Part Thirty Five
On the Tuesday morning, Yvonne couldn't sit still. She couldn't escape from the fact that her daughter's freedom or imprisonment could depend on the evidence she was about to give. It was different from last time, because Lauren's possible acquittal or conviction held so much more importance for her. She knew she shouldn't think like this, because Ritchie had been her child as well, but she knew that's how it was. When everyone else went upstairs to the gallery, both Karen and Nikki asked her if she wanted them to stay with her until the last minute, but she didn't. Yvonne needed a moment's reflection before she took her place in the ring. Even though Jo was defending Lauren, Yvonne couldn't quite decide whether it was she, or the pathetic-looking prosecuting barrister who more successfully represented the lion she was being thrown to. She needed a last cigarette, a last moment's peace before she went in there and put up the sort of fight she should have done against Charlie all those years ago. She was standing on the steps, blowing smoke rings at passing pigeons, when the door opened behind her and John walked up to her. "Do you think I can do this, Judge?" She asked, the words coming out before she could think better of them. "Of course," He said in quiet surprise. But he could see that she needed some further convincing. "Do you remember how you dealt with Brian Cantwell when he was defending your son?" Yvonne's lips quirked in to a brief smile. "Yeah, I made him look a bit of a prat." "Quite. So, do the same with Neumann Mason-Alan and you'll be fine. The more you antagonise him, the more outrageous his questions will become, and the more I can object to them." "You shouldn't be telling me things like that, Judge." "And your daughter shouldn't have ever reached a courtroom. I can do nothing to help her now, except to hope that justice prevails. But this jury are doing their job, they are taking notice of every word, and I don't think they will entirely let you down." "Why did you take on this trial?" Yvonne asked, genuinely interested. "Because I wanted your daughter to receive a fair hearing, which no matter how I might feel about what she has done, she will certainly get from me. She might not have done if the case had been heard by the likes of Monty Everard, because his primary concern is always to please the establishment." "Which the conviction of an Atkins would no doubt achieve," Yvonne said dryly. "You're learning," John said approvingly. "Thank you," Yvonne said as she ditched her cigarette. "No matter what sentence you end up giving her, I know my Lauren's safe in your hands."
"Mrs. Atkins," Jo began once Yvonne had sworn the oath. "We have heard from your daughter how much of an influence her late father, your late husband had on both you and his children. In your own words, please could you explain to the court exactly what effect this influence had on you?" Glancing up to the gallery, Yvonne saw them sitting there, all supporting her. "Charlie Atkins was a control freak," She began. "If he wanted something done, it was done. If he thought something should happen, then it usually did. This extreme need for control didn't ease off when it came to either his wife or his children. Charlie badly wanted a son, so you might say that it was sheer force of will that made his first child a boy. Charlie got where he did because he was ruthless, and because he wouldn't let anything get in the way of what he wanted. In some ways, Charlie was a little boy who never quite grew up. He always had to have his own way, no matter what anyone else thought. So, when it came time for Ritchie to follow in his father's footsteps, he had his way over that as well." "Since I know the prosecution will ask you if I don't," Said Jo, throwing a satisfied smile over at Neumann Mason-Alan. "Did you attempt to dissuade your husband from this highly illegal course of action?" "Of course I did," Yvonne said slightly scornfully. "But you don't disagree with Charlie Atkins for long." Yvonne's face suddenly darkened, and it wasn't lost on anyone that she'd slipped momentarily in to the present tense. "What mother would want her child being taught to shoot at the age of twelve," She continued bitterly. "I used to call Ritchie my little angel, and up until the time his father started making a model criminal out of him, that's exactly what he was." Yvonne was thoroughly ashamed to find that tears had risen to her eyes. "Would you like a moment to recover yourself?" John asked gently, feeling the pain coming off Yvonne in waves. "No, I'm fine," Yvonne replied, striving to keep going at any cost. "So, when it came time for Lauren to be taught the same things, I knew there wasn't any point in objecting." "Mrs. Atkins," John intervened. "Exactly what happened to you when you disagreed with your son being taught to shoot?" "I believe you know the answer to that, My Lord," Yvonne replied, giving him his proper title. "As I understand it, my daughter described that event to you in as much detail as was necessary. I would ask you to consider whether my giving the court details of that painful event, would in actual fact be remotely relevant to my daughter's eventual verdict." Up in the gallery, George stared open mouthed whilst Karen, Nikki and Helen just grinned at each other. Jo just prayed that John wasn't about to flip his lid. "You'll be surplus to requirements if you're not careful, Jo," George murmured to herself. "Point taken, Mrs. Atkins," John replied, admiring Yvonne's spirit in the face of adversity. "Though I would urge you not to make a habit of directing the Judge." Knowing John's stubborn nature only too well, both Karen and George couldn't help laughing at this, causing Yvonne to look up at them, lessening the tension for her. "Mrs. Atkins," Jo continued. "Did you ever prejudice your daughter against James Fenner?" "I probably whinged about him every time Lauren came to visit me, and I certainly didn't hide the fact that Fenner was a complete and total bastard." "Those sound like my words," Nikki murmured which made George smile. "Mrs. Atkins, please remember where you are," John said slightly reprovingly. "But did you ever actually say to your daughter, that you wanted James Fenner killed?" "No, I didn't," Yvonne replied, knowing she was treading on the edge of perjury. "What was your initial impression when Karen Betts told you that she had been raped by James Fenner?" "I was angry, and hurt and upset, the way any woman feels when they hear something like that. Karen had always appeared so strong to me, that to see her so vulnerable and so afraid of talking about something that wasn't her fault, it hurt like hell." Having witnessed Karen like this when they had begun work on the case against Fenner, Jo knew exactly what Yvonne was talking about. "And how did you deal with your daughter's reaction to your relationship with Karen Betts?" "I didn't understand it at first, I thought it was only children who would object so much to someone new on the scene. But I was wrong. My relationship with Karen made Lauren very unhappy, something I will always regret. What she felt about Karen was totally irrational, but no less real because of that. Lauren had only just got me back eight months before, and I think she thought I was going to be taken away from her again. Karen would never have tried to do that, but like most fears, Lauren's was very real to her whilst being incomprehensible to everyone else. Lauren said some horrible things to Karen over the last few days of the trial, and when she received Ritchie's letter and read everything he said about Karen, I think Lauren felt incredibly guilty for the way she'd treated her." "What can you remember about the night Ritchie died?" "Not much," Yvonne said matter-of-factly. "I think I was in shock. We were all sat in the garden, when Karen got this call on her mobile. I'm assuming it was the governor, Neil Grayling, to tell her that Snowball and Ritchie were dead. I think that was the worst thing Karen's ever had to do, to tell me and Lauren that Ritchie had killed himself. I was holding a glass of wine, and I think I must have squeezed it. The only thing I really remember is how much it hurt to have glass imbedded in