by Cathy Ace
I don’t know why Mam made him leave us; there’s nothing wrong with him. He’d like to be more of a proper dad to me, but she won’t let him. But now that I’m older I’m too clever for her – no one even knows we meet.
We talked about me going to court when Aled is there; Dad said he thinks it’s a good idea, because I’ll know exactly what’s being said. I didn’t tell him everything about me and Aled, of course. He ruffled my hair and called me ‘his little princess’. Aled calls me a little princess too, sometimes, but not in the same way. Dad told me I have to be very grown up about all this business, and he’s right.
I’ll be eighteen before long, then I really will be a grown up, so I can at least behave like one now. Which I don’t think means revising the Act of Supremacy of 1534, Bloody Mary’s repeal of it in 1554, and Elizabeth’s new one in 1559.
God, that Henry VIII, what was he like? It was all about him, him, him. And he treated women like things. That’s not right. Though . . . maybe they really loved him, like I love Aled.
Mary was no better, in her own way, marrying Phillip of Spain just to try to have an heir. She might have been the first ever Queen regnant of England, but she killed so many people, all in the name of religion.
And Elizabeth? Well, I know she was a great queen, and almost as deadly as her older half-sister, but imagine never marrying, having no one to love you at all. That must be the worst thing in the world, even if you are a queen.
Love, and family, and faith – it’s funny how those things are always linked together through history.
8th April
Evan
Looking up at the ornate grey stone façade of Cardiff Crown Court, Evan felt as though he were coming home; he’d spent possibly too many hours inside the building during his years of service. This was the first time for him to enter it as a member of the public; he held Betty’s hand as they mounted the steps. You couldn’t help but look heavenward as you climbed – the architect had cleverly ensured those arriving would feel awed, and small, as they approached their date with justice.
‘We’ll finally get to hear all the evidence they’ve got. The full facts. And see the major players,’ said Betty quietly.
Evan nodded; he felt anxious, fizzing with energy. Separated to pass through all the security procedures, he was glad to be able to stay close to Betty as they took their seats in the gallery looking down into the main body of the courtroom.
‘How does it feel?’ asked Betty, sounding concerned.
‘Different,’ admitted Evan. ‘To be honest with you, it’s as though I’m seeing the place for the first time; I never noticed those carved wooden scroll things above the bench before, and I have to admit I don’t think I recall the place smelling like this either.’
Betty sniffed the air. ‘I know that smell. It’s perfume. Expensive.’
Evan looked around, trying to work out who nearby might be the sort of person to wear such a heady scent.
‘What’s expensive, in your book?’ he asked.
Betty smiled. ‘Anything over about thirty pounds, but that one’s a few hundred quid a bottle. A client I once had used it. It comes with a snake on the box – all that sort of guff.’
Evan was surprised. ‘Sounds a bit exotic for any of this lot to be using it.’ He couldn’t spot anyone who looked as though they could have afforded to spend that much money on all the clothes on their back, let alone on perfume.
‘Good Girl Gone Bad.’
‘Pardon?’
‘It’s called Good Girl Gone Bad. I talked about it with my client. She picked it for its name, not its smell.’
‘And did she live up to its “promise”?’
Betty wrinkled her nose. ‘No names, no pack drill – but yes, she more than did that. Oh look, there’s Helen Jones. I expect that’s her daughter, Sadie. I wonder why they’re here? The links to Aled, I suppose.’
Evan looked across the banked rows of padded benches, and spotted a flaccid woman in her late forties, who looked pallid, strained, and in probably less-than-good health. Beside her sat a girl with glistening long brown hair and a shining complexion, wearing a purple knitted dress.
‘I’ll just go over to say hello,’ said Betty, and she was off before her husband could suggest she didn’t.
He watched the reactions to Betty’s approach with interest. Helen looked concerned as soon as she recognized his wife; Evan reckoned that was to be expected. The girl was introduced and made polite responses. Betty smiled, bobbed, and looked across at him – obviously explaining who he was. They all exchanged smiles and half-waves.
