The day starts badly at seven a.m., when I realise that we’ve overslept. I flick the kettle on before running to the bathroom, but then remember that I have no coffee. I wash and dress us both hastily, give Ben the last two slices of bread, cut up into fingers, and toast the crusts for myself while I pack our lunches. I then lock up and jog behind Ben in his buggy most of the way to the nursery. I run for the bus and again for the crowded Tube train, where I stand, upright, like a tin soldier, sandwiched so tightly between my fellow travellers that I don’t even need a handrail for support.
I breathe a sigh of relief as I exit the station at Elephant and Castle and walk up the street and through the gate to the Inner London Crown Court. The stench of cigarette smoke soon wafts towards me from a disparate crowd of lawyers, court staff and defendants who are gathered outside, sneaking in a quick ciggy before the day’s list gets under way. I spot Will near the steps, already robed and bewigged, deep in discussion with the prosecutor, both of them puffing away and flicking ash idly onto the pavement.
‘Ms Kellerman!’ Will exclaims, as he sees me walking towards him. He squashes his cigarette out against the railing and flicks it into a litter bin.
‘Filthy habit,’ I reprimand him.
‘I know.’ He makes a remorseful face and looks round at the court building behind us. ‘I’m thinking of giving it up. I’m going to retrain as a bus driver. The pay’s better.’
I laugh.
‘But since we’re both here,’ he says, taking my arm, ‘let’s go and talk to our young lady. Serco prison van’s just arrived.’
‘You got the papers OK?’
‘Yes. Interesting brief. Thank you.’
‘How’s Finn? The baby?’ I ask. ‘Did Carmel tell you anything?’
Will shakes his head. ‘No change. That’s all she knows.’
‘You know she denies it?’ I tell him. ‘It’s going to be a “not guilty” by the looks of things.’
‘Yes, well they won’t expect a plea today. We’re missing several key statements, including the father’s. We have one from the social worker assigned to Finn’s case and also one from the ICU nurse, the one who says she saw Ellie pick up the baby. Although Carmel’ – he nods his head at the prosecutor, who’s walking back up the steps ahead of us – ‘says they’re in some difficulty there. She was an agency nurse, it seems. African. She’s left the hospital. They don’t know where she’s gone. Possibly back to Africa.’
‘Really? So what will they do?’
‘Well, they’ll try to get her statement read at trial, I expect.’
I look at him and shake my head. ‘You think they’ll make a hearsay application?’
‘We’ll challenge it, of course,’ he continues. ‘But for today’s purposes, it makes no odds. Today’s about getting her bail.’
Will waits to one side while I go through security and then I follow him down the steps to the court cells. He speaks into the intercom and then there is a rattling of doors, a jangling of keys and the clunking and turning of the lock before the solid grey metal door swings open.
‘Morning,’ says Lorraine, the jailer. ‘You’re here for Ellis Stephens, right? She’s not good this morning. She’s on cell watch.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’ I ask.
She shrugs. ‘Other inmates at the prison, I’m told. You’ve got to expect that sort of thing. Women don’t like that she tried to kill her own baby.’
‘Allegedly,’ I say.
Lorraine shoots me an apologetic look. ‘Yeah. Right. Allegedly.’
‘Room two!’ shouts someone else, from behind a door.
Will and I are shown into conference room two, which is in fact just an empty cell with a table and two chairs. It’s warm inside, and seasonably ripe with the all too familiar aroma of body sweat and unwashed feet, courtesy of the previous occupant and the August sun, which is already warming the morning air. I’d like to open a window, but of course there aren’t any. Breathing in the stench of short-term human incarceration is an occupational hazard for the likes of Will and me. We’re destined to enter the court or police cell just a little too long after the detained person’s last shower, and just a little too soon before their next one on arrival at prison or back home. Hopefully home for Ellie.
Will waves me into one of the seats that are nailed to the floor and leans against the wall. Soon I can hear the sound of handcuffs being removed, and then the door opens and a tall, slim young woman walks in. Her movements are graceful, her back straight as she pauses in front of me for a moment, then glides effortlessly across the room. She’s dressed in a simple grey sweatshirt and jeans, but I can see that she has the figure of a catwalk model, and the face to match: symmetrical features, big blue eyes, chiselled cheekbones, Keira Knightley eyebrows and narrow chin. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a thick shiny ponytail that falls to her waist and swings as she walks. I’m unprepared for quite how beautiful she is and surprised Anna hadn’t mentioned this. I glance at Will to gauge his reaction. To his credit, he’s not looking at Ellie, but at his papers.
