Guilty One

by Lisa Ballantyne

  Daniel had to be at the Old Bailey for a brief pre-trial hearing and afterwards he had an appointment with the psychologist. He was late and so he jogged to the Tube, running down the escalators and up again – apologising when his briefcase nudged a woman’s hip. He surfaced at St Paul’s and walked to the Old Bailey.

  It was after four when he escaped the Central Criminal Court and headed to Fulham to meet the psychologist, Dr Baird. Irene had been delayed, and so only Mark Gibbons, her junior counsel, made the meeting.

  Baird was younger than Daniel had imagined him. His skin was pale and freckles from his nose spread up his face and on to his scalp where his strawberry blond hair was thinning. He seemed nervous.

  ‘Can I get you tea or coffee?’ said Dr Baird, arching his thin pale eyebrows as if one of them had made an interesting remark.

  Daniel refused but Mark cleared this throat and asked for a tea.

  *

  His report had been detached, professional, yet offering personal insights into Sebastian’s character. In terms of the defence, it could help to win sympathy for Sebastian, but Daniel and Irene had not decided how or if to use it. Dr Baird had assessed Sebastian’s suitability to stand trial in adult court, yet Daniel had wanted it to show Sebastian as the young boy he was, with minimum readiness for the rigours of the courtroom. The psychologist had described Sebastian as intelligent and articulate and all Daniel could hope was that these positive professional opinions would help to counteract the prosecution’s witnesses’ statements – that Sebastian was a cruel bully – and enable the jury to sympathise with him. Of course Daniel hoped that sympathy would not be needed and that facts alone would prove the boy innocent.

  Dr Baird had visited Sebastian at Parklands House, armed with dolls and felt-tipped pens. Daniel had been absorbed by his report, not only because of its possible relevance for the trial but because of what it revealed about Sebastian.

  While Mark sipped his tea – cup trembling on its saucer – Baird sat back in his chair, hands folded over his compact stomach, and expounded on Sebastian.

  ‘He’s highly intelligent, as I note in the report – IQ of 140, and he was certainly well aware of who I was and what I was about …’

  Daniel thought that Baird sounded peeved.

  ‘So, do you know why I am here?’ the doctor asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sebastian. ‘You want to get inside my head.’

  ‘He certainly displayed an … uncanny maturity for a boy his age, and he was quite certain that he was innocent.’ Baird opened his eyes wide as he said the word. Daniel was not sure what the man intended by the expression: was he impressed or disbelieving?

  ‘Do you know what crime you’ve been charged with, Sebastian?’

  ‘Murder.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  ‘I’m innocent.’

  The boy knew the difference, Baird told Daniel and Mark. He was clear about the difference between right and wrong, and knew that murder – indeed violence – was wrong.

  Daniel wondered if Sebastian really understood the difference, or if he had responded according to the doctor’s expectations. Daniel thought about his own childhood and his own wrongdoings – some of them criminal. He remembered no awareness of the immorality of these acts, only expediency, protection and revenge. Minnie had helped him to understand the difference.

  Daniel leafed through the report to the sections he had highlighted before the meeting. ‘Dr Baird, you’ve written that you have no way of knowing how Sebastian would react in a state of emotional distress, but you think that even in that state he would know what he was doing and its moral implications – forgive me for paraphrasing. What exactly does that mean?’

  ‘Well, it means that I have met Sebastian twice and feel confident to give this assessment of him – that he knows the difference between right and wrong – but I am aware that a longer study of his behaviour would be necessary in order to be conclusive about his understanding of morality and his behaviour changes when under great emotional pressure.’

  ‘I see – you say that he is …’ Daniel turned the page and read: ‘… unable to deal with and understand strong emotions and is prone to tantrums and emotional outbursts. What does that mean in terms of his ability to perpetrate a violent crime?’

  ‘Well, very little – I found him to be intellectually mature, precocious even, but as I have stated he did seem emotionally immature. We touched on some troubling subjects and he did become visibly upset, but certainly not aggressive in any way.’

