Lisa Ballantyne - Guilty One

Daniel spoke to her through his teeth:

‘I came all the way here to tell you, to-your-face, that I will never see you, never talk to you again. I don’t want a penny from you. I don’t want to hear anything about you. I hate you.’

Minnie stood up straight, one hand on the arm of the sofa. Her face was washed with grief. Daniel remembered nights when she had been crying and had that same look in her eye. She swallowed, her lips parted.

‘Son, please. Let’s talk about this again when you’ve calmed down. You’re upset. I want you to understand why I did it. It wasn’t for me. You don’t understand how she was ruining you. Your mind was torn with thoughts of her and once she was gone, it was as if you could concentrate. Look where you are now, and it was all because of those years of peace knowing that you didn’t need to run to her.’

‘But I did need to run to her, don’t you understand. She’s dead and now it’s too late.’

Daniel took a step towards Minnie. She raised her chin as if she expected him to hit her. He shivered, the muscles in his neck tight with the tension.

‘I’m sorry, then,’ she said. ‘Maybe it was wrong of me. I was doing it for your own good, but you’re right that I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry.’

Daniel’s throat was aching from holding back the tears. He bit his lip and pulled the cuff of his sweatshirt over his hand. With one sweep, he knocked the pictures off the mantelpiece. They fell on to the hearth and the dog jumped back and barked when the glass smashed.

Minnie was covering her mouth with both hands.

‘No, you shouldn’t have lied to me, but what’s done is done.’ He walked towards her, arms at his sides. ‘This is the last you’ll ever see of me. I wish you were dead.’

He left, tears hot again on his cheeks as he opened the door and walked down the hill. Please come back, he thought he heard her call.

His legs felt weak as he walked down the hill. He staggered, as if wounded, but the sun was warm and reassuring at his back. He wiped a palm over his face to dry it, knowing that all the warmth and the love he had known in the world was also behind him. And he was leaving it behind.

29

Back from his run, Daniel showered and stood with a towel around his waist, shaving. Normally he would be in a rush, and would smooth the shaver over his jaw before eating breakfast standing up in the kitchen. This morning he had plenty of time, and so he soaped up. Irene’s application to the judge had been successful. Today Sebastian would give evidence. It was possible that by the end of the week there would be a verdict.

Daniel finished shaving and wiped his face dry. He stood with his hands on the sink staring at his reflection. He saw the line of muscle on his upper arms and, when he held his breath and tensed, the rows of muscle on his abdomen appeared. His chest was hairless apart from one or two hairs around his breastbone, and a sparse triangle below his navel. He ran a hand over his now-smooth jawline. He felt relaxed after his run, but his mind was still troubled.

Cunningham was proceeding with the sale of the farmhouse. Daniel didn’t want the farm, yet whenever he thought of it, he felt a sharp pang of grief.

He stared at his face again. He remembered Minnie taking his chin between her forefinger and thumb and telling him he was good-looking. He remembered sweeping all her photographs off the mantelpiece. He remembered her face, twisted with the pain of thinking that she would lose him after all that they had been through together. He missed her, he admitted now. He had missed her even as he stood before her promising that she would never see him again. He had taken out loans and worked in bars in Sheffield at night, determined to finish university without her; determined to prove that he didn’t need her. He had missed her then and he missed her now.

She had wanted to come to his graduation, but he wouldn’t let her. He had never admitted it to himself before, but he had missed her that day too. He remembered looking anxiously around in case she had come nevertheless. All the other parents were there, brothers, sisters. He had drunk champagne on his own and then snogged one of the waitresses.

And then he had been working, and Minnie was off his mind. Success came quickly and he paid off his loans and bought the flat in Bow.

He put both hands on the edge of the sink and leaned forward until his brown eyes came into focus. It seemed incomprehensible to him now that he had sustained so much anger towards her, for so long. He had always wanted more from her – repentance had never been enough. He hadn’t considered what she had already lost, before he forced her to lose him too.

Daniel took a deep breath. With regret so heavy on his mind, he didn’t want to face the day, but he was ready for it.

In the cell, Sebastian was playing ‘rock, paper, scissors’ with the police officer. He was kneeling on his bunk in his jacket and tie, giggling. The jury should see this, Daniel thought: no monster, but a child who still takes delight in childish things.

‘Do you want to play, Danny?’ Sebastian asked.

‘No, we need to go soon.’

The judge agreed that Sebastian could give evidence, but there was no question that this would be other than via video link. There was no way to gauge how the child would perform on the day, plus there were practical considerations, such as his stature being too short for the witness box, and the necessity of the court to see his facial expressions. The criminal justice system had been criticised enough over the years for its indifference to young people accused of serious crimes and Justice Baron would not open the proceedings to further criticism. The video would be shown in open court but out of view of the gallery.

Walking to Court Thirteen, Daniel checked his phone. There was a text from Cunningham:

House contracts to be exchanged end of week. Call me later.

Daniel stopped on the flagstoned hallway, the stone arches of the old court stretching overhead. Not now. Not now. He breathed out and pressed his lips together. Irene appeared at his side.

Daniel switched off his phone and put it in his pocket.

‘Listen, I want you to keep a close eye on him this morning. If you get any feeling that he’s not coping, we can stop it. He seems to talk to you,’ she said.

‘I’m not with him. They have a social worker …’

‘I know, but we’ll take regular breaks. Check on him.’

‘Will do … Good luck,’ said Daniel.

*

‘My lord, I now call … Sebastian Croll.’

The screen flickered and then Sebastian’s face appeared. He was sitting up straight and wore a thin smile.

‘Sebastian?’ said Philip Baron, turning himself round to face the screen.

‘Yes, sir?’

Daniel sat back in his chair. Yes, sir. During rehearsal, Sebastian had not been told to address the judge that way. Daniel glanced up at the gallery. It was full today, but restless. Daniel could sense the journalists’ frustration at being unable to see the screen: necks craned and fingers appeared on the edge of the balcony.

‘I want to ask you a question. Do you know what it means to tell the truth?’

‘Yes, sir, it means you don’t tell any lies.’

‘And do you know the difference between the truth and a lie?’

‘Yes, the truth is what really happened and a lie is what didn’t.’

‘And if you promise today to tell the truth, what do you think

that means?’

‘I must tell the truth.’

‘Very well,’ said Baron, to the court. ‘He may be sworn.’

Irene stood up, ‘I want you to tell us, first of all, about your relationship with Ben Stokes. How long had you known Ben?’