Tybalt and Juliet Ch. 08

"I think so," I said. "We were at a party before Easter and he tried to feel her up, but I stopped him."

"OK," Sergeant Roberts said. She paused. "And was there a fight?"

"It wasn't really a fight," I said. "She was trying to get away from him, and he was following after her, so I stopped him. He tried to hit me, but I pushed him away. No one really got hurt."

"I see," she said, writing the details down in her notebook. "And did you tell anyone about it, like a teacher back at school or anything."

"Amy's mum told our headteacher about it," I said. "There were arrangements for Amy to sit her exams in a different room to Ritchie."

The police officer nodded. She knew this already.

"And at the Prom," she said. "Did you talk to Ritchie during the evening, before he attacked you?"

I looked down. I'd been hoping not to have to reveal this, but it was inevitable that it would come out, sooner or later. There wouldn't have been CCTV in the bathroom, but there might be a camera in the corridor outside. They'd know that Ritchie and I had been in there together.

"We did have an altercation," I said. "In the bathroom, in the middle of dinner. I didn't realise Ritchie was in there. I was washing my hands at the basin and he came out of one of the cubicles."

"Do you remember what he said, or what you said?" asked Sergeant Roberts.

I shook my head. "Not really, it was the same stuff as before with the animal grunts and smelling of manure."

"And did he mention Amy?" she asked.

I nodded. "He said she was frigid," I replied unhappily.

"And did you fight?" she asked.

"He tried to hit me," I said. "But I stuck my leg out and tripped him up. He fell on the floor and I walked away."

"And did you tell anyone?" she asked.

"I told Lauren - she's my cousin," I said. "But that was only to ask her to keep an eye out for Amy."

The police officer nodded. "Is there anything else you think I should know?" she asked.

I shook my head.

Sergeant Roberts started to put her notebook away.

"Was Ritchie hurt?" I asked. I was beginning to recall him lying on the tarmac of the car park.

The officer looked up. "Have you remembered something else?"

"Did I push him over onto the ground - when he had the knife?" I asked.

She nodded. "He cut your arm as he fell - that's all on the CCTV."

"And was he hurt on the ground?" I said. "Why didn't he get up and try again?"

"Well I probably shouldn't tell you this," she said. "You kicked the knife away. That's why he came back with a bottle - he couldn't find the knife."

"And was he hurt?" I asked.

Sergeant Roberts nodded. "You fractured his wrist. He might take as long to recover as you."

I gulped, this was serious.

"Am I going to be arrested for injuring him?" I asked nervously.

Sergeant Roberts laughed. "Not a chance," she replied. "It's the clearest case of self-defence I've ever seen. You successfully kicked the knife out of his hand that he'd already used to stab you."

I smiled a little smugly. I'd scored a decent hit on the fucker, but with the full blessing of the law.

"It does complicate matters, though," she added seriously, "as does your altercation in the bathroom. We'll need to interview you again, that's for certain, but we'll do that later. But your friend Billy, he's helped a lot, we've got a full statement from him. He led us straight to Ritchie."

I looked at her quizzically. Why did she think Billy was my friend?

-

Amy's mum was my final visitor that morning. I was tempted to pretend to be asleep, but the opportunity had passed once she'd sat down at my bedside.

Jenny wasn't exactly shaken, but there was a slight nervousness about her, which I hadn't seen in her before. She apologised profusely for her husband being late to pick us up from the Prom. It was clear that she blamed him for what had happened. She also thanked me for protecting Amy, which puzzled me slightly as Ritchie's attack had been directed at me and not my girlfriend.

"How is Amy?" I asked. "I mean, how is she really, deep down?"

"She's been very brave and very calm," Jenny replied. "But she's been worried about you. She cried herself to sleep last night, but I think that was the low point. I've taken her down to work today - that'll help her to take her mind off things."

I nodded. "Jackie's nice," I said, referring to Amy's boss, "she'll look after her, she's very fond of Amy."

"She's very fond of you too," replied Jenny, "in fact your whole village is. I popped into the little shop after I'd dropped Amy off this morning, and there were a pair of old ladies talking about you. Apparently you're an expert in getting cats down from trees!"

I laughed gently. I knew precisely which pair of old ladies Jenny had overheard, and their cats were serial offenders (although not particularly inventive with their choice of trees).

"So what happens now? With Ritchie I mean," I asked.

