‘I don’t know how to tell you this, Danny. God knows I want to spare you more heartbreak, but you asked me to find out.’
‘What is it? Is she in hospital again?’
‘There’s never a right time, so I’m just going to tell you. I found out today.’
Minnie bit her lip.
‘She is, isn’t she? She’s sick again.’
‘It was worse this time, pet.’ She looked at him without blinking, as if he would know without her having to say.
‘What?’
‘Darlin’, your mum died.’
The world was at once very quiet and very noisy. Everything seemed to stop and Daniel felt the pause, the hush. There was a ringing in his ears. It was like earlier, before the fight. It was as if he lost equilibrium for a moment or two. The noise in his ears made him distrust what he had heard and yet the dread that he could taste in his throat – sour, black – meant that he could not bear to hear it repeated.
Daniel stood up from the table, and felt at once Minnie’s warm hands on his shoulders.
‘It’s all right, love,’ she said. ‘Don’t run from this. I’ll always be here for you.’
*
In later years, when Daniel remembered these words, they would always make him run faster.
It was a shock, but a strange joy. He felt the jolt of it, as if shaken or punched, but then the smart and the strange thrill. His heart pounded, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his eyes were wide and dry.
Dead?
Air lapped in his mouth as if his throat was cut.
Dead.
He looked down and saw Minnie’s hand on his arm; her warm fingers so much surer than his own mother’s hands. They were strong, like a rope he could trust enough to leap off a rock, knowing it would hold him – poised in space and time – and take the weight as gravity pulled him down.
Dead.
Danny curled into Minnie. She didn’t ask it of him. She didn’t pull him into her, but he curled into her nonetheless, as a leaf curls in autumn, because its energy is spent.
‘There,’ she said. ‘There, there, my love, my precious child. You don’t feel like it, but you’re free – you’re free now.’
He didn’t feel free, but he felt unattached and the fear of that made him press into Minnie again, for the first time really giving himself to her: asking her to love him.
Later, she made him a cup of tea, and he was full of questions.
‘How did she die?’
‘It was another overdose, love. A big one.’
He held the mug of tea in two hands and sipped it.
‘Can I go to see her? Will she be buried somewhere?’
‘No, love, it was a cremation. But you still have your necklace and you can think about her any time you like.’
‘I should have been with her. I could’ve got the ambulance. I always get the ambulance to come in time.’
‘It’s not your fault, Danny.’
‘It was because she was on her own.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
The thought of leaving Brampton came to him, of hitching a ride to Newcastle like before, but now that she was gone there was no point. Minnie was his mam now and he would try to make good.
23
The prosecution were now clearly trying to depict Sebastian as an evil child. The witness list for the day included neighbours of the Crolls, children from Sebastian’s school and his teacher. Out of the presence of the jury, Irene objected to the line of questioning as an attempt to elicit irrelevant evidence of bad character, but the judge allowed some leeway, particularly to do with Sebastian’s reputation as a violent bully, seeing as it related to the offence.
Sebastian was alert today and focused on the trial. There had been no doodling, no swinging of his legs. His father was no longer in court. Daniel had spoken to Charlotte, who said that Kenneth had been called overseas but would return in a few days. Charlotte seemed overwrought: all tendon and sunken eyes and trembling fingertips. She was terrified to go outside for a cigarette, she told Daniel, in case she was set upon by the journalists. She couldn’t bear the lies that people were writing about her son. Daniel had squeezed her elbow and told her to stay calm. It’ll get worse before it’s our turn, he told her. You’d better prepare yourself.
*
‘The Crown calls Mrs Gillian Hodge.’
Daniel watched her make her way to the witness box. The journalists in the gallery all scribbled furiously as she raised her right hand and swore to tell the truth. She was neighbour to both the Crolls and the Stokeses and the mother of two young girls. Daniel had spoken to Irene about her at the chambers party. Her voice was clear and strong, her gestures confident and composed. She was professional yet maternal, with honest bright eyes and straight, prominent teeth. Daniel clasped his hands and waited, almost dreading her evidence. He felt Sebastian’s small hand on his thigh and leaned down so that his ear was nearer to the boy’s mouth.
‘She hates me,’ was all he said.
‘Just relax,’ said Daniel, almost to himself.
Gordon Jones swished his robe aside and assumed his stance by the lectern.
‘Mrs Hodge, could you tell us how you know the Crolls and their son, Sebastian?’
‘I’m their neighbour, also neighbour to Madeline and Paul Stokes. I’m right between the two.’
Daniel listened to her carefully. Her London-public-school voice was assertive and she almost didn’t need the microphone in front of her.
‘And their children,’ Jones prompted, ‘would you say you know them well?’
‘My children used to play with both Ben and Sebastian, so I know the parents and their children well.’
When she said, and their children, Madeline turned distinctly towards Sebastian. Daniel straightened his spine as he felt her stern stare.
‘You have two daughters, is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how old are they’
‘One is eight and the other twelve.’
‘Your younger daughter is the same age as Ben Stokes?’
‘Yes, they were in the same class at school.’ Gillian’s large bright eyes sought out Madeline Stokes, who hung her head. Gillian cleared her throat.
‘And your older daughter … a similar age to Sebastian?’
‘Yes, she’s older, but doesn’t play with the boys so much. My youngest is the tomboy. She liked playing with Ben …’
‘Did you encounter any problems when your daughter played with either of the boys who lived near you?’
‘Well, like I said, Poppy, my youngest, really did get on well with little Ben, but often Sebastian would try to join in, or else he would want to play with Poppy even when Ben wasn’t there.’
‘Was this in any way problematic?’
Irene jumped to her feet and Daniel held his breath.
‘With your lordship’s leave, I must object to this line of questioning. It really is hearsay.’
‘Yes, but I’m going to allow it.’ Philip Baron’s voice was deep and authoritative, although he sat slumped on the bench, lost in his robes and corpulent. ‘I am satisfied that it is admissible in the interests of justice.’
Irene sat down. She turned to glance at Daniel. He nodded in support of her frustration.