Lisa Ballantyne - Guilty One

‘I like you too,’ said Sebastian. ‘I think you’re my friend. I’m glad you were my lawyer …’

Daniel nodded again. His collar was tight at his throat.

‘What do you mean … you put the … brick on Ben’s face?’

‘I didn’t like Ben’s face. I just wanted to cover it up, so I wouldn’t see it any more. He was all cry-baby and snot and wanting to go home. I told him he had to stop crying. I told him that if he tried to go, I’d give him something to cry about … and then after I put the brick on his face, he didn’t cry at all. He didn’t make a sound. Not any more.’

Daniel let his shoulders fall. He exhaled and loosened his tie. He leaned forward and put both hands through his hair.

‘You should’ve told me, Sebastian.’ His voice was loud in the room. ‘You should’ve told me at the beginning. We would have done things differently.’

Sebastian smiled, and sat down again, opposite Daniel. He was all innocence: all eyelashes and freckles and neatly parted hair. ‘I thought you wouldn’t like me if I told you. I wanted you to like me.’

‘It’s not about like, Sebastian. I told you at the beginning, you needed to tell me everything, the truth, pure and simple. I’m your lawyer … You should have told me.’

‘Well, you know now,’ said Sebastian. He tilted his head to one side.

Daniel felt sick, a chill sweat on his back. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, controlling himself.

‘I have to go now,’ said Daniel. ‘Let’s … find your parents.’ The boy looked up at him, and Daniel took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say to the child.

Outside Charlotte was on her feet again, wavering like a sunflower, large black shades over her eyes. Ken was still holding on to her elbow.

‘Thanks, Dan,’ said Kenneth as he returned the boy to their care. Daniel winced at Croll’s out-of-place informality.

‘All right, young man?’ Kenneth boomed at his son.

Sebastian slipped between his parents and took their hands. The sight of the family like this sickened Daniel. He wanted to look away.

But then they were gone, all hand in hand, walking out the doors of the Old Bailey, Sebastian looking over his shoulder at Daniel as he was tugged gently outside.

Daniel undid the top button of his shirt, pulled his tie off and put it in his pocket. His legs felt unsteady. It felt like walking away from Minnie for the last time. It wasn’t the first time a client had lied to him. Daniel didn’t understand why, this time, he felt so shorn.

He stood in the ornate hall of the Central Criminal Court and looked around him. His loss was draped in a strange relief. One way or another, it was all over now.

Daniel walked out into the swarm of journalists. It was cold and threatening to rain, but he felt the heat of the camera flashes. He was blinded by them and couldn’t see the faces that addressed him, only the foam-encased microphones that were thrust towards him.

‘We are pleased with the outcome of the trial; my client and his family are looking forward to the return of normal family life. Our thoughts are with the family of the victim at this difficult time.’

Daniel pushed his way through the crowd as one of the journalists shouted: ‘How did it feel when you won? Were you surprised?’

Daniel turned and faced the man who had addressed him, knowing that he was now too close to the camera. The emotion apparent in his face would be broadcast, and commented on, in news feeds later: ‘Nobody won today. A little boy lost his life, but we are grateful that justice has been done for my client.’

There were more questions, but then the Stokeses came out. Madeline was recovered but brittle; Paul with a resolute turn to his lips. Daniel and the CPS solicitor were abandoned in favour of the victim’s parents.

Daniel looked around for Irene but couldn’t see her. He started to walk towards the Tube, then saw her ahead of him. She seemed dejected, eyes to the ground.

‘I thought you said you were going to wait for me,’ he called, running to catch up with her.

‘God, there you are. I didn’t know where you’d got to.’ She brushed a strand of hair from her face.

‘Are you all right?’ Daniel asked as he looked into her tired eyes.

‘I dunno,’ she said with a strange smile. ‘I feel weird. Probably just exhausted.’

‘You won,’ he said.

‘We won,’ she said, putting a hand on his lapel. He enjoyed the weight of her hand on his chest. For a second he thought about pulling her to him, kissing her.

He inhaled, preparing to tell her what Sebastian had told him, but stopped himself. She was the only person he wanted to tell; the only person who would understand. He would tell her, but not now; they had both been through enough for one day.

‘How did you get on?’ she said, motioning towards the crowd of journalists in the distance.

‘Fine. You know how it is – they’ve moved on to the Stokeses already.’

Irene looked away. ‘My heart breaks for them. They have absolutely no resolution now. Their son’s dead and no one has been blamed.’

Daniel shuddered in the damp cold, trying to shake off the memory of Sebastian’s whispered words. He put his hands in his pockets and looked up at the dark sky.

‘We’re a good team, though,’ she said.

He met her eye and nodded. She put a hand on his lapel again.

Suddenly he felt the weight of her tilt towards him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips.

Her lips were cold. He felt the first drops of rain on his head. He was too jolted to return the kiss, but he stayed close to her, until she backed away.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, turning from him, a flush on her cheek, allowing her hair to fall over her eyes.

He ran his hand up her neck and his thumb across her chin. He didn’t know what would happen now, but it felt significant.

EPILOGUE

The rain had just stopped when Daniel pulled into Brampton. He felt a rare calm settle on him. Until he reached Cumbria, the trial had been on his mind.

He was not sure if he had ever thought Sebastian innocent. It had never mattered to him beyond the case. But now that the little boy was free and had admitted his guilt, Daniel felt responsible. He thought again about Paul and Madeline Stokes, their grief adrift without the rudder of conviction. The child needed help, but Daniel’s role in that was now over. He could only hope that the case conference members and the professionals who had been involved with Sebastian so far would realise what he needed.

If the verdict had been different, Daniel knew that he would not feel better. His experience of secure units, juvenile detention centres and prisons had shown him that however damaged juveniles had been in the past, however desperate their problems, they would only be made worse in the places they would be sent for punishment and rehabilitation.

Now that he was in Brampton, Sebastian seemed far away: painfully faint, like a note he had to strain to hear. It was nearly winter now, and Brampton’s trees had been blown free of their leaves. The naked trees stood stark against the sky, like lungs. He heard the rain splash against the tyres of his car as he drove into the village. He took a breath and held it, wondering what rare change would have been possible if Sebastian had known a Minnie.

He tried to push aside thoughts of the boy. He remembered the taste of Irene’s lips from the evening before and smiled.

He pulled up outside the farm. The yard had been tidied and the old shed had been removed. The garden had been dug and the grass at the front cut. Daniel inhaled the clean smell of the earth. The air was cold and so he took out his key and stepped inside the farmhouse, for the last time.