Court Out

Chapter Fifteen





I sit in my cell and watch the sky outside darken. I sip at a cup of luke-warm tea, housed in a polystyrene cup that was given to me by a female officer about twenty minutes ago. Although my head is full of the devastation unfolding around me, I can’t face thinking about it at the moment. Instead I’m counting the rows of bricks on the wall in front of me.

I have no concept as to the time; I know I’ve been sat here most of the day and I have no idea how long they plan on keeping me here for. The hatch in the door is opened at sporadic intervals and I’ve seen countless different faces looking in at me. I’m trying not to feel paranoid about this; I know it’s routine for the police to keep people in their custody under observations, but I can’t help feeling that everyone is coming to have a good old-fashioned gawp at me.

I attempt to focus my thoughts so that I can rationally think about what is most likely to happen to me. From the evidence they showed me in the interview, I can’t escape from the fact that there is a case against me. That means they’ll either charge me with something soon, or bail me pending further enquiries. If it’s the former then I’ll be produced at court, as a Defendant and the whole sickening process will start. I try helplessly to stay calm at this but I’m overwhelmed by what may be coming.

The night seems endless and I lie awake on the hard mattress feeling totally empty. I have a pounding headache and I couldn’t face the meal that was put through the door earlier. Things must be bad if I’ve lost my appetite. They let me try to call Sebastian earlier, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I’m afraid that he’ll already know about this, that someone will have told him about my spectacular fall from grace. I pray that he knows me well enough to instantly realise that there has been a horrible mistake. With a sickening sense of reality, I imagine the press hounding him and my family for a quote.



By the time morning comes I’ve imagined all sorts of terrible scenarios in which Sebastian has denied any connection to me and my parents have disowned me. Whilst these thoughts have been mentally crippling, they’ve saved me from thinking about what may ultimately happen to me.

To my surprise the cell door opens and an unfamiliar female officer stands in the open space.

“Time to go,” she barks perfunctorily.

“What?” I reply dumbly.

“Get your things,” she repeats impatiently.

I rise to my feet, noticing instantly the cold floor against my stockinged feet. I pick up my discarded wig from the bed and rub my hands across my cheekbones in an attempt to remove some of the makeup that I know must be streaked across my face.

I follow her in silence down the grey corridors, past other cells and back into the custody block. I’m immediately confronted by an assortment of people: police, lawyers and detainees waiting to be processed. Some of the lawyers gape in astonishment at the sight of a bedraggled barrister who is obviously not here for a professional visit. I try to keep my head bowed as I’m taken forward to the custody desk. My heart is racing, as I know I’m about to find out what they’re going to do with me.

A slim Asian male officer reads through a few pages of notes before looking up at me.

“The allegation against you is going to be referred to the Crown prosecution Service to determine whether or not you are to be charged with an offence. In the meantime you are going to be released on bail. Having considered this case, that bail will be unconditional.”

It takes a moment for this to sink in. I can go. They’re not charging me. Why aren’t they charging me? For a split second, I imagine it’s because the police have realised that there is no way I could ever have been involved in any of this. Before the rational piece of my brain can remind me of the real evidence that I face, the officer speaks again.

“I would charge you now, but given the ah, sensitive, nature of this case, the boss wants to make sure we’ve covered all our bases, dotted all the i’s and crossed all the t’s.”

He smiles at me and it’s not a pleasant sight. He hands me over some release forms and I sign them, paying little attention to the words dancing across the pages in front of me.

All around, people are being jostled through the room and the smell of urine, alcohol and body odour is starting to become overwhelming. I’m aware that the other ‘criminals’ are somewhat confused by my presence amongst their number. I step closer to the desk and try to make my mind focus on what is happening in front of me.

The custody officer hands me over a large clear plastic bag with my property in and I practically weep at the thought of seeing my mobile phone again; the idea of being able to get in touch with Sebastian and my parents versus seeing the inevitable messages of shock and confusion tears me apart. My reverie is interrupted by the continuation of the officer.



“You are to attend this station on the date specified within your papers when you will either be re-bailed, charged, or the case against you will be discontinued. You are free to go.” There’s a pause. “For now.”