Jenny was a criminal lawyer, so she knew what the procedure would be.

"Well," she replied. "The case won't come to our firm - for obvious reasons, but I do know the police officer who's in charge of the investigation - she'll do a good job."

I nodded, reassured, waiting for Jenny to continue.

"Ritchie was arrested early on Sunday morning, about an hour or so after he attacked you. I think one of your friends helped the police find him - he hadn't gone back home. But he'd injured his hand, so they ended up bringing him here, to the hospital. Amy and I bumped into him as we were leaving - he was cuffed to a police officer. It gave her a bit of a shock to see him again."

I nodded. I knew that it was me who'd injured Ritchie's wrist, but there was no need to tell Jenny.

"They'd have done a standard blood test for alcohol and drugs," she continued, "but we probably won't know the results until the trial. He's eighteen, so the police would have treated him as an adult, so once they'd bandaged him here, it would have been a night in the cells, then a formal interview in the morning."

"And has he been bailed?" I asked.

"Well they would have charged him first," Jenny replied. "And I'm sure the police would have waited until they had the CCTV evidence from the hotel and had talked to the witnesses."

"Witnesses?" I asked.

"Yes, they talked to Amy on Sunday and the boy who was with you," she replied. "But I think the CCTV footage would have been pretty clear - I've dealt with a vandalism case from that carpark, you'd have been in full view of at least four cameras at the time."

I nodded thoughtfully.

"Oh and they found the knife, so that would have gone to forensics," Jenny added.

"And Ritchie's back home on bail now?" I asked again.

"Yes," she replied. "He'll probably have had to surrender his passport. And they'll have imposed some conditions - he'll need to stay away from the two of you, both when you're at home and at work."

"So what happens now?" I asked.

"We have to wait for the police to put together the case, but I don't think that should be too difficult. Then there'll be an initial hearing at a Magistrates Court, but they'll pass the case on the Crown Court - Ritchie will have been charged with Grievous Bodily Harm."

I swallowed. "So that's a prison sentence?"

Jenny nodded. "Yes, potentially up to five years, but I think three is more likely given your injuries. If he's sensible, he'll plead guilty, so that'll reduce his time inside."

My heart sank. Was I starting to feel a little sorry for Ritchie?

Jenny looked at her watch.

"Look Jake," she said, "I need to go, but it's been really good to see you."

"Thank you," I said. "It's been good to understand what might happen next."

Jenny looked me straight in the eyes. "Amy loves you Jake," she said. "I didn't realise how strong your relationship was, but the last two days have really shown me what you mean to her."

I looked back at her. "I love her too," I said simply.

"Jake," she continued. "I know you've been the one who's been physically injured, but there'll be psychological effects too - not just for you, but for her as well. It's something our legal system doesn't do very well - it's good at sorting out broken bones and spilt blood, but it can't really handle the mental trauma.

"As you're the victim, you'll be offered some counselling, which I suggest you take, but Amy's only a witness and that doesn't automatically entitle her to any support - but I'll arrange that for her separately. What I'm trying to say is this - don't be afraid to talk to the people you need to talk to. Don't get all alpha male and try to supress your feelings - you'll just store up trouble for the long term. Please be honest with yourself and with other people, especially Amy."

I nodded. "I understand," I said.

-

I felt better being back at the farmhouse. Mum normally worked from home on Wednesdays, but as she'd spent a fair bit of time with me at the hospital on Monday and Tuesday, she decided to go into work for a few hours in the middle of the day. She wanted to give me and Amy some time to ourselves, especially as I hadn't seen my girlfriend since the Sunday afternoon. Mum had been really good with Amy and had recognised that the two of us needed time together on our own at the hospital. There was a strong bond developing between the two of them, and I knew that Mum had always been a little sad that she'd never had a daughter.

Amy was due for lunch; she'd be coming over from the Stables. I'd been on my own for maybe an hour and was thoroughly bored. I sat at the kitchen table, watching the birds outside in the garden, my mind flitting between idle thoughts. There was a clatter then a dull thud as something was pushed through the letterbox. I jumped. I cautiously made my way out to the hallway; the local newspaper was lying on the mat. I breathed a sigh of relief - why was I so skittish?

I bent down. Ooh, that wasn't good - sudden movements of my head made me dizzy. I gingerly picked up the paper and unfolded it to reveal the front page. My stomach turned over as I saw my own face staring back at me.

