‘Mother of God,’ she said suddenly. ‘Your chips’ll be cold and the bird’ll be burnt to a crisp.’
He took a deep breath, looking forward to her cold chips. They were all he wanted to eat.
19
Sebastian looked different when Daniel returned to the secure unit to meet with him. His cool self-possession was unchanged, but he was heavier, bloated. The boy’s face was fuller and there were dark circles under his eyes. His thin wrists had thickened and there were dimples on the back of his hands. There was little exercise to be had at Parklands House and Daniel knew the diet of chips and pizzas would have been a shock after the organic Islington vegetables he was sure Charlotte had fed him.
‘How’s it going?’ Daniel asked.
‘All right,’ said Sebastian, a fist in his cheek pulling on his upper lip. ‘It’s boring. And school here is worse than normal school. The teachers are stupid and the other children are stupider.’
‘Well, it’s not long now until your trial. I just want to go through a few things with you today.’
‘Will I be chained up in the dock?’
‘No. Before the trial, you’ll be taken to see the court. A nice woman’ll show you round. I know her. She’ll tell you all about the procedures and what will happen. We already know that you’ll be sitting beside me, your parents behind us, instead of in the dock. Will that be all right?’
Sebastian nodded. ‘Is that because they don’t really think I did it?’
‘No, it’s because you’re a child. They only put adults into the dock now.’
‘Will you tell the judge that I didn’t do it?’
‘You remember Irene Clarke, your QC?’
Sebastian nodded vigorously.
‘Well, she’ll put the case to the jury.’
Daniel opened his pad and took the lid off his pen. Sebastian stood up and moved around the table to look at the papers in Daniel’s folder. He leaned against Daniel and inspected again his business cards, his mobile phone, his ink pen and the flash discs that Daniel kept inside his leather-bound folder. Daniel could smell the boy’s clean hair and his strawberry breath. The gentle weight of the boy against his shoulder was poignant. Daniel remembered asking for love from strangers: leaning against them, for affection which was neither offered nor expected. And so Daniel did not shift away from the weight of the boy. He made notes on his pad, being careful not to turn and accidentally reject him. After a moment, Sebastian sighed and walked back around the desk, holding Daniel’s iPhone in his hands. Daniel had turned it off when he entered Parklands House. Deftly, Sebastian turned the phone on.
Daniel reached out his hand, palm upward. The boy was smiling and their eyes met.
‘Thank you,’ said Daniel, in expectation. He was not sure why he had allowed Sebastian to take his phone and now believed it would be returned without a fight.
‘I get to play with my mum’s phone.’
‘Great, sure you can do that when she next comes to see you.’
Sebastian ignored him, sitting back in the chair, scrolling through Daniel’s address book.
Daniel tried to remember how Minnie had acted when he was being defiant. She would have given him her cold look, with the same eyes that could flood with warmth. He would be persuaded that she was stronger. Daniel felt his heartbeat increasing at the thought that he might not be able to control the boy. Finally Sebastian looked up and Daniel met his gaze. He remembered the steel in Minnie’s eyes. She had never been afraid of him. He could not imagine that he could communicate as much strength as she had done, but Sebastian turned away as if stung and relinquished the phone into Daniel’s palm.
‘So,’ said Daniel, taking off his jacket and facing Sebastian. ‘The prosecution are going to put Ben’s mum in the witness box. Probably she’ll be first, then your neighbours and one or two of the kids from the area and from school.’
‘Who?’ asked Sebastian, his face alert again, his green eyes clear and focused.
Daniel flipped through his notes. ‘Poppy … Felix.’
‘They don’t like me, they’ll say I’m bad.’
‘That’s why the prosecution are calling them. But we won’t let them say you’re bad. Legally, they are not allowed to introduce evidence about you being of bad character. It’s irrelevant and not fair. Irene will put a stop to that. I just wanted to let you know about this because I think Ben’s mum and then the kids you know will be hard for us all to watch in court, but it’s not the main part of their case. You need to try and not get upset by it, OK?’
Sebastian nodded.
‘We’re finalising the details of your proof now. Are you sure there is nothing else you know that you want to tell me?’
Sebastian looked to the side for a moment, then shook his head fiercely.
‘All right.’
‘Will I get to testify?’
‘No. At the moment the plan is that you won’t testify. It’s not the nicest experience and I’m sure court will be hard enough just watching. But we’ll need to wait and see how the case goes. Irene may decide at a later date that she wants you to testify, but we would talk to you about that if it came to it. OK?’
‘OK.’
‘The main part of their case will be the forensic evidence, and that will probably go on for a long time. A lot of what happens in court is boring and scientific and it won’t make much sense, but you need to try and stay alert. People will be watching you.’
Sebastian sat up suddenly. It was as if the idea of being watched thrilled him. He clasped his hands and smiled at Daniel, his eyes sparkling.
‘Really?’ he said. ‘Watching me?’
Daniel stared at the boy and Sebastian met his gaze. There was no shame in the boy’s eyes. No sense that what he had said was inappropriate. But he was a child, after all.
‘Your mum and dad were here to see you yesterday, were they?’
Sebastian’s shoulders fell. He nodded, looking at the table.
‘I know it’s hard. You must miss them.’
‘I think you’re lucky,’ said Sebastian, looking Daniel in the eye.
‘Why?’
‘You didn’t have a dad.’
Daniel inhaled slowly. ‘Well, y’know, sometimes boyfriends can be just as bad,’ he said.
Sebastian nodded. Daniel was sure the boy understood.
‘I want to get out soon to look after her. Sometimes I can make him stop.’
‘I know how you feel,’ said Daniel. ‘I used to want to protect my mum too, but you have to look after yourself. You have to remember that you’re the little boy and she’s the grown-up.’
It was the kind of thing that Minnie might have said.
After work, Daniel walked to the Crown on the corner of his street, with his hands in his pockets and his chin down. It was autumn now, and there was a chill in the air. Daniel almost turned back for his jacket, but couldn’t face the stairs again.
Inside the bar was bright and warm, a log fire crackling in the corner and the smell of pub food and damp wood in the air. Daniel ordered a pint and sat at the bar, turning the glass before him, allowing it to settle. Usually he would read the paper, but not tonight. He was sick of newspapers; each one he picked up either featured Sebastian, unnamed but referred to as ‘Angel’s child murderer’, or else he would be mentioned second hand, in opinion pieces about the ‘broken society’. Ben Stokes was already immortalised, a martyr for goodness, for childhood itself. He was never simply Benjamin Stokes, eight years old, but Little Ben, or Benny, always depicted in the same way: a school photograph taken two years before his death, two front teeth missing and the hair on the side of his head sticking up. He was the angel of Angel, and so Sebastian had become the devil.