Don't Let Me Go (34 page)

Minutes later they were being told to rise and the judge came in, stout and bald-headed. His face was grim until he regarded the lawyers with some surprise, which was strange, but at least it made him seem more human. He spoke to them but Charlotte only caught it in snatches . . . ‘. . . so it is you . . . such an eminent presence in our midst . . .’

Whatever the response was it made him chuckle, and Charlotte took heart from the fact that he seemed to be in a good mood. But then his thin mouth set in a stern line again, and knowing he had her fate in his hands was making her resent him. He didn’t know her, had never even met her, and yet he had the power to say whether or not she was a responsible citizen.

She’d stolen a child, so how could she possibly expect someone to view her as a responsible citizen?

She willed him to meet her gaze, as though she might somehow be able to transmit how trustworthy she was, but he was busy reviewing the documents in front of him, and didn’t even glance up when the charge was read.

The prosecutor, Andy Phipps, was the first to speak, sounding both apologetic and long-suffering as he repeated the reasons he’d given before as to why Charlotte shouldn’t be granted bail. ‘Nothing has changed since Saturday,’ he informed the judge, ‘the fear of failure to surrender remains, and why should the British taxpayer be forced to bear the expense of bringing her back again? In fact, Your Honour, I’d go as far as to say that this bail hearing is a waste of the court’s time when the defendant has already proved herself to be a person of few social morals by taking a child at all, never mind out of the country. So I’m asking that she be returned to custody, where she will not be able to plan any more flights to New Zealand with or without a child that’s not hers.’

The judge appeared impassive.

Charlotte was trying to swallow, but couldn’t. It was so degrading being referred to as a defendant, a person of few social morals, when that wasn’t who she was at all. Worse was knowing that people in this room, and outside it, agreed with him, and wanted to see her shut away from society as though she were some sort of pariah.

Someone else was speaking now, though she couldn’t make out who at first since no one was standing up. Why wasn’t Kim laying out her case? Wasn’t that how it was supposed to happen? But Kim was still sitting down, and remained in her chair as the dark-haired man next to her rose to his feet, still addressing the judge.

Charlotte’s heart gave a sudden and painful lurch as she realised who it was. Anthony Goodman. Who had asked him to act on her behalf? Why hadn’t anyone told her? She was so thrown, so bewildered that she could hardly register what he was saying.

Yet his quiet voice was carrying through the turmoil of her shock, authoritative and commanding as he said, ‘Ms Nicholls has no previous criminal record . . . She represents no threat whatsoever to the community, or to herself, or even to the child you’re trying to keep her away from.’

‘Your Honour,’ the prosecutor objected. ‘She has already taken the child out of the country . . .’

‘Where the child came to no harm,’ Anthony pointed out. After waiting a moment in case Phipps had any more to say, he continued. ‘Your Honour, Ms Nicholls’s family have gone to some lengths over the past few days to secure the lease on a flat here in Kesterly so my client will have somewhere to live until this case comes to trial. I’m sure we’re all agreed that hardly demonstrates a plan to flee the country. Nor does the transfer of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds to post as bail, the entirety of Ms Nicholls’s savings, should the court require it. This money is now in a client account with Ms Nicholls’s solicitor . . .’ He paused as Kim handed him a paper, and after glancing over it he passed it to the clerk. ‘This is a statement showing details of the account,’ he told the judge. ‘I’m also being reminded that the flat will be ready for occupancy this coming Saturday, and until that time Ms Nicholls will be able to stay with friends here in Kesterly, Maggie and Ron Fenn.’

Charlotte almost gasped. Maggie and Ron were offering her a place to stay? Did anyone know Maggie was Anthony’s sister? Did it matter? Presumably not, or surely Anthony wouldn’t be suggesting it.

‘It should be noted,’ he went on, ‘that Mr Tommy Burgess is also offering a place for Ms Nicholls to stay, but as he was her team leader while she was with social services we’ve taken a view that the court would prefer it if she had as little contact with her old colleagues as possible, particularly those who might have access to the child.’

Though it was horrible to be considered a threat to Chloe, Charlotte could see the reasoning behind his words, in spite of still being thrown by the fact that
he
was uttering them.

‘Your Honour, can I point out,’ the prosecutor was saying, ‘that the defendant’s family is still in New Zealand, where they’ve already . . .’

