The memory assaulted her and her right hand involuntarily went to grasp her husband’s, despite the gulf between the two of them. She could feel the tension emanate from him and she gently squeezed his fingers before releasing them and placing both of her hands together in prayer on her lap, reverting to her own childhood habit. She focused on her crossed thumbs, right over left, the usually long, manicured nails bare and jagged, and began the silent chant.

Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right. Everything will be all—

‘All rise!’

She quickly got to her feet, her eyes urgently seeking her son’s once more as the judge swept into the room, but all she could see was his taut back and the nape of his long neck as he looked at the ground. Head up, she wanted to cry out. You’ve done nothing wrong!

The judge indicated for the court to sit before the clerk spoke.

‘Would the foreman of the jury please stand,’ instructed the clerk.

Claire noticed the foreman was wearing a wedding band. Most likely he had kids himself. Surely he wouldn’t let an innocent child be convicted for something he didn’t do? She caught herself on the word child. He was almost eighteen. If found guilty, he would be sent to an adult prison along with the country’s worst offenders.

‘Have the jury reached verdicts upon which they are all agreed?’ asked the clerk.

‘Yes,’ replied the foreman.

They couldn’t take him away. Could they?

She felt her chest tighten.

Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.

Her throat was closing and she coughed frantically.

Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.

She was struggling to breathe and a silent primal scream rose in her throat.

Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.

‘In the matter of Aiker versus Carmichael, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’

August 2017

1

Claire’s husband strode through the front door and she observed him, trying to be discreet. It wasn’t difficult. His blue eyes were locked on his mobile phone, entranced as his thumb moved quickly across the screen. Having found what he was looking for, the spell was broken as Chris raised the phone to his ear, his attention finally coming to rest on her. Sorry, he mouthed as he rolled his eyes and she smiled at him, keen to show patience and understanding. She hoped that this, along with the warm smell of the simmering beef casserole, would soothe his transition from stressed employee to loving husband and father. However, she suspected it would take another couple of hours for him to relax.