Cath Staincliffe - Witness

‘Like who?’

‘Michael Revington? The man you called Midge?’

Zak didn’t want to talk about Midge, he felt bad. ‘Yeah.’

‘You stayed at his house, spent time with him?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You claim in your statement that Michael Revington took possession of the handgun used to shoot Danny Macateer?’

‘I think it was, no one said that-’ Zak couldn’t finish, she talked over him.

‘I suggest another version of events: I suggest you played a far greater role in things than you are admitting. I put it to you…’

Her voice banging on and on, Zak could feel his nerves jangling, sparking.

‘… that it was you who delivered that gun for safekeeping to Michael Revington and-’

‘No way! That’s slander that is, you can’t say that!’

‘And that you know a lot more about the murder of Danny Macateer than you have told the court and you have twisted everything round to suit your own ends,’ she said vehemently.

Zak’s head was bursting. She was saying he’d been in on the shooting, that he’d do something like that. ‘I’m not havin’ this-’

‘You didn’t actually see who fired that gun but that doesn’t matter, does it, the truth doesn’t matter, only saving your own skin – even if you send two innocent men to prison. This is a tissue of lies, why don’t you admit it?’

‘I’m not doin’ this. You can go fuck yourself.’ Zak got to his feet, ripped off the microphone. The usher stood up, trying to calm him.

‘Sit down!’ thundered the judge. Then everyone was yelling. Zak reached the door of the room and wrenched at it. It was locked. He kicked it hard, bastard pain in his foot. Slammed his hands against it. Smacked his head into it, hard, harder, blotting out all the thoughts, the avalanche of feelings, the thumps and slaps and curses.

Then the door was unlocked and Little was yanking him out and spitting words at him. His wolf’s grin looking like he was ready to rip Zak’s throat out. In the end Zak had to go and sit back down. It was that or be arrested then and there and banged up for contempt. He was tempted but he had Bess to think of.

There was another ten minutes of slagging off from the woman and then the other brief, the one looking after Sam Millins, started in on him. More of the same: trashing Zak’s reputation, liar, conartist, beggar man, thief. He’d invented a pack of lies to escape the law, he was a completely unreliable witness and his account could not be trusted. The fact that his evidence was even being admitted today indicated how weak the prosecution case actually was. Whoever killed Danny Macateer that day it was not his client and the garbled rag-bag account they had just heard was simply the desperate imaginings of someone who told the police what he thought they wanted to hear to escape jail himself.

‘Crap!’ Zak said.

‘Precisely,’ replied the brief. People sniggered and then he was done.

Little and Large were not pleased. He’d come within a hair’s breadth of being done for contempt and if that had happened he’d have been off the programme, beyond their protection. Plus his antics on the stand (as they called it) had been bloody atrocious. Zak couldn’t be bothered to defend himself any more.

‘You’ve done it now, your name’s out there,’ Large said, ‘in lights, Blackpool illuminations. Keep your head down and your nose clean, Ryan. There’s a lot of people would like to take you apart for what you’ve done. They’ll be looking for you.’

‘What about the reward?’ Zak asked them. ‘I kept my end of the bargain.’

Little went red, like he’d burst, and Large laughed. ‘What planet are you on, lad? Evidence leading to a conviction – could go either way thanks to your performance. There might not be any conviction. If these guys get sent down, it’ll be in spite of you not because of you.’

Zak shook his head, a bitter taste in his mouth. Shafted.

They dropped him at his flat and went to bring Bess. She danced around him like a mad thing.

‘What about a move?’ Zak asked Large. ‘You said maybe after the trial?’

‘No chance.’

‘Well, a better job then,’ he wheedled.

‘Doing what, exactly? No skills, no qualifications.’

‘I like animals.’

‘Try the Jobcentre, keep an eye out. It’s time to stand on your own two feet, Ryan.’

Stop calling me that, Zak thought.

‘Any problems, any bother, call the number,’ Large said. ‘We can get you to safety.’

‘So you’d move me if there was bother,’ Zak asked, wondering if that was a plan.

Large sighed. ‘Genuine bother, and a move could be worse than here.’

How? thought Zak.

Large got up to go and Zak said, ‘Can you give us summat to get some grub in? No money till tomorrow.’ He’d get something to take the chill away, something to make him relax.

Large shook his head but came up with a fiver anyway.

‘I need dog food an’ all,’ Zak complained. Even though he had plenty in the cupboard.

Large signalled for him to give the fiver back and gave him a ten. ‘That’s your lot,’ he said, ‘you have to make your own way now. Don’t mess up, lad.’

Zak took Bess up to the park but he couldn’t shake off the feeling he had. A dirty shame at the way they’d talked about him in court, how they’d treated him. Like he was rubbish, no respect, nothing. Like he wasn’t even a human being with feelings. He needed something to help him forget, to rub out the feeling.

He settled Bess and headed out once it got dark. There was a pub on the far side of the dual carriageway on the estate. Bit of a dive but exactly the sort of place where he could score. A bit of weed or some coke. Something to take the edge off. No – more than that. Something to help him get completely off his face. That’s what he needed now. And a tenner should cover it.

Fiona

Fiona had been following the trial in the newspapers and on television. First there had been two anonymous witnesses, one a passer-by like she was and the other a local woman who knew both Danny and the men accused of killing him. She had given her evidence by video and with her voice distorted so she wouldn’t be recognized. That took real guts, Fiona thought.

Then yesterday had been a shambles by all accounts. The man who was on the witness protection programme appeared on remote video link losing his temper and swearing and trying to walk out of wherever he was and almost getting arrested. His behaviour was a gift to the defence. He’d come over as chaotic and unreliable and much had been made of his criminal background.

Joe had rung her last night. He didn’t go into any details, said nothing that she couldn’t have got from the media, but he told her the guy hadn’t done them any favours and it was a godsend she’d be on the stand the next day, redressing the balance.

He sounded weary, she thought.

‘It must be a strain for you,’ she said, ‘not knowing how it will go.’

‘Yeah, but it’s worse if you don’t even get to court. Some cases, they eat away at you.’

She thought he might say more, the wistful note in his voice, but he changed topic, picked up the pace. ‘Still, everything all right for tomorrow?’

‘Yes. I will get the tram but the early one.’

She’d been dillying and dallying over whether to get a taxi or the tram, fretting that if there was any disruption to the tram service she’d be late.

‘You sure? I can sort out a lift.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘I’ll see you there then. Goodnight.’

Owen had come in then, he’d been walking Molly home. Molly who’d been there after school one day last week coming down from Owen’s room with him when Fiona got home. Chatty and giggly with dyed black hair and panda eyes. Owen’s girlfriend. Owen blushed as he introduced them. Molly was in his English class, music too. Delicate-featured, half his size, Molly volunteered fulsome replies to Fiona’s pleasantries. A dark-haired pixie. Fiona peeped out of the living-room window when they’d left and saw them kissing, Owen stooping over to cuddle her.