Don't Let Me Go (51 page)

‘I’m afraid it had to be done,’ Anthony assured her, taking a drink too. ‘His police work was abysmal and he was making assumptions all over the place that he had no way of backing up.’

‘I’m not sure the jury liked it though.’

He didn’t disagree, and seeing his frown deepen as he checked who was calling his mobile sent her nerves into freefall.

Things clearly weren’t going the way he’d hoped.

‘It’ll be your turn tomorrow,’ Rick reminded her gently. ‘Once they’ve heard from you it’ll all change.’

‘They’ll understand then how happy Chloe has been with you,’ Shelley added.

‘They’ll also know that I took her,’ Charlotte pointed out, ‘and that my not guilty plea is a nonsense and that this whole trial is a further waste of taxpayers’ money. Kentley’s bound to make a big deal of that . . .’

‘You have the right to a fair trial,’ Bob reminded her. ‘We all do.’

‘Is it fair to plead not guilty to a crime I know I committed?’ She was looking at Anthony as he came back into the room. Her heart turned over at the grim expression in his eyes. She knew he wanted her to trust him, but how confident was he feeling after today?

‘The offer’s still on the table,’ he said quietly. ‘A suspended sentence for a guilty plea.’

Her eyes closed as she turned away. She could feel everyone watching her, no doubt thanking God they weren’t in her shoes, while wishing they could think how to advise her. She knew whatever she decided they’d support her, but she simply couldn’t make this only about her. There was still Chloe to consider, and even if they could forget her she knew she never could.

Yet almost six months had gone by since she’d last seen her. In that time Chloe could have bonded with someone else, and was by now feeling safe and settled with them. So maybe it would be cruel to disrupt her all over again.

‘And these shiny little yellow ones are called buttercups,’ Sally Raynes was explaining to Chloe. ‘If you hold one under your chin and it glows on your skin that means you like butter.’

Chloe simply looked at her. Then lowering her head she tucked Boots back under her arm and carried on picking daisies.

Enchanted by the pretty picture she made, a fairy-tale vision in the woods at dusk, Sally Raynes sighed quietly as she perched on a boulder to watch the child. It seemed nothing would persuade her to put the bear down, even though trying to grab the flowers with one hand wasn’t easy.

She was such a sweetheart, a little dream of a girl with her wispy dark curls and adorable heart-shaped face. If only she would speak, or laugh, or show some signs of being happy to be where she was, Sally knew she’d probably fall head over heels in love with her.

She probably had anyway.

‘She will speak, eventually,’ Tracy had assured Sally on her last visit. ‘As you know, the psychologist is confident of it.’

‘Is there anything I can do to encourage her?’ Sally had asked both Tracy and the psychologist.

‘Just keep talking to her and let her know that she’s safe with you,’ she’d been told.

‘And what about her previous family? Should I ever mention them?’

‘For now I wouldn’t bring it up unless she does,’ the psychologist had advised. ‘I’m working on it myself, but remember she has two families, her real parents and the social worker who took her. She was very attached to the social worker. As far as we know she’s the only one who was able to get her to speak.’

Sally felt sure she would manage it too, over time, because in general children liked her and she adored them, especially the little ones. The older kids were often too damaged for her to handle on her own, and sadly her twenty-six-year-old brother, Bobby, couldn’t cope with them either. There had been too many occasions when older kids had been mean to him, thinking it hilarious to tease and torment him just because he was fat and not as quick at learning as they were. What they didn’t understand, because they never took the time to, was that behind his moon face and lumbering gait he was the dearest, sweetest soul ever to walk the earth.

Sally loved him, and he loved Sally. They’d always been close, even before their mother had died; now they were the whole world to each other, and because they had so much love to give it made sense for them to share it with those in need. Bobby particularly adored the babies who came, those born with addictions or diseases passed on by their mothers. He was so tender with them, so fascinated by their tiny limbs and grasping hands that he’d sit watching them for hours. If one happened to smile he’d break into a delighted laugh, and turn excitedly to Sally, whose heart swelled to see how happy they made him. There was no doubt he had a natural gift with children, possibly because he was still so very like one himself.

