‘I must go. I really do need the lavatory. “How do you do a wee-wee?” a kid asked me the other day. “Girls wee sitting down; boys standing up.”’
‘Was it Pagan?’ He does not answer but makes for the door. ‘Why won’t you tell me? Why did you want to see me? Is that all you wanted to say?’ He suddenly seems frightened and eager to escape. ‘At least let me help you.’
‘No need, there are lifts and ramps. Even this venerable old building has put in ramps. Wonderful things, ramps.’ I watch him disappear and then make my way to the pub.
I return to find the Court transformed for Pagan’s video evidence. Screens are set up for Judge, Counsel and jury, and one for me in the dock. Cameras are fixed for the cross-examination. The Prosecuting Counsel introduces the film. Having pored over the transcript, I am able to anticipate most of the dialogue as if it really were Citizen Kane. Familiarity does not make the material any less painful, and my one consolation is that, whatever else, I will never have to sit through it again. I watch for the jury’s reaction, which is impossible to gauge in the pin-drop silence … although, when Pagan speaks of my touching her bottom, the ‘all men are rapists’ juror ominously fingers her lapel.
At the end of the tape, the Judge explains the procedures for cross-examination; Pagan is waiting in an adjoining room and will be questioned via a closed-circuit video-link. She herself is in control of what appears on the screen, which will be seen only by those directly involved. She is particularly anxious that there should be no noise in the gallery and that every effort be made to minimise Pagan’s ordeal. With that in mind, she asks Counsel to remove their wigs and reminds them to sit still in their seats. She then ascertains that Pagan is ready and introduces herself and the two barristers.
‘Are you the Judge?’
That’s right.’
‘But you’re a lady.’
As the film constitutes Pagan’s examination-in-chief, the first to question her is Rebecca. She leads her gently through her evidence, quickly establishing that it lends itself to more than one interpretation.
‘When you said that Leo had touched your bottom, was this after you’d done a wee or a pooh?’
‘You shouldn’t say that. She says it’s naughty.’
‘Who’s she, Patience? Is it Granny?’
‘Yes.’
‘I understand. We don’t like to talk about pooh; it’s not a very nice thing to talk about. But sometimes we have to. Sometimes, when we’re not very happy, we do pooh by mistake. Is this what happened to you?’
Pagan nods. She looks so grave and grown-up. The Judge intervenes.
‘Patience, it would help me a great deal if you spoke out loud rather than nodding … if you said “yes” or “no”; so I could hear what you said. Is that alright?’
‘Yes.’ She speaks and nods at the same time.
‘So you’d done a pooh and Leo was cleaning you?’
Pagan nods and then remembers. ‘Yes.’
‘And did you feel better when he’d cleaned you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t feel hurt?’
‘No.’ The Judge intervenes again.
‘Patience, if you ever don’t understand a question, you will tell us, won’t you, so we can explain it to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good girl.’ I am grateful for her composure but sad that she should answer so freely to her new name.
‘Patience, on another occasion that Leo touched your bottom, do you remember – and I know that it’s not easy when you’re a little girl to remember all these things – but do you remember telling him that you felt sore?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember when it was?’
‘When I came home.’
‘By home, do you mean London?’
‘London’s my home … my house … my room.’
‘Yes of course. And do you remember where you were coming from?’
She squirms in her seat. The Judge addresses her.
‘You can tell us whatever you like, Patience. No one is going to be cross with you, and no one’s going to hurt you. I promise.’
‘Hove.’
‘Home?’ the Judge asks.
‘Hove, My Lady. Patience’s grandparents live in Hove.’
‘Of course. Thank you, Patience.’
‘So you were coming from Granny and Grandpa when you said that your bottom was sore?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was this your front bottom or your back bottom?’
‘Both.’
‘Did Leo do anything to help?’
‘He gave me some cream on it.’
‘Did that make it feel better?’ She nods. ‘Now, I want you to think very carefully, Patience. Did Leo ever put anything inside your bottom?’
