She’d finished the quilt last night and taken it in to Luke today. She’d lined it with a very soft cotton sheet, which would be gentle enough for his skin.
In his room, Ruby had practised her solo for the school’s performance of Chicago, and Louise had massaged Luke, washed and shaved his head. ‘I could leave it, let you grow an Afro,’ she teased him, ‘but you’d never forgive me, would you?’
The court fell quiet. Louise’s stomach contracted. Ruby looked at her, biting her lip, panic and tension just below the surface. Louise nodded, trying to reassure her.
‘On the count of attempted murder, have you reached a verdict upon which you are all agreed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you find the defendant Thomas Garrington guilty or not guilty?’
Of trying to kill Luke, chasing him down and… Her thoughts were like a mad chatter, splinters inside, teeth sharpened, nails like talons. The horror, feeding on the cold misery of her grief.
‘Guilty.’
Louise’s heart stammered, robbed her of breath.
‘Yes!’ Ruby bent forward, collapsing with relief, and Louise put her arms around her.
Andrew
It wasn’t over yet. They still had to deliver the verdict on Nicola Healy. She was only a few years older than his niece, thought Andrew. He pictured her as he had first seen her, standing near the gate, in her white furtrimmed jacket. Screaming along with Garrington. Her eyes wild, her beauty made terrible by the expression on her face and the tableau between them: the body on the floor, Jason and Conrad tugging at each other. The violence acrid in the air.
The clerk asked the defendant to rise. Nicola stood up. Beside Andrew, Val straightened, using a tissue to wipe her eyes and nose.
‘In the case of Nicola Healy, on the count of murder, have you reached a verdict upon which you are all agreed?’
‘Yes,’ the jury foreman said.
‘What is your verdict?’
‘Not guilty.’
‘Yes!’ a woman called out, and Nicola turned, looking up at her family, her face pale, raw with hope.
Andrew felt the lurch of disappointment. Then heard shock ripple through the courtroom as people absorbed the verdict. Val shook her head, turned to him with glittering eyes. He took her hand. Held it between his. Rubbed his thumb over her wedding ring.
It’s all right, he told himself. Garrington had been found guilty. The jury had given them an answer. Someone to blame, someone who would pay, who would be punished for taking Jason’s life. That was what today was about. Justice. Truth. He didn’t know what would await them, Garrington and Quinn, how many years they would get. Did not even know if it would do them any good. Everything he had read in the papers over the years seemed to say prison did not rehabilitate. People came out worse than when they went in, with no greater education, insight or understanding and with fewer prospects. Work, accommodation, opportunities even scarcer.
There was cold comfort in the verdicts. He had thought there might more of a sense of peace or resolution. He accepted it was crucial to go through the process, that without the trial, without the ritual of apportioning guilt, he and Val would have been left in limbo. Tearing themselves apart. Even more damaged than they already were. Maybe he’d feel different in time, once he had absorbed it all. Then maybe he’d feel the release he craved.
Louise
Not guilty of murder! Louise froze. Was Nicola going to be freed? She had been there, she had egged them on, she had kicked Luke. It was Nicola who’d called him a black bastard.
Andrew was leaning back looking drained, his eyes bloodshot. She saw his shoulders move as he exhaled, the slight shake of his head. He turned and met her gaze, shared a rueful smile. She wondered what would become of them now. Andrew and his wife. And Andrew and Louise? Would the awkward friendship they had built be broken off? Would either of them want to sustain something rooted in these bloody events? Wouldn’t it just be salt in the wound as time went by? Wouldn’t they be haunted by the stark facts: that his son had died trying to save hers?
She would miss him. He was a good man.
‘On the count of attempted murder, have you reached a verdict upon which you are all agreed?’ asked the clerk.
‘Yes,’ the foreman said.
‘Do you find the defendant Nicola Healy guilty or not guilty?’
Nicola, who had kicked him in the belly, the soft part. Surely if Garrington was guilty on both counts, then the jury must have accepted that he and Nicola had lied, had conspired to blame Conrad Quinn for everything. Yet they had cleared the girl of murder. Louise wondered if they had argued, the jury. If any of them had believed Nicola Healy; if they had debated which of the boys was telling the truth.
Louise’s breath caught, her head spun. The silence arched across the space; she was suspended, rigid, petrified.
‘Guilty.’
Louise felt relief tumbling through her, something loosen inside, and she was weeping, for her boy, for Jason, for herself. For the inhumanity of it all.
‘No!’ Nicola screamed. ‘I never, I never. It’s not fair.’ The guard made her sit down; she was weeping noisily.
Louise felt a swell of gratitude for Mr Sweeney, the man who had fought for her son’s right to justice, who had made them see that he was just an ordinary boy who should have been able to walk the streets without fear. A beloved boy who was cherished and missed.
While the judge spoke, Louise stroked Ruby’s back and closed her eyes. She longed for rest and sleep and some semblance of control again. A life not strained to breaking point as hers had been since last December. She felt close to collapsing. The blood scraping through her veins too fast, the surface of her skin, her scalp tender, sensitive, as if she’d been sunburnt or scalded. She was so very tired.
Andrew
After handshakes and good wishes from Mr Sweeney and his team, and the relief of a hot drink, they had to perform for the public.
Mr Sweeney had a prepared statement to read out, and Andrew would speak next. Louise declined; she didn’t trust them, the press. Not surprising.
‘I’d like to say something.’ Ruby spoke up.
Louise looked startled. Ruby handed a piece of paper to her mother. ‘I wrote it last night.’
Louise scanned it, blinked rapidly, nodded, mute. She passed it to Mr Sweeney. He read it, smiled at Ruby. ‘That’s excellent,’ he said.
It was sunny outside, a golden autumn afternoon. A warm breeze sent dust motes dancing in the air. But Andrew felt cold to the bone, shivery, edgy in spite of the guilty verdict.
He closed his eyes, saw the warm red of his eyelids. The setting sun flooding Jason’s room flaming red. ‘And that’s the west, the sun always sets there. And the other way is east, where it rises.’
‘How does it get there?’
‘I’ll show you.’
Felt loss tumble through him again. Oh my boy, my love.
There was an atmosphere of victory, of triumph. News crews were asking for comments. Mr Sweeney stood between Val and Andrew, Louise and Ruby as he spoke. Andrew’s parents and Colin and Izzie waited behind them with others from the legal team and the police.
‘I would like to thank the jury, the witnesses and the families for their dedication and service in an extremely distressing case. The verdict today is all we hoped for and justice has been done. Thank you. Now Mr Barnes would like to address you.’