The constant media commentary was new to Daniel. Some of the teenagers he had defended in the past had not been much older than Sebastian and had lived tougher lives, but they had been almost invisible to the press. Their cases were given a few lines at the side of the page, near the fold. What did they matter? They were just kids in gangs, controlling their own population. It was the natural order.
It was only three weeks now until Sebastian’s trial. Just thinking about it caused Daniel’s mouth to become dry. He took the first sip of his beer. Daniel was ready for trial, yet felt futile before the will of the courts.
As Daniel stared at his pint, he remembered the boy’s eyes from earlier in the day, the intensity of them. His thrill at the thought of going to court. The truth was that Daniel didn’t know what the boy was capable of doing. Despite the warm bar, Daniel felt a chill.
‘How’s it goin’, Danny?’ said the barman. He was in his fifties with a belly that hung over his belt and a face that was heavy with the stories he had heard. ‘You havin’ a hard week?’
Daniel sighed and smiled, shaking his head. ‘Just the usual.’
‘Where’s your good lady got to? Not seen her in ages.’
‘She moved out.’
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ the barman said, polishing a glass and placing it under the bar. ‘I thought you guys were tight.’
‘Some things aren’t meant to be, eh?’
‘Yeah, plenty of other fish, like they say.’
The barman’s gentle Cockney voice faded to the other side of the bar, as he served a couple who had just come in, the woman shivering from the night air.
Daniel stared at the amber liquid in his glass. It was warm in his hands. Slowly, he took another sip, watching the sun set on Victoria Park, splitting the low clouds with a tawny pink light. The air in the bar was warm and comforting, sweet with the smell of cider and beer and hot food.
Things were clearer to him now, simpler, yet still he felt driven. He wanted Sebastian’s case to start and he wanted to find out more about Minnie’s life. He wanted to understand her. It felt like that moment in a run when he found his pace and his breathing steadied. That time when he thought he could keep running for ever. He had run the London Marathon like that in 2008.
His dinner was served and he ate his burger mechanically, then left, walking back to the flat with his hands in his pockets and his chin down.
He took the stairs slowly but ran the last few steps as he heard his telephone ringing.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that Danny?’ He recognised the female voice but struggled to place it.
‘Danny, it’s Harriet.’
He took a deep breath.
The hall was dark but Daniel did not turn the light on. He slid down the wall and listened with the phone nestled between his shoulder and his ear. He rested his elbows on his knees.
‘How are you?’ he said. With his knees pressed against his chest, he could feel his heart beating. He wondered what she had to say, whether she still wanted to accuse him.
‘I needed to call you back. The more I thought about it, I was … unnecessarily rude. I’ve just been feeling so sad for her. I hope you understand that. She had a hard life, and I miss her now she’s gone, but I know you must be feeling it too. No matter what went on between you, you were close once and it must be a terrible loss.’
Daniel didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat and took a breath.
‘I never approved of all that business of taking in all those children …’
‘Of her fostering, you mean? Why not? She was good at it, wasn’t she?’
‘She was a good mother, but I suppose I couldn’t see the point in it. I thought she was just torturing herself.’
In the dark, Daniel frowned.
‘Thanks for calling me back.’
‘Well, she wouldn’t have liked me talking to you like that, anyway.’ Harriet’s voice cracked and thickened for a moment, but then regained control. ‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’
‘No, I’m just in.’
‘You still working as hard? You always did work hard.’
There was silence for a moment. Daniel could hear Harriet sniff, and the sound of the ten o’clock news.
‘What was it you wanted to know about her, Danny?’
He stretched out his legs in the hall, and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He was not ready for this now. The week had left him bled, weakened. He took a deep breath before he replied.
‘Well, I didn’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me. You lost your sister. I didn’t want to make all that harder for you. It’s just … it’s only now hit me that she’s gone. Even at the funeral, I think I was still – angry with her. We never sorted all that out, but now she’s gone, I suppose I really … miss her.’
When he said the words miss her, his voice thickened. He took a breath to catch himself.
‘I went back to the house … the farm. I hadn’t seen her – hadn’t been back there for so long. It was … I don’t know, it made me remember things. It was so many years ago, but it didn’t seem like it. She left me a box of photographs too. I suppose I realised that there was so much I didn’t know about her …’
‘Tell me what you want to know, pet, and I’ll tell you.’
‘Well, I want to know why she was so sad?’ He swallowed.
‘Well, you know she lost her little one, and then her husband, pretty much one after the other.’
‘Yes, but she never talked about it, and I don’t know the full story.’
‘Well, only a year after that she was taking in other people’s bairns. I couldn’t understand it. I still don’t understand it. She was a good nurse, a good mother; I suppose she had to take care of people. She was one of those people who need to care for others.’
‘I remember her telling me that was what happiness was … She never talked to me about Norman and Delia. Always avoided it – said it was too painful.’
Harriet sighed. Daniel heard her husband asking if she wanted tea.
‘What did you mean when you said she was punishing herself?’ Daniel asked.
‘Well, when your little girl is taken, you become a foster parent where they send you a new little girl every few months. But each one is never her …’ Harriet’s voice thickened again. ‘How could she stand it? And you know that until you came along they were all girls, every single one.’
Daniel put a hand over his mouth.
‘She said,’ Harriet’s voice cracked again, and she allowed a single gasp of a sob, ‘that Delia had brought out so much love in her … she didn’t know what else to do with herself, you see. She just had to keep on giving … It was that which killed her, believe you me! She died so alone, and it’s not right when she loved half the world’s unwanted.’
‘I never knew any of that,’ said Daniel. He pressed his back against the wall, his mind bright with memories in the darkened hall. ‘When I was little, when I first moved to stay with her, it was like she was the talk of the town. There were all these stories flying around about her. You wouldn’t believe …’
‘Aye, there would have been. Little towns like that’re full of small-minded people, aren’t they now, and she was such a character. She was a city girl. She loved London; she was happy there. It was Norman who wanted her to move up to Cumbria. I mean … Cumbria … for the love of God. Minnie in Cumbria! After he died, I just couldn’t understand why she stayed. She had no connection to that place. Move back to London or move back here, I told her, anything but stay in that bloody place.’