‘No.’
‘He never touched it or put in a finger?’
‘No, no, no!’
‘It’s very important that you understand me, Patience, and that we all understand you. Did Leo ever touch your bottom at any time except to clean it or rub in some cream?’
‘No. I said so already.’
I turn away from the screen and gaze up at the gallery. I want to catch everyone’s eye.
‘But Patience, on the film that we’ve just been watching: the film with you in it –’
‘They promised to show me the trains.’
‘I beg your pardon, I don’t quite follow.’
‘The trains at the station. But they never did.’
‘I’m sure that, another time, they will.’ Rebecca looks lost. ‘Now, in the film, you say that Leo put something in your bottom in another man’s house.’
‘No!’
‘Can you remember Leo taking you to see a doctor in London after you’d told him that your bottom was sore?’ She reflects for a moment. She has matured so fast; she is starting to think, rather than just to express the thoughts that appear in her head.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember why that was?’
‘He said that, if the man saw that my bottom was hurt, I wouldn’t have to go back to Hove.’
‘And he was the one who put something in your bottom?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not Leo?’
‘No. I keep saying.’
‘Do you know what it was?’
‘It was cold.’
‘And did he touch you anywhere else?’
‘He touched everywhere.’
‘Thank you very much, Patience. You’re doing very well. My Lady, the man in question was a paediatrician whom my client consulted when he began to suspect that Pagan was being abused. He will confirm this himself later.’
‘Thank you, Miss Colestone. Patience, are you tired?’
‘No.’
‘Do you mind if we ask one or two more questions?’
‘It’s alright.’
‘Patience,’ Rebecca continues, ‘when you ask on the film, when you will be able to go home and see Leo and Trouble, what do you mean?’
‘I want to see them.’
‘Yes, I know. But, if I say to you “you’ll be in trouble”, you know what I mean, don’t you?’
‘Like she says when she tells me I’m naughty.’
‘And she is still Granny?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t mean that when you were speaking about Leo, did you?’
‘Course not. Trouble’s my cat.’
‘Her pet cat, My Lady, nothing more sinister. So, Patience, it wasn’t that you felt scared that you’d be in trouble with Leo for talking on the film?’
‘I love Leo; I love him best in the whole world … in the whole universe. But he doesn’t love me.’ Is it her eyes that mist or mine?
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He won’t come to see me any more.’
‘Perhaps he will soon.’
‘I want to go home.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘I’ve only got one home … one rea
l home. I hate the seaside; I’m not on holidays.’
‘Patience, please don’t upset yourself,’ the Judge says. ‘This will soon be over. We’re all trying to find what’s right for you.’
‘It’s right to go home.’
‘Carry on, Miss Colestone.’
‘When Leo took you to live by the lake last summer, did you want to go?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Do you know why he cut off your hair?’
‘Course. So I’d look like a boy.’
‘Why was that?’
‘So that they wouldn’t find us. And they wouldn’t have. But I fell downstairs. And I had to go to hospital in an ambulance. And I had to come home. And I can’t ever see Leo again.’
‘You may very soon.’
‘When?’
‘Let’s answer the rest of these questions first. Did you like being a boy?’
‘I was Paul. People don’t hurt boys.’
‘Did Leo ever hurt you when you were a boy?’
‘Leo never hurt me when I was a girl; Leo never hurt Pagan.’
‘No, of course not. Tell me, when you were in the woods, did you have beds to sleep in?’
‘No.’ She looks impatient.
‘So where did you sleep?’
‘In bags.’
‘Would they be bags with zips in?’
‘Course.’
‘And you each had your own bag? You didn’t sleep in Leo’s?’
‘No, we put them together; but he said they were too small.’
‘Leo said that the bags were too small for you to sleep together?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you wanted to?’
‘Yes. I want to at home; but he won’t let me … only as a special treat. He says I’m too big.’
