‘Do I get a shower?’ Will asked.
‘Showers broken, sorry.’
‘Phone call?’
‘You refused a call last night,’ the man said checking a clipboard. ‘You can make a call at the court.’
Will opened his mouth to complain, also suspecting the latter comment was a brush off, but who the hell was he going to ring anyway. The door closed on him and he peered down at the meal that looked like it was made of wax. He was starving. So he picked up the plastic fork, which was the only implement he had been given and ate it anyway.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, after a harrowing experience hovering over the pit of repulsion with his ass tingling from the world’s most abrasive and non-absorbent toilet paper, his shoes and belt were returned to him along with his personal belongings. He was escorted on to a long kind of white van with five blacked out windows along the side. He could see other people behind the metal gridded doors as he got on the bus and walked down the middle to the back. He was wedged into a tiny compartment and his door was shut, enclosing him inside. He must have been the last one on, as the van gingerly pulled away shortly afterwards. Judging by the sky and the light traffic it was still fairly early although it was difficult to tell through the tinted windows. The barrier was raised as they left the police station and five minutes later they were driving down a slope taking them under a building boldly declaring itself to be Peterborough Magistrates Court.
It was a long four hours waiting in the holding cell. The duty solicitor had been to see him and had confirmed to him what the girl from last night had said about proceedings. She informed him in no uncertain terms he must get an excellent solicitor appropriate to these types of cases. One of his hands was then cuffed to a man from court security and exhausted, dirty and gritty eyed, he was led up some steps and through a wooden door into a bright, well lit room.
He looked out into the court room through the Perspex glass. There were three suited figures on a raised desk on his left who all seemed to be reading something in front of them. In front of them was a man on a slightly lower desk who was whispering something to them. The duty solicitor was facing them on a row of tables in front of Will and at the far side of the room was another desk facing him. The woman seated over there was the only one observing him, but when he caught her eye, she looked away disinterestedly.
The central figure at the top, a grey haired general practitioner type, looked over his glasses at Will.
‘You may be seated,’ he said. ‘Are you William Reynolds?’
‘Yes,’ Will replied, but it only came out in a whisper.
‘Louder please.’
‘Yes, yes I am.’
‘Confirm your date of birth.’
‘Seven, ten, seventy three.’
‘Mr Reynolds you have been charged with dangerous driving and failing to stop for a police officer. These are very serious offences. As this is the case we will be transferring these proceedings to Crown Court as our sentencing powers are insufficient in this case. You will be released on unconditional bail, and will be summoned by letter in the near future. Needless to say, failure to attend is also a serious offence. You are in a lot of trouble Mr Reynolds, however due to your previous good record, you are free to go. Release him please.’
The cuffs were taken off and the dock was opened so he could walk out. He was given some paperwork, guided through a door and suddenly he was on his own in the waiting room. He saw an exit sign on his right and walked towards it. He passed a metal detector door frame with people shuffling through and being scanned by a bored-looking security guard. No-one seemed interested in him, so he stepped outside and into the blessed open air. He took two deep breaths, and then quickly walked down the steps, desperate to be away from this place.
He put his hands in his pockets as he walked, remembering he had no cards, phone or money. Home was a thirty minute walk away. Embarrassed by his dishevelled state, he put his head down, swallowed and walked through the smart business people and happy shoppers whilst staring at his feet.
As he walked he made the decision not to think about things now. He knew what he wanted to do. When he got home the front door was unlocked. He picked up his mobile phone and rang work; informing them he had been ill all night and only just woken up. He checked to see if his so called mate was upstairs. Not only was he not, but all of his stuff had gone.
There was a note on the kitchen table. He sat down to read it.
‘Dear Will. I am a dick. I am so sorry. Do not worry I will make it up to you. I have plenty of money so don’t fret about anything. I’ll be in touch.’
Incredulous Will turned on the radio which was on the table, desperate to interrupt the humming silence of the house. Maria McKee’s ‘Show Me Heaven’ was mid song. Will jumped up out of his seat and picking up the radio smashed it into pieces on the tiled floor. He went to where he kept his alcohol and yet again cursed Darren as he stared at his empty bottle of Jim Beam. All he had left were two bottles of a case of red wine that he had brought back years ago on a booze cruise to France.
The wine had tasted like a cross between vinegar and washing up liquid with a heady bouquet of pub toilet, hence their longevity. He couldn’t face going out again though and unscrewed the first bottle. He sat at the kitchen table, poured the contents into a cleanish looking pint glass and drank.
Innocent lives can be ruined as quickly as that.
31
14th October 2008
Will knew this day was coming. He had even had a month from the court summons to get his head and story straight, yet as he ascended the steps it felt like he was using his legs for the first time. It wasn’t a hot day in the slightest yet he could feel the sweat building in his hairline. Aiden had insisted on coming and even though he had told him it was OK and he would be alright, he was now so glad he had agreed.
