The World Out There - 13. Thirteen

When it came time for Mrs Stewart-Graham to present Liam’s defence, she had stood up and in her clear voice said, “We call our first witness: Mrs Nicola Webb!”

She was his Form Teacher. In puzzlement, Liam had watched her walk into the courtroom. What did she know about him, beyond his name? She had barely spoken to him in all the time she had been his Form Teacher. Most days she hadn’t even looked at him.

Mrs Webb wore her usual clothes of a colourful blouse and a plain skirt. That day, her blouse was turquoise with a loose and floppy bow at her neck and a black and pleated skirt. Her hair was held back in a ponytail that seemed to sprout out from the back of her head, but she had worn her hair like this every day at school that he could remember. The biggest change in her was that she was very pregnant. Her swelling belly and unusually large breasts pushed out against her clothes and had changed her walk into an ungainly, but still fast, waddle.

She was so pregnant: had it been so long since he’d last seen her since the last day he had gone to school? It didn’t feel that long.

Under Mrs Stewart-Graham’s precisely worded questions, Mrs Webb told the courtroom that Liam had never been in trouble at school, that he never got a detention, that he never fought or even raised his voice in class. (She seemed to have forgotten about the detention he got for punching Rhys Clarke, when he tried to fight back) Mrs Webb had answered all Mrs Stewart-Graham’s questions, but her voice sounded weak and soft in that courtroom. It wasn’t the sharp and loud voice she used in class, especially when she was telling them off.

When it was his turn, Mr Spencer rose to his feet and asked Mrs Webb, “What was the defendant’s favourite subjects at school?”

“I don’t remember,” Mrs Webb replied, her voice sounding even weaker.

“What were his worst subjects?” Mr Spencer asked her.

“I don’t remember,” she replied.

“What were his best subjects?”

“I… I don’t remember,” her face flushed deeply as she spoke,

“You don’t remember anything about the defendant, do you Mrs Webb?”

“Liam was one of those quiet pupils who sat in the middle of a classroom and didn’t cause any trouble,” Mrs Webb protested. “He didn’t fight or get into trouble or anything like that. He was just quiet.”

“Yes, Mrs Webb, he was very quiet,” Mr Spencer replied. “And still waters often run very deep. I have no further questions to ask you.” He then just sat down, leaving Mrs Webb to walk out of the courtroom with a very embarrassed air to her. She didn’t look towards Liam once.

Next Mrs Stewart-Graham called Janice Thomas. Liam recognised that name - it was his social worker. But he had only met her twice: the first time, she’d wanted his mother to sign some of her paperwork; the second time, she had been shouted at by his mother, but his mother shouted at a lot of people. Janice Thomas had shouted back at her, which didn’t often happen, and didn’t silence her for a moment. Janice Thomas was no Miss James.

Janice Thomas was a short and plump woman with very long light brown hair. That day, she wore her hair in a loose bun on the back of her head, and she was dressed in a dark blue jacket and pale tan trousers. She seemed very confident as she walked into the courtroom. She certainly didn’t seem intimidated by it.

Again Mrs Stewart-Graham’s questions were carefully worded and to the point. Janice Thomas told the court that Liam had not caused any problems at Rokeby House: he had been a “model child” there, whatever that meant. She also told them that Liam had never been in trouble with the police before, not even for petty crime. Janice Thomas went on to explain that, in her experience, children involved in violence had a history of petty and escalating crime, that they’d had numerous involvements with the police, and Liam had none of that.

Mr Spencer’s cross-examination of her had been short. He had started by asking her, “How many times did you visit the defendant at Rokeby House?”

“Twice,” Janice Thomas replied, her confidence obviously slipping.

“Didn’t you meet the defendant’s mother more times than you met him?” Mr Spencer said, a smirk curling up the edge of his strong mouth and exposing some of his perfect white teeth.

“Miss Duffield is a very demanding woman,” Janice Thomas replied, a nervous edge now to her voice. “She’s Liam’s mother.”

“You only met the defendant twice, so how are you qualified to give evidence towards his character?”

“I read all the handover reports the Rokeby House staff wrote about him,” she protested.

“And how many of those staff are trained mental health nurses, psychologists or social workers?”

“Well, none of them but…”

“So they are hardly qualified to assess how dangerous the defendant is,” he said, interrupting whatever she was going to say. “I have no more questions for you, Miss Thomas.” He added before quickly sitting back down again.