‘I can understand; you’re growing up. Tell me, why do you want to sleep in Leo’s bed?’
‘He’s warm.’
‘And when you’re in his bed, what are you wearing?’
‘Pyjamas.’
‘And what’s Leo wearing?’
‘Pyjamas.’
‘Always pyjamas?’
‘Course; you’re not allowed to wear any other clothes in bed.’
‘No, of course not.’ Thank you … it will be a sad day, when a man who has looked after a little girl for the whole of her life cannot give her an early morning cuddle as a special treat. ‘Thank you, Patience, we’ve nearly finished. I want to ask just a few more questions. When they gave you the dolls in the film, do you remember saying that one had a bottom like Leo’s?’ Pagan giggles. ‘Did Leo ever show you his bottom?’
‘No, it’s rude.’
‘So you’ve never seen Leo’s bottom?’
‘Oh yes.’ I suddenly feel sick.
‘When was that?’
‘When I was small and there was Mummy. We made him a pie bed. Well she did and I helped with the edges. Then we hid in the cupboard, with a little crack for air. And he came in and took off all his clothes. And Mummy thought it was funny so she laughed and he was cross.’
I am trapped in a maze of memory; how could I have forgotten that?
‘So you were with your mummy?’
‘I said.’
‘What about when you were by yourself?’
‘No, it’s naughty.’
‘That’s right, it’s naughty. And is Leo ever naughty?’
‘No, Leo’s never naughty.’
‘Is anyone else ever naughty?’ She says nothing. ‘Does anyone else ever hurt inside your bottom?’ She says nothing.
‘My Lady,’ the Prosecuting Counsel interrupts, ‘I consider that Patience has been questioned for quite long enough on this matter. In the film, she clearly denies that anyone else has interfered with her.’
‘My Lady, I maintain that my learned friend is mistaken. That is precisely what she does not deny, as I shall endeavour to prove.’
‘Please do so, Miss Colestone, and as quickly as possible, so that we can avoid any further distress to the child.’
‘Patience, when you saw the doll, you said that it wasn’t like Grandpa’s bottom? Do you remember?’ She nods. ‘Have you ever seen Grandpa’s bottom?’ She looks away from the camera. ‘I know this is hard, but everything will be alright, as long as you tell the truth. So, have you ever seen Grandpa’s bottom?’ She nods.
‘Was that a “yes” nod or a “no” nod, Patience?’ the Judge asks.
‘Yes.’
‘But Grandpa’s bottom didn’t look like that, did it? What did Grandpa’s bottom look like?’ I stare at the screen. Pagan holds her arm rigid in front of her.
‘Your arm? Are you saying that Grandpa’s bottom looked like your arm?’
‘It pointed.’
‘Thank you, Patience, I see. I’m sure that we all see. Now, in the film, you say that Grandpa never made Pagan’s bottom sore; do you remember?’ She nods. ‘You’re not a liar, are you, Patience?’ She shakes her head. ‘Of course you’re not. So Grandpa never made Pagan’s bottom sore. But did Grandpa ever make Patience’s bottom sore?’ She does not reply.
‘I’ll go to prison,’ she says, after a pause in which I break every record for holding breath. ‘If I ever tell anyone, I’ll be sent to prison.’
‘That’s not true, Patience. Believe me, there’s no such thing as a prison for little girls.’
‘There is too. And I’ll go there if I tell anyone. Especially Granny. I must never tell her.’
‘Who said that, Patience?’
‘Grandpa.’ I turn to where he is sitting next to William’s wheelchair, staring at the floor.
‘What did he tell you not to tell her, Patience?’
‘“Come come come.”’ She starts to sway. ‘He said that. He put his bottom in my front bottom and then in my back bottom. It pointed; it hurt. “Come, come, come,” he shouted.’ She shouts, ‘“Come, come, come.”’
‘No,’ your father shrieks. ‘It’s lies, all lies. She’s lying.’
