Guilty One (22 page)

Daniel reached across three judges to give Veronica her drink and then slowly made his way to the stairs. He caught Irene’s eye and she turned from the man she was talking to and waved.

‘Glad you made it, Danny,’ she said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

She stayed one step above him. He felt strange standing eyeto-eye with her. She was still dressed for court in a knee-length pencil skirt and white blouse.

‘Do you know Danny? Harvey, Hunter and Steele?’ said Irene to the barrister she had been talking to.

‘Oh yes, of course, Daniel Hunter, isn’t it?’ The barrister shook Daniel’s hand and then excused himself to get a drink.

‘How’s Sebastian holding up at the unit?’ said Irene.

Daniel smiled at the sheen on her skin and the slight flush on her exposed collar bone.

‘Surviving. Listen, have you got a minute? I was sent something. We need to talk about what we’re going to do with it …’

‘I’m intrigued,’ said Irene, taking Daniel by the elbow and gently manoeuvring him upstairs. ‘Let’s go to my room. Don’t worry – more wine in there!’

The room, like the rest of chambers, was opulently and traditionally decorated, so that even the wallpaper and the carpet seemed to emit a reassuring confidentiality. Streetlight spilled
into the room from the sash windows and Irene turned on a table lamp. Voices swelled from the corridor and Daniel gently shut the door.

‘Do you want more bubbly or some wine?’ she asked, opening an antique cupboard by the window.

‘Whatever you like,’ he said, finishing his champagne, enjoying its tart fizz on his tongue.

‘Let’s have this then,’ she said. The cork sounded and the bottle smoked. Irene filled Daniel’s glass and her own and put the champagne on her desk. ‘What about the tapes? Did you find anything? Any sign of our mystery attacker?’

‘Nothing,’ Daniel said, running a hand over his eyes.

‘Here’s to …better luck this time,’ said Irene, handing him a glass.

They touched glasses and Irene sat down on the edge of her desk. Daniel threw his jacket over a chair, first taking out the report he had wanted to show her. There was laughter outside the door as a male voice shouted, ‘Point of law, m’lord.’

Daniel unfolded the report and handed it to Irene. ‘This is … a social services report – specially convened case conference to investigate Sebastian’s home life, because of the charge and the media reports,’ said Daniel.

‘Where on earth did you get that?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘It was anonymously hand-posted to my office with my name on it and
confidential.
I got it this morning.’

‘Whoever did it could get hung,’ she said, taking the report from him and scanning it. ‘Who do you think it was?’

‘I would think someone involved in the conference who’s been following the case. Just read it.’

He
took a large sip of champagne as Irene read out loud:
‘Reason for case conference: alleged schedule-one offence by Sebastian, parents are excluded from the conference.’
Irene looked at him.

Daniel sat down on the edge of the desk beside Irene and leaned over her shoulder as she read:

Sustained physical violence over a number of years. Six broken ribs and a broken collar bone. Ruptured spleen. Broken nose. Diazepam, nitrazepam, dihydrocodeine. Second suicide attempt – overdose of nitrazepam taken with alcohol. Patient offered refuge and counselling but refuses to name husband as the attacker. Doctors determined that the 29-week-old unborn baby died as a result of injuries to the amniotic sac and uterus.

‘Just like Sebastian acted out to the psychologist,’ said Irene, looking up and putting the report on the desk.

Daniel picked it up again and flicked to a section he had highlighted. ‘You read that bit, did you?’

Irene sighed and took another sip of her drink. ‘Charlotte tried to kill herself …’

‘But tried to take Sebastian with her,’ said Daniel, frowning slightly and finishing his drink. ‘That’s what it looks like. He had his stomach pumped the same night that Charlotte was admitted.’

‘Apart from the pills, though, Sebastian has never been touched.’

‘Not beaten, but enough that he saw it happen to her. No wonder he’s
unsettling,
as you put it.’

Irene sighed. ‘However much you or I may want him to be,
King Kong’s not on trial … God knows who gave this to you, but there’s no way we can use it.’

‘I know,’ said Daniel. ‘Someone must have naively thought that this would help explain everything.’

