Grace, page 37
Michelle handed the letter to Gillian for safe keeping and opened the sandwich she’d bought her, which she now realised she was desperate to eat. She bit into it hungrily, the surge of adrenaline she’d just experienced creating what felt like a black hole in her stomach.
‘Hello, both. Are you ready?’ Michelle looked up from her food to see that Sally had returned. She looked slightly flustered, she thought, but she was smiling, so that was a positive sign, at least.
‘Yep,’ replied Michelle, meaning it. That letter from her sister had untapped a well of energy she had been unaware of. It was now coursing through her veins and she felt at that moment as if she could face anything that was thrown at her; absolutely bloody anything.
‘Do you want to quickly go through all of the answers we discussed at our meeting last week, so that you feel prepared?’
‘Nope, it’s fine. I remember them. Let me finish my sarnie, and I’ll be there,’ said Michelle.
As Michelle threw the sandwich box in the bin, wiped her mouth with a tissue, took a swig of water from a bottle Gillian kept for her outside court and brushed down her suit, she thought: this is for you, Grace. Both Graces. This is for both of you.
*
‘Thank you, everyone, for returning from lunch promptly. I understand from Ms Mucklow that we have a late witness to this hearing. I met with her over lunch and decided to allow her to give evidence, based on her important input in this case. I propose we hear what she has to say before calling Miss Jenkins to give evidence. Ms Mucklow, could you please explain to the court why you’ve called a new witness?’
‘Yes, thank you, madam, for your consideration in this matter. I am calling Mrs Louise Wilcocks, who lives in the apartment above the unit where Mr Allcott lived with Miss Jenkins. Madam, she was the member of the public who called the police after the first significant assault and she heard the argument that preceded it.’
‘Thank you for that explanation, Ms Mucklow. I’d like to ask the clerk to call in Mrs Wilcocks.’
Michelle watched as the clerk got up from his seat and went through the double doors back into the waiting room. As they waited for him to return, she found herself wringing her hands and crossing and uncrossing her legs, her agitation and disbelief making her limbs seem to take on a life of their own. Could this really be true, she thought? Could the old bat from upstairs really be about to come and take part in this hearing? If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was dreaming. Michelle glanced over at Rob, who looked very uncomfortable, as if he had a really bad case of piles.
The door clicked and in walked the ancient woman from upstairs, propped up by a walking frame. How the hell does she get up those stairs by herself, Michelle wondered. And then the thought crossed her mind that she probably almost never got out of that flat, and Michelle suddenly felt ashamed. She’d lived there for two years and never seen that woman as anything other than a pain in the arse.
The clerk helped the old lady manoeuvre past the chairs and desks and lower herself into the chair in front of the bench. He then poured her a glass of water, which she sipped slowly. Michelle looked at her closely for the first time. She was a tiny woman, probably no more than five feet tall. She had dressed formally for the occasion – a brown jumper, a black calf-length skirt, tights and flat brown pull-on shoes. Her hair, which Michelle had often observed to be unkempt, was today pulled into a tight low bun. She looked neat and sensible and determined. She looked up then, directly at Michelle, and smiled. Michelle was taken by surprise, but she returned the smile instinctively. Wow, this is obviously a day for miracles, Michelle thought.
‘Thank you for attending this hearing at short notice, Mrs Wilcocks. Can I ask you to confirm your name and address?’
‘Yes, your honour. I am Louise Wilcocks, and I live at 5b, Symphony Road, on the Elgar Estate, Malvern.’
‘Thank you. Do you want to affirm, or swear on a holy book?’
‘I’d like to swear on the Bible, please, your honour.’
As the old lady repeated the now familiar words, Michelle found herself repeating her sister’s words like a mantra. ‘Grace, your sister. Wow! Grace, your sister. Wow!’
‘Ms Mucklow, as Mrs Wilcocks is your witness, would you like to begin the questioning?’
