Tybalt and Juliet Ch. 13

"Oh, that's so romantic! Such a sweet present!" Amy's mum gushed. She put an arm around me and squeezed me against herself.

I'd been agonising about what to get my girlfriend for her nineteenth birthday. I wanted to surprise Amy, but had I asked her, I was certain that she'd say that all she wanted was to spend the weekend alone with me, something we'd been planning for the preceding three weeks. We'd be giving the double bed in her uncle's cottage a good workout, but I wanted to give her something tangible that she could take with her to university and not just the warm memories of good sex. All I'd come up with was a framed print of the selfie that the two of us had taken in Trafalgar Square on our first visit to London together.

Clueless, I'd turned to my friends for inspiration. Stijn, one half of the most durable couple at school, seemed the most likely to offer sensible suggestions, but when we'd met for a drink, he'd spent almost the entirety of the evening agonising over whether he should split up with Rachel. It seemed a little insensitive, when talk finally turned to my relationship with Amy, to ask for his advice on a birthday present.

James had given me far too much information about the bra-and-panty set that he'd purchased for Becky (and the night she'd given him in return), and I declined his kind invitation to accompany me to a lingerie shop. Perhaps I was too much of a prude, but I wasn't ready to buy Amy underwear and I suspected that she wasn't ready to receive it either. Above all, I wanted a present that she wouldn't be embarrassed to show her mother.

Lauren and Danny had returned penniless and exhausted from their grand tour of Europe, and had talked at nauseating length about their adventures. Male pride prevented me from admitting to my cousin that I was out of ideas and, had I asked him, Danny would only have referred me back to her for advice.

"Why don't you record yourself playing the guitar?" suggested Mum, after I'd turned to her in desperation with under a week to go. "Sing a few songs for her?"

It was an inspired idea. I practised frantically to work up eight or so songs and a couple of instrumentals to performance standard. Then, two days before Amy's birthday, I found myself in the sound-proof studio at James' house, laying down the tracks with the help of his middle brother.

I'm not going to pretend that I was a one-take wonder and it had taken the best part of four hours to record forty minutes of music, but I was pretty pleased with the end result. By mid-afternoon I emerged clutching my guitar and two memory sticks containing the precious audio files.

I walked slowly from James' house into town. We were well into September now and the unbearable heat of summer had loosened its hold on the south of England. There was a cooler edge to the stiffening breeze; autumn was on its way.

I'd finished my job at the Campsite at the end of August and was working at the Stables. Jackie, the owner, was still spending a lot of time with her frail mother up in Sheffield and, even if the school holidays were over, there was still plenty for me to do. It was nice to work with Amy, although opportunities to show affection for each other were limited. We'd had sex twice at the end of the summer, but our schedules, her period, and a general lack of privacy had prevented us from experimenting further. I couldn't wait to spirit her away for a romantic weekend.

I'd been fairly good at keeping up with my school friends, all of whom were preparing to head off to university. Like Lauren and Danny, many had taken advantage of the longer vacation to go on extended trips away. Amy and I would undoubtedly have done the same were it not for the attack after the prom.

I reached the café in the town centre, where I'd arranged to meet Anna. She'd been Head Girl at school for our final year and would be going to Newcastle to study biochemistry. I wasn't entirely sure when her term was due to start, but she'd be leaving for the north of England soon.

I liked Anna a lot. Perhaps that wasn't difficult - she was fun, confident and articulate. With the possible exception of Becky, she was the most attractive girl in our year group - tall, blonde, with the body of a volleyball player - in short, every male teenager's wet dream. Most of the boys at school had tried to come on to her, but without success. Ritchie had attempted to woo her several times, before turning his sights on Amy. As for me, I'd known all along that it wasn't worth trying; Anna was way out of my league.

We paid for our drinks and headed to a small table at the back of the café. We exchanged a few pleasantries about our respective summers and then the real reason for Anna's request to meet became clear.

"Er Jake," she began, "I wanted to ask you something - about school. It's the prizegiving evening in December..."