my hand. The physical pain was easier to deal with than the emotional. From then on, until Karen came back from the prison, I didn't speak. I think I was in shock. I remember," Yvonne stopped, not sure that what she wanted to say was either relevant or appropriate. "Go on," John encouraged. "I was in bed when Karen came back, Lauren still downstairs with Cassie and Roisin. Karen got in to bed beside me and just held me, not letting herself go to sleep because she knew I was still awake and still in shock. When I finally started talking, I kept saying that I should have been able to stop Ritchie from doing it, that he was my son and I should have known if he would feel like that. What Karen said to me is probably what I remember most about that night. She said that killing yourself, it's like having the last word, the final fuck you. I'm sorry, Judge, but that's what she said. Karen was right about Ritchie, because he hated not getting his own way, a bit like his father really. From the time he'd come to visit me in prison, Ritchie had wanted to get one over on me, and killing himself was his last ditch attempt to prove he could always win." "What did you feel when you received your son's letter?" Jo asked, feeling as though she was intruding on Yvonne's grief. "I had to go and identify Ritchie's body the next day, and when I went to the prison where he'd been held, I was given a bag of all his belongings. In the bag were two letters, one for me and one for Lauren. I was obviously curious about what Lauren's letter said, but it was addressed to her, not to me. You've got no idea just how many times I've wished I'd opened it before I gave it to her. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened." There was a short silence, Yvonne clearly battling with far too many unwelcome thoughts. "Were you planning to ask Mrs. Atkins to read the letter, Mrs. Mills?" "In view of its content, I would prefer not to, My Lord. I would simply like to submit it as evidence." "May I see the letter?" John asked, and Jo picked it up and walked over to give it to him. After reading it through, John said, "In view of one particular line, I do think the court needs to hear this." "But my Lord," Jo protested, knowing just how much damage this was going to do to Karen's already shrinking reputation. "So much of that letter might be considered prejudicial, to..." Jo didn't quite know how to say what she wanted to say. "...To one particular member of the public gallery, yes, I know, Mrs. Mills. Might I take this opportunity to apologise to Karen Betts for the damage this might well do to her professional reputation, and to suggest that she may not want to stay to hear this." "I have seen that letter on a previous occasion, My Lord," Karen said from the gallery. "Then you will be aware of its contents, and you may also be aware of why I consider it necessary for the court to hear it, in spite of its prejudicial language. But feel free to leave if this becomes too humiliating for you." George became curious to hear just what Ritchie had written that might make Karen want to sink through the floor. "Please could you read the letter, Mrs. Atkins?" When Yvonne had been handed the letter in its transparent, plastic cover, she began. "Dear Mum,
You know why I'm writing this, because I'm too much of a coward to say it in person. Dad would be thoroughly ashamed of me, wouldn't he? No Atkins is supposed to take the easy way out, and all that. But I can't do it, Mum, I can't go on day in and day out like this. It's not prison, it's being like I am. So, I guess this is the first in a long list of things I'm supposed to be sorry for. The second being that you didn't deserve what I did. I am sorry I put you and Lauren through all that, but I had to do it. Snowball was the craziest girl I've ever met, but I loved her. I don't expect you to understand that, but there it is. I know I haven't been the kind of son you really wanted, but then I never could live up to everything you and dad brought me up to believe. Sure, I inherited all the shit parts of dad's nature, and not enough of yours, but Atkins family values just weren't for me.
I've written this letter, not only to try and put the record straight once and for all, but to ask you to do something for me. You remember on the second day of the trial, when Karen Betts was in the witness box, that stupid git who was representing us, tried to question Karen about a supposedly fake rape allegation. Mum, there wasn't nothing fake about that allegation. Fenner did rape her, I'm certain of it. There's things you learn about women, like what's normal, and what isn't, and the way she was with me that first night really wasn't normal, in any sense of the word. A woman asking you to be rough with her, that's nothing new, but this was different. I asked her afterwards what it had all been about, and she said she was laying a few ghosts. Mum, she was trying to punish herself for what had happened with Fenner. I'm guessing she thought it was her fault, but he's the biggest shit going and deserves nothing but a dose of the Atkins justice. You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this. I've got to say it now, because after tonight, I won't ever get another chance. She was sat in the public gallery with you all through the trial. Mum, please take care of her for me. She's still hurting after what that bastard Fenner did to her, and she needs looking after. I ain't asking you to finish Fenner off, because I know you won't. But I need you to keep an eye on Karen for me. I hate what I did to her and to you, and I can't ever put any of that right. But if somehow, you can see that she's all right, I'll feel like I've at least tried to put something right.
I'm sorry I wouldn't see you when you asked to see me today, but I was angry. I couldn't handle the fact that you'd stood up against one of your own. But then, you never were a true Atkins. You were always above all that. Even though you did all that stuff for dad and brought me and Lauren up to follow in his footsteps, it wasn't really you. I've been losing control of everything in my life, probably ever since I met Snowball, and I guess this was my way of having a bit of control again. I'm sorry you didn't get to say whatever it was you wanted to say, and I'm sorry for every other bad thing I've ever done to you.
I love you Mum,
Ritchie." There was a long, awful pause once the letter reached its end. George had become more and more aware of Karen's humiliation beside her, the need to escape and to hide atypically strong. But Karen didn't move. It might almost have been a testament to her inner strength that she didn't take up John's offer and leave. George didn't know what she could possibly say or do to make Karen feel better. Helen was sitting on Karen's other side this time, and considering what Fenner had done to Helen, Karen would have preferred her to be almost anyone else. "Do you think Ritchie knew about your relationship with Karen Betts?" John asked into the silence. "I don't know," Yvonne replied. "I don't think he did, but things like that get round prisons quicker than the school playground." "Finally," Jo cut in before John could ask any more questions. "Did you have any idea that Lauren was planning to kill James Fenner?" "None whatsoever," Yvonne said firmly. "I wanted Karen to nail Fenner the legal way, because like her, I wanted to see him suffer for a very long time. Ritchie said in his letter to me that he wasn't asking me to finish Fenner off, because he knew I wouldn't, and he was right. No way would I have flirted with the probability of going back inside. I wouldn't have wanted either myself or anyone I know and love to do time just for killing that worthless, spineless, good for nothing bigot who thought it was perfectly okay to force himself on defenseless women as long as he didn't get found out. If I'd had the slightest inkling that Lauren was thinking of doing anything of the sort, I'd have done everything in my power to prevent her. I'm not going to say that the world isn't a better place without Fenner, but I would far rather he be still alive than to see my daughter going through what she is now." After another short silence, Jo said, "No further questions, my Lord."
