I Know What I Saw

‘You understand that your application for bail is allowed on strict conditions? You will live and sleep each night at the address notified to the court. You will be required to report to the local police station each Monday and Thursday. You are not to apply for travel documents. And you are not to go within five hundred metres of 42B Farm Street. If you breach any of those conditions, or if you fail to turn up to your next hearing, you will be committing a separate offence. Do you understand?’

I nod. The judge rises. And I am so grateful, despite the murder charge that has now crystallised around me, that I want to cry. Until the gaoler stands up and leads me back down into the cells.

‘What’s going on?’ I say. ‘He released me. Didn’t he release me?’

She looks at me as if I have just materialised before her.

‘Okay. Just quiet down for a second,’ she says and leads me back into the cell and locks the door.

Blood wells up in my head and feels as if it is pooling behind my eyes. I don’t know what is happening but I have an urge to scream.

I start pacing the cell until the floor begins to contract.

‘I want to see my solicitor,’ I shout. The words simply rebound back into my face. This room is designed to withstand more than I can give it.

I drop to the floor and begin to rock. There is a tide beginning in my head that I need to contain. He said bail. Did he say it? Have I imagined that? I replay the conversation over and over again and the certainty I had minutes ago is beginning to dilute. He might not have said that. I couldn’t hear everything. I was straining to hear at points. So, what now?

Just as I unleash a scream, the door opens and a golden head looks in. It is a young woman. Pretty. Cheerful.

‘Flippin’ heck, what’s eating you, love?’ she says.

I leap to my feet and put my hands together. ‘He said bail. I’m sure he said bail. Can’t you go up and check?’ I say. ‘Please. I can’t go to prison.’

‘What? No, silly sausage. We’re just processing you. I’ve got your bail form here. See,’ she says, handing me a form that says ‘Bail’ on it. There are boxes ticked and others left blank.

‘What, so, I can go?’ I ask.

‘Yes. Just give us, what, ten minutes and once we’ve done your paperwork, you’ll be released.’

I sit on the bench and let the tears run free, until finally the door opens and I too am freed.

I walk through the iron door and into the court lobby and am met by Jan. I want to hug her but my condition, the state of my body, stops me.

‘You waited,’ I say.

‘Yes, I waited. That’s what I was telling you as you were being taken down to be processed. So now can we get the hell out of Dodge?’ She indicates the front entrance with a tilt of her head.

I follow her on to a street lit by a bright, early spring sky. I have been away from the embrace of the outdoors for less than a day and already it feels like a homecoming. In the dust of the traffic, the memories flood back to me, remaking connections to the world and binding me once again to it.

‘Not sure how we did that,’ Jan says, walking briskly and scanning the road as she does. ‘Good judge, shit prosecutor. Anyway, well done. You’re out. Right, we have a brilliant QC lined up for you. You’ll meet her next week, on Monday. She wants to see you in her Chambers as soon as possible.’

‘That’s quick,’ I think it as I say it. I had the impression of cases grinding slowly through the legal system at Jarndycian speed.

‘Well, as you heard, this case will next be up in two weeks and before then you’ll need to be advised properly about your plea. It has to be quick and you’re lucky that this Silk is free, to be honest.’

Two weeks seems so fast that I become unsteady just thinking about it. By March, I will be back in court entering a plea. I nod vaguely as I follow along behind her, struggling to keep up.

‘Monday, 2 p.m. at 5 Pump Walk Chambers. I’ll drop you a letter with details. Nasreen Khan QC,’ she says, sticking her arm out. A taxi screams to a halt and almost before I can mutter my thanks, she has jumped in. She leaves the door open for a moment to speak to me.

‘You need to find that money, Xander. It’s going to be key.’

I nod and put my hand up to wave at her as she heaves the door shut.

‘See you Monday,’ she mouths through the window as the cab rumbles off.

Once the taxi fades into the distance, I turn and walk the other way. Seb’s. I have to go there. That is my bail address now. He doesn’t know yet that I have to live with him. He’s too polite to object. But it can’t be how he was hoping his life would turn out. And I have no way of making it up to him.

The ground is comforting underfoot. I need something firm and permanent as everything else around me seems to be washing away. I try to gather my scattered thoughts as I walk. The last thing I remember is Nina. The things she said. As I remember them again my pulse begins to quicken. All you ever loved was a version of her that you had created.