‘Hello, Ellie. I’m Sarah, your solicitor.’ I stand up and hold out my hand and she takes it. Her own is small, cold and clammy. She gives me a gentle but firm handgrip and slips into the seat in front of me.
I sit back down. ‘The jailer mentioned that you’re on cell watch.’
She nods and I look into her eyes, to try and read her. They’re bright blue – almost turquoise – and naturally framed by long dark lashes. Her cheeks are flushed, even without make-up. When Anna had told me about her past, I’d somehow imagined her as the kind of young woman I’m used to seeing in the cells – someone who was once pretty but who is now too thin, her face ashen and lined, sores on her mouth and chin and heroin tracks on her arms. Now it’s entirely obvious why Jay Barrington-Brown had been attracted to this young woman. There couldn’t be a man in London who wouldn’t be proud to be seen with Ellie on his arm, whatever her background, wherever she was from.
‘So, what’s going on?’ I ask. ‘Has someone hurt you?’
Ellie folds her arms across her chest and grips the sleeves of her sweatshirt, a decisive, defensive movement. ‘I’m OK.’
‘Right.’
She looks up at me. ‘Is Finn... is he going to be all right? They won’t tell me anything in... in there.’ Her voice cracks as she speaks and then fades to a whisper. ‘He’s not... he’s not going to die, is he?’
Will and I glance at each other. ‘We don’t know,’ I admit. ‘He’s had a blood transfusion, but he’s still very poorly. Everyone’s hoping that he’ll get better...’
Ellie watches my face as I speak, her mouth dropping open slightly in alarm. ‘But he might not?’
I bite my lip and breathe in deeply. ‘They just don’t know yet, Ellie. I’m sorry.’
Tears glisten in the corners of her eyes. ‘I need to see him,’ she says. ‘Am I going to get bail?’
I look at Will. He clears his throat and puts his papers down onto the table next to me, before straightening up again.
‘The thing is, Ellie,’ he tells her. ‘As I’m sure you realise, this is just about as serious as it could possibly be. If Finn... if Finn doesn’t make it, the charge will become one of murder.’
I glance at Will again. He’s speaking kindly, gently, but his words are direct.
Ellie looks up at him. ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’
Will nods, slowly. ‘Of course you do. But what I’m getting at is that it’s unusual for bail to be granted in a murder case. It happens, don’t get me wrong. But it’s the exception, rather than the rule.’
Ellie stares at him, her brow furrowed. ‘So why are you here, then?’ she asks, her voice breaking up again. ‘If that’s it? A done deal?’
‘It’s not a done deal,’ Will tells her. ‘And you have certain things in your favour. You’re young. You’re vulnerable. You have very little history of offending, certainly no previous history of violence. But we would need to offer a strict package of conditions. Ones that would satisfy the judge that you won’t have any contact with Finn whatsoever. Not until this is all over.’
‘But I didn’t do it!’ Ellie cries out. She flings her arms up into the air and brings them crashing down onto the table before sinking her head down on top of them. ‘I didn’t do it,’ she says into her arms, obstinately, her voice muffled.
‘Do you have somewhere to go?’ I ask.
Ellie lifts her head up, slowly. ‘My flat.’
‘Is it...?’
‘It’s still mine.’
‘Good.’ Will nods. ‘Address?’
‘Thirty-six A Cedar Court, Eastfield Road, Camberwell.’
I check this against the charge sheet.
‘And do you work at all?’
Ellie looks silently at Will for a moment. ‘I’m a hairdresser,’ she says.
‘OK. Good. Do you work at a shop? Or are you... mobile?’
‘Mobile.’
‘And what do you take home?’
She looks up sharply. ‘What?’
‘What are your net earnings?’ Will asks. ‘After tax?’
‘Does it matter?’
I stop writing and look up. ‘Of course,’ I tell her. ‘The judge will care that you’re financially independent. No one wants to lock up someone and take away their job if they don’t absolutely have to. If you have a good job that pays well...’
Ellie picks at the cuticle of her left thumb. ‘It pays well.’
‘Can you prove it?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s cash in hand.’
‘OK, let’s move on.’ Will leans back against the wall and props himself up with one leg, his black gown falling back and his suit trouser leg riding up to reveal an incongruous bright royal blue and red superhero sock with a big fist and the word Thwack emblazoned across the ankle. I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing and look up at him as he speaks. He has a nice, honest face. His skin is olive, his eyes hazel behind black-rimmed reading glasses. He has angular cheekbones, a long straight nose and an engaging mouth, which is pleasantly visible above his clean-shaven chin, in defiance of the current trend towards hairy faces. I watch him as he pushes a lock of dark hair from his forehead and tilts his glasses up with one finger, scanning the pages in front of him as he does so.