‘Silence in court, silence in court!’ On the screen, I see Pagan cower and an unidentified arm reach out to support her.
‘Thank you, Patience, you’ve been a very brave girl.’
‘Pagan.’ She pushes the arm away. ‘My proper name’s Pagan.’
‘Of course it is. Thank you, Pagan. I have no more questions, My Lady.’
‘Thank you, Miss Colestone. Your witness, Mr Strachan.’
‘My Lady, I feel that, under the circumstances, there is nothing to be gained from subjecting the witness to a further examination.’
‘Thank you, Mr Strachan, I entirely agree. Patience … Pagan, you’ve been most helpful; I wish to thank you on behalf of us all. In a few minutes, I’ll come and talk to you myself.’ Pagan looks uneasy. ‘First, I’m going to turn off the pictures. Is that alright?’ She nods.
The Judge switches off the monitor; the screen goes blank. She turns to the Prosecuting Counsel.
‘Well, Mr Strachan, how does the prosecution case now stand?’
‘My Lady, I’d be grateful for the opportunity to take instructions.’
‘Will ten minutes give you enough time?’
‘I would hope so.’
‘The Court will rise for ten minutes.’
As the Judge leaves the room, there is a marked release of tension. The Prosecuting Counsel turns to a man sitting in the row behind him and leads him out. Lawyers arrange their papers; journalists consult their notes. The Usher chats to the jury, while Rebecca confers with Anthony and Max. I am at a loss. I have an almost irresistible urge to confront your father, who stares at the floor as intently as if he were trying to start a fire. Then Sweeney shouts from the gallery, ‘Well wicked, Leo!’ I swivel round in time to see Melissa and an officer scold him. There is a smatter of applause and my vision blurs. David waves; Imogen blows me a kiss; my mother has her hands clasped in prayer.
Rebecca comes to congratulate me, which seems to be the wrong way round. ‘I hope you have plenty of champagne on ice.’
> ‘I was afraid of tempting fate.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘At long last, fate has taken up your case.’
She is proved right a few moments later, when first the Prosecuting Counsel and CPS clerk and then the Judge return to the Court. When asked if he has reached a decision, Strachan replies that, in the light of Pagan’s statements, it would appear that the prosecution is no longer sustainable and therefore the Crown proposes to present no further evidence.
His words provoke a swell of applause in the gallery, which the Judge makes no attempt to quell. When it dies down, I expect her to turn to me; but, instead, she addresses the jury. It seems that, even though the case has collapsed, they are still required to deliver a verdict. I remain terrified of a maverick juror, but the Judge’s directions are acquittal-clear.
‘Members of the jury, you have heard the evidence of the last witness. It is plain that the defendant has no case to answer. I therefore direct you to deliver a verdict of “not guilty”. Would you appoint one of your number to act as foreman in this matter.’
I watch them form a huddle. Pince-nez stands up; he would certainly not have been my choice. The Judge speaks to him.
‘Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?’
‘We have.’
‘Is your verdict on the charge of buggery guilty or not guilty?’
‘Not guilty.’
‘And is that a verdict on which you are all agreed?’
‘It is.’
‘Thank you very much, members of the jury.’ She turns to me. ‘Mr Young, I have no doubt that you are totally innocent of the charge. There is not a scrap of evidence to suggest that you have been anything other than a loving and responsible guardian. You leave the Court with your reputation unblemished.’
I listen to her words. I pick my way through the sentences. It is only when I hear another roar of applause from the gallery that I realise their full import. I am free. The sword of Damocles has been rendered as harmless as Lewis’s retractable dagger. The Judge continues.
‘While it is clear that there is no substance to the charges against the defendant, it is equally clear from both the medical evidence and the child’s own testimony that she has been abused and by someone who may well be a member of her family. I trust that the officers conducting the inquiry will continue their investigations and take whatever steps are necessary to apprehend the perpetrator.’
Pagan and her parents Page 40