'SCHOOLBOY KNIFED IN PROM ATTACK' the headline read.

I took the paper back to the kitchen table and began to read.

'LOCAL TEENAGER Jacob Hardwick was stabbed in the car park of the Heritage Hotel after a school Prom, late on Saturday night. Emergency services were called after the 18-year-old was attacked by a fellow pupil in an apparently unprovoked attack.

'The schoolboy, who will begin a degree in veterinary medicine at Cambridge University in October, was waiting for a lift home with a female school student, understood to be his girlfriend of three months. Hardwick received the stab wound after he blocked the assailant from reaching the schoolgirl (also 18), before wrestling the attacker to the ground and disarming him.

'Shortly afterwards, as Hardwick and his girlfriend were making their way to the hotel reception to call for help, the assailant attacked the schoolboy from behind with a glass bottle, before fleeing the scene.

'Police have arrested a suspect, also a student at school, and have launched an appeal for witnesses to come forward. They are also understood to be examining CCTV evidence from the hotel where the Prom took place.'

I skimmed the rest of the article, there was a quote from an unnamed teacher saying that the whole school was in shock and how I was the star pupil and how I'd been the first person in three years to get into either Oxford or Cambridge and blah, blah, blah.

There was also a quote from an anonymous fellow pupil, who had pretended that I was the most popular boy in the school with no known enemies.

I felt a little angry, my privacy violated. It had never occurred to me that the local press would be interested in the attack, far less want to splash it across the front page. But the worst thing was that I, the victim, had been named along with my future university and undergraduate course. Ritchie, my attacker, was given full anonymity - it hadn't even given his age. I clenched my fist in frustration - where the fuck had they got my photo from? At least Amy hadn't been named, I thought.

Shit! Amy was due any minute. She was walking over from the Stables to have lunch with me - it would be the first time we'd been on our own together since the Prom. The last thing she needed to see was this.

I folded the newspaper to hide the front page, then hid it under a stack of magazines.

The doorbell rang; it was Amy.

"Come in," I said, smiling at her. "It's really good to see you."

I shut the door behind her and she flung her arms around me.

"Careful," I said, indicating the sling holding my left arm. I kissed the top of her head.

"I love you so much Amy," I said, "I really do."

"Really?" she said, looking a little apprehensively at me.

"Yes," I replied, "really and truly! I've missed you so much, I really have."

"I love you too, Jake," she replied. She buried her head in my chest and began to cry.

"Amy," I said, "why are you crying? Please don't cry, I'm OK."

"But I've been so worried about you," she wailed. "It's such a relief to see you up and about again."

"Oh come on! I've got a scratch on my arm and a bump on my head, that's all," I replied. "I'll be back at work in a couple of weeks."

Amy looked up at me and smiled weakly. "I wish you'd stop being so macho!" she teased. She fished in the bag she was carrying and pulled out an envelope. "I've brought a card from Jackie and her family," she said, handing it to me.

We began to walk down the hallway to the kitchen.

"Seriously Jake, how are you feeling?" she asked as I sat down.

"I'm OK," I said honestly. "I'm feeling pretty tired, but as long as I move slowly, I'm OK - the headaches aren't too bad. Bending down is difficult, but other than that I'm alright. I'll probably have a sleep when you've gone."

"And your arm?" she asked.

"It's OK," I said. "The painkillers are helping, I just have to make sure that I don't twist it suddenly."

Mum had left some soup and bread rolls for the two of us to eat. It wasn't the most exciting of meals, but it was quick to prepare and easy for me to eat one handed. Amy insisted that she do all the work, so I sat at the table as she got things ready. We chatted about her day at the Stables. I quietly savoured the opportunity to watch her in her tight jodhpurs.

We ate slowly. I didn't have much of an appetite, and it seemed to shock Amy, how little I'd eaten. I was beginning to feel tired again, but forced myself on.

"What time do you have to be back?" I asked.

She looked down a little embarrassed. "Jackie said I could take as much time as I wanted," she replied. "I suppose I could stay for another half hour, but I don't want to take advantage."

"Could we go upstairs and cuddle?" I asked her. "Not to do anything, I just want to lie with you in my arms for a bit and to feel close to you. Would that be OK?"