‘Actually,’ Anthony interrupted, ‘my client has family here, in the UK. In fact her sister is in the court today, and is also ready to offer her home to Ms Nicholls in the event bail is granted. However, she understands that the court might be less willing to accept her kindness, given that she doesn’t live locally. Nevertheless, she is family, and she and Ms Nicholls are close.’

As Charlotte turned to Gabby, her heart melted to see her sister so flustered and proud.

The judge was speaking. ‘I can see no reason not to grant bail,’ he was saying. ‘There’ll be conditions, of course . . .’ As the speed and reality of his decision hit her Charlotte stopped hearing his words, could hear only the jubilant cry of relief inside her. She wasn’t going back to Walworth.
She wasn’t going back to Walworth.
She could hardly believe it; he’d ruled that she could go to her flat, or to stay with Maggie and Ron. She was so stunned, so overcome that she wasn’t registering the conditions, but she didn’t care what they were. All that mattered was the fact that she didn’t have to go back to prison.

She glanced over her shoulder at Gabby and saw that Tommy was there too now, and both were clenching their fists in a
yes!

When she turned back the judge was still speaking, but her eyes were fixed on Anthony, who was watching Kim making notes on a pad. Then he looked round at her, his eyebrows raised almost comically, and she felt her heart turn inside out. QCs almost never conducted bail hearings, and yet he was here conducting hers.

She barely knew what to make of it.

‘I believe,’ the judge was saying as he went through his papers, ‘that we’re using the court’s time efficiently by dealing with the Section Fifty-one while we’re here.’

‘Your Honour,’ Anthony said, ‘before a timetable is set, can I enter a request for the service of papers to be carried out within four weeks?’

Phipps was having none of it. ‘Your Honour, this doesn’t allow anywhere near enough time for us to prepare . . .’

‘Actually, I think it does,’ the judge interrupted crossly. ‘Everything always takes far too long these days, so I’m setting a date of three weeks hence for the service of papers, and four weeks after that for the Plea and Case Management.’ He was looking at the clerk now, who was duly noting it.

‘Your Honour, this really is unprecedented,’ Phipps objected.

The judge appeared astonished. ‘I don’t think you’ll find it is, Mr Phipps,’ he retorted, and a moment later he was saying, ‘The defendant will return to the cells until the bail funds are in place. Thank you ladies and gentlemen, the court is dismissed.’

An hour later, with every last penny she owned now in the court’s keeping, and an appointment with Reliance to fit her electronic tag sometime in the next few hours, Charlotte was in the lobby preparing to make a dash through the reporters crowding the steps outside.

‘Don’t say anything,’ Anthony cautioned, taking her arm, ‘and try not to look at anyone either.’

‘They can really only take pictures and report on the fact that you’ve now got bail,’ Kim told her, coming to shield the other side of her, ‘so it shouldn’t be too gruelling. Are you ready?’

Trying not to be so aware of Anthony’s grip, Charlotte said, ‘I guess so,’ and turned to check Gabby was behind.

With a smile Gabby gave her a thumbs up.

‘Stay with us,’ Charlotte told her.

‘Don’t worry, I will.’

‘Where’s Tommy?’

‘Gone to get his car.’

‘OK,’ Anthony said, and as the door opened they were instantly assailed by flashbulbs. However, Anthony didn’t even hesitate as he and Kim quickly urged Charlotte into the fray, using their free arms to fight a path through.

Eventually Charlotte was being pushed into the back of a large saloon car, while Gabby jumped in the other side and Anthony quickly sat in the driver’s seat. Once Kim was in next to him he hit the locks, started the engine and they began moving off.

‘Are you OK?’ Kim asked, turning round to check as Anthony drove out of the square and down towards the seafront.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Charlotte replied, slightly breathlessly. She glanced at Gabby. ‘Are you?’

‘Yes, I’m cool,’ Gabby assured them, in spite of how dazed she looked.

‘We’ll probably be followed,’ Anthony said, ‘but we have the advantage of knowing where we’re going, whereas they don’t. Yet.’

Turning to Charlotte, Kim broke into a smile. ‘We got the right result this time,’ she declared. ‘I’m really sorry it didn’t happen before . . .’