I nodded. Our school was a little unusual in that our 'graduation ceremony' would take place almost six months after we'd left. The scheduling, although utterly illogical at first glance, was the first available point in the calendar after our A level results had been published and university places confirmed, when the vast majority of awardees were likely to be available to attend. (Any date in August or September was impossible because of summer vacations and the spread of start dates for university terms.)

Tradition dictated that the Head Boy and Girl would give a joint speech and therein lay the first problem: Ritchie was on remand in a young offenders' institution and therefore otherwise engaged for the evening. I'd suspected that she was going to offer me the opportunity to take his place, and I'd planned a respectful refusal. Anna would have to give the speech on her own.

"The invitations are going to go out in a couple of days' time," she continued. "And, well, some of the others were wondering what we should do. You know how badly the school behaved about Ritchie, well, some people are saying we should boycott the ceremony and maybe do something somewhere else on the same night."

"A rival event?" I asked, half-horrified. I hadn't seen that one coming.

"People have suggested booking the Town Hall," she stated. "Invite the local press and make it a celebration of us as a year group and not let the school take the credit for what we've achieved."

Anna was conflicted and cautious. I sensed a tremendous loyalty within her to the school, but there were clearly voices around her who thought that carrying on with business-as-usual in the light of the summer's events and revelations was hypocritical. Maybe they had a point.

The problem was that I knew who the voices were - a gaggle of about half-a-dozen students, whose raison d'être was posting indignant comments on social media - shrieking banshees who'd jump on any bandwagon going. Where were the outraged when Ritchie was at the height of his power? Saying nothing and trying to sleep with him, in a pathetic attempt to improve their own standing - that's what they were doing. To be taking the moral high ground now was the very definition of sanctimonious duplicity.

Yes, the school had behaved appallingly over the Ritchie issue for several years, but various investigations (some led by the police and some by the council) were getting to the bottom of those events now. Wounds were beginning to heal and reopening them in such a petulant way was not going to help anyone. Mention of inviting the local press was the give-away - this was a stunt, nothing more.

Finally there were the practicalities to consider. Just who was going to organise and pay for a rival event? It was all very well dreaming up big statements over the summer when time was plentiful and everyone was searching for distractions from boredom, but the idea of arranging something in the Town Hall through the final weeks of a busy university term from at least a hundred miles away was simply a non-starter. The virtue signallers would blithely make promises now, but the whole thing would be dumped onto Anna's shoulders as the time approached.

The Head Girl let me think for several seconds as I pretended to tussle with the issues. Eventually I shook my head.

"Anna," I began, "I can see why some people think this would be a good idea and yes, I think the school's got a lot to answer for, but this isn't the way to put things right. There were some bad teachers, some very bad teachers, but they're gone now; the good ones are still there; we should thank them for what they did and let them celebrate with us."

There were signs of relief in Anna's face.

"You don't think we're endorsing a bad school?" she asked warily.

I shook my head.

"No," I replied. "We're showing that we're proud of what we've achieved. Some people might have stood in our way, but so many more have helped us. And we should acknowledge that. We've got no idea what went on behind the scenes, maybe some of them took risks to protect us - we'll never know what they might have done."

Anna nodded.

"And should I mention the attack, in my speech?" she asked.

I shook my head. The greatest insult we could pay Ritchie would be to ignore him completely, to expunge him from the record as if he'd never existed.

"Everyone knows," I said gently. "Focus on what we did, not on the people who tried to stop us."

Anna and I chatted for another twenty minutes or so as we finished our drinks. It was about half past four and the café had pretty much emptied.

We walked the short distance to the town square, where our paths diverged.

"Well I guess this is it," I said, as we paused to say goodbye.

Anna embraced me. "Good luck Jake," she said. "You're gonna do so well at Cambridge, you're gonna have so much fun."

"And you at Newcastle," I said. "You'll speaking with a Geordie accent by Christmas!"

There was a slightly awkward pause.

"I'm really pleased you got together with Amy," she said. "You really deserve each other - you're so right for each other!"

I thought I detected a hint of regret in her voice.

"There's a really great guy waiting for you at Newcastle," I said. "You'll find the one!"

Anna smiled, as if to humour me. We hugged once again and then turned to go our separate ways.