He looked over at Aiden who was carrying his bag. Jesus, he thought. His prison bag. His bag contained a couple of pairs of jeans, some trainers, some sports stuff, underwear, writing material, books, stamps, his toiletries and a towel. Apparently you weren’t allowed the towel oddly enough, but Darren assured him the officers were likely to be so overworked and stressed that they either wouldn’t give a shit, or would miss it.
Darren, who had made him pack the bag even though his solicitor had said it was extremely unlikely he would be sent to prison. Darren, whose fault all this was. Darren, whom had disappeared for a week afterwards. Darren, whom he swore even found this all a little bit amusing. That was a long fucking week Will thought as they stood at the back of a considerable queue at the scanner. Great Will thought, a big queue means a busy day, no doubt means a lot of waiting. It felt like his life had been on hold since that sunny afternoon.
He hadn’t told anyone apart from Aiden and Carl. Not work and certainly none of his family. However he knew it was likely to be in the local paper. He would have to hope that as he worked in a different city that no-one would see it. A suspended sentence would hardly be front page news. He had checked his employment contract and whilst there was nothing in there about dismissal for criminal convictions, it was all worded so that they more or less could do what they liked in the event of one.
Will had missed a lot of work lately because of this and his boss had clearly had enough. He didn’t even want to start thinking that Darren’s selfish actions could cost him his job. He could even lose his house. Will found himself gritting his teeth as he remembered and forced himself to unclench his jaw. As his grandma used to say, what’s done is done, although that’s easier said than done. Will shook his head; it felt as though all he had racing round his head in ever dizzying circles was a steady succession of clichés.
To give Darren his credit, he had arranged for a solicitor and paid for it all without being asked, but that hardly balanced it out. Darren had advised Will on what to expect at court as though he had been through it all personally. Although to Will’s knowledge he was pretty sure Darr
en hadn’t been before a judge before. How much did he really know about his friend now though? He had missed huge chunks of Darren’s life and had no idea what he had been up to. Darren withheld things, he always had and he could have been remiss about anything.
Even though the barrister had been expensive and an expert in road traffic cases he didn’t really have much to work with. Will would be going guilty at the first opportunity; today. The case was damning. Dangerous driving was a hell of a lot more serious than it sounded. You are as likely to go to prison for dangerous driving as you are for drunk driving. Dangerous driving meant the way you had driven fell far below the minimum acceptable standard expected of a competent and careful driver; and it would be obvious to a competent and careful driver that driving in that way would be dangerous.
Darren’s driving had been dreadful. The punishment hinged on the presence of aggravating factors but as his barrister had told him the one time he had met him, once you went before a Crown Court judge, anything could happen. That hour’s work had apparently cost Darren a thousand pounds. He would be focusing on Will’s previous good character, putting it down to a one off event. Darren had been all apologetic afterwards, but how could you apologise for what had happened. Darren kept saying he would make it up to Will, whatever happened. Will told him to go to the police station and admit to it but the solicitor had been present and said at this stage they would just not have believed it. Darren now treated it as though it had all been a bit of bad luck and had even starting joking about Will getting bummed in prison.
His barrister was another who didn’t seem to be taking it seriously. Heaven knows where Darren had found him from but they seemed to have history and had been cracking jokes together. Will hoped this was just due to his brief’s confidence in his own ability, but it was a worrying feeling none the less. He could see his barrister sitting at the far end of the waiting room. He was head down in paperwork with the same cheap suit, but at least he was already here. He had been an hour late for their first meeting, totally disorganised, but with a gung ho ‘It’ll be alright on the night attitude’.
Will found himself worrying about his own suit, never mind why his public schoolboy lawyer couldn’t afford a decent one. He had looked at himself in the mirror this morning and thought ‘Would you jail this man?’ He looked like what he was; a relatively wealthy single man with no children who didn’t like to be told what to do. Even though this would not normally entail breaking the law, the judge was not going to know that. Will forced himself to exhale. He had been doing a lot of that lately, compelling himself to breathe.
Aiden caught his eye as they finally got to their turn to be scanned and he gave him a grin.
‘Chin up man, it will all be over soon.’
‘Yes,’ Will thought, by tonight I will hopefully be in the pub and my body will start breathing on its own again. Darren had demanded they meet after but said he was ‘Busy with business’ so wouldn’t be able to attend court. Will suspected he was worried Will was going to break and shout out ‘It was him’ whilst dramatically pointing at Darren. Sadly the time for that was long gone.
The security guard’s metal detector was insanely sensitive. No wonder it had been slow going. It picked up his belt, his watch, his chewing gum and even his bloody Rennie. As they approached their man he looked up and they caught his unguarded expression and Will’s nervousness went up to DEFCON one. He tried to recover, greeting them profusely with his posh blustering manner, but something had rocked him.
‘What is it Henry?’ Will demanded.
‘It’s the prosecution. They have added in a report about the condition of your car. God knows who wrote it, but it’s so damning the only way it could have been a more dangerous conveyance would have been if you had mounted a lance on the front of it.’
‘Oh,’ was all Will could come up with.
‘Oh indeed. All is not lost though. Let’s face it, no one was hurt and it was only a singular occurrence.’
