The party was notorious – a free bar stocked with champagne; barristers and chambers clerks fawning over the big solicitors who kept them in business. Daniel had met his ex-girlfriend at the party last year: a pupil nearly fifteen years his junior. She had recently moved to another chambers.
When Daniel and Veronica arrived, the carpeted staircase and corridors were crammed with people pink-cheeked and laughing, blocking up doorways into rooms that swelled with laughter. The air was sweet and warm and fragrant. There was no music but the cacophony of conversations made it difficult to hear.
Daniel had to lean into Veronica. ‘I’ll get us a drink,’ he said to her, as she was kissed on both cheeks by one of the Crown Court judges.
He took off his jacket and put his tie in his pocket as he waited for two glasses of champagne, then carried them between the fingers of one hand as he made his way back. He spotted Irene halfway up the stairs, talking to another young QC.
Daniel reached across three judges to give Veronica her drink and then slowly made his way to the stairs. He caught Irene’s eye and she turned from the man she was talking to and waved.
‘Glad you made it, Danny,’ she said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.
She stayed one step above him. He felt strange standing eyeto-eye with her. She was still dressed for court in a knee-length pencil skirt and white blouse.
‘Do you know Danny? Harvey, Hunter and Steele?’ said Irene to the barrister she had been talking to.
‘Oh yes, of course, Daniel Hunter, isn’t it?’ The barrister shook Daniel’s hand and then excused himself to get a drink.
‘How’s Sebastian holding up at the unit?’ said Irene.
Daniel smiled at the sheen on her skin and the slight flush on her exposed collar bone.
‘Surviving. Listen, have you got a minute? I was sent something. We need to talk about what we’re going to do with it …’
‘I’m intrigued,’ said Irene, taking Daniel by the elbow and gently manoeuvring him upstairs. ‘Let’s go to my room. Don’t worry – more wine in there!’
The room, like the rest of chambers, was opulently and traditionally decorated, so that even the wallpaper and the carpet seemed to emit a reassuring confidentiality. Streetlight spilled into the room from the sash windows and Irene turned on a table lamp. Voices swelled from the corridor and Daniel gently shut the door.
‘Do you want more bubbly or some wine?’ she asked, opening an antique cupboard by the window.
‘Whatever you like,’ he said, finishing his champagne, enjoying its tart fizz on his tongue.
‘Let’s have this then,’ she said. The cork sounded and the bottle smoked. Irene filled Daniel’s glass and her own and put the champagne on her desk. ‘What about the tapes? Did you find anything? Any sign of our mystery attacker?’
‘Nothing,’ Daniel said, running a hand over his eyes.
‘Here’s to …better luck this time,’ said Irene, handing him a glass.
They touched glasses and Irene sat down on the edge of her desk. Daniel threw his jacket over a chair, first taking out the report he had wanted to show her. There was laughter outside the door as a male voice shouted, ‘Point of law, m’lord.’
Daniel unfolded the report and handed it to Irene. ‘This is … a social services report – specially convened case conference to investigate Sebastian’s home life, because of the charge and the media reports,’ said Daniel.
‘Where on earth did you get that?’
Daniel shook his head. ‘It was anonymously hand-posted to my office with my name on it and confidential. I got it this morning.’
‘Whoever did it could get hung,’ she said, taking the report from him and scanning it. ‘Who do you think it was?’
‘I would think someone involved in the conference who’s been following the case. Just read it.’
He took a large sip of champagne as Irene read out loud: ‘Reason for case conference: alleged schedule-one offence by Sebastian, parents are excluded from the conference.’ Irene looked at him.
Daniel sat down on the edge of the desk beside Irene and leaned over her shoulder as she read:
Sustained physical violence over a number of years. Six broken ribs and a broken collar bone. Ruptured spleen. Broken nose. Diazepam, nitrazepam, dihydrocodeine. Second suicide attempt – overdose of nitrazepam taken with alcohol. Patient offered refuge and counselling but refuses to name husband as the attacker. Doctors determined that the 29-week-old unborn baby died as a result of injuries to the amniotic sac and uterus.
‘Just like Sebastian acted out to the psychologist,’ said Irene, looking up and putting the report on the desk.
Daniel picked it up again and flicked to a section he had highlighted. ‘You read that bit, did you?’
Irene sighed and took another sip of her drink. ‘Charlotte tried to kill herself …’
‘But tried to take Sebastian with her,’ said Daniel, frowning slightly and finishing his drink. ‘That’s what it looks like. He had his stomach pumped the same night that Charlotte was admitted.’
‘Apart from the pills, though, Sebastian has never been touched.’
‘Not beaten, but enough that he saw it happen to her. No wonder he’s unsettling, as you put it.’
Irene sighed. ‘However much you or I may want him to be, King Kong’s not on trial … God knows who gave this to you, but there’s no way we can use it.’
‘I know,’ said Daniel. ‘Someone must have naively thought that this would help explain everything.’
‘Very naive,’ said Irene, sipping her drink. ‘Whoever did it has jeopardised their career.’
‘You’ve read the school reports. Sebastian’s on record as being an aggressive little bully … disruptive in class. We know the CPS are going to get that in,’ said Daniel.
‘We might be successful in keeping it out. We were with Tyrel. And besides, this report is classified information.’
‘But, as you said, it only backs up what Sebastian told the psychologist. My point is that if the evidence of bad character is allowed, and they start to make Sebastian out to be a monster, that is when we can use the domestic violence. We can get the psychologist to testify to it without this document.’
Irene was shaking her head. ‘The judge is even less likely to allow evidence about Sebastian’s violent home life than he is to allow evidence of bad character. You’re right that it’s good to know about it, but I don’t think it supports the current defence strategy. We agreed to concentrate on the circumstantial evidence.’
‘You see there, that neighbour of the Crolls – Gillian Hodge – she keeps calling the police about the fighting next door. The CPS has her as a witness,’ Daniel said. ‘She has kids Sebastian’s age, and she says in her statement that he’s aggressive towards her kids. Now … the judge may not allow it and I know you’ll ask for it to be excluded, but if they do try to paint Sebastian that way, we can point to the abuse as an explanation for his bullying, which is in his school records too, but make clear that being a bully doesn’t make him a murderer.’
Their eyes met. Irene’s gaze was reflective.
‘I see what you’re saying,’ she said. ‘We can keep it in mind, but we don’t want to agree with them that he is violent.’
‘The facts of the case are clear – they don’t have fingerprints, they don’t have a reliable witness that places him at the scene of the crime, the forensics are circumstantial – but I know they’re going to get witnesses to testify to his bullying of other kids, even though it’s irrelevant to this case. We can use the prosecution’s witness against them. Gillian Hodge will admit to calling emergency services to the Croll home.’