When Betty returned to her seat she said, ‘Helen introduced me to her daughter as an “old friend”. They’re here because of their connection with Aled Beynon as I thought; both sure he didn’t do it. By the way, it’s Sadie’s perfume you caught a whiff of – they must have passed behind us when they went across to those seats.’
‘It must be true what they say about The Dragon’s Head pub then,’ said Evan just as they were being told to ‘All rise’.
‘How d’you mean?’ whispered Betty.
‘People have always said it’s got a license to print money, what with its prime location and that view down to the beach. If the granddaughter’s wearing three-hundred-quid a pop perfume, how much must the grandmother be raking in there?’
‘It might not be the grandmother who bought it for her,’ said Betty as Aled Beynon appeared. ‘Look at that – almost the first thing he did was look up here, searching our faces. It looks like he stopped as soon as he spotted Sadie.’
Evan looked across at the girl; her mouth was open, her eyes alight, her entire body leaning forward, her hands and fingers in motion. The accused was looking at his feet – she was totally focused on him. It was an interesting dynamic.
Helen
Unconvinced she’d done the right thing by agreeing to accompany her daughter to Aled Beynon’s trial, Helen sat on the edge of the bench overlooking the well of the courtroom and wondered how long the thing would take. Days for certain. Possibly weeks. She’d agreed her daughter could come because it was a study week at school, and Sadie had promised she’d keep up with her work in the evenings. But that would be it; she wouldn’t be able to come next week, if it took that long.
The world of real trials and courtrooms was a closed book to Helen, though she liked to watch a lot of crime and mystery programs on TV; it seemed to be one of the few things all three generations of Jones women had in common.
This? This wasn’t at all what she’d expected. On TV everything went smoothly. Below her, people in gowns and wigs were bobbing up and down, talking to the judge in what seemed to be some sort of coded language. At least, it made no sense to her.
Helen focused on her daughter, who was staring blankly into space and scribbling in a notebook. When Helen asked what she was doing she was delighted to hear her reply, ‘Mentally revising the Elizabethan Religious Settlement.’
Thank God Sadie was keeping her head – this was the most important year of her life, and Helen didn’t want it ruined by an infatuation with a boy who might have heartlessly, and horribly, killed someone.
Sadie
He looked for me as soon as they brought him in, and he saw me. Now he knows I’m here, watching him. Which is good. It’s fantastic to see him again after all this time. It’s been agony, not knowing what he’s been going through – what he’s been suffering. My poor, darling Aled. He’s so pale, and they’ve cut his beautiful hair so short. Such a shame, but it’ll grow back. I like it long and curly, all wild and bleached. I think he’s lost weight, too; he’s wearing his church suit, but it looks like it’s hanging on him. I bet the food in that prison is terrible, and Aled likes good food – proper food.
I’ll make him all his favorite things when we’re together. It’ll be good for me, too. No more pub grub for me, oh no. Nor him. And as soon as he’s back on the beach, or on his bike, he’ll pick up that lovely tan of his, no problem. It must be
killing him, knowing he’s missing the spring surf. But it won’t be long now.
Who knew there’d be this much fussing about at the start of it all? I hope they get on with it soon. Mam said I can come this week, but only this week. It won’t take that long, I bet. It can’t. There, everyone’s getting settled in now.
He’s not looking up at me – nor should he. We can’t afford to let people spot that we’re so closely connected. Not yet. Oh look at him, he’s so small down there in that box. He’s fidgety. Can’t settle. I’m not sure that looks good to the jury – what will they think of him?
What’s he up to?
Oh, my God – he’s talking to me. He’s using his hands and fingers on his thighs to send me messages, like he does sometimes in class. He’s making the shapes of letters with his fingers. I’ve got to write this all down, but I mustn’t let Mam spot it. I’ll have to concentrate – I’ve missed some stuff already. I’ll just start from here.