‘It’s OK,’ Charlotte told her, catching Anthony’s eye in the rear-view mirror. What was he thinking, she wondered, what should she be saying to him? She knew now, because Kim had told her during the hour’s wait in the holding area, that he’d got in touch himself last Sunday and offered to take the case on, but she had no idea why he’d done that, because she still hadn’t had a chance to speak to him.

‘You obviously caught old Edmore on a bad day last Saturday,’ he commented, ‘because there was never a strong case for custody.’

‘I hope it wasn’t too awful in Walworth,’ Kim grimaced.

Hating Anthony knowing she’d been in such a place, Charlotte made her tone sardonic as she said, ‘Let’s just say I’ve had better weekends away.’

As Kim laughed and Anthony cocked an eyebrow, Gabby poked Charlotte and nodded towards the front as she mouthed, ‘Who is he? Where did he come from?’

‘Later,’ Charlotte replied in the same way.

‘Dead fit,’ Gabby added, her eyes glittering so expressively that Charlotte had to turn away.

‘I need to check the train times,’ Kim announced, taking out her iPhone.

To Charlotte, Anthony said, ‘When we get to my sister’s you can call New Zealand. They’ll be waiting to hear from you.’

Charlotte’s heart gave a jolt of pure joy. ‘Thank you,’ she said, managing to smile past a rush of emotion.

Giving her another prod, Gabby mouthed, ‘Sister?’

Charlotte barely engaged, she was too caught up in the amazement of being here, in Anthony’s car, and the relief of being free to use a phone, to speak to her mother, to Bob, Rick, Shelley . . . Her heart caught on the pain of Chloe not being with them, but she had to move past it, at least for now. Anthony had managed to get her out of that terrible prison; he was driving them to his sister’s who was giving her refuge . . . For the moment it was all that mattered.

By the time they arrived at Maggie’s, on the leafy southern point of Kesterly Bay, both Anthony and Kim were on their phones, and Charlotte was trying to pay attention as Gabby updated her on news of the twins. Not that she wasn’t interested in her niece and nephew, on the contrary, she loved them to bits, she just had so much whirling round in her head it was hard to make herself think straight about anything at all.

Maggie Fenn’s natural warmth lit her softly creased face as she came to open the rear passenger door for Charlotte to get out of the car. ‘Here you are, how good it is to see you,’ she declared happily. ‘Come along, let’s get you inside.’

‘I hardly know what to say,’ Charlotte confessed as she stepped out of Maggie’s embrace, ‘or at least where to begin, with a sorry or a thank you.’

‘How about with an introduction to this lovely young lady who I presume is your sister?’

Wishing again that she’d thought to bring Chloe here on that fateful night, Charlotte turned to Gabby, who was coming to join them.

‘Gabby, this is Maggie Fenn,’ she said, drawing Gabby closer, ‘who happens to be one of the most wonderful people in the world, and not just because she’s offering me her home, just because she is.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Maggie,’ Gabby said, seeming startled though pleased by Maggie’s friendly hug. ‘And thank you for helping my sister out. It’s really kind of you.’

‘She’s always welcome here,’ Maggie assured them, ‘and I’m very glad she was able to make it, which means my brother didn’t let the side down.’

Laughing at the way Anthony rolled his eyes, Charlotte watched him introduce Kim and suddenly found herself having to take a moment to fight back another rush of emotion. The past hour or so had sped by so quickly she was still struggling to take it all in, and finding herself here, at Maggie’s elegant Georgian home, with such kind and decent people, was feeling a bit like a dream, especially when she considered where she’d woken up that morning.

‘Come on, you lot,’ Ron Fenn shouted from the door, his white beard and balding head making him look as jovial as Santa. ‘The pack’s bound to be on the trail and we don’t want them finding us all out here.’

As Anthony led the way to the house a car swerved into the drive causing a moment’s alarm, until realising it was Tommy Charlotte ran over to greet him. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she gasped as he wrapped her in a giant bear hug. ‘And for saying I could stay with you. I’m so sorry about what’s happening, the position it’s put you in . . .’

‘Will you stop?’ he chided, squeezing her hard. ‘I’m big enough and ugly enough to take care of myself. It’s you I’m worried about, but you’re looking pretty good – at least better than I expected.’

‘I brought her some make-up,’ Gabby assured him, coming to join in. ‘And some lovely smelly stuff, and clothes . . . Oh no, they’re in my car which is back at the multi-storey next to the court.’