by Ivan B
It was impossible, but Bau turned even whiter. “On the other hand,” said the judge as if throwing a lifeline, “Some of my colleagues seem to use the sentencing system as a sledgehammer when all they are doing is smashing people’s lives, not providing justice.”
She gave Bau and intent look, “Are you with me so far?”
“Yes your honour,” said Bau weakly.
She tapped the papers, “Bearing in mind the judge’s poor direction to the jury it would also be within my remit to change the conviction to manslaughter and give a sentence of ten years with recommendations for early release after five years and the possibility of parole after four years. Bearing in mind the original conviction I cannot give you a lighter sentence. Am I making myself clear?”
“At least another year in prison,” croaked Bau.
The judge nodded and picked up a buff coloured file. “This document has played a large part in my deliberations, but it would not be admissible in a re-trial. It is the prison psychiatrist’s report on you. He describes you as having a strong tendency to self-harm driven by the guilt of neglecting your child, not the guilt of killing your child. Ergo he believes that you did not kill your child in the sense of deliberate murder, rather you killed her in the sense of sheer carelessness.” She tapped the folder again, “He also says that, in his opinion, long term incarceration of any sort can do you nothing but permanent psychological harm. He adds that if you had no hope of early release he is convinced that you would attempt suicide or serious self-harm” She smacked her lips in disapproval, “Actually, in his final paragraph, he recommends that you be detained in a psychiatric unit for your own welfare and not in a prison.” The judge looked over her glasses, “And he classed your hunger strike as a suicide attempt, not a cry for attention.”
She laid the file aside, “Bearing this in mind I am inclined to recommend that, if you are willing to accept the verdict of manslaughter, you should be sent to an open prison. However, I will only do so if you agree to see a counsellor while you are there, and seriously see a counsellor for your own good, not just to jump through a hoop to please me.” She pointed to the file, “I believe you told the prison psychiatrist to go to hell.”
“He said that all my problems stemmed from me being a sexual deviant.” Bau hoarsely replied.
The judge made a sour face. “And,” she added, “you must see an ear, nose and throat expert, I understand that you refused to see one at your last prison.”
“I saw her once, she said that the eardrum damage was non-reparable and I might as well get used to it.”
The judge tapped the buff report, “Give yourself a chance Miss Chasle.”
Brian was confused. “Excuse me your honour, but I don’t understand, why call us here, why not just alter the sentence?”
The judge looked at Bau, “Because I can’t alter the conviction to manslaughter if Bau continues on her course of seeking a further appeal to her original conviction. She is seeking to clear her name, which I quite understand. This course of action would not clear her name. She would always be on the books as a convicted criminal and have to declare it on all official documents. In her case the seven year rule would not apply as a child was involved.”
She looked at Bau, “I believe your lawyers have lodged their intention to appeal on some legal niceties?”
Bau nodded. The judge looked sternly over her glasses, “I must also inform you that if you do accept manslaughter judgement you cannot appeal nor have any hope of claiming any compensation or the reimbursement of your considerable legal cost.”
She paused to let what she had said sink in, before adding gently, “At least once you’ve done your time you will be free and not out on licence, as with your murder conviction. So you won’t be liable to be sent back if you sneeze in front of the wrong policeman.”
Bau laughed, slightly hysterically, but she laughed. The judge stood up, “I’ll leave you to make a decision.”
Bau shook her head, “No need your honour; I’ll take the open prison.”
The judge pursed her lips. “Let me make it clear, it may be an open prison, but I am sending you there on health grounds, at least that is one reason. Thus while other inmates there will enjoy the open regime, including weekends on home leave and work placements, this will not apply to you as you will be subject to the stricter rules that apply to those convicted of the manslaughter of infants.”
She gave a wry smile. “Although you may find the relaxed visiting times a little easier.”
She drummed her fingers on the table, “It will also be a privilege and not a right, if you try and abuse the system you will be sent straight back to a maximum security prison. It also goes without saying that if you try anything stupid, like suicide or abusing yourself, the governor will be armed with this psychiatrist’s report and may decide that a secure psychiatric hospital might be a better place for you.”
“I get the message,” said Bau, “loud and clear and I’ll still cut my losses and take manslaughter”
The judge gave her another severe look and said sternly, “It is not a matter of cutting your losses young lady; you will in effect be pleading guilty to manslaughter of your daughter.”
Bau replied weakly, “I understand your honour. I was negligent I admit to that, but I never deliberately set out to harm Lucy. However, let me accept the stigma of a manslaughter conviction as punishment for being a bad mother.”
The judge’s face softened, “Actually Miss Chasle, I don’t think that you were a bad mother. By all accounts you drove yourself to a standstill looking after you daughter. Sometimes the law is an ass, unfortunately I can’t shoot it on your account even if that would be a tempting option.”
Brian looked at the judge, “How long?” He asked.
“My judgement will be released in two days time and at that point Bau will be taken to the open prison in East Suffolk.”
