75
On the way home to find out if his dad was still alive, Mark couldn’t stop thinking about Chloe.
What a liar he was, cajoling her into thinking that friendship was all he wanted, when the more he thought about it, the more he felt she was right for him, always had been. He could see that Chloe was worried she was second fiddle to Alex’s affections for Julia; how ironic that the roles of the two women were reversed in Mark’s mind.
And now she was pregnant! Mark couldn’t get his head around what that meant for him. He tried to block out uncomfortable thoughts, but they kept sneaking back in again.
Bloody Alex. He hated that man.
When he got back to the apartment, to his surprise his father was actually awake and drinking coffee.
‘Didn’t come home last night?’ he said gruffly as Mark banged his briefcase down onto the table and headed for the bathroom.
‘Obviously,’ Mark replied.
‘Good night?’ his dad asked, still studying the paper.
‘Fine. Did you get anything sorted with Mum?’
‘That woman is a liability – haven’t heard from her since she stormed out. Too bloody emotional and hypersensitive, that’s her problem. She thinks the world revolves around her.’
Finally, Mark had had enough. He came back and threw himself down into the chair opposite his father. ‘You both need to grow up,’ he said bluntly.
His father looked up in surprise, mug poised against his mouth. He put his drink down slowly, his hand trembling momentarily so that the mug rattled against the table. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You heard me. Whatever is going on with you, sort it out. Mum might be like a bulldozer, but you’re just as bad. Otherwise, why have you run away from home, Dad?’
Henry’s face had reddened. Mark waited for the outburst, but instead, his father leaned back and sighed.
‘It’s complicated,’ he said, like a petulant child.
Mark leaned further forward. Now he had his dad on the ropes, he dared not let go – it might never happen again.
‘Try me.’
‘Getting older isn’t easy, you know,’ Henry said belligerently.
‘Don’t tell me this is your mid-life crisis!’ Mark snorted. ‘Bit late, isn’t it?’
Henry’s next verbal blast pushed Mark back with such force that their roles were instantaneously reversed. ‘You little shit!’ he shouted. ‘You think you’re so clever, sneering at your father because he’s
‘Dad, I…’
‘DON’T YOU DARE,’ Henry growled, leaping up and heading for Mark’s bedroom.
Mark’s hands were balled into tight fists, but he kept them on his lap. He ceded this argument for now, and changed tack as he called after Henry.
‘Dad, I need to get ready for work.’
‘I’ll be out of this place as soon as possible, don’t you doubt it,’ Henry raged, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
Mark leaned back into his chair, looked down at his shoes, and sighed.
76
To get to the Supreme Court you had to walk through glorious lush gardens, where lemon gums and umbrella trees sheltered you from the fierce midday sun, and brightly coloured flowers lined your way. For Amy, it was like walking through the Garden of Eden to get to the Gates of Hell. She wondered if the gardens made it worse for all those who knew they walked this way in their last moments of freedom – a stark reminder of what they had forfeited their right to.
The court building itself was one of a cluster of historical buildings incongruously sandwiched between modern skyscrapers and laissez-faire pubs and sailing clubs by the river. Thick white pillars supported the porticoed entrance. It was at these pillars that Amy’s step faltered, and she would have stumbled if Alex’s hand hadn’t been there, grasping her elbow.
She hadn’t slept much over the past few days, but her brain seemed to have decided that now was a good time to shut down. Her mind was foggy, her eyes bleary, and all she really wanted was to go back to bed.
A couple of security guards turned suspicious gazes on her. She smiled feebly and righted her stride, allowing them to check her bag as she heard Alex asking in hushed tones for Court Number Two. The entrance hall was full of people, a babble of noise. The guard asked why they were there, and Alex quickly told him they were related to the victim. She supposed it wasn’t even much of a lie. They received instructions on general court etiquette, such as bowing to the judge, which her sluggish brain did its best to remember.
There was an extravagant staircase ahead of them, which, while more suited to the frippery of a stately home than the practical environment of a court of law, made the place seem all the more foreboding. Amy grasped the thick wooden rail tightly as they climbed. She felt as though she were hyperventilating. Her heart was beating erratically – strong beats staccatoing against her chest. She desperately sucked in air. The surroundings swam before her eyes and she thought she was going to faint, but the twisting molasses inside her head continued. Alex’s arm was firmly around her waist, and he was marching them on. There was no way he would let her back out.
When they got through the doors to the upper gallery, there were people already seated in the public viewing area: a middle-aged woman with tired, sad eyes; a quartet of girls in their early twenties; three police officers; and two court security officials. Amy was surprised. She’d thought there would be more people here. The press must be somewhere else.
Alex took her hand and guided her to seats at the front. She held on tight, feeling a small pulse throbbing through his fingertips and connecting with her own.
From where they sat they could clearly see the front of the courtroom. She took a tentative look down at the lawyers’ desks, vertigo like a slow spinning top in her head, but was then distracted as the jury filed in. They were followed by the judge, who strode confidently to his chair as they all stood for him. As he sat down, his expression was unreadable and Amy marvelled at how this could be. He reminded her of her dad – she’d be embarrassed to use a mild swearword in front of this man and yet he’d just spent days digesting the most obscene details of this case.
Before she sat down she automatically glanced over the railing again. And saw three men, besuited, standing in a line. As she watched, one of them turned briefly to look up at the gallery and she quickly strangled the squeak of shock that escaped her. The judge glanced up, and people nearby turned to stare at her. Alex’s grip on her hand tightened, but she sat down quickly, outwardly quiet, even though her heart was thundering.
It was overwhelming to see them in the flesh, she thought, trembling. They might be evil cloaked in skin and bone, but they were just three men. So ordinary, yet she had recognised the one who looked up as the man who had pinned her in the back of the van – Dregs, she’d never forget that name. He was a lot thinner now, and his hair was shorter, but his features were more memorable. She stared at her feet, trying to shake off the thought that they were so close to her.
Nevertheless, she didn’t last long after the first defence witness of the day was called. The man described seeing the victim, Vanessa, smiling at the men as they chatted to her in the bar where she had last been seen alive. He recalled that she didn’t look too worried. But under cross-examination, the man admitted that he played football with the brother of one of the defendants.
Amy was shocked. Surely no one would choose to defend these animals because of such a tenuous link with them.
