‘We’ll be in that conference room,’ Daniel shouted after Croll.
‘Give us twenty minutes.’
Daniel looked at his watch. The boy was still staring at him.
‘She’s having a panic attack. She can’t breathe and her face goes all white and she starts to breathe like this …’ Sebastian began to mime hyperventilation, until Daniel put a hand on his shoulder. Already the boy was red and coughing.
‘Come on,’ said Daniel, opening the door to one of the conference rooms and saluting the security guard who stood nearby. ‘Let’s go in here and sit for a while until your mum’s feeling better.’
The door closed behind them, sealing them in its insulated space. There were no windows in this room. Daniel was reminded of the placer where Minnie had been cremated. The sounds of the Old Bailey – heels on the flagstones, lawyers talking over each other into mobile phones, solicitors whispering to clients – were all excluded.
There was a warm, germinating silence. The boy’s eyes were dry and his pale face pensive. It reminded Daniel of the first time they’d met, in the police station in Islington.
‘Do you think most people are sad that I was found not guilty?’ said Sebastian, looking up at Daniel.
‘It doesn’t matter what other people think; you had a good defence and the jury found you not guilty. You can go back to your life now.’
Sebastian got up and walked around the table to Daniel. He stood by the side of Daniel’s chair.
‘I didn’t want to go back to Parklands House.’
‘No,’ said Daniel. He was leaning forward on his elbows, so that his face was level with the boy’s. ‘I didn’t want you to have to go back there either.’
The little boy sighed and then leaned into Daniel. He rested his head on Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel had watched him being comforted by his mother often enough and knew what to do. After a moment’s pause, he raised his hand and ran his fingers through the boy’s hair.
‘It’ll be OK,’ Daniel whispered. ‘It’s all over now.’
‘Do you think I’ll go to hell?’
‘No, Seb.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because hell doesn’t exist. I don’t believe in it, anyway.’
‘But you don’t actually know. Nobody actually knows. Believe means you just think something is so.’
‘Well, call me stubborn but I think I do know. All sounds like rubbish to me.’
‘Will Ben be in heaven? Everyone says he’s an angel.’
‘Seb, listen, I know this has been really hard on you – the case has been on TV and in the papers and all the other kids at Parklands House have been talking about you, but you have to try not to pay attention to all the newspapers and stuff. They only do that to sell papers, not because there’s a shred of truth …’
‘Truth,’ said Sebastian, calmly. ‘Do you like me, Daniel?’
‘Yes,’ said Daniel, exhaling.
‘If I tell you something, will you still like me?’
Daniel considered, then nodded.
‘I put the brick on Ben’s face.’
Daniel held his breath and watched the small boy. The light was catching his green eyes. He had an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.
‘You told me you just went home …’
‘It’s all right,’ said Sebastian, smiling properly now. ‘I’ll be OK. You don’t need to worry about me.’
Daniel nodded. He felt his stomach muscles tighten.
‘I like you too,’ said Sebastian. ‘I think you’re my friend. I’m glad you were my lawyer …’
Daniel nodded again. His collar was tight at his throat.
‘What do you mean … you put the … brick on Ben’s face?’
‘I didn’t like Ben’s face. I just wanted to cover it up, so I wouldn’t see it any more. He was all cry-baby and snot and wanting to go home. I told him he had to stop crying. I told him that if he tried to go, I’d give him something to cry about … and then after I put the brick on his face, he didn’t cry at all. He didn’t make a sound. Not any more.’
Daniel let his shoulders fall. He exhaled and loosened his tie. He leaned forward and put both hands through his hair.
‘You should’ve told me, Sebastian.’ His voice was loud in the room. ‘You should’ve told me at the beginning. We would have done things differently.’
Sebastian smiled, and sat down again, opposite Daniel. He was all innocence: all eyelashes and freckles and neatly parted hair. ‘I thought you wouldn’t like me if I told you. I wanted you to like me.’
‘It’s not about like, Sebastian. I told you at the beginning, you needed to tell me everything, the truth, pure and simple. I’m your lawyer … You should have told me.’
‘Well, you know now,’ said Sebastian. He tilted his head to one side.
Daniel felt sick, a chill sweat on his back. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, controlling himself.
‘I have to go now,’ said Daniel. ‘Let’s … find your parents.’ The boy looked up at him, and Daniel took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say to the child.
Outside Charlotte was on her feet again, wavering like a sunflower, large black shades over her eyes. Ken was still holding on to her elbow.
‘Thanks, Dan,’ said Kenneth as he returned the boy to their care. Daniel winced at Croll’s out-of-place informality.
‘All right, young man?’ Kenneth boomed at his son.
Sebastian slipped between his parents and took their hands. The sight of the family like this sickened Daniel. He wanted to look away.
But then they were gone, all hand in hand, walking out the doors of the Old Bailey, Sebastian looking over his shoulder at Daniel as he was tugged gently outside.
Daniel undid the top button of his shirt, pulled his tie off and put it in his pocket. His legs felt unsteady. It felt like walking away from Minnie for the last time. It wasn’t the first time a client had lied to him. Daniel didn’t understand why, this time, he felt so shorn.
He stood in the ornate hall of the Central Criminal Court and looked around him. His loss was draped in a strange relief. One way or another, it was all over now.
Daniel walked out into the swarm of journalists. It was cold and threatening to rain, but he felt the heat of the camera flashes. He was blinded by them and couldn’t see the faces that addressed him, only the foam-encased microphones that were thrust towards him.
‘We are pleased with the outcome of the trial; my client and his family are looking forward to the return of normal family life. Our thoughts are with the family of the victim at this difficult time.’
Daniel pushed his way through the crowd as one of the journalists shouted: ‘How did it feel when you won? Were you surprised?’
Daniel turned and faced the man who had addressed him, knowing that he was now too close to the camera. The emotion apparent in his face would be broadcast, and commented on, in news feeds later: ‘Nobody won today. A little boy lost his life, but we are grateful that justice has been done for my client.’
There were more questions, but then the Stokeses came out. Madeline was recovered but brittle; Paul with a resolute turn to his lips. Daniel and the CPS solicitor were abandoned in favour of the victim’s parents.
Daniel looked around for Irene but couldn’t see her. He started to walk towards the Tube, then saw her ahead of him. She seemed dejected, eyes to the ground.
‘I thought you said you were going to wait for me,’ he called, running to catch up with her.
‘God, there you are. I didn’t know where you’d got to.’ She brushed a strand of hair from her face.