When Neumann Mason-Alan rose to his feet, he looked almost gleeful. "Mrs. Atkins," He began. "Just how many guns were in either yours or your daughter's possession?" "Does it matter?" Yvonne asked, John's warning about the prosecutor clear in her mind. "Considering that your daughter clearly used one of your late husband's guns, which means that you hadn't attempted to dispose of his collection, yes, it most certainly is relevant." "I'm not entirely sure just how many guns Charlie left behind. When I found out what Lauren had done, I made her get rid of the lot of them." "Did you not ever think it wise to dispose of your late husband's weapons, after he'd been killed and after you were released from prison?" "Not at the time, no," Yvonne replied curtly. "Since you've asked such a badly informed question, I'll assume that you've never considered what it might mean for the family of someone as powerful as Charlie Atkins to be left behind once he was either dead or in prison." "Would you care to enlighten us?" John asked mildly, before Neumann Mason-Alan blew a gasket. "Charlie Atkins had more enemies than your average paedophile. He trod on people left, right and centre in order to get what he wanted, me included. There were any number of people out there who would happily have finished Charlie off in order to get a cut of the market. I didn't ever like or agree with most of what Charlie did, but that doesn't stop me from saying that he was extremely clever about what he did. What you need to understand, is that even though Charlie's dead, I'm not, and Lauren isn't. It would still give an enormous amount of Charlie's old rivals immense satisfaction to permanently remove what's left of the Atkins family. So, when I got out of prison, my biggest concern was protecting myself and my daughter from any possible come back." "So," Mason-Alan said smugly. "You are openly admitting in a court of law that you kept hold of Charlie Atkins weapons as a form of protection?" He sounded incredulous. "Even though this was clearly illegal, and meant that you were committing a crime for which an automatic prison sentence of five years is now mandatory?" "I would have preferred to end up in a cell rather than a coffin, sir," Yvonne replied, putting a certain amount of steel and scorn in to the sir. "I see," Mason-Alan said, clearly flustered. "Why didn't you ever question what your daughter was up to during the six weeks after your son died?" Yvonne looked scathingly at him. "My daughter is twenty five years old," She said derisively. "She doesn't have to explain her movements to me. Before I got out of prison, Lauren was living on her own in that house, keeping Charlie's business going in case he got out after his trial, and generally living her own life. What Lauren did or didn't do in the course of her daily activities wasn't for me to begin questioning." "Mrs. Atkins, why did you never attempt to remove your children from the influence of their father?" "You really haven't got any idea, have you?" Yvonne asked incredulously. "Charlie Atkins was a bully, a single-minded, ruthless bully. If I had survived long enough to take his children far enough away from him that he couldn't follow us, we'd have been constantly on the run for the rest of our lives. Staying in hiding from the police would be simple compared to the threat Charlie's continued existence would have posed. If the police catch up with you, they're not actually allowed to kill you, unless you're carrying a gun. But Charlie wouldn't have thought twice about putting a bullet in me had he caught up with us. That is no way to bring up two young children. Yes, whilst we stayed at home, they might have been learning the finer points of using and maintaining a firearm, but they were relatively safe. If I'd gone on the run from Charlie and taken my kids with me, we'd never have been safe again." "You seem to have thought primarily about your own safety," Mason-Alan said quietly. "Could that be because your own safety was your first concern, your safety over your children's?" Before John could object, Yvonne beat him to it. "Do you have children, sir?" "Yes," Mason-Alan replied. John thought about objecting again but he could see that Yvonne could handle this man. "Then you'll know how it feels to be prepared to do anything for your children, to put your own safety in jeopardy if it will stop them from being hurt. Charlie raised his hand to Lauren only once, and he never did it again. In order to prevent him from doing to his children what he did to me all too often, I threatened him with one of his own guns. I told him that if he ever laid a finger on either Lauren or Ritchie, it'd be the last thing he did. So don't tell me that I wasn't concerned with the safety of my children." "But you did stand by and watch as your husband threatened to nail Ritchie to the warehouse floor, didn't you?" "Yes, to my everlasting regret, I did. I knew that the safest thing for Ritchie was for him to go away and make his own way in the world. He was trying to compete with Charlie, not something anyone should try to do if they value their life." "So, what this comes down to," Mason-Alan continued, looking smugger and more supercilious than ever. "Is that as long as your own best interests were carefully looked after, it mattered little to you that your son was forced to have absolutely no contact with either you or his sister until after Charlie Atkins was dead." "No!" Yvonne shouted. "Do you know what it's like not to have contact with one of your children for almost four years? Four years I didn't hear a word from Ritchie, not one single, bloody word. I'd have given anything during that time to know what he was up to, to know that he was all right. But the first I heard from him was when he came to see me in prison. He reminded me of how I used to call him my little angel, as if I'd ever forget, and like the desperate, stupid cow I was, I believed him because I wanted to. I needed to know that I hadn't screwed up, that I hadn't been the terrible mother I thought I was. I needed to know that I'd done my best by my children. I did everything I possibly could to keep them safe, and to keep them from falling too much under Charlie's spell, but I failed." When her tirade had come to an end, and everyone could see that there wasn't any fight left in her, John said, "I do hope you don't have any further questions, Mr. Mason-Alan." "No, my Lord," Came the solemn reply. "Until after lunch," John said, rising to his feet almost before the Clerk could call out, all rise.
