Jenny Downham - You Against Me

‘I don’t know.’

‘You want to give it some thought?’

Someone in the crowd giggled. Why were there no adults? Why were there only kids? Stacey stared at her. ‘I’m asking you again – why did you tell the cops you never saw anything?’

Ellie stared right back. The building in front of her swung, and still she couldn’t let go of Stacey’s gaze.

‘Leave it,’ her mate said. ‘She’s not worth it.’

Stacey looked Ellie up and down, as if she was checking that was true, then dismissed her with a flick of her eyes. The crowd laughed, loud jeering laughter, right at her as she ran up the rest of the steps and through the doors.

Barry had said it was court number two. She saw a sign, ran past the reception desk and up the stairs. She heard whispering behind her from people coming through the doors and following her up. But it was all right, because there, on the top landing, was her mother. Ellie ran to her, clutched at her arm and pulled herself close.

‘Mum!’

‘Ellie, don’t grab me. I’m talking to someone, can’t you see? This is Mr Grigson, Tom’s barrister.’

There was reverence in her voice as she waved her hand at the barrister, as if to say, Isn’t he amazing with his black cloak and his white wig and his important bundle of paperwork?

Mr Grigson nodded at Ellie as if he’d seen hundreds of girls like her already that morning. He didn’t even say hello.

‘Mum?’

‘Ellie, I’m talking.’

‘But Mum, I want-’

‘If you need the toilet, it’s there – look. Be quick though, we’re about to go in.’

So, how could she say, Mum, I want you to take care of me?

The crowd was pressing up the stairs. Ellie couldn’t bear to meet Stacey again.

‘I’ll just be a minute.’

Mum nodded. ‘I’ll save you a seat.’

Like it was a trip to the theatre, like a seat near the front would be pleasant.

Ellie dived into a cubicle and bolted it, leaned against the door and clutched her stomach to try and stop the gripping pain. She attempted to think of beautiful things – hummingbirds sipping nectar from small flowers in bright places, mountains capped with snow.

None of it worked. Because this would be so much worse in a few weeks when there’d be a jury, when Ellie’s name would be called and she’d be invited to stand in the witness box and swear on a Bible and tell the truth, the whole truth, so help her God.

She vomited everything up into the toilet bowl – toast and coffee, last night’s bolognese. She felt small and transparent afterwards. She wiped her mouth, flushed it all away and sat on the toilet seat shivering. She always cried when she puked, so she knew her mascara was smudged now, and that instead of looking truthful and holy she would look a total mess and no doubt get into more trouble with her parents.

She spun a wad of tissue from the toilet roll and wiped her eyes. Behind her, high up, a thin streak of sun glimmered through the window. She leaned back into it, closed her eyes and let it dazzle her face for a moment.

‘Ellie Parker,’ she told herself. ‘You can do this. Do it for Tom. Do it for your family. Tom’s your brother. He’d never do anything to hurt you.’

She washed her hands and face in the sink, rinsed her mouth and tamed her hair in the mirror. She opened the door a fraction and checked along the length of the corridor in both directions. No one was about, the landing and stairs were empty. The courtroom door was closed. Did that mean she wasn’t allowed in now? No, this was another disaster! She hovered outside, unsure what to do, then decided to go back down the stairs to ask at reception. But as she got to the top stair she stopped because she heard voices and footsteps coming up and a rush of adrenalin flooded her face and chest. She recognized that voice.

Mikey McKenzie looked right at her as he turned the corner of the stairs. His eyes widened with surprise, but all he said was, ‘Hello.’

Ellie nodded, couldn’t speak.

He was with a woman, younger than her own mother, but definitely his mum. The whole family had the same dark hair. She hadn’t dressed up, no make-up and just a tatty denim jacket over a tracksuit. The three of them stood together at the top of the stairs.

Mikey said, ‘Are you going in?’

‘I don’t know. The doors were open and now they’re shut.’

He shrugged mildly. ‘The woman at the desk said to go in.’

His mother pressed her hand onto his arm and said, ‘Is that the loo? I should pop in there first.’

‘Sure, Mum. I’ll wait for you.’

They watched her go, the door swung shut. Just the two of them now.

Ellie said, ‘Does she know who I am?’

‘No.’

‘Will you tell her?’

‘Why would I?’

‘What about Karyn? Is she coming?’

He shook his head. Stupid question. Of course she wasn’t. She was too scared to leave the flat, didn’t everyone keep telling her that?

‘Jacko’s here,’ he said. ‘He’s parking the car.’

She nodded, knew she was blushing. Voices rose and fell beyond the door.

She knew he blamed her, knew he thought she’d set him up. They stood there awkwardly, and all she could think of were pleasantries – nice weather, how’s work?

‘Your eye looks bad,’ she said. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Not really.’

‘It’s all bruised still.’

He flicked her a look. ‘You should see the other guy.’

Maybe it was a joke, but neither of them smiled.

She said, ‘I texted you.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why didn’t you answer?’

He shrugged, looked beyond her to the courtroom doors. ‘I didn’t see the point.’

‘I had no idea Tom would come home when he did. I didn’t mean that to happen.’

‘Yeah, you said in your text.’

‘You don’t believe me.’

He waved a hand at the closed doors. ‘This stinks, the whole thing does. What I did to you was out of order, what you did to me I probably deserved. So we’re even, OK? No more texts. No more anything. Let’s just forget it now.’

He held her gaze for a second. She looked away first.

‘I better go in,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘Yeah, see you around.’

The public gallery wasn’t high up like the Old Bailey on TV, just a few rows of chairs with an aisle between them. There was no whispered hush when Ellie walked in, no tutting judge surrounded by barristers to tell her off for being late, just groups of people sitting around on chairs waiting for it all to begin. Stacey and her mates were in the far corner, and although they stared as Ellie walked down the aisle and squeezed in next to her mother, no one else took much notice.

‘I was beginning to give you up for lost,’ Mum said, and she patted Ellie’s hand, as if everything would be all right now.

It was like sitting in an airless registry office, waiting for a badvibe wedding. There was even an usher, some bloke flitting around with handfuls of paperwork. Tom was in the front row, the groom waiting for his bride. But the bride wasn’t coming. Karyn McKenzie was at home weeping, her wedding dress in tatters, refusing to get in the limo. I won’t marry him, I won’t! He’s cruel and I hate him.

Tom was scared – Ellie knew it from the way he concentrated on the floor in front of his feet, the tight pinch of his shoulders. He was wearing his new suit, chosen by Dad for its fine weave and quality stitching. But under his arms and along his spine, sweat would be gathering.

Mum leaned across and nudged her. ‘The mother’s just come in. I heard Barry say.’

Ellie turned her head slightly, pretending not to be that interested. Mikey’s mum looked as if she was trying hard to be focused as she walked up the aisle, her head very straight, her neck straight too. Behind her came Mikey. And trailing behind him, his mate Jacko. Ellie couldn’t take her eyes off them as they hunted for seats.