  Daniel scanned the report again, frowning. ‘You ascertained there was an indication of abuse?’

  ‘Why yes,’ said Baird, picking up his file and referring to his notes. ‘Certainly of spousal abuse in the home. We did some role play with dolls, which at first Sebastian was not open to engage with … but eventually he did interact with the dolls. He didn’t verbalise it – again an indication of emotional immaturity – but he seemed to act out scenes where his father punched and kicked his mother.’

  ‘There’s been no social work engagement with the family,’ said Mark, finishing his tea.

  ‘Correct,’ said Dr Baird, ‘but medical reports do corroborate some of Sebastian’s statements.

  ‘I’m an only child. There was a baby but it died. I put my hand on my mum’s stomach and I felt it moving. But then she fell and she gave birth to a dead thing.’

  ‘Sebastian described a stillbirth – quite vividly so – and Mrs Croll did indeed suffer a third trimester miscarriage as a result of an accident in the home,’ confirmed Baird.

  Daniel had read in the doctor’s report that Sebastian’s expression had been ‘blank’ when he provided this information, and Baird had noted that the boy made ‘a short sucking sound with his mouth’.

  Daniel cleared his throat and glanced at Mark, who was making notes.

  ‘Finally,’ said Daniel, ‘you dismiss the previous diagnosis of Asperger’s by Sebastian’s educational psychologist? This was in his school reports.’

  ‘Yes, I didn’t find any evidence that he had Asperger’s, although he may have some traits related to the spectrum.’

  ‘And you are recommending regular court breaks?’ said Daniel. ‘I think that will happen as standard, but I think we should have you testify to that effect – do you agree, Mark?’

  Mark nodded eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing nobly above his shirt collar.

  ‘But of course – court proceedings should be geared to take account of Sebastian’s age and emotional state. His high intelligence means that proceedings may be understood well if properly explained, but regular breaks should be arranged so as to limit emotional strain.’

  Daniel said goodbye to Mark and made his way home. He closed his eyes and sat back in his seat, feeling the rock and reel of the Tube. He remembered his own powerlessness as his mother was beaten then imagined Kenneth King Croll causing Charlotte to fall and lose her baby.

  Back in Bow, he unpacked his briefcase in the kitchen, scattering the Croll evidence bundle on to the table, and opened a beer. He would go through it one more time after dinner. He saw his notepad from the night before, with numbers for Harriet MacBryde and Jane Flynn, and sat staring at them, wondering what to do. Harriet was furious with him and Jane had probably never heard of him. He was family to neither.

  He had a shower and changed into T-shirt and jeans. He padded barefoot to the living room where he lifted the photograph of Minnie’s first family from the mantelpiece. He carried it through to the kitchen and finished his beer staring at Minnie’s face. It was gleaming with happiness, skin still unruddied by the years outdoors that were to come.

  Daniel took a deep breath and picked up the telephone. He dialled Harriet’s number; listening to the unusual long ring and feeling his chest tighten in expectation. He drummed his fingers gently on the table, having not thought what he was going to say. The phone rang out and he was just about to hang up when she answered.

  ‘Hello?
’ Heavy breathing, as if she had been running to the phone.

  ‘Hi, is it … Harriet?’

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’ She was calm now, steeled, trying to place his voice.

  ‘It … it’s Danny, I saw you at …’

  There was a long pause and then Harriet said, ‘What do you want?’

  Daniel leaned forward on the kitchen table and reached for Minnie’s photo. He spoke quietly, unaccustomed to asking for help. The room was warm and the veins on his hands were raised as he held the photo frame.

  ‘I’m sorry about … when I saw you at the funeral. I was … anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Minnie. I’ve been thinking about her a lot and realise there’s so much about her that I don’t know – that she never told me. I wondered if you would …’

  ‘Like I said to you at the funeral, Danny, this sudden interest is long overdue. She was heartbroken when you didn’t speak to her or visit. Heartbroken, do you understand? And now she’s dead, you want to find out more about the fine person that she was? I’m grieving for a sister that I loved dearly, but you said goodbye to Minnie long ago. Now, for the love of God, leave me alone.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel whispered, but Harriet had already hung up.