‘The evidence against you,’ he says, glancing up as he speaks, ‘is largely circumstantial, but it usually is in a case like this. I’m going to be honest with you, Ellie. In the absence of anything to rebut the suggestion that you did these things to your baby, the finger is going to point to you.’
Ellie looks up at Will, her big blue eyes locked on his.
‘We don’t have many statements as yet,’ Will continues, ‘and we’ll go through everything in much more detail later on. But the summary of the evidence suggests – on your own account to the police – that you were the only person who had access to Finn during the period when he received his injuries – the burns and the bruises. And that you were the only person in your flat that night in July, the night you had your first unsupervised contact with Finn, following which he fell seriously ill. We do have a statement from Heather Grainger, the social worker who arrived at your flat the following morning. She says that when you opened the door to her, she could see straight away that he was extremely unwell.’
I glance up at Ellie. Her eyelids flicker and she bites her bottom lip.
‘She describes Finn as being a strange colour, droopy and lifeless,’ Will continues. ‘She says he was having trouble breathing. She called an ambulance. We’re expecting a further statement from the doctor who treated him in A&E. But we do have a short-form toxicology report – which is essentially a signed summary of the findings – and this states that there were near-fatal levels of sodium in his body.’
Will pauses briefly and glances at Ellie.
‘I don’t know how it happened,’ she whispers and shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. He just got ill. I swear. I didn’t poison him – I’d never do that. I love Finn. I’d never hurt him.’
Will nods. ‘Well, we’ll come back to that. We’ll need to get our own reports. But this last witness is crucial. We have a signed statement from a Mary Ngombe, one of the nurses who was looking after him on the paediatric intensive care ward during the week that Finn was there. She was responsible for transferring him across to Peregrine Ward – the renal unit – on the twenty-fifth of July. She says that once he’d been settled and the handover done, she went back to the ICU, but came back across to Peregrine again to say goodbye to him before she went off shift for the night. She says that as she entered the ward, she saw you pick up Finn from his cot and then put him back down again. A short while later he’s found unconscious, with his dialysis line removed and lying next to him in his cot.’
Ellie shakes her head vigorously while Will is speaking. When he stops, she says, ‘No. She’s lying. That’s not true. I never picked him up! I was asleep!’
Will looks up at her. ‘Well, this nurse appears to have left the hospital and it’s not clear at this stage whether she’ll give evidence – or whether her evidence will be admissible if she doesn’t – but if it does go in, I’d say it’s key. You were the last person seen to touch Finn before his tube was tampered with – before the night-shift nurse found him and raised the alarm.’
‘I didn’t touch him,’ Ellie repeats, slowly, enunciating each word angrily.
‘You didn’t pick him up?’
‘No!’
‘Why would the nurse say that if it didn’t happen?’ I ask.
Ellie shrugs. ‘I don’t know, do I? She’s got the wrong person, obviously.’
‘Ellie, she names you,’ I say, gently. ‘She knows you as the baby’s mother. She says she saw you there on the ICU ward every day, visiting Finn.’
‘Well, she’s lying,’ Ellie says. ‘It wasn’t me. I was asleep.’
‘If you picked him up, you can tell us,’ I say. ‘It’s understandable that you’d want to. He’s your baby.’
Ellie looks me in the eye. ‘But I didn’t!’ she protests. ‘I told you. He was asleep when I got there. I didn’t want to wake him up.’
‘OK.’ Will raises his hands.
‘No, it’s not OK!’ Ellie pushes her chair back and leaps to her feet, angry tears springing to her eyes. ‘Why won’t anyone believe me?’ She flings her fist towards the door and points a finger. ‘The police should be out there catching the person who did this, not wasting their time trying to stitch me up. Why would I try to kill my own baby, for fuck’s sake? Why would I do that to the one person I actually love in this world and who loves me? It’s his birthday today, did you know that? He’s one year old today. I should be with him now, giving him his birthday cake and watching him open his presents, not stuck in prison with a bunch of murderers and thugs.’ She sinks back down into her seat and puts her head in her hands.
Will and I glance at each other.