"Bye Jake," she called.

"Bye Anna," I waved back over my shoulder.

I turned, swerving just in time to avoid a collision with Amy's mother.

"Jake!" Jenny Norton exclaimed.

A wave of panic washed over me. She'd seen me saying goodbye to Anna, hugging a girl who wasn't her daughter.

"Er I've just been saying goodbye to a schoolfriend," I stuttered nervously. "She's leaving for Newcastle next week. I did tell Amy I was meeting her," I added defensively.

Jenny smiled, enjoying my obvious discomfort. "It's OK Jake, you are allowed to meet up with female friends!"

I looked down at the pavement, feeling a little foolish.

"Actually Jake," she said. "I wanted to talk to you on your own. Do you have time for a quick chat?" she asked.

"Er, yeah." I swallowed nervously.

She glanced around the square, but all of the benches were taken.

"Let's go back to my office," she said. "It's only a short walk."

We began to walk back along the High Street. I'd noticed it earlier, a few of the shoppers staring we passed, half-recognising me - one of the reasons I'd tried to avoid coming into town over the summer.

"You been playing your guitar?" Jenny asked, motioning to the case I had slung over my back.

I blushed. "It's for Amy's birthday," I confided. "I've been recording some songs for her."

"Oh that's so romantic! Such a sweet present," Amy's mum gushed. She put an arm around me and squeezed me against herself.

"Well I wanted to give her something to take with her to university, but she's not going to have very much room to store things," I muttered, embarrassed.

Jenny laughed. "Amy's got caught up on the whole idea of moving into her own space. She's bought so much stuff. I've tried to tell her she'll be living in a shoe box for the next three years, especially in London."

We'd reached the entrance to the law firm and she led me up the stairs to her office.

There was a brass plaque on her door: 'Jennifer Norton MA BCL - Senior Partner' it read.

Ignoring her mahogany desk, Jenny showed me to a couple of straight-backed armchairs at the far end of her office. I rested my guitar against the bookcase behind and sat down, waiting for her to begin.

"I wanted to talk to you about Richard's trial," she said, a little cautiously. "I don't think the police will have told you yet, but we finally have a date for the case management hearing." She paused. "It's about a month from now - I think it's the Friday before you go up to Cambridge."

I sighed inwardly; it wasn't ideal timing. I'd been hoping that the court process would start after I got to university, so that I had some distance between me and my hometown. But no matter the date, wherever I was in the world, I'd still end up thinking about the trial.

"Now although you'll still be at home," Jenny continued, "it's not a good idea for you to go along. The last thing you need is to come face-to-face with either Ritchie or his family."

I nodded. I had no intention of going, unless I was called as a witness, and that wouldn't be until the main trial.

"As you know, there's a fair amount going on behind the scenes at the moment. But essentially what has happened now is that the judge has decided that the prosecution has enough evidence for the case to proceed.

"So when Richard gets into court, he'll be asked to enter pleas to the charges against him," she continued.

I swallowed.

"Our firm isn't handling this, but I know the lawyers that are. I know them very well, both the prosecution and the defence."

I nodded. Jenny had seen a lot of the papers connected to the case - she wasn't supposed to, but she'd pulled strings.

"The difficulties with the case are not really to do with a dispute about the facts of what happened - it's the severity of the attacks and working out what charges Richard should be facing," she continued, slipping subconsciously into a more formal, legal tone.

"The student that he attacked in the nightclub - her injuries looked horrendous, especially in the press photos - but it was mostly severe bruising and a broken nose. What was never reported in the papers was that she provoked him by pouring her drink over him - he'd been harassing her and instead of walking away and getting help, she decided to humiliate him. The sexual assault charge isn't going to stick, I'm afraid - the evidence simply isn't there."

I swallowed, that was news to me. The press had suggested that Ritchie might even stand trial for attempted rape; now it was clear that their sensationalist reporting at the time was based more on rumour and hearsay than concrete facts.

"Because of the provocation defence and the fact that the attack wasn't planned, the most he's going to be charged with is actual bodily harm. The CCTV evidence isn't as clear as we were led to believe. I'm afraid to say he might well plead 'not-guilty' and the case will be sent to trial."