  16

  Daniel was looking at the comics in Brampton News on Front Street. He was aware of being watched and turned quickly to catch a woman in maroon overalls staring at him. When he met her gaze she smiled at him and went back to the cash desk. Daniel felt a hot flush rise on his cheek. He knew the woman as Florence MacGregor, who everyone called Flo-Mac. She bought eggs and sometimes a chicken from Minnie, and always quibbled over the price. She had very black hair and Minnie had told him that she dyed it; some people just can’t take getting older, even though there’s nothing more certain in life than dying itself, she had told Daniel.

  Daniel knew that Flo-Mac expected him to steal the comic, and was prepared to do that, so as not to disappoint her, but just as he was rolling it up to slip down his trousers, he thought about his career as a lawyer and how this would look. He unrolled the comic and counted the change in his pocket. He had enough.

  As he was walking towards the counter, he heard Flo whispering to her assistant. Daniel couldn’t hear all the words, but he did make out Flynn, orphans, disgrace.

  Daniel placed the comic on the counter.

  ‘Fourteen pence,’ said Flo.

  Daniel threw the comic at her. ‘Stick it up your arse,’ he said and walked out of the shop.

  At school he played football at lunch and scored two goals. In the afternoon there was a maths test and Daniel finished first, as usual, but this time he had actually filled in the answers. He waited after class and made Miss Pringle mark his paper before him. He got every answer correct and so Miss Pringle gave him a gold star to take home to Minnie.

  Daniel walked with the test paper and the gold star in front of him as he crossed the Dandy. All of the other children were home by now and the Dandy was quiet. Billy Harper was alone on the swings and Daniel waved to him and the heavy man waved back, gently swinging back and forth. He remembered the summer before, being beaten as he crossed this piece of land. He felt different now, older. He folded the test up and put it in his pocket, then ran home, stopping occasionally to kick the heads off daisies.

  When Daniel got home, Minnie was replacing the bedding in the goat’s hut. He walked up behind her and prodded her capacious hip.

  ‘I was wondering where you got to. Were you dawdling as usual?’

  ‘No, I stayed back to get my maths test, look!’ Daniel presented the paper to Minnie.

  She frowned at the paper for a few moments then, realising, grabbed him and bear-hugged him, squeezing him so hard that he couldn’t take a breath and his toes lifted from the ground.

  ‘Well, that’s marvellous,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to celebrate.

  A gold star means that we definitely must have crumble and custard.’

  Daniel watched as she snatched at the rhubarb that grew out of control to the side of the chicken run. The stalks were three fingers thick and the leaves large as umbrellas. She walked into the house with three stems and then asked him if he wanted one now. While she made the crumble and heated the oil for the chips, he sat at the kitchen table dabbing a stalk of rhubarb into a bowl of sugar. The sweetcoated sourness of it reminded him of happiness and right then he was happy, with the gold star and the smell of chips cooking and the tartness of rhubarb on his tongue.

  He was eating the crumble when she broached the subject. She pushed her bowl away from her as he took a custard-slicked slice of rhubarb into his mouth.

  ‘You remember I was telling you that it is often hard for social workers to find adoptive parents for older children like you?’

  Daniel stopped eating. His arm buckled on to the table and his spoon balanced on the edge of his plate. He had food in his mouth, but could not swallow.

  ‘Well, it seems like Tricia has found a couple that would be interested.’

  Minnie was watching his face for some response; Daniel could feel her eyes searching out his own. He was completely still – reflecting her.

  ‘It’s a family with older children, eighteen, twenty-two, ready to leave. They have four children of their own in total and just the one still there at home. It means you would have that family atmosphere, but get lots of attention. Better than here with just me and the animals kicking about. What do you think?’

  Daniel shrugged with one shoulder and looked at his food. He did his best to swallow.

  ‘They live in Carlisle and they have a big house. You’d have a great big bedroom, I bet …’

  ‘Who cares?’