Will shook his head as the man’s demeanour indicated his lack of poise on this latest revelation.
‘Why have you brought your bag Will? Your faith in me must be astounding.’
‘I didn’t want to arrive in prison without my pyjamas. I’ve had a special pair made with a back flap, so I don’t catch a chill whilst I’m being passed round the bigger boys.’
‘Well done Will, that’s the spirit. You won’t be going to prison today. If he is going to consider a custodial sentence, which is doubtful in your case, he will ask for a pre-sentence report to be done, so probation will produce one and you will come back in a couple of weeks.’
Bloody Darren, Will thought, but he still let out a steady stream of air in relief.
‘You’re first up, so that’s good news anyway.’
Will sat down next to him and stared blankly at the television on the wall.
* * *
It was only twenty minutes later when his name was called but as Will made his way into the court he realised he could not have told you one single piece of information about what he had been watching.
He made his way into the room and was guided into the dock. The layout was very similar to his previous visit but he couldn’t help feeling small, insignificant and lonely as the door was gently closed behind him. He looked over at Aiden who was the only person in the public gallery at the back of the court. At least someone was having a good time he thought as he watched Aiden take it all in with the look of a child at the fairground for the first time.
‘All rise.’ Will shot up like he had sat on a whoopee cushion.
The judge walked in like he was walking to his own funeral. His wig perched on his head looked like a dead lamb had dropped out of the air, but it was plain for all to see this man took himself and his role very seriously. He arranged his paperwork on his desk and peered intently at Will. Will wasn’t sure whether to stare back and meet his eye or look down, ending up doing both, feeling like Churchill the nodding dog.
‘Are you William Reynolds?’
‘I am,’ Will said clearly.
‘Confirm your date of birth.’ Will did.
‘How do you plead to the charge of dangerous driving?’
‘Guilty.’
‘You may take your seat.’
‘I have examined the details of your case intently Mr Reynolds and although it is not rare for me to hear of such a flagrant abuse of our laws, I still find it astounding. Before I pass judgement is there anything else I should be aware of?’
Will’s barrister stood.
‘My client is full of remorse for that day’s actions m’lud. I hate to use cliché, but it was very much a moment of madness which will never be repeated. He is of excellent character as the testimonials confirm. He should be given credit for his early guilty plea and be able to continue his law-abiding life. Prison would have a damaging effect on Mr Reynolds as he has had no contact with that part of society. He is able and willing to pay a substantial fine and is aware his driving will be curtailed.’
It was a bizarre feeling, watching others discuss your future. It was a continuing theme in his life, but he had never felt more powerless than he did just now. As his brief sat down, Will felt short changed for Darren’s money. That was it, that was his defence.
‘Mr Reynolds. I can understand a moment’s lack of concentration but that day’s events shows a wild and wilful disregard for the rules. Not only did you drive in a manner which could easily have resulted in death or injury to an innocent party, you ignored our constabulary and tried to get away with it. You have not got away with it.
I would consider a suspended sentence due to your previous good character but the report on your vehicle tempers my hand. Your tyres were in such poor condition that at normal speeds you would have had trouble doing an emergency stop. I shudder to think what would have happened with you going at over twice the speed limit.
You will return here in a fortnight and I will pass sentence. Let me assure you Mr Reynolds,
all options are open to me.’
32
28th October 2008
Will looked around at the other people in the court waiting room. There was very little joy to be seen, in fact he had seen more interaction and emotion on English public transport than here. Maximum effort to avoid eye contact and hushed furtive talking made Will think it was lucky the trials weren’t out here or everyone would be getting years.
He wasn’t as nervous as before though. It’s funny what you get used to. The fear of the unknown at least here was gone. Whether he would feel the same after the verdict was a different matter. He caught Carl’s eye and got a thumbs up from him. It was good of him to come up from London but Will suspected he would rather have been here on his own in the end. God knows what he would do if he was sentenced to prison. He hoped weeping in the dock like a bereaved mother was not a possibility.
Carl looked rough though, white and drawn with bags under his eyes that you could haul rubble in. Not so different to himself Will shrugged, whose insomnia had reached fever pitch. He had drunk the majority of a bottle of night nurse late yesterday lunchtime knowing he would never sleep otherwise and had finally slept. Well, he had been unconscious for twelve hours. Now he felt like a zombie, heavy lidded and slightly gormless. His intellect had slumped to below Rocky Balboa levels but it didn’t matter as the questioning was over. The decision had already been made and he was only here to hear it.
The barrister had finally explained what all options meant when they arrived today. It was a maximum of two years in prison, a massive fine and five years disqualification from driving. Will had needed to go to the toilet ever since he had heard that news and he had only just been when they arrived. He also informed them their case would be the second to be decided and unconvincingly joked that Will would be banging on the pub door by five to twelve.
As Will stared along the length of the waiting room over the heads of Darren and Aiden he saw a familiar figure and his heart slumped. Just brilliant. The last person on earth he would want here. Which fucker had told him? Bloody Nathan. He decided he would do without pleasantries.
Lazy Blood: a powerful page-turning thriller Page 20
