Disclosure

She was so convincing. Those convenient tears trickling down her cheeks. Her hands jittering up and down on her lap. The tremor in her voice as she whispered her replies. She played her part so well. Too well.

She’s got most of them fooled. I can tell. Especially the old battle-axe in the front row. Her eyes followed me everywhere and even through her coke bottle lenses, she oozed hostility and disapproval.

They can’t all believe her though. Surely. That tall bloke at the back, the one who wore the same pale pink shirt three days running and can’t grow a proper beard, he must know what it’s like. How these things go. Surely?

All I know is that she isn’t going to win. I won’t let her. There’s no way Iris Gallagher is going to take everything from me. Not without a fight.

I spring out of my chair, crumpling the vending machine cup in my hand and tossing it in the bin. Bullseye. That’s got to be a good omen, right?

Right?

I resume my listless circuit of the room, trailing my hand along the wood paneled walls and counting each time my shoes strike the polished floor. I pause by the sash window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass and gaze into the street below. The morning’s yawned into afternoon and the lunch time rush is well and truly over, the stragglers bustling along the pavements as the wait staff wipe down tables and stack chairs.

How can everything be so normal out there?

Everyone is just carrying on with their lives, while mine hangs in the balance. It’s not fair and it’s not…

“It shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

I startle. I didn’t hear the door open let alone anyone step inside. Did she see me jump?

“I’ve just spoken to the usher. He says the jury’s almost ready to come back in.”

I slump against the wall, clamping my eyes shut. This is it. It’s out of my hands. There’s nothing I can do now.

“Seth?”

She stops tapping on her phone and stares at me, her eyebrow raised. I collapse into the nearest chair, my stomach rolling, the bitter taste of coffee churning with my half-eaten coronation chicken sandwich.

I seize the cup in front of me, the glass clinking against my teeth, water dribbling down my chin. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I pitch forward, my head sinking to my knees.

My fate is in the hands of 12 random people. Strangers. Have I done enough to convince them? What would they think if they saw me in the street, holding hands with my boys and skipping over the cracks in the pavement, ducking into Costa for a coffee and a chocolate twist...

… Gabriel and Seb. My boys. I can’t live without them. I can’t. If they find me guilty, I’m looking at five years maybe even longer behind bars. I’ll miss them growing up. They’ll grow up without me. It can’t happen. I won’t let it.

I gasp as a band of pain flares in my chest, squeezing all the air from my lungs. Calm down, Seth. You’ve got no idea what’s going to happen. Not yet. Come on, breathe in. And out. In. And out…

“Seth, are you okay?”

My head jerks up as I hear my lawyer clear her throat. Get it together. She’s going to think you’re crazy. You’re acting crazy.

“Yeah, fine,” I whisper, running my hands through my hair. “I’m fine thanks, Vera.”

She nods and pulls out a chair on the opposite side of the table, shuffling her paperwork into the folder. Her eyes are narrowed as she nibbles on the end of her pen.

“Do you think it’s a bad sign they’re coming back in already?” I ask.

She shrugs her shoulders, her mouth twisting into a line: “Hard to say. Juries can be so unpredictable, but I think it went as well as it could.”

That doesn’t sound too hopeful. I’d have preferred her to sound a little more optimistic. Tell me everything’s going to be fine. That I’ll be fine. It’s not fair. I shouldn’t even be here. What is it they say, no good deed goes unpunished.

“I wish I’d never given her a lift,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “I thought I was doing the right thing. She was in no fit state to call a taxi let alone walk home.”

Vera mumbles something I don’t quite catch, scribbling in her notepad and circling a section at the bottom of the page.

“I only stayed for a drink because she insisted. I was just making sure she was okay before I left,” I say.

Vera sets her pen down and leans back in her chair: “I’m sure it’s going to be alright, Seth. The jury can see you’re not the type of man to… to…”

She hesitates and coughs to clear the lengthening pause, the unspoken words hanging between us.

… the type of man to rape a woman in her own home?

The collar of my shirt feels too tight, and I tug at the material, undoing the top button and yanking my tie to one side.

“Do you think the jury will believe me? Realize there’s no way I could have done it, what she’s accusing me of?”

“I’m positive they’ll be able to see the type of man you are Seth. You had so many people willing to speak up on your behalf. It certainly helped that your boss says you’re the one he trusts to mentor all the new starters. And the fact you’ve known your local vicar since you were a boy and still help at the church fetes…”

I glance down at my gnawed off fingernails and bunch my hands into fists.

I doubt I’ll even be able to attend the church fete this year. Not after my face has been plastered all over the local rag for months on end. I’ve had to stop going to the gym too and I can’t face the supermarket. All those nods and knowing glances. I can’t believe she said I raped her. I’m going to lose everything. What’s left to lose that is.

“She’s a bloody liar,” I mutter. “I don’t know why she’s doing this to me.”

“Quite,” says Vera. “I find it hard to believe the jury will fall for it. There’s no way she can be considered a fragile and vulnerable young woman. Not with that reputation as a party girl who likes a drink or two. I’m sure the jury will see exactly what type of person she is.”

“Good. I just hope you’re right.”

I slide back in the chair and close my eyes. If I’d known what sort of person she was, I’d never have driven her home that night. It’s not like I knew her that well. Just recognized her as one of the temps in the accounts department. She cannoned into me as she rushed out of the bar next to our office building. Her glassy eyes were a dead giveaway. She was hammered. Off her head.

I thought I was being chivalrous running her home. I’d want someone to do the same for my wife if they found her in a similar state. Not that she’d ever get drunk like that. Poor Jessica. I can’t believe what she’s had to go through. It’s like she’s on trial alongside me. I will never forgive Iris for this. What she’s done to me. My family.

My eyes snap open as there’s a knock on the door and Vera’s colleague Damian pokes his head into the room.

“The jury’s back.”

+++

I sway in the dock, sweat beading on my forehead, my hands clutching the metal rail. My mouth is so dry it hurts to swallow. But I don’t trust my hands to remain steady enough to hold a glass of water.

This is it. This is it.

I struggle to focus, the roaring in my head muffling everything, making me feel disorientated and quite sick.

“And have you reached a verdict upon which you are all agreed? Please answer yes or no.” asks the court clerk.

My head spins, my eyes swimming as I stare towards the gallery, trying to find Jessica. She’s there, front row. As she’s been this whole time. Her face is white and she’s fiddling with the crucifix around her neck.

“Yes,” says the man, glancing over his shoulder at his fellow jury members.

“Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty.”

Oh, please God….

“Not guilty.”

I slump against the dock, tears burning my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest Thank God. Thank God. Justice has been done.

Everything blurs as the courtroom erupts and Vera is by my side, shaking my hand and telling me I’m free to go. Free. I can go. It’s over.

I shoulder my way through the doors of the courtroom and slide into the lobby. I scan the corridor, hoping to find Jessica waiting for me. How can I ever thank her for standing by me. I’ll make it up to her. I’ll make it up to everyone.

There’s no sign of her. Where is she?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her. Not my wife. Not my Jessica. Her. Iris Gallagher. She’s sobbing. A messy tissue scrunched in her hand, dabbing at her face.

I know Vera said not to go near her, but I can’t help myself. Doesn’t she realize what she’s put me through. How much damage she’s caused.

She flinches as I approach her. Her eyes are swollen and red, just like they were on that night. The urge to giggle bubbles up in my chest. Pathetic. She’s pathetic.

As I draw level, I smirk and whisper in her ear: “I told you nobody would believe you.”