‘We’ll take her into the office,’ said the security guard. They walked her through the store. She swallowed hard and held up her head, sensing a growing resolve. She had been in worse situations and come out unscathed. She would not be defeated.
Chapter Forty-one
Mel
‘Supper’s on the table,’ she shouted through his bedroom door.
‘What is it?’
‘Rice and vegetables.’
‘Boring.’
‘Not much else on your list. If you were prepared to eat sensibly…’
‘And fuck up the planet eating animals.’
‘Plus cheese, eggs, mushrooms, raisins. Catering’s increasingly complicated…’ But she felt herself smiling as she spoke.
‘I came with you today, didn’t I?’
Before she could reply, he appeared in the doorway, took a step towards her, stretched out his arms and hugged her. Her cheek met his shoulder and she wanted to fall on him and weep. But she swallowed her tears, straightened her head and hugged him back, feeling his strength through his old T-shirt. Never mind the demanding diet. The least she could do was look after him.
‘You’ll be all right, Mum.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘They won’t believe Natasha. You wouldn’t hit anyone. You never even hit me, and I bloody deserved it.’
‘They’re not saying hit. They’re saying I hurled her against the dressing table. But it’s just as bad.’
As for hitting him, he was wrong. He’d been screaming in a swimming pool changing room – he was four years old. She couldn’t remember what it was about. He’d probably refused to put on his socks. He’d been standing on the changing bench, so his eyes were level with hers, challenging her as Natasha had challenged her, only his way was to stare into her face and howl.
Other mothers were organising their well-behaved offspring, casting disapproving glances at the woman with the undisciplined child. Mel needed Jacob to stop, but he was beyond listening and she had smacked him hard across the cheek. She still remembered his silence, the look of shock and surprise, the red mark. And now she felt sick with self-hatred as she took in his trusting face.
In court that afternoon Natasha had spoken fluently, telling the jury how hard she had tried with Mel, how the hostility of her pupil supervisor had taken her by surprise. Though she recognised how Mel had been affected by the attack in the street. She knew only too well the destabilising effect of physical violence. When Digger asked her if she could elaborate, she began to speak about her adoptive father until Judge McDermid intervened and told Digger to stick to the essentials. While the defendant’s background might be relevant, he could see no relevance in the complainant’s.
More tactics. Digger wanted the jury to fall in love with his witness. Mel had watched the judge who was looking intently at Natasha. Surely, he was not going to fall for her as well?
‘Thanks for today, Jacob.’
‘She’s a bitch.’
‘She’s troubled.’
‘No fucking excuse. That stuff about your… thingy.’
‘Paul.’ She wanted to tell him off for swearing. But right now, a telling off felt out of place.
‘What’s it got to do with anything? Why’d she want to chuck that shit around? I reckon she fancies him herself.’
‘I’m sorry you had to hear it in court.’
‘No worries. It just makes her look like a bully.’
But it gave Mel a motive. Not the most powerful motive and at least Natasha hadn’t mentioned Jacob. But a motive, nonetheless. Mel prayed Jacob would be left out of this. Despite his confident words she could tell he was shaken, could see through the surface outrage to something struggling inside him. His need to protect his mother was strong. Her eyes had pricked with tears when he stood up to face Natasha in the restaurant and now there was a swelling ache in her throat. He was too young for this. Not yet an adult, he already saw himself as her defender. And he could never know the truth of what she had done. She turned away from him to the kitchen.
They did not speak as she took the food out of the oven and placed the dish in the centre of the table. She ladled out Jacob’s share, thinking of the lies she would tell tomorrow. There was no choice. ABH carried a maximum five-year sentence. If she was found guilty, prison was possible, even probable. Mel had a clean record, but the pupil–supervisor relationship was a relationship of trust. There was public interest in the outcome and the judge would not want a member of the Bar to be seen to receive preferential treatment. It was unlikely to be the full five years but it would be a sentence and a sentence would strip her of everything, her place in chambers, her right to practice, her reputation, her home.
She had managed to keep up mortgage payments, but she couldn’t stay off work much longer. And Jacob? Would she lose him too? He would move in with Claude. He might visit her in prison. But what would she tell him? Another lie? That the jury had got it wrong? Or what was about to become the truth. That she had lied to her barrister, lied in court. Lie upon lie. Lies created a wall around you. How could you ever be close to anyone again?
He was sitting now, staring at his plate. It was unlike him not to tuck in as soon as the food was served. Perhaps like her he had no appetite. As she waited he looked up and met her gaze.
‘I wish I could help you, Mum.’
‘You do help me. Just being here. Only don’t come tomorrow. Go to college. You’ve already missed a day.’
Tomorrow she would step out of the horrible glass cage of the dock and stand in the witness box in front of judge and jury. How could she bear her son to be present when she gave her evidence?
‘I’ve got a class in the morning. But I’ll try to come later.’
She couldn’t stop him. Any more than she had been able to stop him staying out all night. And who else would be there for her? Georgie had promised to come. But even his trust in her might falter as he heard the evidence against her. There had been about ten people yesterday in the public gallery, more than she had expected, members of her chambers, other faces she did not recognise. Might they be friends of Natasha? She’d heard nothing from Paul. He knew her trial date. She hadn’t expected or wanted a meeting. But a good luck text would have been nice.
What would Isabel say? Despite her mother’s occasional vagueness, she had been adamant about her duty not to discuss the case and it was still unclear to Mel how much she had seen.
She watched Jacob picking at his supper and tried to eat something herself. But there was nowhere for the food to go. It was as if a huge boulder had been lodged in the space that should be her throat. Months of treading water. Now everything was about to change. And fast. Old friends might wish her well, but the weight of reality was crashing in on her and she needed to carry that weight alone.
Chapter Forty-two
Natasha
The shooting pains had started again and the great weight she carried felt as if it would crush her. There was no movement. It was warm in the custody suite but she felt suddenly cold. What if the baby were dead? She thought she might be sick.
‘Miss Baker, if you would just read this through and sign it. The PC will take you through for fingerprints. Then DI Clark and DS Singer will have a word with you in the interview room.’