When Nothing is Ever Simple

CHAPTER TWELVE

A letter arrives in the post on Monday morning. It is addressed to a Ms. Carol Gardner. I know what it is. I give it to Mum who is oblivious, humming to a song on the radio as she makes breakfast for Sammie and Tasha. It's like she's trying to block out the growing problem of the court case by engrossing herself in being a mother - catching up on the past few years I suppose. But she can't hide from it forever. I hand her the letter. She slices through the top with the knife she is using to butter the toast with a flourish, making Tasha giggle.

Her face pales. "So soon," she whispers, more to herself than anyone else. She drops the letter and it floats to the kitchen floor. I pick it up quickly before it becomes soiled by Lola's orange juice or Geoffrey's coffee when he's in a rush. I start to read.

 Dear Ms. Gardner,

 We are writing to let you know the proposed date of your pending trial. It is to take place on the 22nd May 2014. We apologise for the short notice.

 We thank you in advance for your cooperation,

 Sincerely,

 Dominic Brewer (CEO of Manchester and Salford Magistrates' court)

 It is short, but it's enough. The trial is in three weeks. I can't believe it.

"What's wrong? You two look as though you've seen a ghost." Geoffrey walks in, with his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a chest of dark curls. He glances down at his watch. "We should really get going. I need to get the girls off to school and—"

"Geoffrey, it's so soon," Mum cuts him short.

"What's so soon?"

"The trial."

"What? When is it?"

"In three weeks."

"Bloody hell." He shakes his head. "That can't be right. Is that the letter?" He snatches it out of my hand. "I'll have to get an appointment with Cedric Pope."

"Who's that?" I ask him.

"The lawyer," Geoffrey says as he walks out the room. I hear him making a phone call a few minutes later and he reappears after I've got dressed for school. "We've got an appointment later today - four thirty. Make sure your appropriately dressed - and sober," he tells Mum.

"Why can't you trust me?" Geoffrey ignores Mum's comment. Why do you think? I wonder.

"Can I come?" I want to be there.

He rakes a hand through his hair, considering. "Yes but you'll have to make your own way there. We'll have left by the time you get home from school. We're putting the kids in the after-school club."