My stomach turned over. I'd always thought that the assault on the student was the more serious incident. Now I feared for my own case.

Jenny could see the signs of alarm and concern in my expression. "And the attack on me?" I asked nervously.

"Richard has been charged with Grievous Bodily Harm," Jenny continued, "and, as you know, that's under Section 18, which is the more serious option. It's always been a possibility that the defence would arrange a plea bargain and that he'd plead 'guilty' under Section 20 instead."

I nodded. Jenny had explained the mechanics of a potential plea bargain and it had always seemed a likely outcome. (In fact, she'd been upfront from the outset that if Ritchie was her client, she'd advise him to accept one.) Section 20 would limit his sentence to five years, but given his age, it would be considerably less.

"There's no easy way to tell you this, Jake, but I'm afraid what I'm hearing now is that Richard's defence team want your case downgraded to actual bodily harm."

I gave a sharp intake of breath and I felt the colour drain from my face.

"Will they let him do that?" I stammered, my faith in the law beginning to flounder.

"No, absolutely not," Jenny said firmly. "The prosecution would never agree to it and the CCTV evidence is clear. So, there's a strong likelihood that he'd plead 'not guilty' to the more serious charge."

My mind was beginning to race. A 'not guilty' plea meant that I'd have to appear as a witness. I could just image Ritchie turning on the charm to the jury, playing the 'sweet-and-innocent card' that he'd used against me so many times in the past, then swaggering out of the court scot-free, a supercilious smile plastered over his sneering face.

Jenny spoke again, more softly this time. "Jake, I know this is a shock to you, but a lot of this is part-and-parcel of the normal negotiations and conversations that happen before a trial. There's nothing unusual here; Richard's defence team aren't playing the system - they're just arguing the case for their client as best they can."

I nodded. There was a crumb of comfort there, somewhere. I looked down at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact.

"I'm just worried about having to be in court as a witness. And the defence team trying to rip me apart and blame the whole thing on me," I bleated.

Jenny nodded sympathetically.

"Well," she said. "The good news is that the prosecution can probably arrange for you to appear by video link from Cambridge. So you wouldn't be in the same room as Richard.

"And as far as cross-examination goes, we'll make sure that you're supported and prepared before it happens. If you don't want me to help you, that's fine, then James' mum, or even someone from another firm can help.

"Pro bono," she added

I gave her a quizzical look.

"It means we won't charge you."

I smiled weakly, trying to pretend that I was reassured.

"Jake," Jenny said gently. "Everything you did that night - on the night of the prom, was exactly right - everything.

"When Richard threatened you with that knife, you did nothing to inflame the situation, you tried to back yourself and Amy away from danger and only when it was completely unavoidable did you repel him with force. You were calm and collected when it mattered - under the most extreme provocation. You showed courage, wisdom and maturity far beyond your years - far beyond your years. I should know - I prosecute these sorts of cases for a living."

I looked up at her. "Really?" I asked.

Jenny nodded and attempted a reassuring smile.

"You did everything right, Jake," she said. "And if the case does go to a full trial and you're called as a witness, I promise we'll make sure that you're fully ready."

I nodded. "Thank you," I said quietly.

I leant back in the chair and tried to take everything in. Jenny walked across to her desk and poured a glass of water, which she offered to me.

I drank gratefully.

"Does Amy know?" I asked. "About the plea bargains I mean?" My girlfriend had been at work at the Stables all day and I hadn't spoken to her. I had a sudden feeling of panic that she'd been carrying this information around inside without being able to talk to me.

Jenny shook her head. "No, not yet," she replied. "I thought it was fair for you to know first. I will tell her this evening, so don't say anything yet. It's probably best to wait for me to talk to her before you speak to her tonight."

I nodded. Jenny was right - it was better for mother and daughter to talk first.

I took a few deep breaths.

"I know, it's a bit of a shock to hear this," Jenny said. "But what's happened so far in the process is completely routine. The prosecution are just trying to get the best chance of a conviction in both cases. The defence team are trying to do their best to represent their client. I wouldn't have done anything differently."