As they all made their way out of the gallery and towards the stairs, Helen caught up with Karen. "I think you and me need to have a talk," She said quietly. "Not about Fenner, we're not," Karen said, just managing to keep her tone civil. She knew now that she ought to have taken John's invitation and left whilst the letter was being read, because now she felt almost as open and exposed as she had done when Fenner had raped her. "Karen, you cannot keep on punishing yourself for what he did to you," Helen insisted in a stage whisper. This was just too much for Karen, the final straw in a morning full of more guilt and sympathetically-felt pain for Yvonne than she'd experienced in a long time. "Do you have any idea what popped so conveniently into my head when Fenner raped me?" She asked, turning to face Helen and bringing them to a stop, but still trying to keep her voice at a quiet, though nonetheless furious level. "Your words, your very bloody words. Do you remember that day when you told me that Fenner was a misogynist bastard, and when I disagreed, you told me that I was too close and that I couldn't see it? Well, you'll be pleased to know you were absolutely right. I lay there after he'd fallen asleep, and all I could hear was your voice and those words going round and round in my head. So anything you want to say on the subject of Fenner, I really don't want to hear it." Stalking off down the stairs, she left them all gazing after her, all a little stunned both by her words and by her momentary loss of control. "It's going to be one of those days," Nikki said dryly, immediately lessening the tension. When they reached the foyer, they saw a haggard-looking Yvonne, and Karen stood talking to her. But when Neumann Mason-Alan attempted to walk passed their little group, it was Yvonne's turn to lose her rag. John and Jo had been walking towards the little knot of women, mainly to see if Yvonne was all right, when they were greeted to the sight of Yvonne striding purposefully towards Neumann Mason-Alan with a look of sheer loathing and anger in her eyes. Recognising this for exactly what it was, both Karen and Nikki reacted like lightening. Shouting a mixture of Yvonne's name, no and don't, they ran up to Yvonne, and each grabbing one of her arms, held on to her tightly. "Yvonne, it's not worth it," Nikki said as she struggled to keep hold of an equally struggling Yvonne, who looked to only have one thing in mind, murder. "Yvonne, I know what he said to you was unforgivable, but kicking the shit out of him isn't going to do you or Lauren any good," Nikki insisted. When Yvonne didn't look any closer to calming down, Karen thought it was her turn to put in a word. "Yvonne, don't you dare make me repay that shiner you gave me when I caught you trying to get over the wall," She said, tightening her grip on Yvonne's arm in the old prison officer style. "You heard what he said," Yvonne ground out as she persisted in trying to free herself from the competent holds of Nikki and Karen. "He said I didn't care about my kids. He said I didn't look after them in the way a mother should. But hey, I'm beginning to think he might be right." Unaware of George's quiet approach, Nikki and Karen were surprised to see her come to stand in front of Yvonne, well within kicking distance if Yvonne managed to free herself. "Yvonne, listen to me," George said firmly but calmly. "We know you did your best for your children, and if you look passed what that imbecile said to you, you'll know it too. In spite of everything, Yvonne, you've been a far better mother to your children than I ever have. No matter what happens either to you or to her, your daughter will always love you. At least you'll never have to hear your daughter describing you as an ice maiden." George suddenly stopped, as if only just aware of what she'd said. But her words had done the trick. Nikki and Karen became immediately aware that Yvonne had relaxed, and that tears were running unheeded down her face. Loosening the hold on her arms, Nikki and Karen simply put their arms round her, holding her upright as her body shook. Cassie appeared then, followed closely by Roisin and Barbara. Getting the distinct feeling that this was a privilege only bestowed on fellow ex-cons, Karen moved away slightly to allow the others to guide Yvonne over to one of the padded benches. John and Jo had stood stunned as the scene had unfolded, both watching with slight admiration as Karen and Nikki had successfully restrained Yvonne from doing anything stupid. But they had both been thoroughly shocked by George's words. "I didn't know she knew about that," John said, his voice deep with half concealed pain. "Knew about what?" Jo asked, seeing that something had struck him to the core. "Charlie's nickname for George, the ice maiden. I hate it every time she says it, and I didn't ever want George to know about it." "Well, it seems that somehow, she does." "I ought to go and see if she's all right," John said, feeling an enormous amount of regret that George had overheard that little snippet of Charlie's occasional vindictiveness towards her mother. "I'll go in a minute," Jo said, seeing that Karen was walking towards the doors that led outside, correctly assuming that this was where George would have gone.
When Karen went outside, George was standing smoking, looking as if her thoughts were anywhere else but here. Walking over and putting an arm round her, Karen said gently, "What was all that about?" "It's my daughter's oh so charming little nick name for me, when she's talking about me instead of to me. The sad thing is that I can't blame her really. But I wish I hadn't said it. Saying a thing instead of just knowing it makes it all too real, doesn't it." George's voice was flat and almost without feeling, which told Karen that the feelings were only being kept under the surface by sheer force of will. Before Karen could respond, the door opened and Jo appeared. Karen hadn't removed her arm from around George, so she was relieved to see it was only Jo. "Are you all right?" Jo asked, laying a brief hand on George's shoulder. "No, not really," George replied, never capable of keeping anything from Jo for long any more, and finding herself feeling suddenly safe stood between the two women closest to her. "Is Yvonne all right?" Karen asked. "She's surrounded by four of her friends, so I'm sure she'll be fine. But I could wring Neumann Mason-Alan's neck." "Did you see Helen in there?" Karen asked, now feeling thoroughly guilty for her outburst. "I think she went to get everyone some coffee. Why?" "Because she caught me at a low ebb and I said some pretty harsh things to her." "Yes, what was all that about?" George asked, recovering slightly now that she had someone else to think about. "I'll tell you some other time," Karen replied. "But I really shouldn't have said what I did." "From what I heard of it, Helen will get over it." "It seems to be the day for fraught words," Jo observed. "And John's worried about you," She said to George. "He'll live," George said dismissively to cover her feelings. "It's only because he didn't think I knew that that's how Charlie refers to me. But if no one objects, I don't think I'm going to stay for this afternoon. I think I need some of the sheer dull monotony of civil law to lose myself in." When Jo had returned inside and they were alone again, George said, "I feel awfully stupid asking you this, but can I see you tonight?" "Yes, of course," Karen replied, realising that after what she'd come out with this morning, George might want to talk. "The thing is, I don't know if.." George stopped, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Realising what she was trying to say, Karen smiled. "George, if all you want from me is a cuddle and a chat, that's absolutely fine." George laughed, her nervousness abating. Then, ditching her cigarette, she put her arms round Karen, feeling Karen's arms go round her, making her feel briefly taken away from this world where her daughter didn't love her. Holding her close for a moment, Karen said, "I think I'm going to follow your example and do some work of my own this afternoon." "After what I heard you say to Helen," George said in to Karen's shoulder. "I think you should." "My gob's getting as unpredictable as yours," Karen said, a slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "Yes, so I noticed," George said dryly, though knowing that there was far more to what Karen had said to Helen than a simple outburst. When George had driven away and Karen went back inside, Yvonne was looking a little happier and they were all waiting for her. "Is she all right?" Nikki asked about George. "She's not staying for this afternoon because she's got an appointment she can't get out of," Karen replied, the little white lie coming off her tongue quicker than little white lies really ought to. "And though you'll probably all think me terrible for saying it, I think I might do the same." They could all see that the stress of this morning was getting to Karen, and that it was becoming harder and harder to hide it. "Oh, no," Cassie said in pretended hurt. "You'll miss my moment of glory. That prosecuting arse-hole won't know what's hit him when I get in there." Cassie, ever the mischief-maker, had successfully lightened the tense atmosphere. "Just make sure you give Bodybag some grief from all of us," Yvonne said, knowing that this morning's revelations and recollections would have been almost as painful to Karen as they were to herself. As they all began deciding where to go for a very large drink, Karen took Helen aside. "Can I apologise?" Karen asked quietly, feeling awful for the way she'd spoken to Helen. "What for?" Helen asked gently, though she knew very well what for. "I shouldn't have said what I did to you. This trial is going far deeper than I ever thought it would, and this morning was just a bit too much, but that's no excuse." "Listen, Karen," Helen said quietly. "What you said today has been waiting to be said for a very long time now, and the stress of this morning just brought it out. Okay? So no need to apologise. Just take care," She said, giving Karen a quick impulsive hug. "And make sure you give Sylvia hell." As Karen left, her car sloshing through the endless stream of puddles, she thought that sooner or later, someone, probably that wanker of a prosecutor, was going to say something to fire the whole lot of them up, her, Helen and George included. If that happened, the Old Bailey wouldn't know what had hit it.