‘OK,’ says Will. ‘Well, today is about getting you bail, so let’s focus on that. The strength – or otherwise – of the evidence does have some bearing on our application, but only to the extent that you’re likely to abscond – skip bail and not turn up for your trial – which is not the issue here. I think we can make a strong argument for bail...’
Ellie looks up at him, her mouth opening slightly, hopefully.
‘...if we can offer the court a condition that you won’t attempt to contact Finn. I’m sorry, Ellie, but that’s the best outcome that you can possibly hope for at this stage.’
Ellie looks back down at the table. ‘I can’t go back to that place,’ she says.
I nod. ‘I know.’
Ellie takes a deep breath and chews at her thumbnail for a moment before looking up at me. ‘How long before we get into court?’
Will looks at his watch. ‘Hopefully soon. Almost certainly this morning.’
Ellie stands up. ‘OK,’ she says, and walks towards the door.
*
Will does a good job in court and it helps that Judge Collins is in a good mood. He even tells us, jovially, that he is going on holiday to Malta tomorrow, albeit within the context of the next hearing date and the directions he has just made. Ellie is released with stringent bail conditions and I go back down to the cells to say goodbye to her while Will finishes dealing with the other cases he’s been instructed on this morning. I watch as Ellie takes a belt, earrings and handbag out of her property bag and then bends down to lace up her trainers, her tiny waist visible above her jeans, the back of her elegant, porcelain white neck protruding from her sweatshirt. Her long blonde ponytail jigs around in front of her as she focuses on the task in hand. Once dressed, she straightens up, flicks her hair back over her shoulder and switches on her phone.
Try as I might, I can’t picture her as a mother. Even in the clothes she’s worn all week in prison, she appears glamorous, unspoiled. She doesn’t have the kind of spine that’s been bent out of shape from carrying the weight of a baby, the kind of boobs that have been tucked in and out of a nursing bra. If I can’t picture her as a mother, what will the jury think?
‘I’ll need you to come into the office,’ I tell her. ‘I need to take your full instructions. We should have most of the key statements by early next week, so it will probably be Tuesday or Wednesday. But I’ll call you. Keep your phone switched on. OK?’
Ellie nods. I check that she still has the business card I gave her when we met earlier this morning, and although she pulls it out of her jeans pocket to show me, I can tell her mind is elsewhere. She’s planning what she’ll do next, when she gets out of here, how she’s going to spend her first day of freedom, who she’s going to call.
‘So who was that woman at the back of the courtroom?’ I ask her. ‘I’m guessing it was Jay’s mother? Lady Barrington-Brown?’
‘Yeah. I knew she’d come.’ She taps intently at her phone screen with one thumb, wisps of hair escaping from her ponytail and falling across one eye.
‘So where’s Jay?’ I persist.
She shrugs. ‘He works long hours.’
‘All the same, Finn’s his son. How does he feel about all of this? How does he feel about you?’
She shrugs again. ‘How should I know?’
‘Well,’ I explain, ‘I’m trying to establish what his evidence will be. Whether he’ll say something that hurts your defence... or whether he might say something that helps you?’
‘No! He won’t!’ Ellie looks up abruptly. She pushes her phone into her pocket as her eyes meet mine. ‘I don’t want you to talk to him. He doesn’t know anything.’
‘About what?’
‘I don’t want you to talk to him!’ she exclaims again, her neck flushing pink.
I touch her arm. ‘Calm down. I’m not going to talk to him.’
I feel her arm relax a little. ‘You promise?’
‘I promise,’ I reassure her. ‘I can’t talk to him, even if I wanted to. Well, technically, I could...’
Ellie stiffens again. Her eyes are still locked on mine.
‘But I won’t,’ I insist. ‘It would be highly inappropriate of me to do so. He’s named as a prosecution witness. I could be accused of interfering with a witness, trying to influence his evidence. Or even trying to persuade him not to come to court at all.’
Ellie’s jaw first tightens then relaxes. ‘Good. Well... maybe he won’t anyway.’ She picks up her bag. ‘So, are we done?’
‘For now,’ I agree.
I watch her intently as she picks up her bag and heads out of the room. I follow her out into the corridor and Lorraine walks over to meet her. Although it’s something of an afterthought, she turns back and thanks me for my help as Lorraine unlocks the door back up to the courtroom and lets me out.
Back on the concourse, I phone Annalise and give her the news about Ellie’s bail. I then check in with the office to see if there have been any new arrests.
As I finish talking, Will exits the double doors that lead to the courtroom. I slip my phone back into my bag and stand up to greet him.
‘Good job, Mr Gaskin.’ I smile.