‘Very naive,’ said Irene, sipping her drink. ‘Whoever did it has jeopardised their career.’

‘You’ve read the school reports. Sebastian’s on record as being an aggressive little bully … disruptive in class. We know the CPS are going to get that in,’ said Daniel.

‘We might be successful in keeping it out. We were with Tyrel. And besides, this report is classified information.’

‘But, as you said, it only backs up what Sebastian told the psychologist. My point is that
if
the evidence of bad character is allowed, and they start to make Sebastian out to be a monster, that is when we can use the domestic violence. We can get the psychologist to testify to it without this document.’

Irene was shaking her head. ‘The judge is even less likely to allow evidence about Sebastian’s violent home life than he is to allow evidence of bad character. You’re right that it’s good to know about it, but I don’t think it supports the current defence strategy. We agreed to concentrate on the circumstantial evidence.’

‘You see there, that neighbour of the Crolls – Gillian Hodge – she keeps calling the police about the fighting next door. The CPS has her as a witness,’ Daniel said. ‘She has kids Sebastian’s age, and she says in her statement that he’s aggressive towards her kids. Now … the judge may not allow it and I know you’ll ask for it to be excluded, but if they do try to paint Sebastian that way, we can point to the abuse as an explanation for his bullying, which is
in his school records too,
but make clear that being a bully doesn’t make him a murderer.’

Their eyes met. Irene’s gaze was reflective.

‘I see what you’re saying,’ she said. ‘We can keep it in mind, but we don’t want to agree with them that he is violent.’

‘The facts of the case are clear – they don’t have fingerprints, they don’t have a reliable witness that places him at the scene of the crime, the forensics are circumstantial – but I know they’re going to get witnesses to testify to his bullying of other kids, even though it’s irrelevant to this case. We can use the prosecution’s witness against them. Gillian Hodge will admit to calling emergency services to the Croll home.’

Irene nodded and put the report down. ‘Thanks. We can think about it.’ She paused, then looked seriously at Daniel.

‘You look tired, Danny,’ she said.

‘You look great,’ he batted back, looking her in the eye before draining his glass. She turned from the compliment.

‘Didn’t you seduce Carl’s pupil at this party last year?’ she asked. Daniel was surprised to feel his cheeks colour.

‘What is this, examination in chief?’

Irene laughed, arching her eyebrow and raising a finger. ‘Where were you on this date in September last year?’

Daniel raised both hands palm upwards towards her, letting the hair fall over his eyes.

‘I heard you two split up. She moved to another set last month.’

‘Yeah, I heard,’ he said, looking at the door.

There was a pause. The relief wallpaper and thick carpet warmed and expanded the pause. Daniel felt thirsty and hot.

‘What ’bout you?’ said Daniel.

‘Did
I seduce a pupil?’

He laughed down his nose. ‘Weren’t you seeing that magistrate judge?’

‘God, that was ages ago, keep up.’ She walked over to him with the bottle and poured more champagne into his glass. He could smell her. She looked up into his eyes. ‘You really do look tired, y’know.’

Daniel ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. ‘I know, not been getting much sleep.’

‘Not this case, I hope. Bloody media.’

‘No, well that’s part of it, but … a personal thing.’ Daniel looked at her and pressed his lips together.

Irene arched her eyebrow. ‘A lady?’

‘No, well, yeah actually … My … mother died.’

‘Oh, God, Danny, I’m sorry.’

There was another swell of laughter outside the door. Daniel was surprised to feel a flush on his cheek again. He didn’t know why he had told Irene this truth. He looked away.
My mother, my mother –
only two months ago he had denied her. Minnie was gone for ever, but now he could admit she was his mother again.

Irene sat down behind her desk. She took her shoes off and rotated her feet, looking at Daniel with her glass held in two hands.

‘This case is going to be massive, you know, Danny.’

‘I know – “the Angel Killer”. Nice ring to it.’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘I don’t know if it’s the sting of last year, but something about this one scares me.’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘We
can’t give in to it,’ she said, standing up suddenly and putting her shoes back on. ‘Bad as the publicity is now, it can only be worse at the trial.’