He was at home now, painting a picture for Chloe who’d painted one for him earlier in the day. She hadn’t smiled when she’d given it to him, instead she’d put her hands on her knees and gazed up at him as though she were the adult and he the child. He had a knack for painting and would probably teach Chloe some of his techniques, just as he’d taught the other children who’d come into their home. He was so patient with them, so careful never to make them feel inadequate or incapable. She wished everyone could see how wonderful he was.

And harmless.

Please don’t let any of the neighbours beat him up again.

This was what happened on the Temple Fields estate. People were rough and cruel and often committed to lives of crime. Sally and Bobby had grown up on one of the better streets, but it was still a part of the infamous estate where outsiders rarely came.

It was ironic, Sally felt, that Charlotte Nicholls had started out life in Temple Fields and now Chloe was here. Not that Charlotte had been born on the estate – it was only just being built when she was a child. However, according to the story Sally had seen on the Internet, Charlotte’s family had known all about violence even then, and Sally’s heart could easily have broken for what they’d been through.

Still, every story had a happy ending, or so she liked to believe, because Charlotte and her mother had eventually found each other, and even if Charlotte ended up in prison for what she’d done Sally felt sure her mother would never desert her again.

It would be a pity for Charlotte if she was found guilty, but it was hard to see how the jury could come up with any other verdict when everyone knew she’d taken the child. What a daft thing for her to have done, when she’d been in a position to make a difference in Chloe’s life without all this fuss. Sally really didn’t understand people at times, but she’d learned that it was usually best not to try. Not everyone was like her and Bobby, more was the pity, because if they were many more needy children would have a place to go and someone to care for them in a way their own families couldn’t manage.

‘Oh, sweetheart, what a lovely bunch of flowers,’ she smiled, as Chloe came through the long grass towards her. She looked like a little angel with the rosy glow of the sunset behind her, so sweet, so perfect, as though these woods were exactly where she belonged. Sally inhaled deeply, loving the fragrance of the grass, like happy memories floating by on a breeze. It was gloriously peaceful out here at the end of the day, no one to bother them, nothing to spoil the sounds and colours of nature in its purest form.

‘Are they for me?’ she asked as Chloe reached her.

Chloe looked down at the mangled daisies in her hand. As her head came up again she whispered, ‘Mummy.’

Sally’s heart turned over with joy. ‘Oh what a lovely thing to say,’ she cried, entranced by the mere thought of meaning so much to this little girl, but as she went to take the flowers Chloe moved them away.

‘Mummy,’ Chloe whispered again.

Sally’s smile froze. Clearly she’d misunderstood.

Leaning forward, she took Chloe by the arm as she said, ‘But you don’t have a mummy, sweetheart, you know that. She’s dead.’

Chloe’s eyes widened as she looked at her.

‘Do you understand what dead means?’ Sally asked her.

Chloe didn’t reply.

‘It means,’ Sally said, reminding herself that she was only speaking the truth, for Chloe’s natural mother really was dead, ‘that she’s gone up to heaven and she’s never coming back.’

Chloe’s eyes filled with tears.

‘But you don’t need to worry,’ Sally told her, mindful of the fact that Charlotte Nicholls would probably be in prison by this time tomorrow, ‘because I’m here to take care of you and that’s lovely, isn’t it? We have each other and Bobby, and do you know what, I think I’m going to talk to Tracy about being able to keep you for ever.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

AS CHARLOTTE TOOK
her place in the dock a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She’d barely slept all night, and the breakfast her mother and Anthony had urged her to eat had refused to stay down. She had never felt so afraid, or unsure of herself, but her decision had been made, and she wouldn’t go back on it now in spite of knowing that if she did she would be certain to go home tonight.