On the Tuesday morning, Yvonne couldn't sit still. She couldn't escape from the fact that her daughter's freedom or imprisonment could depend on the evidence she was about to give. It was different from last time, because Lauren's possible acquittal or conviction held so much more importance for her. She knew she shouldn't think like this, because Ritchie had been her child as well, but she knew that's how it was. When everyone else went upstairs to the gallery, both Karen and Nikki asked her if she wanted them to stay with her until the last minute, but she didn't. Yvonne needed a moment's reflection before she took her place in the ring. Even though Jo was defending Lauren, Yvonne couldn't quite decide whether it was she, or the pathetic-looking prosecuting barrister who more successfully represented the lion she was being thrown to. She needed a last cigarette, a last moment's peace before she went in there and put up the sort of fight she should have done against Charlie all those years ago. She was standing on the steps, blowing smoke rings at passing pigeons, when the door opened behind her and John walked up to her. "Do you think I can do this, Judge?" She asked, the words coming out before she could think better of them. "Of course," He said in quiet surprise. But he could see that she needed some further convincing. "Do you remember how you dealt with Brian Cantwell when he was defending your son?" Yvonne's lips quirked in to a brief smile. "Yeah, I made him look a bit of a prat." "Quite. So, do the same with Neumann Mason-Alan and you'll be fine. The more you antagonise him, the more outrageous his questions will become, and the more I can object to them." "You shouldn't be telling me things like that, Judge." "And your daughter shouldn't have ever reached a courtroom. I can do nothing to help her now, except to hope that justice prevails. But this jury are doing their job, they are taking notice of every word, and I don't think they will entirely let you down." "Why did you take on this trial?" Yvonne asked, genuinely interested. "Because I wanted your daughter to receive a fair hearing, which no matter how I might feel about what she has done, she will certainly get from me. She might not have done if the case had been heard by the likes of Monty Everard, because his primary concern is always to please the establishment." "Which the conviction of an Atkins would no doubt achieve," Yvonne said dryly. "You're learning," John said approvingly. "Thank you," Yvonne said as she ditched her cigarette. "No matter what sentence you end up giving her, I know my Lauren's safe in your hands."
"Mrs. Atkins," Jo began once Yvonne had sworn the oath. "We have heard from your daughter how much of an influence her late father, your late husband had on both you and his children. In your own words, please could you explain to the court exactly what effect this influence had on you?" Glancing up to the gallery, Yvonne saw them sitting there, all supporting her. "Charlie Atkins was a control freak," She began. "If he wanted something done, it was done. If he thought something should happen, then it usually did. This extreme need for control didn't ease off when it came to either his wife or his children. Charlie badly wanted a son, so you might say that it was sheer force of will that made his first child a boy. Charlie got where he did because he was ruthless, and because he wouldn't let anything get in the way of what he wanted. In some ways, Charlie was a little boy who never quite grew up. He always had to have his own way, no matter what anyone else thought. So, when it came time for Ritchie to follow in his father's footsteps, he had his way over that as well." "Since I know the prosecution will ask you if I don't," Said Jo, throwing a satisfied smile over at Neumann Mason-Alan. "Did you attempt to dissuade your husband from this highly illegal course of action?" "Of course I did," Yvonne said slightly scornfully. "But you don't disagree with Charlie Atkins for long." Yvonne's face suddenly darkened, and it wasn't lost on anyone that she'd slipped momentarily in to the present tense. "What mother would want her child being taught to shoot at the age of twelve," She continued bitterly. "I used to call Ritchie my little angel, and up until the time his father started making a model criminal out of him, that's exactly what he was." Yvonne was thoroughly ashamed to find that tears had risen to her eyes. "Would you like a moment to recover yourself?" John asked gently, feeling the pain coming off Yvonne in waves. "No, I'm fine," Yvonne replied, striving to keep going at any cost. "So, when it came time for Lauren to be taught the same things, I knew there wasn't any point in objecting." "Mrs. Atkins," John intervened. "Exactly what happened to you when you disagreed with your son being taught to shoot?" "I believe you know the answer to that, My Lord," Yvonne replied, giving him his proper title. "As I understand it, my daughter described that event to you in as much detail as was necessary. I would ask you to consider whether my giving the court details of that painful event, would in actual fact be remotely relevant to my daughter's eventual verdict." Up in the gallery, George stared open mouthed whilst Karen, Nikki and Helen just grinned at each other. Jo just prayed that John wasn't about to flip his lid. "You'll be surplus to requirements if you're not careful, Jo," George murmured to herself. "Point taken, Mrs. Atkins," John replied, admiring Yvonne's spirit in the face of adversity. "Though I would urge you not to make a habit of directing the Judge." Knowing John's stubborn nature only too well, both Karen and George couldn't help laughing at this, causing Yvonne to look up at them, lessening the tension for her. "Mrs. Atkins," Jo continued. "Did you ever prejudice your daughter against James Fenner?" "I probably whinged about him every time Lauren came to visit me, and I certainly didn't hide the fact that Fenner was a complete and total bastard." "Those sound like my words," Nikki murmured which made George smile. "Mrs. Atkins, please remember where you are," John said slightly reprovingly. "But did you ever actually say to your daughter, that you wanted James Fenner killed?" "No, I didn't," Yvonne replied, knowing she was treading on the edge of perjury. "What was your initial impression when Karen Betts told you that she had been raped by James Fenner?" "I was angry, and hurt and upset, the way any woman feels when they hear something like that. Karen had always appeared so strong to me, that to see her so vulnerable and so afraid of talking about something that wasn't her fault, it hurt like hell." Having witnessed Karen like this when they had begun work on the case against Fenner, Jo knew exactly what Yvonne was talking about. "And how did you deal with your daughter's reaction to your relationship with Karen Betts?" "I didn't understand it at first, I thought it was only children who would object so much to someone new on the scene. But I was wrong. My relationship with Karen made Lauren very unhappy, something I will always regret. What she felt about Karen was totally irrational, but no less real because of that. Lauren had only just got me back eight months before, and I think she thought I was going to be taken away from her again. Karen would never have tried to do that, but like most fears, Lauren's was very real to her whilst being incomprehensible to everyone else. Lauren said some horrible things to Karen over the last few days of the trial, and when she received Ritchie's letter and read everything he said about Karen, I think Lauren felt incredibly guilty for the way she'd treated her." "What can you remember about the night Ritchie died?" "Not much," Yvonne said matter-of-factly. "I think I was in shock. We were all sat in the garden, when Karen got this call on her mobile. I'm assuming it was the governor, Neil Grayling, to tell her that Snowball and Ritchie were dead. I think that was the worst thing Karen's ever had to do, to tell me and Lauren that Ritchie had killed himself. I was holding a glass of wine, and I think I must have squeezed it. The only thing I really remember is how much it hurt to have glass imbedded in my hand. The