They both reached for the report at the same time, and Daniel’s hand accidentally brushed against her waist. ‘Sorry – that’s your copy. You can keep it.’

She nodded and put it into a drawer. Daniel turned the brass door handle, feeling it reassuringly cool against his palm. There was a swell of voices as he opened the door, and heat from the other side. It intruded into their quiet space.

‘Thanks for the drink,’ he said.

‘Thanks for the update.’

He stood back to let her pass, but she was waiting for him and they bumped into each other again. ‘Sorry,’ he said. Her hair smelled of coconut.

In the corridor, she broke away from him. ‘Excuse me, will you. Got to work the room now. Duty calls!’

Daniel watched her as he descended the stairs, shaking hands and laughing with her straight, white teeth.

He wandered around the party, nursing another glass of champagne. He knew almost everyone there, at least by sight. People shouted his name and slapped his shoulder as he passed; others waved from across the room. Daniel realised that he did not want to speak to any of them.

He wondered if it was the champagne, which he had drunk too quickly: his head felt claustrophobic. He stood on tiptoes to let two barristers past, then pushed through the crowd to one of the big rooms on the ground floor. The window was open and he could feel the cool night reaching in.

As
he moved towards it, Daniel was drawn into a group of solicitors. He stood with one hand in his pocket smiling intermittently at the jokes while listening to the smokers by the window.

‘But you know Irene’s taken that Angel Killer case?’

‘Has she? Controversial for a new QC.’

‘It’ll be a big one though. Old Bailey. High profile.’

‘I know, but I wouldn’t touch it. I hear he’s pleading not guilty. Little sod’s gotta be guilty as sin, hasn’t he?’

‘Well-heeled family. Father’s a trader in Hong Kong. Do you know Giles by any chance, works for Cornells? He knows him. Apparently he’s furious – says it’s all a mistake.’

‘Well, we’ll see. Irene’ll sort them out.’

‘Safe pair of hands.’

‘Safe and … lovely to boot.’ The men laughed.

Daniel excused himself. He drained his glass and left it on a half-moon mahogany table beside a porcelain vase. He must have lent too heavily on the table, because the blue and white vase rocked dangerously for a second before he steadied it.

He buttoned up his jacket and looked around for Veronica, but couldn’t place her so decided to leave. He felt irritated. Perhaps Irene was right and he was just tired. He moved towards the door, feeling a trickle of sweat course his spine.

Out on the street, the night and cool breeze were a relief. He opened another button on his shirt and walked slowly towards the Tube. The momentary chill was no longer refreshing and the air seemed as thick and oppressive as the crowd had been earlier.

He felt lonely, he decided, walking, hands in pockets. It was not a feeling that was strange to him, and yet tonight he chose
to taste it – to take it into his mouth and linger over its flavour. It was tart and surprising, like the rhubarb from Minnie’s garden.

He was glad he had spoken to Irene. He remembered her turning from side to side in her chair, and then teasing him about the pupil.

He was never long between women. It was after the thrill had passed and the intimacy became real that he found it difficult. He didn’t like talking about his past and he didn’t trust promises. He had never told a girlfriend that he loved her, although he had loved. So many had said that they loved him, but he had never really felt it, never been able to believe them. He thought about Irene with her strong, straight shoulders. They had fought together before, and lost, and now they shared a truthfulness, an innocence. Yet despite their friendship, there was a barrier of professionalism between them which he could never imagine breaching.

Entering the Tube, he passed the turnstiles and stood on the right-hand side of the escalator, passively descending into the bowels of the city. He thought about the coming trial and the press stories which would only worsen. Sebastian – unnamed and faceless – was intrinsically evil, according to the papers. Not only was the boy deemed guilty but
intrinsically evil.
The press did not presume innocence.

Sebastian’s actual innocence concerned Daniel less than the boy’s survival. He fully expected that the boy he and Irene had defended last year would be dead before he was twenty. He did not want Sebastian to have the same fate.

As he felt the warmth of the Tube wrap around him, Daniel wondered about the line that separated adult from child. He
knew the legal line: criminal responsibility from the age of ten. Daniel wondered where the real line was. He again thought about himself at Sebastian’s age,
and how close he had come to being in the boy’s position.