A Song of Isolation

by Michael Malone

  Besides, he had only ever looked upon Damaris with the affec­tion a big brother might have for a much younger sister. To claim anything else was absurd. And yet, Damaris’s testimony to camera was so powerful. Where had that version of the little girl come from? Sure, she could be moody, but to be so angry as she was when she gave that last answer?

  Friends don’t do bad things to each other like that, do they?

  If he hadn’t been there in that garden himself, even he would be doubting his innocence.

  All night as he lay in his cell her little face haunted him. What had been happening to her since he last saw her? How was she able to perform the lie so capably? It was as if Damaris had actually come to believe she’d been sexually assaulted by him.

  Just before his name was called out by the court official, he saw Amelie standing over the desk where Bain had sat throughout the trial. Their heads were close together and there was an urgency about their communication. What was that all about?

  On hearing his name, he stood, and with shaky legs and the feeling that he was walking to his certain doom he moved from the dock to the stand. The judge swore him in and he turned to face Bain.

  ‘Please tell the court about the events of Friday the second of April this year.’

  For what felt like the thousandth time, Dave recounted that day from the moment he left the house through the patio doors to attend to his garden, to the moment the police knocked on his door.

  ‘At any time during the course of that afternoon did you behave inappropriately towards Damaris Brown?’

  ‘No, absolutely not.’

  ‘At any time since you’ve known Damaris Brown did you behave in an inappropriate manner?’

  ‘No. Absolutely not.’

  ‘How did you feel while you were watching Damaris give her testimony?’

  ‘Shocked.’

  ‘Why shocked, Mr Robbins?’

  ‘Shocked that our perfectly innocent interactions had been twisted in her mind to such an extent. She must have been coached by someone. There’s no way…’ This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening. Damaris was lying; couldn’t they all see this? How could anyone look at him and see a paedophile?

  ‘The defendant is speculating, your honour,’ Melville shouted.

  ‘Please stick to the facts, Mr Robbins,’ the judge said.

  ‘Sorry, your honour.’ Dave ducked his head. Bit his lip.

  He felt as if his emotions were about to burst out of him. Every part of his body was trembling. His breath was shallow, his fin­gertips were tingling. His vision was shrinking to a pinpoint.

  Breathe, he told himself. Breathe.

  He was aware that Melville was on his feet. ‘Thank you for re­counting the events of that day, Mr Robbins. It’s very noble of you to step in and help out a lonely child when she had no one else to play with.’

  ‘Nothing noble about it,’ Dave replied, clenching both fists. ‘Just being a good neighbour.’

  ‘Good neighbours don’t molest their neighbour’s child, Mr Robbins.’

  ‘What the hell?’ Dave felt a hot surge of fury. ‘You grandstand­ing prick…’

  ‘Mr Robbins,’ the judge shouted. ‘We do not tolerate language like that in my court. And Mr Melville, you should know better. Mr Robbins hasn’t been convicting of anything. Restrict yourself to questions. Less … grandstanding, please.’

  This last comment received some laughter from one or two people across the court.

  And the laughter felt like a slight easing of tension. Breathe, he repeated in his head. Slowly. If he lost his temper again he knew he would be playing into Melville’s hands.

  ‘Won’t happen again, your honour,’ Melville said. ‘Mr Robbins, your testimony is self-serving tosh, is it not?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Designed to make you look good in this court.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When in fact you’ve been grooming this little girl for months, haven’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I put it to you that you are lying in this court, Mr Robbins, that you have, as we heard from Damaris Brown’s lips, been grooming and molesting her for months if not years, haven’t you?’

  Chapter 31

  Norma thought her heart would explode under the strain. How could that horrible man ask Dave those questions? It was all she could do not to rush over to him and give him a piece of her mind. Courtroom or not.

  She felt Peter’s hand on hers and she looked up at him. His face was showing the same strain she was feeling, and she wasn’t sure if his gesture was an attempt to offer her support or a request to receive some from her.

  ‘I have not,’ Dave shouted at Melville, and although part of her was pleased Dave was so definite in his response, another part of her worried that he was playing in to the lawyer’s hands.

  ‘Asked and answered, your honour,’ Bain interrupted, and as he did so Norma saw him send him a look of warning. ‘Mr Melville is badgering my client. And indeed, grandstanding.’

  ‘No more questions, your honour.’ Melville sat back down.

  Bain stood. ‘Apologies for the bluster of my colleague, Mr Robbins. Perhaps my learned friend is hoping Miss Hart has brought a Hollywood agent with her and he’s praying to be noticed for the next John Grisham movie.’

  Everyone laughed. Norma could see the calculation in this comment. It lightened the mood in the room, lifting it from a place where the jury might have been envisioning him being dragged out of the court by the police.

  The laughter died down, but not everyone had been amused.

  ‘Get on with it, Mr Bain,’ the judge said.

  ‘Mr Robbins, please, once again for the court, did you groom or sexually molest Damaris Brown.’

  ‘No, Mr Bain. She’s a sweet little girl. A bit of a pest at times, but I would never, never harm her. Or any other child for that matter.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Robbins. You may return to your seat.’ He looked down at his notes. ‘The defence would like to recall Mrs Claire Brown to the stand.’

