Cath Staincliffe - Witness

But the other defence lawyer was on his feet. Mr Merchant. Young but big with double chins and a small brown beard, too small to hide the chins. A posh voice.

‘When the car first drove past you, you were at the passenger side, am I right?’

‘Yes.’ Cheryl’s nerves were thrumming, her pulse stuttering.

‘And you have told the court that the car was travelling at speeds of forty miles an hour or more, is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘The road is narrow, would you agree?’ he asked briskly.

‘I suppose.’

‘It’s a residential street, small terraced properties, just room for two cars to pass on either side?’

‘Yes.’ What did it matter? Cheryl wondered.

‘Then you would have been close to the car?’

‘Yes.’

‘So close that any passenger and the bodywork of the car itself would have obscured your view of the driver, isn’t that the case?’

‘No, I saw him.’ It was like everything she told them was crumbling, dissolving.

‘With your Honour’s Permission?’

The judge nodded and then Mr Merchant explained he was now showing a reconstruction filmed on the same street using a similar model of car with volunteers taking the roles of driver and passenger and a camera filming the witness’s point of view.

Cheryl watched as the film played out. It was stagy and cheap, like one of those health and safety films they’d watched in technology. Someone in court laughed aloud. The film showed just what the witness could see: the car drove by and there was the blur of the passenger but nothing of the driver.

‘You would have to bend down to peer in and see the driver,’ announced Mr Merchant.

‘I must have seen him before they got to me, then,’ Cheryl said crossly.

‘But not five minutes ago you told this court that only the noise alerted you, and given the short distance and the speed the car was travelling at you would scarcely have had a chance to see anything, isn’t that really the truth?’

‘No.’ He doesn’t believe me, she realized, he thinks I’m a liar. The risk she was taking, the fear she carried, leaving Nana on her own in the hospital – all that and he made her out to be some scheming bitch.

‘Remember you are on oath.’

‘I saw them,’ Cheryl repeated, her jaw stiff, her mouth gluey.

‘What was my client, Mr Millins, wearing?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Cheryl.

‘Nothing? Not one item?’

‘He was sitting down, driving.’

‘Presumably he was dressed?’

People laughed and Cheryl wanted to spit at the man making her feel stupid. ‘I can’t remember his clothes.’

‘Was he wearing a hat?’

Sam Millins often did, a little pork-pie type, but it would be dangerous to guess. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know a considerable amount, it seems to me. I put it to you that the reason you don’t know so much is that this is all an invention, a web of lies concocted for your own ends.’

‘No!’ What could she say to make them believe her?

‘Because you bear this defendant some sort of grudge, you’d like to see him punished and you’d like to get your hands on the reward money.’

‘That’s not true.’ Cheryl was close to tears, her fists were clenched, her shoulders rigid.

‘My client stands to lose his liberty and his reputation. The charge of murder is the most serious of all. You place him close to a murder but your account is full of holes. Beyond alleging that you saw him there, that you saw his car, you have not been able to give one shred of supporting evidence to back up that assertion. You don’t know, you can’t remember: that’s all we are hearing. No further questions.’

He turned away and Cheryl was left shivering, tears burning the back of her eyes. They were done with her.

‘Let’s get you a cup of tea,’ Benny said. ‘You deserve it.’

Cheryl cleared her throat, took off the microphone.

Upstairs Joe was waiting. ‘How’d it go?’

‘They didn’t believe me.’ A nugget of rage boiled inside her.

He smiled. ‘You can’t know that, the jury will make their own minds up.’

‘They made out like I was in it for the money, that I had some issue with Carlton and Sam Millins, and all these stupid questions-’

‘It’s their job, it’s not personal.’

‘It felt personal!’ Cheryl shook her head, disgusted with it all. Weary. ‘I’ve got to get to the hospital.’

‘Tea’s here.’ Joe nodded as Benny came in with tea and a plate of toast. ‘Only take a minute.’ All fatherly.

Cheryl tried to smile but her face was all wonky. She sipped the tea and ate the toast. She turned her phone on but there were no messages. Then Joe drove her to the crèche. This time Milo kicked off because he wanted to stay, he’d found a play set with Dalmatian puppies and a kennel and was in woof heaven.

‘Go see Nana,’ Cheryl told him. She put him under one arm and he kicked his legs and yelled. She struggled outside and he calmed down when they got to the car.

‘Whatever happens with the verdict,’ Joe said as he drove towards the hospital, ‘what you did today will make a real difference. The more people speak out, the more people will in future. Like a snowball. The community protect the gangs out of fear – what you did today helped change that. They’ll see it is possible to be a witness and be safe. You should be proud of yourself, you really should.’

Cheryl blinked. ‘I’m glad it’s over. They were so mean, really tight.’ She felt drained, hollow.

‘That’s what they do, they have to try and discredit the witnesses to save their clients. But you did good. Think what it means to the Macateers.’

He was right, that was something, that was important. Despite her exhaustion she felt a surge of pride. A lift in her mood. She’d done it! Been bold. Stood up to Carlton, borne witness for Danny. Oh, if only Nana knew – though she could never tell her – how proud that would make her.

‘I’m sure you’ll be fine,’ Joe said, ‘but you know how to reach me if you need anything.’

‘Like getting rid of benefit investigators?’

Joe laughed. He pulled up outside the main entrance. ‘I hope your grandma’s better soon. And good luck with the baby,’ he said.

Cheryl nodded. He was the only person who knew. She’d tell Nana as soon as she could. It’d be something to look forward to. When Cheryl had found out she was carrying Milo she had been so anxious about Nana’s reaction, even wondered about an abortion. But when Cheryl, in tears, told her, Nana just said to dry her eyes. ‘A child is a blessing-’ she’d touched Cheryl’s cheek – ‘a gift.’

Milo was drowsy but not asleep; she put him in his buggy and waved as Joe drove off. She felt a sweep of fatigue. The day had gone on forever. If Nana was okay maybe she’d take Milo home, they could both have a nap then come back to visit after tea.

When she reached the ward, the nurse she’d seen before was at the desk. ‘Miss Williamson,’ she said, ‘we were about to ring you. Doctor would like a word.’ She pointed the way.

Cheryl wheeled Milo into the small room and parked him beside her. There was a woman there in a white coat.

‘I’m afraid I have some very bad news,’ the doctor said. ‘Your grandmother suffered a second cranial bleed just over an hour ago. We did all we could but attempts to revive her failed and she died.’

Cheryl’s heart tore, the pain ripping through her like an electric shock, taking her breath. No! Her eyes swam. Nana died without her, she should have been here, and she should never have left her. Now she was dead. No! Please God, no! Nana was dead. Cheryl placed her hands over her eyes, leaned her elbows on her knees.