Don't Let Me Go (28 page)

‘What about going to stay with your sister?’ Kim suggested.

Charlotte tensed. Then her eyes lit with hope. ‘Have you spoken to Gabby?’ she asked. ‘Has she been in touch?’

Kim shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. Your mother’s tried contacting her, but so far she hasn’t been able to get through. It could be that the press have already tracked her down so she and her family have gone to stay elsewhere.’

Hating the thought of the press hounding her sister almost as much as she hated them hounding her, Charlotte said, ‘If they have gone away, there’s a good chance they’ll be with our Aunt Sheila who lives quite close to them. Of course, they might be with Martin’s parents . . .’

Kim picked up her mobile. ‘Would you like me to try your aunt?’ she offered.

Charlotte wasn’t sure. If Gabby and Sheila wanted to be in touch they’d surely have found a way by now, so maybe she should accept the silence as their way of telling her that they didn’t want to be involved.

‘Do you know the number?’ Kim prompted.

Charlotte nodded, but the fear of being rejected made her say, ‘I don’t think we should call. It’s not fair to drag them into this when it’s really got nothing to do with them.’

‘Tommy said you and your sister were close.’

Charlotte’s eyes drifted as the gulf of missing Gabby opened wider in her heart. She loved her sister, had always had a far deeper bond with her than she’d ever had with anyone else, and there was no one she wanted to see more right now.

Apart from Chloe, of course.

‘No, we can’t call,’ she told Kim. ‘As I said, it wouldn’t be fair. Gabby has to put her children first and they don’t need to become embroiled in my affairs.’

‘OK, it’s your decision,’ Kim said, ‘but if you change your mind . . . Well, if you do, you’ll be able to make the call yourself because hopefully you’ll have your phone back by then.’

The ghost of a smile passed over Charlotte’s lips. She appreciated Kim’s optimism, it was the single positive force in all of this that kept hauling her back from the brink.

It was just after eleven when a knock came on the door to inform them that it was time for Charlotte to go up to the court.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Kim told her as they rose to their feet. ‘Just focus on the judge and speak your name clearly when you’re asked. That’s all you’ll be required to say.’

Charlotte nodded. She was so tense it was difficult to move.

As Kim turned to leave, Charlotte said, ‘Are the press being really awful about me? They were before, when they thought Chloe was missing and I was to blame for not getting her away from her father sooner . . .’

‘To be honest, they seemed split down the middle when the news first broke,’ Kim replied. ‘But remember they can’t print anything detrimental about you now, or they’ll be in contempt of court.’

Charlotte was still clinging to those words as a guard took her up the stark, stone staircase a few minutes later. She could already hear the buzz of the courtroom, a deep, mainly masculine drone that seemed to seep into the stairwell and mingle with the stench of unwashed bodies still lingering from those who’d gone before her. She was hardly breathing, and her hands were so tightly clenched her fingers felt close to breaking. She wished her mother was there, and Bob, or Rick, someone to make her feel less alone.

Or Gabby.

Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself now. Think of Chloe and be strong for her.

She wished she’d asked Kim if Tommy was going to be there. It might have helped to know there was a friendly face in the room, even if she couldn’t look around to find it. Had any of her old neighbours made the journey in from Mulgrove? The cast and crew of her theatre company; her adoptive father’s parishioners; the locals from the village pub? She thought of dear old Millie who’d lived next door to the vicarage and whom she’d known for most of her life. She’d have been a friendly face today if she were able to come, but Alzheimer’s had made it necessary for her to go into care. She’d always remembered Charlotte, though. Every time she’d visited the home Millie’s crinkled old face had lit up to see her, and even when she’d talked nonsense she’d still seemed to know who she was talking to. She’d been moved now to a place in York to be closer to her niece and nephew. Charlotte hoped they went to see her.

She was almost at the top of the steps by now, and the urge to turn and flee was like a physical force. What if Jason, her ex, was there with his wife and their good friend Heather Hancock? As a reporter for the local paper Heather Hancock must be relishing the fact that Alex Lake, the social worker who’d refused to be intimidated by Heather’s position in the community, was now handing her the story of her career. Then there was Ben, her ex-colleague who’d taken two calls alerting him to the problem at Ottilie’s home before she, Charlotte, had got hold of the case. Would he be there? Had it been left to him, Chloe might still be in that dreadful house on North Hill suffering the physical and mental abuse of her schizoid mother and repulsive father.