  Norma looked to Peter to see if he knew what was going on. But he looked as surprised as she felt.

  Melville stood up in protest. ‘Your honour, is this badgering of my client really necessary?’

  ‘I’ll allow it,’ she replied. ‘This time.’

  Claire Brown took her place, hands in front of her, head cocked slightly to the left as if to say, ‘Really?’

  ‘Thank you for your patience, Mrs Brown. I have just a few more questions for you.’

  ‘Fine,’ she replied, her guard up.

  ‘A mother would do anything to protect her family, yes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘A mother and father would do anything to provide for their family, yes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And desperate times call for desperate measures, don’t they?’

  ‘If you say so, Mr Bain.’ Claire’s face was white, her mouth a tight line of concern.

  Bain gave a nod in the direction of a court official who was standing in front of some kind of flat contraption. All the screens in the court came to life.

  ‘Under a production order, as you know, M’lady, we were able to access Mr and Mrs Brown’s financial records.’

  ‘Your honour, Mr and Mrs Brown are not under investigation for any wrong-doing,’ Melville objected.

  ‘My client has asserted his innocence time and time again,’ Bain said. ‘And if that is the case there has to be a reason behind these allegations. I’m confident I have evidence to demonstrate that Mr and Mrs Brown have serious financial difficulties and they—’

  ‘This is ridiculous, your honour,’ Melville said.

  ‘Your objection has been noted, Mr Melville,’ the judge said. ‘Please continue, Mr Bain.’

  Norma read a look that passed between Melville and Claire Brown
, which made her think this was all part of their game. They knew this was coming and had prepared. But the need for the re­assurance made Norma wonder if that meant this was something Claire was concerned about.

  ‘As you look through Mr and Mrs Brown’s financial affairs it is clear that they are in serious debt. Credit cards maxed out. Mort­gage payments in arrears. Regular and large overdraft fees. No savings to speak of. Next, if the court would allow…’ The court of­ficial fed a different document into the projector. ‘Mrs Brown, please explain what we see here.’

  ‘It’s an email. Obviously.’

  ‘To?’

  She leaned forward a little, the better to see the screen nearest her. And paused.

  ‘Yes?’ Bain asked.

  ‘To B.C. Francis and Co, Literary Agents.’

  ‘From?’

  ‘Me,’ she replied in a quiet voice.

  ‘You are looking for literary representation, Mrs Brown?’

  ‘I was, yes.’

  ‘What are you writing?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You haven’t written anything but you are seeking a literary agent? Why?’

  ‘I haven’t written anything yet.’

  ‘I see. How many literary agents did you contact?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘Six literary agents and you haven’t written anything. Yet. Surely it is in your plans then if you are going to go to the bother of re­searching literary agents and typing out an enquiry letter?’

  ‘It is, yes. Nothing wrong with wanting to write a book is there?’

  ‘Indeed,’ Bain agreed in an almost conciliatory tone. ‘Your email didn’t go into much detail about said book, other than there would be a celebrity angle concerning the live-in boyfriend of Amelie Hart.’ Bain stopped for a moment as he hitched up the waist of his trousers. A ploy, Norma was sure, to allow the ramifi­cations of this to sink in each of the jury members’ minds. ‘Could you please read out the date of this email, Mrs Brown?’

  Claire Brown mumbled something.

  ‘Could you repeat that so everyone can hear, please?’

  ‘The sixth of April, 2015.’

  ‘That’s Easter Monday. Three days after Mr Robbins was ar­rested?’

  ‘Yes,’ Claire said and then pulled in her top lip. As if she realised what this might look like, she arranged her features into a more assured pose.

  Oh my lord, thought Norma. The conniving witch. What mother would be so considered in her actions as to try and cash in only days after hearing her only daughter may have been sex­ually molested? Surely this would be enough to see Dave go free. Surely?

  ‘How did you feel, as a mother, Mrs Brown, to hear your daughter crying, to see her upset, while thinking that trauma had been caused by what might amount to sexual assault?’

  ‘I was devastated.’

  ‘So devastated you researched half a dozen literary agents and emailed them, citing a juicy celebrity link, only days after finding this out?’

  ‘There’s no law against making money is there?’

  ‘Quite.’ Bain looked to the jury members. ‘And under cross-examination no doubt my esteemed colleague will have you repeat that assertion.’

  ‘It was horrible to hear what my daughter had gone through. I needed to keep busy to distract myself from the disgusting thing that had happened to her. Yes, we’re skint and we’ll need to earn money to pay for the changes this thing has brought into our lives. Damaris can’t go back to the same school. Everyone’s different with her, so we’ll need to move house. And she’ll probably be in therapy for the rest of her life.’ She set her jaw as if daring Bain to rip through her logic. ‘All of that will need to be paid for.’

  ‘I have to congratulate you on your perspicacity, Mrs Brown.’

  She looked at him.

  ‘To make those calculations while in the throes of a horribly difficult time. You must be a great help in a crisis, Mrs Brown.’

