‘Shall we make a move,’ Mike says. ‘It’s almost nine.’
‘We should, you’re right, the lawyers are waiting. Must be about time for a cup of tea as well, maybe even a choccy bicky if we’re lucky. You fancy that, Milly?’
I nod, fancying the idea of shoving one down her throat more.
We take the lift to level -2, the bowels of the building. Quiet. We won’t be disturbed. I’m disturbed enough already, they think. June shows us into a room, two men around a large rectangular table. Long strip lighting, a migraine threatens, will be made worse by the slight flickering from the light furthest away at the back of the room. Coffee-and teacups in the middle of the table, proper cups made out of china, no polystyrene excuses. The detective at the police station where I gave my first statement said it was for safety, you can’t smash polystyrene, love.
I remember thinking, no, but you could use the scalding contents.
The men stand up, shake hands with Mike. Crown Prosecutors is their official title. I wonder if they were specially selected, or perhaps they volunteered. Perhaps there was a scrum of volunteers, all keen to be involved in one of the most high-profile cases ever to be tried. Their job is to pursue, and persuade the jury to nail you to the wall. Merely a formality, I’ve been told. Your ship has sailed. A one-way ticket to jail. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred. Fucked.
I did that to you.
I don’t catch their names, Skinny and Fatty will do, easy to remember.
‘Shall we begin?’ Skinny says.
June kicks off with an update as to how I’m ‘coping’ at home, and the adjustment to a new school. Mike chips in, good stuff mainly. Everyone’s impressed by how well I’m doing.
‘No disturbed sleep?’ June asks.
‘Not really,’ I reply.
Lie.
Mike casts a fleeting look at me, he suspects otherwise, says nothing. Ownership. He’ll take the credit for me doing well, looking like I’m doing well. I wonder if he’d also take the fall if I turned out just like you.
Fatty moves on to discuss the trial process in detail, says that if need be I’ll be brought in the week before to watch my evidence video.
‘By then we’ll know the angle the defence lawyers plan to come in at – and how to bring them down, of course,’ he says.
Leans back in his chair. Pudgy interlocked sausages at the end of his hands, resting on his fat stomach. Smug. Buttons strain in protest. I look away, sickened by his lack of discipline. He continues.
‘The jury will be presented with the details of your childhood. They’ll be given copies of your medical records, including the extent of your –’
He pauses, the room heavy with words he can’t say. I look at him, his turn to struggle with eye contact. He nods slightly, we move on. I don’t blame him, a common reaction. I heard the nurses at the hospital discussing my injuries. Out of earshot, they thought. Never seen anything like it, one said, her own mother it was, and she’s a nurse would you believe. Yes, another replied, that’s why most of the injuries were never reported, dealt with at home, she’ll never be able to have kids, you know. You told me I should be thankful, you’d done me a favour. Children were nothing but trouble.
‘The final and perhaps most important point to be discussed is whether or not Milly presents in court,’ Skinny says. ‘And at some level this may be out of our control due to developments in the last few days.’
‘Developments?’ June asks.
‘There’ve been noises from the defence camp in regards to certain things they’d like to question Milly on.’
A pounding in my chest. A carrier pigeon, an important message in a small barrel round its neck. Cage door locked, while the others fly free.
‘What sort of things?’ June asks.
‘We’re not entirely clear yet, and it’s probably not helpful to dwell on it too much until we’re sure,’ Fatty says.
‘Well, it would have been helpful to know about this prior to today,’ Mike says, looking first at me then the lawyers. ‘It doesn’t leave Milly in a very nice position, wondering what it is they want to ask her.’
I have a feeling I know. A bad feeling.
‘Agreed,’ says June.
‘Like I said, it’s a new development and at this point they’re keeping their cards close to their chest,’ Skinny responds.
‘Seems like desperate measures to me, given the evidence.’
No, June, not desperate, but the first phase of a plan being executed by you, Mummy.
‘In terms of what it means for Milly,’ Skinny responds, ‘we should prepare her for the eventuality she’ll be cross-examined on her evidence.’
‘Mike,’ I say.
He looks at me. ‘It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.’
Stomach empty, no breakfast, yet my throat feels full. Swallow. I’m not on trial, you are. That’s all I need to remember.
‘How likely is it looking?’ June asks.
‘We’re pretty sure the defence will want to go down that route. It’ll be the judge, taking into account our recommendations, who makes the final decision, but it’s not all doom and gloom,’ Skinny replies. ‘Milly has the choice of doing it through a video link or – if we think she can handle it – she can go on the stand. There’ll be a screen set up so Milly won’t be able to see her mother. In my opinion, putting her on the stand can only evoke a favourable response from the jury. Nothing like a kid in court to pull in the sympathy.’
‘I don’t like the idea of Milly being used as bait,’ Mike responds.
‘I second that,’ June says.
‘Like it or loathe it, it’s the nature of the court system,’ Skinny says. ‘And at the end of the day, we all want the same thing.’
Everybody at the table nods but me, I focus on breathing. Calm. On not letting them know I can hear you laughing in my head.
‘What about you, Milly? What do you think?’ June asks.
Protégée. You loved saying that word. Brave enough. Am I? The lessons you gave me, good enough. Were they? You want them to blame me. YOU WERE THERE TOO, ANNIE. I try to block out your voice, answer June’s question.
‘Me and Mike have been talking a bit about it and we think by the time the trial starts I’ll be strong enough, and that it might actually help if I go into the courtroom.’
‘Very sensible attitude,’ Skinny says, picking a small scab to the right of his mouth. The sight makes me feel uncomfortable so I look away, turn towards the flickering light, but it makes me feel dizzy and my heart beats faster.
‘It all sounds rather gung-ho if you ask me.’
Well we didn’t, June, did we?
‘We all know what the defence lawyers can be like when they get going,’ she continues.