U. I. L. U. I. L. U. I. L. U.
He keeps repeating the pattern. He’s saying ‘I love you’. That’s it. I just wish I could signal back to him somehow, but I can’t. Oh, there – he just flicked his eyes up to me. I’m sure he saw me smiling down at him. I hope he knows that means I get it. There – the pattern is changing now.
U. I. C. U. I. C. U.
‘I see you.’
X X X
Kisses!
This is wonderful. He’s so clever. He can talk to me all the time now. All I have to do is not take my eyes off him. He’s clasped his hands together now. Maybe that means he has to concentrate on what’s being said.
He’s looking at that woman in the wig. She’s supposed to be good – the best, some say. She’s there for him. If I could do what she can do I’d do a better job for him, I’m sure. Because she doesn’t love him, or know him, like I do.
It’s time for the bloke on the other side to talk now; I’d better listen.
Betty
‘So nothing unexpected came out of the opening statements, or the rest of the morning, cariad.’ Betty was following Evan toward the exit so they could both pop to the loo, then grab something to eat during the lunch break.
‘No,’ replied Evan, avoiding the crush as best he could, ‘but I have to say Geraint Parry-Lloyd for the Crown did well; he put up a convincing argument for Aled having good reason to want the Powell boy to remain unidentified. And he’s obviously going to rely heavily upon that witness in Australia; a live link into the courtroom was a nice way to make it as compelling a testimony as possible. Mind you, knowing the Beynon boy hasn’t given his defense team anything to work with, they also made a good job of it. Olivia Kitchener, QC, hasn’t earned her reputation for nothing.’
‘What do you think, Evan?’ asked Betty as she was moving toward the Ladies’.
‘Oh, far too soon to tell, love. We’ll see. You go, I’ll meet you out here.’
‘Okay – there’s bound to be a queue for me. See you when I see you.’ Betty pushed the door, and, sure enough, all the cubicles were full, and two women were waiting. A moment later Helen and Sadie Jones joined the queue behind her.
‘Hello again,’ said Betty brightly. ‘How’s it going?’ She’d meant the question as a general throwaway query, but the look on Sadie’s face when she replied told her the teen had inferred a totally different meaning.
‘I think it’s criminal, the lies they can say about a person in a court, and get away with it. That woman representing Aled should have been much more forceful, she should have told the jury that other bloke was just lying; she should have been more sympathetic. Even she was saying Aled’s from a troubled background – he’s not. He’s just Aled.’
Betty noticed the girl’s mother was surprised by her daughter’s outburst.
‘Come on now, Sadie,’ said Helen, ‘it’s only just getting going. I’m sure she’ll elaborate later on.’
Betty decided to not say anything, preferring to see how the conversation played out.
‘Oh come off it, Mam. “You only get one chance to make a first impression” – that’s what they tell us at school about interviews at university, so it’s got to be true here too. That jury? They’re already seeing Aled as a misfit, emotionally scarred. It’s not fair. He’s not. He’s as normal as you or me.’
Both women looked at Betty, clearly expecting some response or input. ‘My husband says it’s very early days, yet,’ she offered. ‘Maybe Olivia Kitchener is trying to get the jury to see Aled as someone deserving of their understanding.’
‘Well she’s not doing that, she’s making him sound like a right weirdo,’ said Sadie sullenly.
Betty noted Helen’s anxious expression as she stroked her daughter’s hair. ‘There, there, now. Don’t get upset, love. There’s nothing you can do about it. We’ve done all we can. I know you made a difference with all those Tweets and things—’ Helen stopped speaking, and blushed.
Her eyes darted from her daughter to Betty, then she laughed – too loudly, too theatrically, thought Betty. ‘You know what these kids are like, with their Tweets and texts and so forth,’ she added quickly. ‘Sadie said everyone in school got caught up in it, didn’t you?’