‘Why, thank you, Ms Kellerman,’ he replies. ‘Do you have time for some lunch?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve got a sentence at Camberwell Magistrates’ plus one in at the police station, so it looks as though I’m going to have to go. But you’ll keep the brief, won’t you?’
‘I’d be delighted to. Although I don’t think she likes me.’
‘I don’t think she likes anyone,’ I say. ‘But you got her bail. So that’s a good start.’
Will looks at me and narrows his eyes. ‘So, what do you think? Did she do it?’
‘Honestly?’ I ask him. ‘I don’t know. She’s definitely hiding something. She virtually begged me not to talk to Jay Barrington-Brown...’
‘Jay Barrington-Brown?’ Will interrupts, frowning. ‘He’s a prosecution witness. The father of the victim. Why would you talk to him?’
I nod. ‘Exactly. But she was very concerned about it for some reason. She told me he “didn’t know anything”.’
‘About what?’
‘That’s what she wouldn’t tell me. She got quite upset. She looked... scared. But, then again, why wouldn’t she be? She’s been charged with attempted murder.’ I think about this for a moment. ‘And she’s young. She’s had a rubbish upbringing. Righteous anger and mistrust of her lawyers are par for the course with your average teenager, guilty or not.’
‘She’s not a teenager,’ Will points out. ‘She’s twenty.’
‘Yeah. Of course she is. She seems younger somehow.’
‘True.’
‘I can see why she didn’t come across well in the police interview,’ I continue. ‘She’s way too defensive. Her arguments have no punch. But on the other hand, she really does seem to love her baby. I don’t know if you noticed, but it wasn’t just bail she was after; she wanted to be allowed to see Finn. She seemed genuinely upset about the “no contact” condition. She seemed genuinely upset about it all.’
‘Hmm.’ Will scratches his chin. ‘Well, we’ll see what the rest of the evidence is like. But the statement from the nurse is pretty damning. If it goes in, we’re on the back foot, that’s for sure. And I’m not sure what kind of a witness our young lady will make. She’s emotional, without a doubt but, as you say, she hasn’t told us anything that’s terribly helpful so far.’
‘So, we might have to think about not putting her on the stand?’ I suggest. ‘As you say, she doesn’t really come across too well, and I can’t see the female jurors empathising with her. She’s too pretty. She’s going to make them feel inadequate.’
Will smiles. ‘I hope you’re not feeling inadequate, Ms Kellerman.’
‘I always feel inadequate.’ I smile back.
Will frowns. ‘Don’t be silly. You’re one of the most adequate solicitors I know.’
‘Sometimes. When I’m being an adequate solicitor, I’m being an inadequate mother. That’s how it works.’
Will’s face softens. ‘Sounds as though you need a drink. Are you sure you can’t spare half an hour for a quick one at the Uxbridge Arms?’
‘Sorry. Spare half-hours are not to be squandered lightly. They’re for shopping for essentials. For things you can’t do with a baby in tow.’ I pick up my bag and wonder briefly if Will knows how old Ben is, whether he’s wondering why I’ve called him a baby. The truth is, he’s still a baby in every way that matters, and it doesn’t seem likely that this is going to change very much in the years to come. I’m starting – slowly, painfully – to accept that now.
Will touches my arm. ‘Well, let me know as soon as you get the papers.’
‘I will. I’ll be in touch.’ I check my phone one last time before tucking it into the zip pocket of my handbag. ‘Will,’ I call after him as he walks off down the concourse. He turns to look at me. I nod at his ankles. ‘What’s with the socks?’
Will glances down at his feet and back up at me. He winks. ‘They’re my lucky socks.’
I smile. ‘Well, they certainly worked today.’
I turn to go back to the advocates’ room to collect my bag. As I do so, the double doors that lead to the courtroom open and Carmel walks out, followed by the middle-aged woman who was sitting at the back: Lady Barrington-Brown. Carmel walks off down the concourse, but the woman stops in her tracks and looks in my direction. She’s tall, slim, and elegantly dressed in a fawn calf-length silk dress with bell sleeves. Her shoulder-length light brown hair is drawn back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. Our eyes connect and she gives me the briefest of smiles before pushing her handbag onto her shoulder and taking a step towards the door.
Before I can stop myself, I’m running after her down the concourse.
‘Wait,’ I call. ‘Lady Barrington-Brown. Please wait.’
She stops and turns back to face me again.
‘I’m Sarah Kellerman. Ellie’s lawyer,’ I say.