‘Absolutely, madam,’ Sally replied, looking directly at Michelle’s former neighbour. ‘Mrs Wilcocks – I don’t want to keep you here longer than I need to, so let’s get straight to the facts. Could you confirm what you heard on August the sixth last year, which I believe was the first time you called the police to attend Mr Allcott and Miss Jenkins’ flat?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ replied Louise Wilcocks, her voice gentle, her accent a sing-song Brummie. ‘It was terrible. I was frightened for her, I really was. She’s such a slight girl, and I knew she was expecting, and he was really laying into her. He said all sorts of stuff which I don’t want to repeat here…’
‘He? Could you clarify who you mean, for the benefit of the court?’
‘Yes. I mean Rob, her partner.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Wilcocks. Could you try, for the record, to repeat what you heard Robert Allcott say to Michelle Jenkins? It’s important to get the facts out,’ asked Sally.
Shit, she looks uncomfortable with this. Poor woman, Michelle thought.
‘Yes, well, there was a lot of the “f” word, you know, and other swear words, but he was blaming her for not making any money that week. She’d been going out to work for a while – I saw her leave every morning – but I think she had to stop, for the babby. She was quite big by then and she looked knackered, you know. Anyway, then I heard her screaming, and there was a fight, a physical fight. I could hear things being thrown, and stuff being knocked over. That’s when I called the police. I was worried about the babby, see.’
‘I see. And how certain are you about what was said?’
‘Those flats have paper-thin walls and floors,’ she said. ‘They were built on the cheap, that’s what I always say. I can hear everything through them. I’ve hammered on the floor in the past to get them to turn the TV or the music down – my new hearing aid picks up everything. It’s a curse a lot of the time, it really is.’
‘I can imagine. Now, Mrs Wilcocks. What else did you hear in the months leading up to Mr Allcott and Miss Jenkins moving out?’
‘In November, I think it was, there was another big fight. She was screaming, poor thing, really screaming. She’d only just had the babby and she must have been so tired.’
‘Did you call the police on that occasion?’
‘No, I didn’t. I think I should have, really, but she went quiet quite quickly, and I lost my nerve.’
‘Why did you lose your nerve, Mrs Wilcocks?’
‘Because he – Mr Allcott, I mean – he’d come up and threatened me.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘After the first time. He came up and hammered on my door.’
‘What exactly did he say?’
‘I don’t want to use the language. It’s not right, it isn’t. But basically, he told me not to get involved, and if I did it again, he’d see that I shut up. Words to that effect, you know.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Wilcocks, for coming in to speak to us. No further questions, madam,’ she said, turning towards the judge.
‘Thank you, Ms Mucklow. Mr Carraway,’ she said, turning to Rob’s barrister, ‘I presume you have questions for the witness?’
‘Yes, I certainly do, madam,’ he replied, shooting up out of his chair. Michelle examined his face. He had beads of sweat on his brow and just a hint of dampness under his armpits.
‘Mrs Wilcocks – did you actually see any of these arguments?’
‘No, your honour, but I heard them all. I have a good memory, you see, and my hearing aids…’
‘So you don’t actually know who was attacking whom, in these incidents?’
‘No, but…’
‘So it’s possible, isn’t it, that Miss Jenkins was the one attacking Mr Allcott?’
‘I suppose. But I really don’t think…’
‘We are not interested in supposition here, Mrs Wilcocks. Only facts.’
The old woman looked chastened.
‘I didn’t see them fight, no. But I know who came to my door and threatened me. I do know that.’
‘No further questions, madam,’ said Len Carraway, sitting back down as quickly as he had risen to his feet.
*
Michelle pulled up her tights, pulled her skirt down towards her knees and said a silent, quick prayer of sorts, before she unlocked the toilet door and emerged back into public view. She’d asked for this break mostly so that she had a minute or so by herself, to unjumble all the thoughts in her brain, before she went back in to face the metaphorical firing squad. This was her one chance and she was determined not to waste it.
‘Are you done?’ asked Gillian, poking her head around the door. ‘They’re waiting for you.’
‘Yeah, I am,’ answered Michelle, giving her hands a quick wash and dry, and smoothing her hair, which she’d pulled back into a neat ponytail. ‘Here we go. Ready or not.’