Where was she now?

Oh God, where was Chloe?

If only she could be with Maggie Fenn, but Charlotte knew, in spite of asking Kim to talk to Tommy, that they wouldn’t put Chloe with someone Charlotte knew. Would Maggie come today? Would Anthony, Maggie’s brother? There was no way he’d put in an appearance, and feeling as wretched and ashamed as she did Charlotte could only be glad of it.

As she arrived in the main body of the court the noise seemed to wrap itself around her like a fog. The place was packed and she already felt hunted, trapped, condemned. The babble drained to silence, and she felt everyone’s eyes on her as she followed the guard to the dock. It was on a level with the bench, above the rest of the court, and looked old and worn, ready to buckle under the weight of past troubles and tragedies.

Keeping her head down she mounted the three steps into it, and following the guard’s instruction sat on one of the chairs. She was aware of the sunlight blazing in through tall arched windows, set too high in the walls for anyone to see in or out, and pooling dustily around the dark wooden seats for the lawyers. Kim was already there, appearing unruffled by the austere-looking figure beside her. He was short and wiry, with a narrow face and eagle eyes. As far as he was concerned she’d fled the country with the child she’d abducted, so why on earth should she be trusted not to flee again?

She wouldn’t run away again, but no amount of promises given by her, or by Kim on her behalf, could convey the absolute truth of that. It would be down to the judge to decide whether or not he believed she was honourable enough to stay and face up to what she’d done. And since she’d already demonstrated to the police just how capable she was of deception, she couldn’t think of a single good reason why anyone would grant her bail.

‘All rise.’

Feeling the weight of scrutiny bearing down on her, Charlotte got to her feet and fixed her eyes on the door beside the bench. When the judge came in, wearing a dark suit and red bow tie, he seemed impatient, she thought, or cross, or maybe that was his normal expression and it would change when he smiled. Except there wasn’t much to smile about today.

Once everyone was seated again the clerk spoke quietly to the judge before turning to the dock and asking her to identify herself.

‘My name is Charlotte Nicholls,’ she replied, and a murmur of confusion erupted from the press and public gallery. They probably thought she was lying, or playing some sort of game. They’d know soon enough that Alex Lake was no longer her name.

Ignoring the noise, the judge returned to the paperwork in front of him as the charge was read out and the lawyers identified themselves. Then the prosecutor, Andy Phipps, began to explain why the bail application was nothing short of outrageous.

‘The defendant has already shown her complete disregard of the law by taking a child out of the country to New Zealand,’ he stated. ‘Once there she sought to change both her own and the child’s names . . .’

‘Sir,’ Kim stepped in, ‘this is a bail hearing . . .’

‘My point is,’ Phipps continued, ‘the very fact that the defendant’s already absconded once to a country where she has family should make the court wary of granting any freedom of movement at this time.’

The judge frowned in Kim’s direction.

‘Sir,’ she said, ‘my client didn’t put up any resistance to arrest, she returned willingly to this . . .’

‘Presumably not willingly if she was under arrest,’ the judge pointed out.

Charlotte’s stomach churned as Kim said, ‘Once she was in police custody she complied with the law every step of the way, and will continue to do so . . .’

‘How can we be sure of that, Ms . . .’ he checked his notes, ‘Giles? Does she have a home to go to in this country, in the event the court grants her bail?’

‘Yes, sir. You’ll find the address in the papers.’

Locating it, he said, ‘Who is Tommy Burgess?’

‘He was her team leader when she worked for social services. He and his wife are good friends of my client’s and trustworthy members of the community.’

‘Mm,’ he grunted, not seeming entirely impressed. ‘Do we know if Mr Burgess aided her initial flight from the country?’

‘He didn’t, sir.’

‘We only have your word for that,’ Phipps piped up.

‘I can assure you he didn’t,’ she retorted, ‘and may I add that Mr Burgess’s actions and integrity are not the subject of this hearing.’