  ‘So I’ve been told,’ she answered, defiance in the straight line of her shoulders and jut of her chin.

  ‘Let’s cut the sham, Mrs Brown. All of this was done with cal­culation. You hit upon the idea when Damaris came home crying after hurting herself in a delicate area when she fell off her bike.’

  ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘You picked up on that and ran with it. You needed the money.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You were in great need of the money, and desperate times call for desperate measures. You were happy to sacrifice the freedom of Mr Robbins…’

  ‘No.’

  ‘…and the future mental health of your daughter…’

  ‘No.’

  ‘…in order to make a quick and shabby buck.’

  ‘I’ve never heard such rubbish in my—’

  ‘I find your machinations contemptible, Mrs Brown, and I wonder if you can sleep at night.’

  ‘Mr Bain.’ The judge looked over at him, her brows in a stern line. ‘Cut the theatrics. The jury will disregard that last sentence.’

  ‘Apologies, M’lady,’ Bain said, but it looked to Norma as if he wasn’t sorry in the least, and she exalted in the way her son’s lawyer had torn a strip out of the woman.

  ‘Mrs Brown,’ Bain continued. ‘I put it to you that your daughter has never been the object of any sordid attention from Mr Robbins, and that this whole … enterprise, and I use that word advisedly, was your way of cashing in on a little accident your daughter had with her bike, to make money from a celebrity con­nection to help pay your considerable debts.’

  Claire Brown was shaking her head at almost every word Bain said. ‘No, no, no. That man molested my child and I want to see him punished.’

  ‘Very well, Mrs Brown,’ Bain said. ‘I truly hope your daughter gets all the help she needs after the way you’ve used her.’ His tone suggested he was certain it wouldn’t come from her. ‘The defence rests, M’lady.’

  Chapter 32

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury –’ the judge sat taller in her seat ‘– you have listened to the various witnesses as presented by the prosecution and the defence. I understand this case has garnered huge attention in the outside world, given the accused’s associ­ation with Miss Hart…’ At this Amelie felt every eye in the room on her. ‘I urge you to ignore this and concentrate solely on the tes­timony delivered in this courtroom.’

  As the judge continued in her summing up Amelie scanned the jury for hints as to what their decision might be. Most of them were now sitting impassively, eyes trained on the judge as if com­mitting every word to memory. One or two were looking back and forth between the judge and her, and one woman at the end of the front row was staring at Dave as if she wanted to remove his testicles with a butter knife.

  There was a loud noise as fifteen people stood up, pushing their chairs back, and they all trooped out of the room.

  Dave was ushered out of his seat and all of those in attendance started to leave the room. Amelie felt a hand on her arm.

  ‘What do you think, dear?’ asked Norma. ‘Is my boy going to be free soon?’

  ‘Of course he is, darling,’ Peter said. ‘The jury will see through the lies from the prosecution. Give it an hour and the jury will be back with an innocent verdict, you mark my words.’

  ‘I’d caution against thinking something like that,’ Bain said as he walked alongside them. ‘There’s no telling how a jury will react to evidence. My advice is to go home and wait out the verdict call-back as best you can.’

  Norma stumbled. She managed to right herself and with a hand over her heart said in a near whisper, ‘I’m not sure I can handle this.’

  She looked even paler than normal, her lips almost the same colour as the skin of her face.

  ‘Do you need a doctor, Norma?’ Amelie asked. ‘Should we get you a doctor?’

  She shook her head resolutely, and Amelie could
almost read her thought; if her boy was suffering, she would manage to endure until she knew he was safe.

  ‘Did you take your medicine this morning, dear?’ Peter asked. In his eagerness to reach his wife he all but shouldered Amelie to the side.

  ‘Stop fussing, Peter.’ She stood upright, but it was clearly an effort. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look—’

  ‘Peter, stop,’ Norma said, and Amelie caught a little insight into their marriage in that brief interaction. It looked as if for the most part Peter was the one calling the shots, but the steel in Norma’s response suggested whatever they did, they did only with her per­mission.

  Outside the main entrance the press pack were hungry for a few words from her. So far she’d given them nothing, but from experience she knew that only made them more insistent, so she stopped for the first question.

  ‘Confident of the verdict, Miss Hart?’ A young woman she rec­ognised as being from the BBC thrust a microphone in her direction.

  ‘We have to be confident in the system; that a jury of ordinary members of the public will see the evidence and record the only proper verdict, that Dave Robbins is innocent.’

  ‘You seem so sure, Miss Hart. What is that based on?’

  ‘I trust in the system,’ she replied with a certainty she didn’t feel. It was only a couple of years ago that a dog had won a national TV talent competition for doing a few tricks while other huge talents had trained their whole lives to do incredibly complex things and failed.

  A number of people fired questions at her.

  ‘Miss Hart, will you be going back to work whatever the outcome of this case? There are reports that you have been offered a number of parts in Hollywood.’

  ‘My only concern at the moment is hearing that my boyfriend has been found not guilty.’

  ‘So you are concerned about the verdict?’ someone else asked.

  This was a mistake, she realised. Her thoughts weren’t clear enough, the questions were coming at her too thick and fast.