Gillian pulled her into a hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Go get ’em, girl,’ she said, rubbing Michelle’s back, like a mother would a child.
Michelle smiled and walked straight to the court doors. On the other side, an expectant crowd turned its collective head towards her as she walked towards the witness desk. She felt their eyes boring into her as she did so. Well, here goes nothing, she thought, as she sat down and pulled the chair into the desk so that she could rest her arms on it.
‘Are you ready, Miss Jenkins?’ asked the judge. Michelle wondered if she’d annoyed her by asking for a loo break.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, not wanting to say madam, because it sounded far too strange.
‘Fine, then we will begin. Ms Mucklow, as Miss Jenkins’ legal representative, would you like to start?’
‘Thank you, madam, I will,’ replied Sally. ‘Miss Jenkins – I think it would be helpful if you could explain, in your own words, why you initially decided that Grace should be adopted.’
Michelle took a deep breath and began.
‘I’ve been thinking about this a lot,’ she said. ‘The thing is, I was scared. Really scared of ending up on the streets again, and of letting Grace down, failing my daughter like I failed my sister, you know? I just couldn’t trust myself. And Rob and I always had no food, or heating, or any money and I just knew we couldn’t look after a baby. Not without a lot of help from social services, and given the shit I’ve taken from them in the past, I wasn’t going to go there.’
‘Rob Allcott says you persuaded him that the baby should be adopted.’
‘Yeah, he does, doesn’t he. But… He just went along with what I said. He never tried to persuade me otherwise. I got the feeling he just wasn’t that bothered.’
‘Why do you think he’s now changed his mind, and decided he wants to keep the baby?’
‘I dunno. I dunno whether he does, I mean, I wonder if it’s just his parents who are interested, now they’ve found out about her. They’ve got all that money, and they’ve got their son back, and now maybe they want the set?’
Michelle could see, out of the corner of her eye, a furious-looking Len Carraway. Rob, on the other hand, looked impassive. He’d always been a good actor, she thought. After all, he’d convinced her that he was a working-class boy for years, hadn’t he?
‘Thank you, Miss Jenkins. Now, could you please tell the court what your situation is currently, and why you feel you are now the right person to be caring for Grace?’
Michelle nodded and recited the summary they’d written together.
‘I’m living with an amazing couple called Gillian and Mike. They’ve fostered loads of kids of all ages, and now they are fostering me, sort of. They have a great house in Malvern, and they have offered to have me and Grace to live with them for as long as I need. I’m volunteering at the food bank at Malvern Priory twice a week, and I’m getting support for my dyslexia, which was diagnosed a few weeks ago. I’m going to go back to college and try to get my exams again, I think. And Grace – well, I love her, you know? I love her so much. The idea of not having her in my life, forever, it makes me break inside. I have a lot to make up for, I know that, but I want to be her mum. I am her mum.’
‘Thank you, Miss Jenkins. No further questions,’ said Sally, smiling at Michelle.
That part, Michelle knew, had been the easy bit. That had been the part she could easily prepare for.
‘Miss Stone – does the children’s guardian have questions for Miss Jenkins?’ the judge asked.
‘No questions, madam,’ replied Miss Stone.
Relief flooded through Michelle. One less grilling, she thought. Only the local authority and Rob’s lawyer left.
‘Mr Shelley? Anything from the local authority?’ Judge Joshi asked.
‘Yes, your honour. Just one question from us. Miss Jenkins – you say that you will be able to stay with Gillian and Mike for a while. But have you given any thought to where you’ll go afterwards? After all, you can’t stay there forever.’
Shit, thought Michelle. No, I haven’t, not really.
‘Erm…’ she said, picking her fingers, ‘I think I’ll have to talk to my social worker about that. She is nice, Laura. I didn’t use to think so, but I do now. And she’ll help me find somewhere. But I think Gillian and Mike will help me as long as I need, anyway.’
Was that enough, she thought, to convince a judge?
‘Thank you, madam, no further questions.’
‘Mr Carraway,’ the judge said. ‘I assume you have some questions for Miss Jenkins?’