Amy's face lit up. "Oh Jake, I'd really like that, but are you sure your mum won't be back soon?"

I shook my head. "No she won't be back until three at the earliest. She wouldn't mind anyway."

She smiled at me, "OK," she replied. I took her hand and gently led her up the stairs. Stairs were difficult, they required a lot of concentration.

"I've never been in your bedroom," she said as we entered.

I thought for a second, surely she must have been up here before? No, she was right, I don't think she had.

"It's just as I imagined. It's very you," she said.

I looked at her confused.

"It's minimalist," she said, "it's very functional. Your world and everything you love is out there," she pointed through the window to the farm and countryside beyond. "This is the place where you sleep and work, but that's it - a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers."

"There is one thing you've missed," I said, walking over to the bookshelf and picking up a picture frame. It was hidden from the doorway by a couple of dictionaries, but in full view of the bed. I handed the photograph to her.

"It's us!" she exclaimed. "In Trafalgar Square, when we went to London. That selfie I forced you into - see you do like photos!"

I nodded. "So I can say hello to you first thing in the morning and goodnight when I go to bed." I gave a goofy smile, feeling my cheeks glow in embarrassment.

Amy stood on tiptoe to kiss me. "I love this," she said, smiling broadly.

We snuggled together on the bed for twenty minutes or so, as Amy reminisced about our trip to London together and planned our next outing. I lay beside her quietly, without the energy to talk.

Then we kissed and told each other that we loved each other. I felt a sense of security for the first time in days.

"Jake," Amy said, "I should probably get back to the Stables."

We got up and headed slowly down the stairs. I looked at my watch - it was half past two; Amy had been with me for almost an hour and a half. We went into the kitchen so she could pick up her coat and her bag.

Suddenly there was a knock on the back door. My heart sank, that could only be one person.

"It's Lauren," I said. "She'll be back from the Campsite."

I crossed the tiled floor of the kitchen and opened the door. My cousin tumbled through, brandishing something in her hand.

"You've got to see this," she cried in excitement, "this is the funniest thing ever!"

"Oh!" she said seeing Amy, "sorry I didn't realise you were here."

"That's OK," Amy replied, not looking overly delighted to see my cousin bursting in, "I was about to go back to the Stables."

"Look, you've got to see this," Lauren said.

In the fog of my concussion, I realised she was holding the local newspaper, but before I could stop her, she'd flipped it open and had begun to read the headline.

I looked across at Amy. The colour was draining from her face.

"The schoolboy, who will begin a degree in veterinary medicine at Cambridge University in October, was waiting for a lift home with a female school student, understood to be his girlfriend of three months," Lauren was reading.

Amy was beginning to cry.

"Hardwick received the stab wound after he blocked the assailant from reaching the schoolgirl (also 18), before wrestling the attacker to the ground and disarming him," Lauren continued.

"Lauren stop!" I ordered angrily. "You're upsetting Amy and you're upsetting me."

"But it says how great you are," she protested, "how you beat him off."

"Lauren just fuck off and leave us alone," I snapped, putting my good arm around Amy. "Why do you have to interfere in everything? Get out!"

My cousin turned white, grabbed the newspaper and ran, slamming the back door behind her.

Amy wept into my chest. "I'm so sorry," she sobbed, "this is all my fault. It's all my fault."

I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

"Amy, it's not your fault," I said calmly. "Ritchie is ill, very, very ill, that's why he hurt me - it's got nothing to do with you."

"But it has," she protested. "It's my fault. I'm so sorry, so sorry."

I kissed the top of her head.

"I need to go Jake," she said tearfully. "I'm so sorry."

"Amy, please," I said, trying in vain to catch her and prevent her from leaving.

"I have to go Jake," she said. "I'll come and see you tomorrow."

She kissed me on the cheek, then turned and fled. I heard the sound of the front door slamming shut.

I roared with anger. This was all Lauren's fault. That bitch needed to be taught a lesson.

-

Mum found me half an hour later, sobbing at the kitchen table. I'd worked myself up into such a rage that my head felt like it was about to explode with pain.

I'd gone over to Lauren's house and had a flaming row with her. She'd treated the whole incident like it was a joke; Amy was still traumatised, it was no wonder she'd got upset. I'd called my cousin every name under the sun and told her that she wasn't to come near the pair of us ever again. Then I'd staked back to the farmhouse, still shaking with fury.