Linda squeezed my hand and stood up. “Let’s get back in there.”
“Welcome back, Miss Farrell,” John Bee said, almost sarcastically. I wanted to give him the finger. I’d never given anyone the finger before, but he was a good place to start. “You said the alleged abuse lasted for eight years, until you turned thirteen?”
“That’s correct,” I said.
“And how did that make you feel?”
My heart dropped. I had to talk about that. “Dirty, worthless, and broken.”
“So broken that you started a relationship with Mr Benson?”
With shaking hands, I gripped the bottom of my top. “That was completely different.” Why was he doing this? No one had the right to tell me when I could have a relationship, or my reasons for doing so. There was no set time for everything to be okay: none of this would ever be okay, but I had to keep going on. I would never apologise for my relationship with Cole. It may have been ‘too soon’ to other people, but it was right for me. I found a little bit of courage buried deep.
“I wasn’t aware there was a time limit on when I was allowed to be happy again.” I mentally kicked myself and refused to look at Linda. I knew she would be giving me a warning stare. I couldn’t help it, he was getting under my skin.
He ignored my comment. “So your physical relationship with Mr Benson started at the beginning of summer in 2008?” How did he know that?
My heart stuttered. I knew he might bring Cole up, but I had no idea he would be so personal. “Yes.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And when did you turn sixteen?”
Oh, God. My eyes flicked upwards to Cole. No! Was I going to get him into trouble? I couldn’t. We hadn’t done anything wrong. Cole nodded, telling me to continue. “August.”
“Hmm. Your physical relationship with Mr Benson started relatively quickly, wouldn’t you say?”
“No. I’d known Cole my whole life. I trusted him, and it felt right. For the first time in my life something felt right, and it was completely different to what Frank did; I chose it.”
Someone barged into the room and approached the judge, interrupting John’s line of questioning. I looked to Linda to see if she knew what was going on, but she wasn’t looking at me; her eyes were also on the judge. The room fell deathly silent. I tried to listen but could only hear muffled voices. What was happening?
“We’re going to take a break,” the judge announced. “Mr Bee and Mrs Rake, please approach.” John and Linda walked over.
Walter, Linda’s colleague came over to me and gestured towards the exit: “Follow me, please.” I stepped down and followed him into the room I’d fainted in before.
“What’s happening?” I asked Walter.
“I’m not sure. We’ll just have to wait for Linda. Can I get you something? Tea or coffee? Water?”
“No, thank you,” I replied. This is bad. Why would they stop? Dad must be getting off. It wouldn’t surprise me. He was so well liked and respected. Everyone believed him and looked up to him. Of course he was getting off.
I sank into the worn chair, and my heart dropped to my feet. Pulling my legs up, I pressed my face into my knees. This can’t be happening. What was I going to do now? Run. I wanted to escape back to Australia. Coming here was a mistake.
A stray tear rolled down my cheek, and I angrily swiped it away. I was so stupid. Who was going to believe me over a well-respected businessman? At least he couldn’t deny the other charge though. There was evidence of him abusing a little girl when he was in university. Evidence of him and the other people in the paedophile ring. And evidence of him having images of girls on his computer.
Even if there was now nothing linking him to me and what Frank did, he would still go to prison. He had to go to prison. I closed my eyes and breathed in for five seconds and out for five. Those familiar feelings of panic were threatening to take over again.
Time ticked by slowly as I waited for news. No one else came in, so I assumed everyone was still in the public gallery, or were not allowed to come in. Walter had been to find out what was going on, but all he knew was Linda and John were no longer in the court room.
The door opened, and Linda walked in. It had been almost two hours. Her face betrayed nothing; I couldn’t tell if the news was good or not. “I’m sorry I was gone so long,” she said.
“He’s getting off, isn’t he?”
“No,” Linda replied.
What? “No?”
She shook her head. “They found a folder on his laptop. It had been very well hidden and was only just found by one highly determined man who knew this was his last chance. He had to call someone in else in to assist it had been that well hidden. We’ve had them re-examining the evidence all week. They found it, Oakley, and brought it straight here.”