re just getting on the bus. But you’ll have to send it in the next two minutes.’
‘I’m sending it now!’ I end the call, go into my emails, tap out a quick note of consent and press the send button.
When I step back through the doors, Ellie is out in the hallway, on the phone. As she spots me, she says, ‘I’ve got to go’ and ends the call.
She says, ‘I need to know Finn’s OK. Who can we ask?’
I touch her arm. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine. The police will be there by now.’
Will walks out of the courtroom.
‘Can we find Carmel?’ I ask him. ‘Find out if Finn’s safe?’
‘Of course. I’ll go and speak to her now.’
I phone Anna and give her the news and then walk down the corridor and sit with Ellie on the concourse outside the advocates’ room. Before long, Will comes back out and reassures Ellie that Finn’s just fine, but that he’s being taken to Kingston Hospital to be checked over.
As I watch the relief flood Ellie’s face, a film of tears appearing over her eyes, I know for sure that my instincts about her had been right all along: she loves her little boy. Her brusqueness, her defensiveness, were simply threads in the cloak she’d wrapped around herself as protection from the system, the system that was meant to take care of her, that was meant to give her the same opportunities, the same chance to have as fulfilling a life as the next person, whatever her background, wherever she was from.
She pulls her sleeves down over her hands and wipes at her eyes. ‘Can I see him?’ she asks.
‘Anna will make some calls,’ I tell her. ‘She says you can go down to her office now, if you like, and she’ll see what she can do.’
She leaps up out of her seat. ‘And will I get him back?’
I stand up. ‘I would think so. Possibly not immediately, but Anna said she’d get straight on to Social Services and get things rolling.’
‘So that’s it?’ she says. ‘It’s really over?’
‘It’s over.’ I smile.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ She turns and looks from Will to me and back again. ‘“Thank you” doesn’t really cut it, does it? You probably saved my little boy’s life – and you got mine back for me, too.’
She hugs both Will and me and then heads off down the stairs.
We watch her go.
‘So, do you fancy some lunch and a lime and soda at the pub?’ Will asks me. ‘I’ve got a strangely empty diary this afternoon.’
‘Me too. Sounds great,’ I agree.
We go back to the advocates’ room where Will de-robes and we fetch our bags and coats, before walking out onto the chilly street and heading down Ludgate Hill to the Cheshire Cheese. Our table by the fire is empty and after glancing through the menu, I take a seat, slip off my shoes and warm my frozen toes while Will orders the food and gets the drinks. When I lean back against the old oak-panelled wall behind me and close my eyes, I can still see the orange flames dancing against the backs of my eyelids. As the warmth of the fire spreads up my body and onto my face, I think back to the heat of that August day – the day I got the call from Anna, the call that had first brought Ellie into my life, followed closely by Alex. Little had I known at the time that it was a call that would rock my world.
‘I’d offer you a penny for those thoughts of yours,’ says Will, sitting down beside me. ‘But I suspect they’re worth way more than that.’
I smile and open my eyes. ‘I was just thinking what a crazy few months this has been. And what a day, today. No wonder Jay was so messed up, with a mother like that.’
‘Hmm.’ Will sits down and takes a sip of his drink. ‘What I don’t get is why she waited until George was five before she killed him. Why not do it sooner, as soon as she realised he was disabled?’
I sit up. ‘Maybe it took a few years for her to realise quite how disabled he was; that he’d never be in a position to inherit the title, or – more importantly – to pass it on. It wasn’t immediately obvious to us – Ben’s dad and me.’
‘Wasn’t it?’
I shake my head. ‘Ben was nine months old before we really knew there was anything wrong with him, and even then... well, the doctors couldn’t tell us what his prognosis was, what the future would bring. We kind of jumped on that, gave it a positive spin. They’d said he was “delayed” but a delay implies that you’ll get there in the end, doesn’t it? You could say we were in denial, but having that hope was what made each day bearable. It’s what got us through the first few months, the first few years, even. When we were on our own, in our own little bubble, we could tell ourselves the story that B
en would catch up, that everything would be OK.’