Seeing Anthony at the front of the court was causing so much emotional turmoil that she had to close her eyes and hold her breath. What did he really think of her decision? That she was insane to stake so much on the small chance of being able to get Chloe back? Or that she was stronger, braver and more deserving of a child than most people he knew, for taking that chance? It was what he’d said last night, and she had no reason to disbelieve him, but he must surely wonder where he, and their relationship, featured in her priorities. He hadn’t asked, so she hadn’t mentioned it either, but she was finding it as hard to imagine being without him as it was to think of giving up on Chloe.

Aware of everyone watching him as he came to the dock to speak to her, she kept her eyes on his as he said, ‘You’re going to be fine. I’ll be with you, every step of the way.’

Wishing she could touch his face, she simply nodded, too tense right now to utter a word.

Moments later they were being asked to rise, and for one awful moment as the judge came in, Charlotte felt sure she was going to be sick. A cold sweat was breaking out all over her, and her head was spinning so fast she feared she might faint.

Struggling to keep control, she sat down again, pressing her nails into her palms as the sounds of the court seemed to slur into slow motion, or sink down below her. Then Kim was there with a hand on her arm, offering her some water.

Taking it Charlotte drank deeply, as though to drown the maelstrom inside her.

‘Are you OK?’ Kim whispered.

Charlotte nodded, though she wasn’t sure. When she looked up she saw that the judge was watching her, so she nodded again to say she was ready to continue. She wasn’t, because she would never be, but there was no way back from this now. She had to go forward and pray to God that refusing the second offer of a suspended sentence didn’t turn into the biggest mistake of her life.

As Anthony rose to his feet the court was so silent, so charged with anticipation that Charlotte could only wonder what the press and public were expecting to happen. She knew Heather Hancock would be there, scrutinising her and Anthony’s every move, dying to burst forth with everything she knew or suspected as soon as the trial was over.

For Anthony all that would matter now was the opening statement he’d decided upon during the early hours of the morning.

‘My Lady, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,’ he began, turning to the jury, ‘I’m sure you must be wondering by now why on earth my client has entered a plea of not guilty when everyone knows she took the child from the house on North Hill on the night of 6th October 2011. She’s never denied it, and I’m not about to either. What I am going to do is point out to you that she
took
the child. Or to be even more accurate, she
rescued
the child from a situation that was so awful most of us don’t even want to think of it.

‘There was no abduction involved, because the child had no fit parents to be abducted from. Her mother was already dead, and the father was under investigation for serious and serial abuse. So, I am failing to see where a crime has actually been committed. No one had any other claim to the child, apart from the state, and as my client represented the state how was it wrong for her to get the child out of harm’s way?

‘You might say that after taking the child from the house Ms Nicholls should then have turned her over to the proper authorities, but again, she was a proper authority, and the child knew her, felt safe with her, and was never going to come to any harm in her care. Nor did she
ever
come to harm in Ms Nicholls’s care for the entire time she was with her. Quite the reverse in fact, as you will find out when Ms Nicholls herself takes the stand to tell you how she came to know Chloe, how the bond between them developed and of course what really happened the night she took her.

‘Before she does so, I would ask you to keep in mind that she has only one driving force behind her now – a force that is making her risk the possibility of a guilty verdict and all that would flow from that, when she might otherwise have avoided it – and that is her love of the child.’

Though he spoke quietly, the power of his delivery resonated around the room and remained with a current of its own as Charlotte was escorted from the dock to the witness stand. She could feel the intrigue from the galleries as if it were physical, while the interest of the jury was making her light-headed with nerves.

After taking the oath she looked at Anthony and her heart contracted at the way he met her eyes. Whether anyone noticed she neither knew nor cared; all that mattered was feeling their connection at this most crucial of moments.

She knew what his first question would be, because they’d rehearsed it many times; however hearing it in this environment felt slightly surreal, as if it were coming from a dream.

‘Charlotte, can you describe for us how and where you first met Chloe?’

Before Charlotte could answer Kentley was asking for the relevance.

‘My Lady,’ Anthony said to the judge, ‘my client’s relationship with the child is crucial to this case . . .’