physical pain was easier to deal with than the emotional. From then on, until Karen came back from the prison, I didn't speak. I think I was in shock. I remember," Yvonne stopped, not sure that what she wanted to say was either relevant or appropriate. "Go on," John encouraged. "I was in bed when Karen came back, Lauren still downstairs with Cassie and Roisin. Karen got in to bed beside me and just held me, not letting herself go to sleep because she knew I was still awake and still in shock. When I finally started talking, I kept saying that I should have been able to stop Ritchie from doing it, that he was my son and I should have known if he would feel like that. What Karen said to me is probably what I remember most about that night. She said that killing yourself, it's like having the last word, the final fuck you. I'm sorry, Judge, but that's what she said. Karen was right about Ritchie, because he hated not getting his own way, a bit like his father really. From the time he'd come to visit me in prison, Ritchie had wanted to get one over on me, and killing himself was his last ditch attempt to prove he could always win." "What did you feel when you received your son's letter?" Jo asked, feeling as though she was intruding on Yvonne's grief. "I had to go and identify Ritchie's body the next day, and when I went to the prison where he'd been held, I was given a bag of all his belongings. In the bag were two letters, one for me and one for Lauren. I was obviously curious about what Lauren's letter said, but it was addressed to her, not to me. You've got no idea just how many times I've wished I'd opened it before I gave it to her. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened." There was a short silence, Yvonne clearly battling with far too many unwelcome thoughts. "Were you planning to ask Mrs. Atkins to read the letter, Mrs. Mills?" "In view of its content, I would prefer not to, My Lord. I would simply like to submit it as evidence." "May I see the letter?" John asked, and Jo picked it up and walked over to give it to him. After reading it through, John said, "In view of one particular line, I do think the court needs to hear this." "But my Lord," Jo protested, knowing just how much damage this was going to do to Karen's already shrinking reputation. "So much of that letter might be considered prejudicial, to..." Jo didn't quite know how to say what she wanted to say. "...To one particular member of the public gallery, yes, I know, Mrs. Mills. Might I take this opportunity to apologise to Karen Betts for the damage this might well do to her professional reputation, and to suggest that she may not want to stay to hear this." "I have seen that letter on a previous occasion, My Lord," Karen said from the gallery. "Then you will be aware of its contents, and you may also be aware of why I consider it necessary for the court to hear it, in spite of its prejudicial language. But feel free to leave if this becomes too humiliating for you." George became curious to hear just what Ritchie had written that might make Karen want to sink through the floor. "Please could you read the letter, Mrs. Atkins?" When Yvonne had been handed the letter in its transparent, plastic cover, she began. "Dear Mum,
You know why I'm writing this, because I'm too much of a coward to say it in person. Dad would be thoroughly ashamed of me, wouldn't he? No Atkins is supposed to take the easy way out, and all that. But I can't do it, Mum, I can't go on day in and day out like this. It's not prison, it's being like I am. So, I guess this is the first in a long list of things I'm supposed to be sorry for. The second being that you didn't deserve what I did. I am sorry I put you and Lauren through all that, but I had to do it. Snowball was the craziest girl I've ever met, but I loved her. I don't expect you to understand that, but there it is. I know I haven't been the kind of son you really wanted, but then I never could live up to everything you and dad brought me up to believe. Sure, I inherited all the shit parts of dad's nature, and not enough of yours, but Atkins family values just weren't for me.
I've written this letter, not only to try and put the record straight once and for all, but to ask you to do something for me. You remember on the second day of the trial, when Karen Betts was in the witness box, that stupid git who was representing us, tried to question Karen about a supposedly fake rape allegation. Mum, there wasn't nothing fake about that allegation. Fenner did rape her, I'm certain of it. There's things you learn about women, like what's normal, and what isn't, and the way she was with me that first night really wasn't normal, in any sense of the word. A woman asking you to be rough with her, that's nothing new, but this was different. I asked her afterwards what it had all been about, and she said she was laying a few ghosts. Mum, she was trying to punish herself for what had happened with Fenner. I'm guessing she thought it was her fault, but he's the biggest shit going and deserves nothing but a dose of the Atkins justice. You're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this. I've got to say it now, because after tonight, I won't ever get another chance. She was sat in the public gallery with you all through the trial. Mum, please take care of her for me. She's still hurting after what that bastard Fenner did to her, and she needs looking after. I ain't asking you to finish Fenner off, because I know you won't. But I need you to keep an eye on Karen for me. I hate what I did to her and to you, and I can't ever put any of that right. But if somehow, you can see that she's all right, I'll feel like I've at least tried to put something right.
I'm sorry I wouldn't see you when you asked to see me today, but I was angry. I couldn't handle the fact that you'd stood up against one of your own. But then, you never were a true Atkins. You were always above all that. Even though you did all that stuff for dad and brought me and Lauren up to follow in his footsteps, it wasn't really you. I've been losing control of everything in my life, probably ever since I met Snowball, and I guess this was my way of having a bit of control again. I'm sorry you didn't get to say whatever it was you wanted to say, and I'm sorry for every other bad thing I've ever done to you.
I love you Mum,
Ritchie." There was a long, awful pause once the letter reached its end. George had become more and more aware of Karen's humiliation beside her, the need to escape and to hide atypically strong. But Karen didn't move. It might almost have been a testament to her inner strength that she didn't take up John's offer and leave. George didn't know what she could possibly say or do to make Karen feel better. Helen was sitting on Karen's other side this time, and considering what Fenner had done to Helen, Karen would have preferred her to be almost anyone else. "Do you think Ritchie knew about your relationship with Karen Betts?" John asked into the silence. "I don't know," Yvonne replied. "I don't think he did, but things like that get round prisons quicker than the school playground." "Finally," Jo cut in before John could ask any more questions. "Did you have any idea that Lauren was planning to kill James Fenner?" "None whatsoever," Yvonne said firmly. "I wanted Karen to nail Fenner the legal way, because like her, I wanted to see him suffer for a very long time. Ritchie said in his letter to me that he wasn't asking me to finish Fenner off, because he knew I wouldn't, and he was right. No way would I have flirted with the probability of going back inside. I wouldn't have wanted either myself or anyone I know and love to do time just for killing that worthless, spineless, good for nothing bigot who thought it was perfectly okay to force himself on defenseless women as long as he didn't get found out. If I'd had the slightest inkling that Lauren was thinking of doing anything of the sort, I'd have done everything in my power to prevent her. I'm not going to say that the world isn't a better place without Fenner, but I would far rather he be still alive than to see my daughter going through what she is now." After another short silence, Jo said, "No further questions, my Lord."