Her heavy-lidded brown eyes meet mine. Her eyelids are powder blue, her lips a creamy pink. ‘I saw you in the courtroom,’ she says.
‘Have you seen Finn?’ I ask her.
She nods. ‘Yesterday evening.’
‘And how’s he doing?’ I breathe in sharply as I wait for her reply.
‘As well as can be expected. He’s hanging on in there.’ She swallows and touches her throat, forcing a smile. ‘His kidney function is improved. His heart’s been under a lot of strain and he still needs the ventilator. But his condition certainly hasn’t become any worse, so there’s still hope. There’s always hope, right?’
‘Right,’ I agree. ‘Definitely. I... well, my son was very ill in hospital when he was Finn’s age and we had a discussion about that – my partner and I – and we decided that we would hope for the best, rather than prepare ourselves for the worst, because... because you never really do prepare yourself for the worst, anyway. You can’t actually imagine “the worst” properly until it’s happened, and so there’s no point in putting yourself through that. You may as well hang on to that hope...’ I tail off and cringe inwardly at myself. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m rambling. That probably doesn’t make any sense at all.’
She reaches out and touches my hand. Her face softens, suddenly, and her forehead creases. Her eyes glisten with tears and her lashes flicker as she says, softly, ‘It makes perfect sense. And I agree with you entirely. We will one hundred per cent hope for the best. Thank you, Ms Kellerman, for your very kind words.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say, quickly. ‘I really didn’t mean to upset you.’
She shakes her head. ‘You didn’t. Really. The truth is, I haven’t been sleeping well.’
As I look at the pained expression on her face, my heart melts. I know what it’s like to worry about a child. I know what it’s like to wake up in a cold sweat in the early hours of the morning, to lie there in the dark, turning things over and over in your mind until you drive yourself crazy, knowing all the while that there’s nothing you can do, except drag yourself out of bed and stumble through another day. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell her again. ‘For what you’re going through... I understand. I really do.’
She looks hard into my eyes for a moment. Then she says, ‘But do you, Ms Kellerman?’
‘What? What do you mean?’ I ask, confused.
‘I’m talking about Ellis,’ she says, kindly. She looks down at her feet before looking back up again. She heaves a sigh. ‘I’m really very worried that she’s got bail.’
‘Are you involved in the case?’ I ask her quickly. ‘Are you going to be a prosecution witness? Because if you are, I shouldn’t be talking to you.’
‘No.’ She puts a hand on my arm. ‘No, I’m not. I wouldn’t do that. I’m very fond of Ellis. We all are. She’s the mother of James’s child, after all. We don’t want her locked up for this. But on the other hand, we have to make sure that Finn is safe.’
‘Well, the judge thought...’
‘The judge doesn’t know Ellis, not the way we do,’ she interrupts, in a whisper. ‘She’s a troubled young woman. She loves Finn, I know she does. But she has problems. There’s something about her... it’s difficult to explain, but there’s something about her that’s not quite right...’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, abruptly. ‘But I really can’t discuss this with you. I’m Ellie’s lawyer. I have a duty towards her.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry.’ She smiles. ‘It’s just... well, you seem such a lovely person. So sensitive and kind. How are you going to feel if she gains access to him and... well, something happens?’
Mild anxiety grips my chest as I consider the possibility that this woman could be right, that Ellie could be lying to me – that she could ignore her bail conditions and get access to Finn.
‘She’s not allowed to go anywhere near him,’ I point out. ‘She’s not allowed to go to the hospital.’
‘And if she does?’
‘Well, as soon as anyone sees her, they’ll call the police and she’ll be arrested.’
Her forehead creases, anxiously. ‘But what if no one sees her?’
I open my mouth and close it again.
‘Look,’ I tell her. ‘Ellie’s innocent until proven guilty. I can see how worried you are, but the judge believed that it was safe to grant her bail.’
Lady Barrington-Brown presses her lips together and nods. ‘And what do you think? Do you think it was safe for him to grant her bail?’
‘It doesn’t matter what I think,’ I say, weakly. ‘It’s not my decision to make.’
She shakes her head, slowly, her face softening again. ‘No. No, of course it’s not. Please, take no notice of me... as I said, I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m really not myself today.’ She forces a smile and clutches at the strap of her handbag. With her other hand, she reaches out and takes mine. She shakes it firmly. ‘It was so nice to have met you, Ms Kellerman. Have a good day.’
I watch as she walks down the concourse and then turn back towards the advocates’ room. A vague sense of unease flutters in my chest and stays with me all day.