Sadie was looking at her mother with an expression Betty read to be utter disdain. She found it a little unsettling.
‘Yes, we all were,’ replied Sadie to her mother, while staring at Betty. ‘We often spent all day just texting each other about it.’ She flashed an almost manic smile.
A large woman with vivid blue hair vacated a cubicle, and Betty said, ‘I’d better not hold up the queue,’ nodding at the three women now standing behind them, one holding open the outer door so they could all fit. ‘Good luck this afternoon,’ she added, not at all sure if she’d said the right thing or not.
Sadie
This is horrific. That Geraint Parry-Lloyd bloke has really got it in for Aled. He said some horrible things about him to begin with, and now he’s making other people say horrible things about him too.
They got through all the experts who testified about it being James Powell’s remains quite quickly; at least that Olivia woman was good at making them look like idiots for identifying the wrong brother in the first place. Then they got Iolo Rees in to testify he had no more sons. I think Olivia did a great job when she pointed out he might have and wouldn’t even know it – given how he’d put it about so much over the years. Then Dean Hughes came along – smug git that he is – to say he had nothing to do with the drugs that killed poor Aled’s mother in any case. Olivia couldn’t shift him on that, because he just kept repeating that the police had dropped the charges.
One interesting thing I didn’t know about came out; that smarmy Chief Inspector Jenkins said several people who’d been at the Guy Fawkes event at our pub had signed statements saying they’d seen James Powell outside our place that night. That was news to me. Olivia pushed Jenkins on it; I don’t like that man at all. He’s whiny and looks flustered all the time. But I suppose that’s good, because it means he wasn’t very convincing.
It’s all going much faster than I thought it would. It’s really scary, in a way. Like it’s all rushing past me, and I’m trying to hang on. And I’m trying to keep up with what Aled is saying to me with his code, too. He can’t say anything too complicated, of course, but he’s been repeating I. L. U. and he’s been making little heart-shapes too. Oh, it’s so good to just see him again. I can’t wait for him to touch me.
I’m not sure what all these people do when they aren’t in the courtroom, but I hope it’s something important, because we’ve only been in here for a short time this afternoon, and now they’re sending us all away until tomorrow. Why can’t they just have a longer day in court? It would make things so much easier for Aled. They’re keeping him in Cardiff while the trial’s on, not driving him back and forth to Swansea prison. Mam and I have to get home to help Nan at the pub tonight – so I suppose it’s good that it’s finished so early, in that respect.
I don
’t even know why all this is happening in Cardiff in any case. I suppose Swansea’s not good enough for a trial the whole world is interested in. Typical of bloody Cardiff.
I can’t wait to get to bed tonight, then I can imagine Aled’s hands all over me.
I hope it’s not long until the hands are real.
9th April
Sadie
The drive to Cardiff felt shorter today than yesterday; it’s not a journey I’ve been on many times before, and all the roads seem confusing. Mam and I didn’t talk much; she seemed lost in her own little world, and I was in mine. I talked everything through with Mrs Hare last night. She’s a good listener, and I know she’ll take my messages where they need to go.
Nan was up earlier than usual this morning, so that messed up the bathroom schedule. She wanted to go over to have tea with Mair first thing, she said. Had to talk to her about something, apparently. I’ll put money on Mam knowing what that something is – but neither of them has said anything. Oh well, stuff them both. Let them keep their secrets, just as long as I can keep mine.
I don’t know how it’s going to go here in court today. Aled’s got his head down now. I wish I could hold him, and let him sleep in my arms – he’d be able to rest properly then. His signals are different today; he seems a bit twitchy, and he’s already looked up at me twice. I hope Mam hasn’t noticed. I hope that retired policeman Mam’s old counsellor is married to hasn’t noticed either; he seems to be paying me quite a lot of attention, which I don’t like. Maybe I should tell Mam I think he’s a bit of a letch.