When Neumann Mason-Alan rose to his feet, he looked almost gleeful. "Mrs. Atkins," He began. "Just how many guns were in either yours or your daughter's possession?" "Does it matter?" Yvonne asked, John's warning about the prosecutor clear in her mind. "Considering that your daughter clearly used one of your late husband's guns, which means that you hadn't attempted to dispose of his collection, yes, it most certainly is relevant." "I'm not entirely sure just how many guns Charlie left behind. When I found out what Lauren had done, I made her get rid of the lot of them." "Did you not ever think it wise to dispose of your late husband's weapons, after he'd been killed and after you were released from prison?" "Not at the time, no," Yvonne replied curtly. "Since you've asked such a badly informed question, I'll assume that you've never considered what it might mean for the family of someone as powerful as Charlie Atkins to be left behind once he was either dead or in prison." "Would you care to enlighten us?" John asked mildly, before Neumann Mason-Alan blew a gasket. "Charlie Atkins had more enemies than your average paedophile. He trod on people left, right and centre in order to get what he wanted, me included. There were any number of people out there who would happily have finished Charlie off in order to get a cut of the market. I didn't ever like or agree with most of what Charlie did, but that doesn't stop me from saying that he was extremely clever about what he did. What you need to understand, is that even though Charlie's dead, I'm not, and Lauren isn't. It would still give an enormous amount of Charlie's old rivals immense satisfaction to permanently remove what's left of the Atkins family. So, when I got out of prison, my biggest concern was protecting myself and my daughter from any possible come back." "So," Mason-Alan said smugly. "You are openly admitting in a court of law that you kept hold of Charlie Atkins weapons as a form of protection?" He sounded incredulous. "Even though this was clearly illegal, and meant that you were committing a crime for which an automatic prison sentence of five years is now mandatory?" "I would have preferred to end up in a cell rather than a coffin, sir," Yvonne replied, putting a certain amount of steel and scorn in to the sir. "I see," Mason-Alan said, clearly flustered. "Why didn't you ever question what your daughter was up to during the six weeks after your son died?" Yvonne looked scathingly at him. "My daughter is twenty five years old," She said derisively. "She doesn't have to explain her movements to me. Before I got out of prison, Lauren was living on her own in that house, keeping Charlie's business going in case he got out after his trial, and generally living her own life. What Lauren did or didn't do in the course of her daily activities wasn't for me to begin questioning." "Mrs. Atkins, why did you never attempt to remove your children from the influence of their father?" "You really haven't got any idea, have you?" Yvonne asked incredulously. "Charlie Atkins was a bully, a single-minded, ruthless bully. If I had survived long enough to take his children far enough away from him that he couldn't follow us, we'd have been constantly on the run for the rest of our lives. Staying in hiding from the police would be simple compared to the threat Charlie's continued existence would have posed. If the police catch up with you, they're not actually allowed to kill you, unless you're carrying a gun. But Charlie wouldn't have thought twice about putting a bullet in me had he caught up with us. That is no way to bring up two young children. Yes, whilst we stayed at home, they might have been learning the finer points of using and maintaining a firearm, but they were relatively safe. If I'd gone on the run from Charlie and taken my kids with me, we'd never have been safe again." "You seem to have thought primarily about your own safety," Mason-Alan said quietly. "Could that be because your own safety was your first concern, your safety over your children's?" Before John could object, Yvonne beat him to it. "Do you have children, sir?" "Yes," Mason-Alan replied. John thought about objecting again but he could see that Yvonne could handle this man. "Then you'll know how it feels to be prepared to do anything for your children, to put your own safety in jeopardy if it will stop them from being hurt. Charlie raised his hand to Lauren only once, and he never did it again. In order to prevent him from doing to his children what he did to me all too often, I threatened him with one of his own guns. I told him that if he ever laid a finger on either Lauren or Ritchie, it'd be the last thing he did. So don't tell me that I wasn't concerned with the safety of my children." "But you did stand by and watch as your husband threatened to nail Ritchie to the warehouse floor, didn't you?" "Yes, to my everlasting regret, I did. I knew that the safest thing for Ritchie was for him to go away and make his own way in the world. He was trying to compete with Charlie, not something anyone should try to do if they value their life." "So, what this comes down to," Mason-Alan continued, looking smugger and more supercilious than ever. "Is that as long as your own best interests were carefully looked after, it mattered little to you that your son was forced to have absolutely no contact with either you or his sister until after Charlie Atkins was dead." "No!" Yvonne shouted. "Do you know what it's like not to have contact with one of your children for almost four years? Four years I didn't hear a word from Ritchie, not one single, bloody word. I'd have given anything during that time to know what he was up to, to know that he was all right. But the first I heard from him was when he came to see me in prison. He reminded me of how I used to call him my little angel, as if I'd ever forget, and like the desperate, stupid cow I was, I believed him because I wanted to. I needed to know that I hadn't screwed up, that I hadn't been the terrible mother I thought I was. I needed to know that I'd done my best by my children. I did everything I possibly could to keep them safe, and to keep them from falling too much under Charlie's spell, but I failed." When her tirade had come to an end, and everyone could see that there wasn't any fight left in her, John said, "I do hope you don't have any further questions, Mr. Mason-Alan." "No, my Lord," Came the solemn reply. "Until after lunch," John said, rising to his feet almost before the Clerk could call out, all rise.
