The crowd was huge. Inga was used to being greeted antagonistically by a small group of men; but this one was massive. Instinctively, the women reached for each other. Inga’s voice carried, ‘Walk fast, don’t stop.’ But there were more men than women. Some women hadn’t been tested like this, on their principles; they began whimpering a little. They couldn’t help glancing at the men as they passed: a boy in a green-striped hoodie; a forehead with pimples; a ginger beard; a red baseball cap; a knuckleduster? (no, a signet ring). Trickles of sweat ran down the women’s bodies; the body of men parted as they approached; and now they were walking in amongst them, single file or two by two; the men were all around them. The women could smell them – cigarettes, aftershave, laundry powder, sweat, deodorant, alcohol. They could feel their breath. They could hear them breathing. Stella put out a hand. ‘Give us some space, please,’ she said; and one of the men reached out to shove her. Like her, he was red-haired, pale, he could have been her brother. She stumbled, the women moved to shield her, as Inga, turning to see what was happening, began to shout, ‘Get back!’ Somebody threw a stone. It hit Inga on the cheek. Hands reached in, some rough; some, sickeningly, stroking, touching, probing. The women screamed. Tara knew how to fight; kung fu at school was part of it, but she looked like she’d been ready for this all her life. Tara was shouting; then Stella scrambled to her feet, had pepper-sprayed four or five men before they even knew what was happening. One guy was bent over clutching his face where she’d smashed the butt of the can into his eye socket. Ravi, who had been waiting at the library doors, began moving down the steps. There was fear on his face. ‘Ravi, run and get help,’ shouted Stella; ‘You, fuck off,’ said a big man in a cap, turning to shove Ravi in the chest. From the library steps came shouts of ‘Police! Police!’, as Ruth – off-duty because she was about to give evidence – ran towards the crowd. ‘Police, police, step back, fall back!’ In the distance, the sound of sirens; here, in slow motion, Ruth, hitting out with her fists; Stella, now dispensing well-aimed kicks at assailants with her lace-up boots and screaming at the men, I’ll fucking kill you; Ravi, standing up, blood streaming from his nose. At the sound of the approaching police cars, the men began shouting to each other to scarper. Stella was crying; she was lifted and half-carried up the library steps to where the judge was standing.

The judge had seen it all.