  Minnie sighed. She reached out towards him, but he drew his arm away with such haste that he knocked his spoon off the table. Spots of custard landed on the wall and the floor.

  ‘They only want you to go for a try-out,’ she said. ‘They suggested this weekend, just to get to know each other.’

  Daniel started from the table and ran upstairs. Blitz was asleep and Daniel caught his tail a little as he fled the room. He wasn’t sure if it was the yelp of the dog or Minnie’s cries behind him to come back that caused the anger to whip. It cracked through his body and as soon as he was in his bedroom he was destroying it: ripping out the drawers and kicking over the bedside table, smashing yet another lamp. This time, for good measure, he stamped on the shade, once, twice, three times.

  He was jammed between the wardrobe and the bed, curled up tight, by the time Minnie entered. He steeled himself against the comforting hands that he expected on his back and his hair. He pressed tighter into himself. It reminded him of being attacked. Two of his mother’s boyfriends had beaten him unconscious. He remembered sitting just like this, jammed between furniture, protecting his stomach and his head, letting his shoulders and his back take the brunt, until they pulled him out, screaming, by his hair.

  Now, he resisted her comfort in the same way; he was taut to it, so that every muscle in his body was primed to recoil should she come near. His face was pressed into his knees so he could hear and smell his own breath, laced with a sourness that was either the news or the rhubarb.

  But Minnie didn’t touch him. He heard the springs protest as she sat down on the bed. He heard her exhale and then there was silence.

  He waited for a few minutes, watching the circular patterns that throbbed before his eyes when he pressed his knees into them. He felt the pain of pressure in his eyeballs, yet did not stop. The muscles in his back were straining from curving around his thighs. Slowly, he raised his head. She was sitting with her back to him. He could see her twirling the gold band on her left hand. He had begun to like her hands, the red roughness of them. He liked the feel of them against his cheek and in his hair, as if only hands as rough as hers could bring him comfort now.

  Now he watched her with his chin on his knees. She was still, turned from him, watching some invisible fancy in the air. He could see the rise and fall of
her chest and the dwindling sun shining in her grey hair, so that it seemed almost white, reflecting all the light.

  ‘I just want to stay with you,’ he said finally.

  ‘Oh, Danny,’ she said, with her back still to him, ‘I’m glad you’ve settled here; I wanted you to. But this is a real chance for you. This is a family; imagine what it would be like to have two experienced, professional parents all to yourself. Better than this mucky old farm, and nobody but old me to talk to – I’ll tell you that for nothin’.’

  ‘I like the farm …’

  ‘These are real outdoor people, you know? Professional, smart people.’

  ‘So? Who cares?’

  Minnie turned to him. She patted the bed beside her. ‘C’m’ere.’

  Daniel uncoiled and sat beside her. She nudged him with her shoulder and asked, ‘You tellin’ me you’re afraid of a weekend away with nice new people? Nobody’s sending you anywhere. This is an opportunity for the taking.’

  ‘So I can come back if I don’t like them?’

  ‘To be sure, but who says they’ll like you? Grumpy little bugger that you are!’

  Daniel smiled then, and Minnie nudged him again. He folded into the expanse of her, tucking his arms between her hips and her bosom, his face pressed into the softness of her upper arm.

  On Saturday morning, Daniel stood with his elbows on the bedroom window sill watching out for the car. He could see Minnie’s front garden with its vegetable patches and raspberry canes. The gnarled hand of the rowan tree was at the far side, reaching out of the earth with desperate sinew strewn with the blood-red berries. The parents who wanted to meet him were called Jim and Val Thornton. They were not yet late, but Daniel had been waiting for an hour. With no car in sight, he stared at the rowan tree waving at him in the wind. He remembered climbing the rowan and picking the berries and Minnie telling him they were poisonous. She had said that the tree was there to keep the witches away, so how could she be a witch? Daniel watched as the sparrows and the magpies stripped the branches of their berries. He wondered how tiny birds could survive feasting on the berries that Minnie said could kill humans.