The prosecution had provided a photograph of the injured Miss Parsons. It might have been a pretty face. It was hard to say, given the state of her right eye, which was closed, purple and puffed. Her other eye appeared blank and almost colourless. Her hair was brown with pink streaks, long and lank. Her right arm was in plaster. Mel couldn’t help feeling this was not the first time Lily had suffered physical abuse.
She told Stevens that she’d seen the pictures and heard what had happened in a note from his solicitor. She understood there’d been a row and needed to hear his story in more detail.
What followed was confused, rambling and contradictory. Mel took down the odd note as she listened, conscious of Natasha tapping away beside her. Lily had been flirting with some men in the pub. She’d had too much to drink and Stevens had brought her home, taking her into the kitchen for a coffee. Then she’d started on him, accused him of treating her like shit.
‘She went fucking crazy. Said I never let her do anything. Like I was trying to control her. As if. No one can control that woman. I never hit her. She was standing by the knife rack. I’m not that stupid.’
‘Miss Parsons said you grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back. Then you threw her to the floor.’
‘Fucking liar.’
‘She says you then pulled her up and hurled her against the counter.’
‘More fucking lies. I never hurled her anywhere. Might’ve pushed her. Like I said she was winding me up, provoking me.’
‘I’m afraid, Mr Stevens, provocation is no defence.’
‘You telling me to go guilty?’
‘I’m not telling you anything. Your plea is your own choice. I can raise provocation, but only if you plead guilty. If you decide to plead not guilty I can’t advance provocation as a defence.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘It’s not a matter of what I want. If you have a defence I’ll put that to Miss Parsons. Then you’ll give evidence and the court will hear your version of events.’
‘What do you mean if I have a defence?’
‘Before we decide on plea I need to know exactly what happened.’
She was handling this badly, explaining procedure in too much detail, failing to get his story out. It was poor practice, sending them round in circles and she was conscious of Natasha sitting next to her, taking down every word on her laptop. As a pupil, Natasha was the most junior member of the defence team, yet Mel couldn’t dispel a disquieting sense that roles had been reversed, that Natasha was the one doing the supervising. Stevens had gone quiet. His eyes darted round the room and rested on Natasha.
‘You heard me. What do you think?’
‘I can’t really…’ Natasha started.
‘Miss Baker is here to listen and take notes,’ interrupted Mel. ‘She and I will discuss your case later, but it is easier for all of us if we don’t confuse the situation with two points of view at this stage.’ She nodded at him. ‘Do go on.’
Stevens’ story involved another man, text messages between that man and Lily, flirting in a pub. The interview room was hot and her client’s voice was flat and slow, mildly soporific. Mel had not slept well last night. She’d woken early, worrying about Jacob. His GCSEs were starting at the end of May, but he had taken to going out more, staying out late. On Saturday he had rung from a friend’s house telling her he planned to sleep over. It was midnight and safer to stay out than walk back alone from the tube. She’d asked to speak to the friend’s parents and been told they were asleep. What could she do? After one glass of wine too many she had no wish to drive across London to pick him up, if he was indeed where he said he was. This morning she’d left him huddled in a dressing gown at the kitchen table. He had a timetabled class at nine a.m., but she wasn’t going to risk being late by driving him in again.
Conrad Stevens’ voice droned on. Then there was a slight change of tone and Mel realised she’d been drifting. She clicked back into the moment.
‘Then she gets up off the floor and goes and sits down. I’m not about to hang around and have her shout at me, so I’m off down the pub.’
‘So, even though she was injured, you chose to leave her,’ said Mel.
‘How’d I know she was injured? Like I said, she got up off the floor. Next thing she’s sitting on a chair.’
‘And before the fall, you say she threatened you. Is that right?’
‘I told her to mind her mouth. She was accusing me of all sorts.’
‘What kind of thing?’
‘Shagging one of her mates.’
‘Is that true?’
‘What’s it matter?’
‘If it’s true it could support your case. It gives her a motive for threatening you.’
‘Yeah, I suppose. Mind you, I don’t want to look like a bastard in court.’
‘Better to look like a bastard than go to prison.’
She could hear her own voice rising. Was it irritation? She had never messed up like this in conference before. Stevens was not an easy client. But then clients were never easy. He might not be very articulate, but he was no fool. They carried on, Stevens giving contradictory versions of the events, Mel trying to pin him down.
‘So why didn’t you call an ambulance?’
Natasha glanced up then returned to her notes.
‘I already told you. I thought she was all right. I went down the pub. Had enough of her fucking games. When I got back she’d disappeared. Mad bitch.’
‘It would be better not to call her names in court.’
‘It’s what she is.’
‘I suggest you refer to her as Lily.’
‘She fucking provoked me.’
‘Mr Stevens. We have already been over this point. Let’s get back to the injuries. Something must have propelled her pretty hard to cause them. Was it you?’
‘I thought you were on my side.’
‘Did you hit her?’
‘No way.’
‘Push her?’
‘Might’ve done. She bloody pushed me.’
‘The injuries need to be explained.’
‘Like I said, she fell over. I thought I was innocent till proved guilty.’
‘True. But Miss Parsons has made certain allegations. We need to answer them.’
‘Then fucking answer them. You’re my brief. I told you what happened. I’m not pleading guilty. I’m not going inside. I got kids. I got a job. My employer’s keeping it for me while I go through this court crap. You got to get me off.’
‘Your plea is your decision, Mr Stevens. I can advise you. But I can’t mislead the court. We need to prepare a statement. It doesn’t have to be very detailed. But it has to give some idea of your case.’
‘So, what you advising?’
‘You need to stick with your story. And in five minutes I need to tell the judging what you’re pleading.’
The trouble was she was increasingly unsure what his story was. She should be taking him through it, point by point but she had allowed her mind to wander. Fatal. She had lost the thread.
‘Tell ’em I’m not guilty. And bloody get me out of here.’
‘I’ll do my best to get you bail. Of course, you’ll have to undertake not to go near your girlfriend’s flat.’