As they all made their way out of the gallery and towards the stairs, Helen caught up with Karen. "I think you and me need to have a talk," She said quietly. "Not about Fenner, we're not," Karen said, just managing to keep her tone civil. She knew now that she ought to have taken John's invitation and left whilst the letter was being read, because now she felt almost as open and exposed as she had done when Fenner had raped her. "Karen, you cannot keep on punishing yourself for what he did to you," Helen insisted in a stage whisper. This was just too much for Karen, the final straw in a morning full of more guilt and sympathetically-felt pain for Yvonne than she'd experienced in a long time. "Do you have any idea what popped so conveniently into my head when Fenner raped me?" She asked, turning to face Helen and bringing them to a stop, but still trying to keep her voice at a quiet, though nonetheless furious level. "Your words, your very bloody words. Do you remember that day when you told me that Fenner was a misogynist bastard, and when I disagreed, you told me that I was too close and that I couldn't see it? Well, you'll be pleased to know you were absolutely right. I lay there after he'd fallen asleep, and all I could hear was your voice and those words going round and round in my head. So anything you want to say on the subject of Fenner, I really don't want to hear it." Stalking off down the stairs, she left them all gazing after her, all a little stunned both by her words and by her momentary loss of control. "It's going to be one of those days," Nikki said dryly, immediately lessening the tension. When they reached the foyer, they saw a haggard-looking Yvonne, and Karen stood talking to her. But when Neumann Mason-Alan attempted to walk passed their little group, it was Yvonne's turn to lose her rag. John and Jo had been walking towards the little knot of women, mainly to see if Yvonne was all right, when they were greeted to the sight of Yvonne striding purposefully towards Neumann Mason-Alan with a look of sheer loathing and anger in her eyes. Recognising this for exactly what it was, both Karen and Nikki reacted like lightening. Shouting a mixture of Yvonne's name, no and don't, they ran up to Yvonne, and each grabbing one of her arms, held on to her tightly. "Yvonne, it's not worth it," Nikki said as she struggled to keep hold of an equally struggling Yvonne, who looked to only have one thing in mind, murder. "Yvonne, I know what he said to you was unforgivable, but kicking the shit out of him isn't going to do you or Lauren any good," Nikki insisted. When Yvonne didn't look any closer to calming down, Karen thought it was her turn to put in a word. "Yvonne, don't you dare make me repay that shiner you gave me when I caught you trying to get over the wall," She said, tightening her grip on Yvonne's arm in the old prison officer style. "You heard what he said," Yvonne ground out as she persisted in trying to free herself from the competent holds of Nikki and Karen. "He said I didn't care about my kids. He said I didn't look after them in the way a mother should. But hey, I'm beginning to think he might be right." Unaware of George's quiet approach, Nikki and Karen were surprised to see her come to stand in front of Yvonne, well within kicking distance if Yvonne managed to free herself. "Yvonne, listen to me," George said firmly but calmly. "We know you did your best for your children, and if you look passed what that imbecile said to you, you'll know it too. In spite of everything, Yvonne, you've been a far better mother to your children than I ever have. No matter what happens either to you or to her, your daughter will always love you. At least you'll never have to hear your daughter describing you as an ice maiden." George suddenly stopped, as if only just aware of what she'd said. But her words had done the trick. Nikki and Karen became immediately aware that Yvonne had relaxed, and that tears were running unheeded down her face. Loosening the hold on her arms, Nikki and Karen simply put their arms round her, holding her upright as her body shook. Cassie appeared then, followed closely by Roisin and Barbara. Getting the distinct feeling that this was a privilege only bestowed on fellow ex-cons, Karen moved away slightly to allow the others to guide Yvonne over to one of the padded benches. John and Jo had stood stunned as the scene had unfolded, both watching with slight admiration as Karen and Nikki had successfully restrained Yvonne from doing anything stupid. But they had both been thoroughly shocked by George's words. "I didn't know she knew about that," John said, his voice deep with half concealed pain. "Knew about what?" Jo asked, seeing that something had struck him to the core. "Charlie's nickname for George, the ice maiden. I hate it every time she says it, and I didn't ever want George to know about it." "Well, it seems that somehow, she does." "I ought to go and see if she's all right," John said, feeling an enormous amount of regret that George had overheard that little snippet of Charlie's occasional vindictiveness towards her mother. "I'll go in a minute," Jo said, seeing that Karen was walking towards the doors that led outside, correctly assuming that this was where George would have gone.
When Karen went outside, George was standing smoking, looking as if her thoughts were anywhere else but here. Walking over and putting an arm round her, Karen said gently, "What was all that about?" "It's my daughter's oh so charming little nick name for me, when she's talking about me instead of to me. The sad thing is that I can't blame her really. But I wish I hadn't said it. Saying a thing instead of just knowing it makes it all too real, doesn't it." George's voice was flat and almost without feeling, which told Karen that the feelings were only being kept under the surface by sheer force of will. Before Karen could respond, the door opened and Jo appeared. Karen hadn't removed her arm from around George, so she was relieved to see it was only Jo. "Are you all right?" Jo asked, laying a brief hand on George's shoulder. "No, not really," George replied, never capable of keeping anything from Jo for long any more, and finding herself feeling suddenly safe stood between the two women closest to her. "Is Yvonne all right?" Karen asked. "She's surrounded by four of her friends, so I'm sure she'll be fine. But I could wring Neumann Mason-Alan's neck." "Did you see Helen in there?" Karen asked, now feeling thoroughly guilty for her outburst. "I think she went to get everyone some coffee. Why?" "Because she caught me at a low ebb and I said some pretty harsh things to her." "Yes, what was all that about?" George asked, recovering slightly now that she had someone else to think about. "I'll tell you some other time," Karen replied. "But I really shouldn't have said what I did." "From what I heard of it, Helen will get over it." "It seems to be the day for fraught words," Jo observed. "And John's worried about you," She said to George. "He'll live," George said dismissively to cover her feelings. "It's only because he didn't think I knew that that's how Charlie refers to me. But if no one objects, I don't think I'm going to stay for this afternoon. I think I need some of the sheer dull monotony of civil law to lose myself in." When Jo had returned inside and they were alone again, George said, "I feel awfully stupid asking you this, but can I see you tonight?" "Yes, of course," Karen replied, realising that after what she'd come out with this morning, George might want to talk. "The thing is, I don't know if.." George stopped, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Realising what she was trying to say, Karen smiled. "George, if all you want from me is a cuddle and a chat, that's absolutely fine." George laughed, her nervousness abating. Then, ditching her cigarette, she put her arms round Karen, feeling Karen's arms go round her, making her feel briefly taken away from this world where her daughter didn't love her. Holding her close for a moment, Karen said, "I think I'm going to follow your example and do some work of my own this afternoon." "After what I heard you say to Helen," George said in to Karen's shoulder. "I think you should." "My gob's getting as unpredictable as yours," Karen said, a slight smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "Yes, so I noticed," George said dryly, though knowing that there was far more to what Karen had said to Helen than a simple outburst. When George had driven away and Karen went back inside, Yvonne was looking a little happier and they were all waiting for her. "Is she all right?" Nikki asked about George. "She's not staying for this afternoon because she's got an appointment she can't get out of," Karen replied, the little white lie coming off her tongue quicker than little white lies really ought to. "And though you'll probably all think me terrible for saying it, I think I might do the same." They could all see that the stress of this morning was getting to Karen, and that it was becoming harder and harder to hide it. "Oh, no," Cassie said in pretended hurt. "You'll miss my moment of glory. That prosecuting arse-hole won't know what's hit him when I get in there." Cassie, ever the mischief-maker, had successfully lightened the tense atmosphere. "Just make sure you give Bodybag some grief from all of us," Yvonne said, knowing that this morning's revelations and recollections would have been almost as painful to Karen as they were to herself. As they all began deciding where to go for a very large drink, Karen took Helen aside. "Can I apologise?" Karen asked quietly, feeling awful for the way she'd spoken to Helen. "What for?" Helen asked gently, though she knew very well what for. "I shouldn't have said what I did to you. This trial is going far deeper than I ever thought it would, and this morning was just a bit too much, but that's no excuse." "Listen, Karen," Helen said quietly. "What you said today has been waiting to be said for a very long time now, and the stress of this morning just brought it out. Okay? So no need to apologise. Just take care," She said, giving Karen a quick impulsive hug. "And make sure you give Sylvia hell." As Karen left, her car sloshing through the endless stream of puddles, she thought that sooner or later, someone, probably that wanker of a prosecutor, was going to say something to fire the whole lot of them up, her, Helen and George included. If that happened, the Old Bailey wouldn't know what had hit it.