‘No, but they’re relevant if the court is going to release her to his custody,’ the judge commented, almost to himself.

‘Can I also say, sir, that my client is willing to post bail in the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds?’

Another murmur spread through the room and Charlotte could almost hear them saying,
A social worker has a quarter of a million pounds?

The judge’s eyebrows were arched.

‘This sum is the entirety of my client’s savings,’ Kim explained, ‘and was come by as the result of the sale of her adoptive parents’ house, both parents now being deceased.’

‘I see, and these funds are where, exactly?’

‘In the process of being transferred from a bank in New Zealand. I’d hoped to be able to assure the court that they’d arrived by now, but with it being a weekend . . . However, I do have details of the transaction from the originating Kiwibank in Auckland.’ Leaning forward, she handed a copy to the clerk, who looked it over and passed it on to the judge. ‘This confirms the amount of the transfer and the fact that it’s already left New Zealand. It could very well be in my firm’s client account by the end of the morning and therefore ready to transfer to the court on Monday.’

‘By which time the defendant could already have left the country,’ Phipps declared. ‘Let’s not forget her family is still in New Zealand, so she has every reason to want to go back.’

The judge inhaled deeply as he looked the transfer document over, seeming to take a very long time to read a mere few lines. ‘I presume the defendant’s passport has been surrendered?’ he asked, glancing towards the seats behind the lawyers where Karen Potter was sitting with another detective.

‘Yes it has,’ Phipps confirmed.

‘Mm,’ the judge grunted again. ‘And the child is where?’

Phipps consulted with Karen Potter. ‘I’m told she’s now back in this country, sir, and is in the care of the state.’

Charlotte’s insides were in knots. She’d always hated that phrase; it sounded so cold, so devoid of anything remotely to do with care, and now to think that Chloe was its latest victim . . .

She couldn’t let her mind go there, not yet. She needed to stay focused on what was happening here.

‘. . . we understand that if the court is willing to grant bail,’ Kim was saying, ‘it’ll also wish to impose certain conditions which my client will strictly adhere to . . .’

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ the judge interrupted impatiently, ‘I’m sure she would if the court were to do as you ask, Ms Giles, but I’m afraid your client’s past actions make it necessary for me to remand her in custody until . . .’

He was still speaking, but Charlotte could no longer hear. The buzz in the room was deafening her; the horror of what was going to happen now was making her shake uncontrollably.

‘No! You can’t!’ someone was suddenly shouting. ‘You can’t, do you hear me?’

Registering the words, Charlotte turned in a stunned daze to see Gabby on her feet, her face ravaged with shock and tears.

Gabby was here.

Someone was calling for order, but the judge had gone and the press were pushing towards the doors and Charlotte was being escorted from the dock.

‘Let me see her,’ Gabby cried, trying to elbow her way through the crush. ‘Please, please let me see her.’

‘Gabby,’ Charlotte choked, turning to look back over her shoulder, as she was forced down the stairs.

Minutes later she was being locked into a cell and the guard was saying, ‘Van’s not due back for another hour, so you’ll have to wait here.’

‘Can I see my sister?’ Charlotte begged. ‘Please, just for a few minutes.’

‘Only your lawyer’s allowed down here,’ he told her, and pocketing the keys he walked away.

Charlotte watched his back. She’d never felt so helpless in her life. She was being treated like a caged animal and there was nothing she could do. Her heart was pounding so fiercely it was hard to breathe. She couldn’t deal with what was about to happen. She had to wipe it from her mind or she’d start to scream. ‘Please,’ she shouted, ‘will you contact my lawyer? I have to speak to her.’

Ignoring her, the guard pressed a button and the basement flooded with sunlight as the security shutters rolled up. Another guard came through, and the shutters went down again.

‘Please,’ Charlotte called desperately. ‘I need to speak to my lawyer.’

‘Will you shut the fuck up, keeping on,’ a voice grumbled from the next cell. ‘Some of us are trying to get some kip in here.’

In increasing panic, Charlotte shouted to the guard again. He still didn’t bother to look round, merely answered the phone when it rang, while the second guard settled down in front of a computer. She might as well not have been there for all the notice they were taking of her.