WHILE I WAIT for Jenny to get off the phone I glance around her sitting room, taking in the wedding photos, the domestic jumble, the folded-up newspapers in the basket beside the fireplace; the air of homely contentment that pervades, of being too busy to worry about the little things. Simon is making a chilli con carne and the smell of frying meat and onions makes my mouth water. I have a glass of red wine in my hand and a sense that I’ve yielded to fate. It’s taken me two days to work up to this.
I’ve told Jenny what happened that morning, only keeping back Amber’s demand for money. It’s hard to explain why, since it’s in my interest to portray someone else as the bad guy. There is an element of shame that inhibits me but also old loyalties come into play. She’s not all bad. No one is. Something has happened to make her like this and I’m not ready to turn my back on her or accept that the situation is irreversible. Not yet. On the other hand, I can’t go on as I have been. I need advice, and even though I don’t know Jenny terribly well, I trust her.
‘Hey.’ She plonks herself down next to me. ‘Sorry about that. My sister’s having a crisis with her fourteen-year-old.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘They’ll be fine. So,’ she says. ‘You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I’m glad you came to me. Honestly, Vicky, it’s fine. And don’t look so petrified. Tell me what it is you want out of this conversation.’
I didn’t expect to be asked that and have to think. ‘I suppose I want to be steered in the right direction. I feel like I’m blindly grabbing at answers. Basically, what I want is for someone to tell me what to do, however hard it is to swallow.’
‘Fair enough.’
She turns when the door opens and smiles at her husband. ‘Thanks, love.’
Simon is wearing a flowery apron, the tie barely reaching round his middle. He tops up our glasses and potters back to the kitchen.
Jenny takes a sip then puts her glass down, precariously, on the rug beside her feet. I keep hold of mine.
‘I can’t wave a magic wand, I’m afraid, but I can at least make sure you know what the consequences of your options will be. Then you can decide what you do. But it’s very important you understand that you don’t really matter in this. The only thing that does is the welfare of your children, and if it comes to court, that’s what they’ll want to see. That your kids are in safe hands. That’s where you have to concentrate your efforts – not in justifying your actions.’
She glances at me, waiting to see if I want to add anything or even protest. I don’t.
‘Whatever you decide to do, I can assure you that anything you say won’t go any further.’
Her kindness, mixed with an air of brisk authority, is so reassuring that for the first time in days I feel positive. Outside in the street a baby starts wailing. The sound electrifies me. Instinctively I draw my shoulders in. A front door closes and it goes quiet. I stop holding my breath. Jenny studies me, a smile of sympathy turning up the corners of her lips.
‘Are you OK?’
I nod.
‘Good girl. My advice to you would be to find yourself a criminal defence lawyer, preferably a barrister, and have an informal chat with them. Legal advice privilege means it would be confidential.’
She’s not going to tell me to keep quiet then, like Amber and Mum did. I don’t know whether to be relieved or afraid.
‘If I was you, I’d come clean. It’s your first offence, you could plead extenuating circumstances.’
‘What are they?’
‘Same as mitigating really. Things that could be used by the defence. It could be ill health, bereavement, or other personal issues which were unexpected, out of your control and may have affected your judgement.’ She looks at me over the rim of her glasses. ‘Vicky, please don’t take this the wrong way, but you could plead momentary insanity.’
‘I’m not telling any more lies.’
‘That’s fine. Let’s leave it for the time being. It’s only a suggestion. You know, everyone is different. We all react in our own way to motherhood. It can be wonderful, but it can go wrong, and we shouldn’t feel ashamed when it doesn’t turn out to be this blissful fantasy. It’s hard. There’s so much pressure to be the perfect mother. There have been days when I’ve thought I’d go completely round the bend. Especially since Spike was born.’
I can’t help smiling. ‘You’re the calmest person I know.’
‘Huh! I just have one of those faces. And also, I react to other people flapping by becoming catatonically calm. Very helpful for a lawyer.’ She winks at me. ‘No one knows that inside I am screaming, Get me out of here! I’m on your side, Vicky. I remember how overwhelmed I was when I became a mother; there was that enormous emotional kick, the shock at how deeply rooted my feelings were for someone I’d only just met. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the tough bits; I remember how it felt to have my personal space invaded by this greedy, demanding little thing, and the fatigue and the mess. We become entirely for and about the baby, so it’s no wonder that we occasionally pop.’
There’s a moth-eaten cashmere throw bundled up in the corner of the sofa. I pick at the fringe. ‘But most people don’t put their babies at risk.’
‘You made a split-second decision that wasn’t based on sound judgement. Think back to that morning, Vicky. That week even. How were you feeling?’
‘All of that. All of what you said.’
‘You weren’t in your right mind. There is nothing to be ashamed of. And since you asked for my advice, I would say use that. Be honest, but do anything it takes to keep your children.’
She pauses to let this sink in and I chew my bottom lip.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘I will think about it.’
‘Good. Now, as for your other lapses of judgement, creating a false E-FIT and lying at the identity parade, any lawyer, including me as your friend, would advise you to take a plea. That is, own up. You’re less likely to be sent down and more likely to be given a suspended sentence and community service.’
I take a deep breath and release it. ‘I could handle that, but what about Josh? The criminal neglect?’
Not to mention the public shame. My mind is groaning under the burden of decisions to be taken.
Jenny sits forward and turns to look at me. ‘Vicky, you mustn’t think of the law as some big bad machine trying to trip you up and make your life a misery. It’s based on common sense and above all it is humane. I have absolute trust in the fairness of the British legal system and so should you. Judges are human beings. The children come first and the last thing they want to do is break up families. You might get supervision visits from social services – in fact it’s more than likely, if you follow this route – but I doubt they’ll be taken away from you. Not if you’re completely honest from now on.’