‘I certainly do, madam,’ he replied, standing up for a final time.
‘Miss Jenkins, your lawyer, Ms Mucklow, has made some serious accusations about my client in this hearing. Do you have evidence for these assertions?’
‘No… it was just me and him, wasn’t it? So I s’pose it’s his word against mine. And Rob’s dealer knows the truth, but I doubt he’ll be coming to give evidence, will he?’
Calm, Michelle imagined Gillian whispering in her ear. Calm.
‘So you could be making them up?’
‘I could be, but…’
‘Yes, indeed…’
‘I’m not finished,’ said Michelle, sitting back in her seat and glaring at him. ‘I hadn’t finished, had I? I said I could be, but I’m not. He hit me and he stubbed out his fags on my arms after he tried to pimp me out to his drug dealer in return for cocaine, and I refused. And the time before that, he hit me because I’d have to leave me job and he couldn’t use my wages to fund his habit anymore.’
‘I never…’ shouted Rob suddenly, lapsing back into his old accent.
‘Please remain quiet, Mr Allcott,’ said Judge Joshi. ‘You have already had your say.’
‘Which bit didn’t you do, Rob?’ asked Michelle, looking directly at him. It was time, she felt, to cut any ties he felt still held. ‘The pimping bit? The running away and leaving me for dead? The fag burns? Or the bruises?’
‘Miss Jenkins, please restrict your conversation to your exchange with Mr Carraway,’ said Judge Joshi, sounding, Michelle thought, a bit like one of her old schoolteachers.
‘Okay,’ she said, also sounding a bit, she suspected, like she had done during double Maths on a Friday afternoon.
‘Miss Jenkins,’ said Len Carraway, ‘you seem determined to rubbish my client’s personality, yet you chose to live with him for three years. You returned to him voluntarily after giving birth to Grace, even though social services offered to find you somewhere else to live. Are you really trying to tell us that he somehow made you stay?’
Michelle thought for a second, feeling the silence that fell as she did so. She knew that everyone gathered there was hanging on her every word.
‘He made the old me stay, yes,’ she said, aware for the first time that this was absolutely the truth. ‘The old me believed he’d been born to a family like mine and so I never questioned that his accent sounded a bit off. The old me believed that he’d been abused as a child and so forgave him whenever he hit me. The old me believed him when he said I should go out and shoplift to get us food, because I’d get less punishment than him if I was caught. But the new me would never do any of those things. I’ll never forgive him or believe him again. Never.’
*
‘How long did she say she’d need?’ asked Gillian, who was pacing the small distance between the two rows of seats outside the courtroom.
‘She didn’t really say,’ Michelle replied. ‘She just asked us to wait outside while she considered her decision.’
‘Okay,’ said Gillian, getting out her phone. ‘I’ll let Mike know. He’s on tenterhooks at home.’
Michelle waited while she typed out the message – Gillian didn’t know how to use predictive text, so messages always took her ages – and looked around her. Rob, his parents and his lawyer had disappeared to a different seating area. Laura and Gloria were standing up by the court doors, talking quietly, and Marion Stone was sitting in silence opposite her, tapping away on a laptop and working through notes. Sally, who was sitting beside Gillian, was also working, whether on her case or someone else’s, she didn’t know. Most likely, she thought, someone else’s, as the final decision on this one was imminent.
‘So how do you think it went this afternoon?’ Gillian asked. ‘How did your evidence giving go?’
Michelle thought about how feisty she’d been, how… rude she’d been. She cringed inside. What if the judge had her down as just a naughty school kid? She’d never let her have Grace, would she?
‘It was hard,’ she said. ‘I lost my temper.’
‘That’s quite understandable,’ said Gillian. ‘There is a great deal at stake.’
‘Yeah…’
‘And you said Rob lost his temper too?’
‘Yeah, he did.’
‘Well, then.’
‘But the judge could just decide to take her off both of us, couldn’t she? And the guardian, she left it up to her. She said either option was acceptable. So… it’s up to that judge, right? That old lady who’s been looking down at me for months.’