‘But...’
‘But, out there in the real world, we were confronted with other children of the same age; friends’ children, children from our antenatal group, the kid who lived across the road who was born in the same month, who’d go toddling past our window, then running, then riding a scooter, while Ben still couldn’t stand or crawl. There was always another child around, one who was doing all the normal things that Ben wasn’t, who was developing at a rapid rate and clearly leaving him way behind. Every time that kid went running past our window, our hopes were dashed a little more. Slowly, over time, the bubble burst and we were forced to confront the truth.’
‘That must have been extremely painful.’
I nod. ‘It was excruciating.’
‘But you seem to have come to terms with it, now? The way you talk...’
‘Yes. Over time, it became unavoidable. Ben’s father bailed out, but for me there was never any other choice but to deal with it.’
Will’s eyes seek out mine. ‘I wish I’d been there for you,’ he says.
I smile. ‘You didn’t know me then. Well, actually, you did. But not like...’
‘Like this?’
‘Yeah. Like this.’
‘Well, I wish I had.’
I look back into his eyes. ‘Me too,’ I say.
‘So, can I meet him?’
‘Ben?’
‘Yeah. Of course Ben.’
‘You really want to?’
His eyes sparkle. ‘Yeah, I really want to.’
I pull my phone across the table towards me. ‘Well, I have to pick him up at five thirty today. You could come to Farmer Fred’s with me if you like?’
‘Farmer Fred’s?’
‘He’s gone on a school trip this afternoon.’
Will nods slowly. ‘Great. I’d love to come.’
‘OK.’ I take a sip of my drink and peer at him over the top.
‘OK.’ He nods back, and grins.
My phone rings.
‘It’s Anna.’ I jump up and head out of the bar, pulling open the door and stepping out onto the pavement. I walk up the alley a little towards Gunpowder Square and stand on the other side of the empty mews underneath the overhang of the building opposite, facing back towards the black wood façade and antique lead windows of the pub in front of me.
‘I thought you’d want to know, I’ve spoken to my contact at the local authority,’ says Anna.
‘And?’
‘Finn’s absolutely fine. Ellie’s gone to the hospital. They’ve allowed her to see him, although any contact will be supervised for the time being and Finn will have to be placed into foster care until we can get the matter into court and make our application to have the interim care order revoked. Ultimately, though, I can’t see the local authority opposing it.’
‘That’s great.’
‘So, your instincts about Ellie were right,’ she says.
‘Hmm. But I was wrong about so much. I was wrong about Alex.’
‘Well, you’re not the only one. He seemed so nice.’
‘I think he’s probably a good person, deep down,’ I say. ‘He’s as much a victim of his mother as Ellie was. But he did some good things as well as some bad things. He taught Ben to walk and to use a computer. That’s opened up so much for Ben.’
‘Well, exactly,’ Anna agrees. ‘There’s always another side to the story.’
The door to the pub opens and Will pops his head out. ‘Food’s here,’ he says with a smile.
I give him a thumbs up, say goodbye to Anna and walk back down the alleyway. As I go, my eye is drawn towards the chalkboard that’s propped up on the pavement in front of me. Hot Food Served All Day. Lasagne. Fish and Chips, it says. Something makes me walk round to see what’s written on the reverse. I smile to myself as I read, scrawled across the blackboard in big pink letters, See the other side.
I open the door to the pub, where Will is waiting for me beside the fire.
We hope you enjoyed this book.
Ruth Mancini’s next book is coming in summer 2019
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Acknowledgements
About Ruth Mancini
Also by Ruth Mancini
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Acknowledgements
Oh dear. This is going to be long! So many people have helped me to write this novel and I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have had such a fantastic network of support.