Brian licked his lips, “I know I’m pushing my luck and that you have been extremely kind, but could you make that two weeks and a day?”
Bau looked at him in amazement, so did the judge. She gave him a look that would have withered an oak tree. “I’ve pushed the law to the limit already on this case, so why should I allow a convicted felon out at large? What possible excuse could I give if the media got hold of it?”
Brian swallowed, “Well I would like to marry her best friend Amy before she goes back in and I need two more clear Sundays to get the banns read.”
The judge laughed and smiled, “Not good enough I’m afraid Mr Noames, prison must have some deterrent effect and missing your wedding would add to that.”
Brian persisted, “We also want to move into our new house and prepare Bau’s bedroom. She will be living with us. It would give her something to keep her going while in prison, knowing that her best friend was happy and she had a place to come back to.”
The judge shook her head and Brian’s heart sank. She smiled and reached for the intercom, “No. Sorry no can do.” She paused and grinned, “However, I can give you the civil equivalent of a special licence so that you two can get married at any time during the next five days.”
Brian blinked, “I thought they were only given on health grounds.”
He got another severe look. “This is health grounds Mr Noames; Miss Chasle’s mental health. As you rightly say it will help her while inside to have something other than her incarceration to focus on.”
“Did you say five days,” Bau enquired earnestly.
“I did, now leave my sight, both of you, before I change my mind.”
Bau stood up, “Thank you, thank you very much.”
The judge nodded, “Justice must be seen to be done; sometimes it needs a kid glove not a pole-axe. Now you be sensible in that open prison my girl, keep your nose clean and come out at the earliest opportunity. Sounds like you will have a pair of good friends waiting for you.”
Brian also thanked the judge and led Bau towards the door before he turned to the judge. “You
said two reasons for the open prison.”
She smiled broadly, “The governor is a personal friend of mine, she says that the prison band is in need of a good guitarist.”
Bau almost skipped out of the judge’s chambers.
It was not what they had planned. The judge’s special licence was not valid in a church, only a registry office, so a church wedding was off the agenda. The judge had given them a five day licence and they waited until the very last day so that Joan and Janis could attend the short wedding ceremony. Also, if truth were known, both Amy and Brian were almost dead on their feet as they had spent the previous three days moving into the new house and making sure that Bau’s room was decorated to her tastes and ready for her return. Despite all that it was a special moment when they went through the wedding vows and a sort of off-world experience, for Brian at least, when Amy turned up in a shocking pink wedding dress and blue suede shoes. The reception, such as it was, consisted of a meal at the local hotel. All too soon it was over and Brian, with his épouse and femme, returned to their new concrete house to await the arrival of the police escort back to prison. Amy swiftly changed and then went to make a cup of tea, it was all somehow surreal. Bau glanced out of the window and Brian squeezed her hand. “We’ll visit; every weekend we’ll visit.”
She licked her cherry-red lips, “I’ll count the days.”
“So will we. The prison is only eight miles away, so we’re not far from you. Remember that, we’re not far away.”
She gazed at the garden and then turned her moist eyes onto Brian. “Did I make the wrong decision Brian? Should I have held out for a retrial and a pardon?”
He squeezed her hands again. “This time next year you’ll be with us again, for ever. Not on a licence, not on some dreadful piece of legal string, but free. I don’t like the idea of you going back to prison, but at least it’s an open prison and not that dreadful place you were in before.”
She nodded in an abstract way. “I think the judge was nice.”
She swallowed and her neck muscles contracted. “I’ll do what she says, see the counsellor and get my ears examined properly.”
He gently kissed her on the lips, “You do that. We’ll want a full weekly run down.”
They kissed again as Amy drifted into the room as if flying on angel’s wings. She placed a little tray containing tea and little fairy cakes on the coffee table. She frowned, “Why don’t we have it in the garden?”
They trooped outside and sat on the lawn. Amy poured the tea and for all the world it looked like a normal family scene, except it wasn’t. They were waiting for the axe to fall. Bau took hold of Amy’s hand. “Now don’t worry about me. You’ve got Brian to look after for both of us.”
She smiled and rubbed the back of Bau’s hand. “I’ll be OK,” she said earnestly. Brian will look after me and I know you’re coming back and that we can see you at weekends.”
“No wobblies. First hint of a wobbly and you go and cuddle Brian. OK?”
“No wobblies, I promise.”
“And,” said Bau, “I want you down to below one hundred and fifty pounds when I come out and I promise to be at least a hundred pounds. OK?”
“OK, but try for a hundred and ten, you’d look much better at a hundred and ten.”
They started to haggle and Brian realised that they were trying to fill the time with small talk as neither wanted to face the reality. He decided to join in. “What about me?”
“Hundred and seventy,” Bau replied instantly.
“Oh give the man a chance, a hundred and eighty.” Amy responded immediately.