I snatch the bag from the counter and practically run towards the exit. I pause before the double doors and sit down on a bench, tearing open the clear bag with my thoroughly bitten nails. I remove my shoes from the plastic, take off my bands and put them with my wig in a small bundle surrounded by my gown, which I’ve been carrying. I locate my handbag and rummage around for a mirror.

Sure enough, the reflection that greets me resembles something from a low budget horror film. I’m as white as a ghost and my red eyes are surrounded by streaks of black mascara, stuck firmly to my face. My hair looks like it is currently housing a family of very angry birds and my hairbrush refuses to glide through the tangled mass. After a few moments of frustrated attempts to make myself look human, I decide that I’ve made the best of a very bad job and that the only antidote to this royal mess is a hot shower and lots of products. I grab my beloved McQueen shoes from the bag and slide them onto my feet, for once not caring that they’ll start to pinch in a short while. As I quickly stand, grabbing my possessions in my arms, I feel myself fall to floor, watching my demise as if in slow motion. I hit my right knee on the cold concrete surface and yell at the shooting pain that darts up my leg. My wrists smart from my attempt to break my fall and I feel tears prick my eyes for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours.

I remain on the ground for moment, confused as to what has happened. I look around, trying to ascertain the cause of my clumsiness. It only takes me a second; the heel of my left shoe has snapped clean off.



I hobble the short distance back to my car, ignoring the temptation to make my way into Chambers. My phone keeps beeping to remind me that I have new messages, both texts and voicemails but I’m putting off looking at it until I’m somewhere more private.

The drive home is mercifully short and I arrive back at my house ready to collapse. I pull the car onto the drive but before I have a chance to kill the engine, the front door of my house opens and Sebastian runs out. It’s quite possible he looks as bad as I do; his dark hair is disheveled and he clearly hasn’t been to bed.

He rushes over and yanks open the driver’s side door, pulls me from the car and envelops me in a tight hug. As he squeezes me tight, with one arm clasped around my waist and the other around the back of my head I break down and begin to sob into his shoulder.

We go back inside and into the kitchen. As if on autopilot I put the kettle on. Sebastian takes my hand and we sit at the small table in the corner of the room. He hands me some tissues from his pocket and I make futile attempts to dry my eyes.

“Please sweetheart, don’t cry,” he says in a low, soothing voice. This sadly has the opposite effect as taken aback by his kindness, I relapse into tears. After a few seconds I gain the momentum to speak.

“Why, why are you being nice to me?” I venture, my words coming out in between my heavy breaths. “You must hate me now you think I’m a criminal!”

To my utter astonishment, Sebastian laughs and cups my face in his hands.

“Lauren, you once left money with the receptionist at the dentists to by a new magazine to replace the copy you accidentally spilled a bit of coffee on.”

My faces creases in confusion and I wait for him to expand. His tired eyes show a trace of humour as he strokes my face.

“We just need to figure out what has gone on here,” he continues. My head feels like it’s about to explode from the enormity of the situation.

“I’ve been trying to do that since they arrested me!” I exclaim. A thought strikes me. “Sebastian, who told you what had happened?” My head is swimming with thoughts of press reports or the rumour mill working overtime.

“George called and told me yesterday afternoon,” he replies.

“George? Who’s George?” I ask in confusion. I’m sure I don’t know anyone called George. My aunt used to be married to someone by that name, but they divorced years ago.

“George Corr,” says Sebastian simply.

I’m rendered momentarily speechless. How did Corr get Sebastian’s number? How did Corr even know about Sebastian? God, what did he say?

“He told me that you had been arrested for something you hadn’t done,” Sebastian states simply.

As his words sink in, I’m hit by a wave of something akin to happiness. I don’t know whether it’s because Corr believes in me or because Sebastian hasn’t once asked me if there is any truth in the allegation, but in this moment, I feel safe. There are no questions, no awkward queries about my actions, just complete relief from him that I’m ok.



As before, I have no appetite whatsoever, a fact I would normally celebrate. Sebastian, however, has other plans and forces some soup down me before running me a hot bath. After scrubbing away every trace of the police station I collapse gratefully into bed. Sebastian joins me and we sit in silence watching some bland documentary on the TV. I’m far too tired to worry anymore and for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, I feel secure at this moment. I know that when morning comes and reality hits I’ll have to deal with this, but for now, ignorance really is bliss.