Firstly, I want to thank my dear friend Tracey Ann Wood – mainly for always being there, but also for taking so much time out from reading her own scripts to make and send me (by text!) her meticulous early edits to mine.
A very big thank you to Jemima Forrester of David Higham Associates for her considerable help with the plot and structure. My thanks also to Anne Williams of Kate Hornden Literary Agency for her interest and observations on the opening chapters.
A huge thank you to everyone at Head of Zeus for your dedication to finding new authors and for all your hard work in bringing this story to life. A special thank you to my editor Sophie Robinson for believing in it and for inspiring others to believe in it too.
I am truly grateful to my gorgeous sister-in-law Karen Draisey and to my lovely niece Shannon Draisey, who both took time out of their busy lives to give me some detailed and hugely helpful feedback and encouragement. My thanks also to my friend Ian Astbury for his interest in the story and for brainstorming ideas with me, some of which developed into crucial aspects of the plot.
The following friends were a fantastic help in reading early drafts and responding with their thoughts, giving me ideas for improvement as I worked on rewrites: Catherine Scammell, Christine Lawson, Amy Eastham, Penny Lillie, Helen Ellis Astbury, Sharon Organ and Lindsay Jopling. A big kiss goes to Helena Eastham, whose texts of encouragement perked me up more than once when I’d been writing through the night. Huge thanks also to Marcia Lecky for stepping in and being my fresh pair of eyes when I made some changes at the eleventh hour.
Thanks to Becca Stern and Patricia Marquis for their hugely helpful insights into hospitals and nursing and to Shemina and Justin Kirby for answering my questions regarding toxicology. Thanks also to Paul Organ for his valuable advice on police practice and procedure.
Massive thanks to my lovely friend and colleague, Kirsty Craghill of Craghill Tuckers Solicitors in Brighton for reading the book in five hours straight and for the second opinion on the legal aspects of the story. Thanks also to the other fabulous people at Tuckers in London and Brighton who were willing to read and feed back to me: Kelly Thomas, Fiona Dunkley and Cath Diffey. As women and as lawyers, you inspire me! Huge thanks also to my lawyer friends in Oxford, Catherine Scammell and Simon Graham-Harrison, and to Howard Wilson for reading and giving me his thoughts on the final Crown Court scene.
Thanks also to the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health (RCPCH) for kindly allowing me to reproduce part of the following sentence: ‘The existing evidence suggests that young but otherwise healthy children in the UK do not spontaneously and voluntarily ingest sufficient salt to cause significant hypernatraemia’, which appears in the following article: RCPCH 2009. The Differential Diagnosis of Hypernatraemia in Children, with Particular Reference to Salt Poisoning. An evidence-based guideline. Summary of guidance: Page 5 and Causes of Hypernatraemia: Page 51.
On a practical note, my thanks go to Matthew Pitt of Matthew Pitt Photography in Oxford for his friendly professionalism in taking photos for the cover shot and to Victoria Pitt for the Frizz-Ease – and for putting me at ease (as well as for being an approachable custody sergeant!)
I also want to give my huge and sincere thanks to the following people, without whose help this book would never have been written: Dawn Blaine, Kerry Day, Sue Simmonds, Sue James, Anna Shelton, Tracey Mutch, Tracey Carnegie, Holly Jones, Alex Wilson and Karen Fourie. Thanks also to Tom Guy, Alic
e Bent, Amy Appleton, Kayleigh Gamblin, and Jenny Eyles, everyone at Core Assets Children’s Services – and to all the other amazing people across the country who have chosen to spend their lives working with our special children and vulnerable adults. I dream of a day when the true value of the work you do is properly recognised in our society.
Finally, my thanks go to my husband, Mark, for listening to me while I talked about this book (a lot), for putting up with all the time I spent in the writing cave over Christmas 2016 – and, most of all, for never bailing out.
About Ruth Mancini
RUTH MANCINI is a criminal defence lawyer, author and freelance writer. She lives in Oxfordshire with her husband and two children.
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