Brian went to add a retort, but spotted a police car bumping its way up the farm track. The time had come. They all stood up and hugged one another before, all too swiftly, Bau climbed into the car. It was driven away with Bau still waving through the back window till she disappeared from sight. Both Brian and Amy waved for about thirty seconds longer, just to be sure, and then mutually burst into tears and fell into each other’s arms. It had proven to be the happiest day of their lives, the worst day of their lives and a day from which to start counting. Counting the days until Bau was let free and counting the days of their marriage. Brian held Amy close and derived comfort from her presence. He knew that whatever lay ahead they’d be alright. He was sure that they’d all be alright. He had confidence in that, they’d all be alright for love would see them through.
Chapter 16
Three Years On
Joan looked out of the window of her studio flat and watched Janis sunbathing and reading in the garden below. She paused to give the window another spray and then started polishing again. Her life was almost back on an even keel. Sam had not opted for an amicable settlement. Divorce had been messy, acrimonious and hotly contested down to the last Canadian cent. Fortunately the presiding judge had agreed with her that she had helped her husband build up his dental practice and therefore was entitled to a percentage of it. Fortunately Janis had been, by mutual agreement, left out of it all. In fact, miraculously, Sam still sent her a monthly cheque for her. Sam had no real obligation there; however he loved his daughter and was willing to pay alimony for her even if he had still not fully paid up his divorce settlement. Joan moved on to the next window. She’d spent one year in Canada and then come back to England so that Janis could study for her ‘O’ Levels at one school. They’d called in on Brian, Amy and Bau for a week’s stay and not left. She now had the studio on the roof as a lounge/Diner and had paid for a small galley kitchen to be fitted on the end, though at weekends they ate with Amy and Brian downstairs. In fact Janis often roamed between both kitchens snacking as teenagers do without causing any embarrassment. They slept in the two small bedrooms on the floor below and it was all working out well. She’d got a job as a doctor’s receptionist and had even been asked out to dinner a few times by a locum. She was wondering whether or not to let it turn into a full blooded relationship, but not getting over-anxious about the idea. Somehow living here had had a stabilising effect on what had otherwise been a turbulent time in her life. Amy had been wonderful by being welcoming and yet not overpowering. Brian had been overjoyed at the idea of Janis living under the same roof. Bau came and went and just seem to accept them as part of the furniture. She moved to another window and observed Brian enter the garden via the churchyard footpath and stop to banter with Janis. Currently Janis was trying to elicit his support for having her navel pierced and he was pointing out all the nasty diseases she could catch from a bad piercing. It was all academic really as Joan had already ruled that she had to be in the sixth form, however they seem to enjoy the repartee so she let them get on with it. She heard the kettle turn off and settled down to a cup of coffee; life had been awful and now life was good, long may it last she thought, long may it last.
Amy chopped a carrot and then peered at the calendar that was pinned to the wall. It was full of hieroglyphics and she really should use a bigger one. However, this one fitted exactly between the wall cupboards and therefore was perfect in other ways. The writing was in four colours; green for her, red for Brian, blue for Bau and black for general. This was one of what she called her strategies; her ways of coping and living with her mental disposition. If she knew what was going on she wasn’t surprised, if she wasn’t surprised she didn’t panic, if she didn’t panic she could function better. The red writing informed her that Brian should be in for lunch and was due out at 2pm for some tedious council meeting on traveller’s facilities. The blue informed her that Bau was still in Birmingham, but due home at the weekend. The black informed her that a man was coming to service the boiler and the green informed her that she needed to renew her prescription for her contraceptive pills. She glanced above the calendar to a little mirror that was pinned above it. This was another of her strategies, she hated being approached from behind and once Brian had unwittingly crept up on her and almost caused her to scream. It had certainly given her a such a jolt that the mirror had appeared as if by magic; Brian was pr
oving to be a very thoughtful husband in many ways. In the mirror she saw the door open and Brian come into the kitchen, followed by Rocqet, their faithful Old English Sheepdog/Hungarian Water Dog mongrel. Rocqet was another of her strategies and the product of a brief liaison between two dogs at Crufts of which neither the owners nor the Kennel Club approved of. However he was perfect for them. For a start he went with Brian on daytime visits giving her reassurance and he sat at home with her if Brian was out in the evenings, giving her a feeling of safety. Secondly he provided a dustbin for all those little scraps of food that Amy was tempted to eat; thus bacon fat, stale cakes, left-over food, frying pan scrapings and odd bits of cheese all disappeared down his throat and not hers. The result of this was that the dog was content and she was a sylph like a hundred and forty-eight pounds, though it was a shame the weight had come off of her waist and thighs and not her bum or breasts. Finally she loved to groom the dog and he loved being groomed. The brushing, combing and general maintenance of his thick fur gave her endless therapeutic hours of relaxation. One week, when she had been particularly overwrought, she’d groomed him twice a day for a week. She turned round and gave a bright smile, “Tea?”
Brian came over and kissed her on the cheek, “Yes please love, I’m gasping.”