Sticks and Stones (19 page)

‘Is that . . . ?' Hannah trailed off.

There was no wink when Jake passed her this time, just a long level look that spoke volumes.
I'll see your two, and I'll raise you. Still in the game now, sweetheart?
His family followed suit, each passing without comment, although his mother paused, as if there was something she really wanted to say but she'd promised not to. And Maddie was grateful, because she didn't want to hear it either. Not from this fr agile, shrunken Lorna. She dragged her eyes away as she rubbed at her arm, hard. And lunch turned into bricks, which heaved and then settled again in a jagged pile.

‘Okay, let's get this show on the road.' Diana appeared at the top of the stairs, beaming as if they had already won. She stretched her arms out in her ushering fashion and then herded them before her into the courtroom. The
COURT IN SESSION
light was glowing so they paused in the entry to nod perfunctorily and then Diana gestured towards the public seating. There was plenty of room there now so they slid into seats just behind the long bench. The courtroom door opened again and Maddie knew that it would be Jake and his entourage. She stared ahead as they rustled their way into the seats behind, feeling their eyes burn into the back of her sage jacket. Concentrated hatred.

The large lawyer and Diana both waited by the wall as the current case came to an end. Something about property and school fees and another hearing that was only a month away. Maddie concentrated on the clerk's hair, at her largely futile attempts to repress the unruly curls. Finally the magistrate made a barely audible pronouncement and like magic the lawyers' table emptied, except for an older man who moved across into one of the middle seats. He was soon flanked by Jake's lawyer and Diana as the clerk fished a manila file out from a pile concertinaed across her desk and passed it up to the magistrate, then turned to face the court.

‘Calling the matter of Matilda Hampton and Jacob Hampton.'

The large lawyer stood briefly. ‘I appear for the applicant father.'

Diana followed suit. ‘I appear for the respondent mother.'

‘And I appear as the ICL.' The older man barely raised himself out of his chair and then settled back, peering at his notes.

So this was the independent children's lawyer who represented her children. Maddie wanted to embrace him, and then tow him from the courtroom so that she could have a long, frank talk. Explain Jake, the situation, her actions. She dragged her eyes back towards the bench, where the magistrate was reading through their file. He was a dour-looking older man, with plodding mannerisms and an unsympathetic air. Or perhaps he had simply seen too much.

Jake's lawyer broke the silence, nodding as if he was already answering a question. ‘Yes, as Your Honour can see, this is a case where the parents separated six years ago and came to an informal shared care arrangement. The children, Max and Courtney, were aged eight and six at the time. This worked well until concerns began to be raised about the mother's mental state.'

Maddie's eyes widened and she glanced towards Diana, willing her to interject, but she remained seated, listening intently.

‘She became increasingly unwilling to share the care of the children. For instance, as the affidavit from the school principal states, there were several occasions where the mother took the children from school early. This was to prevent my client from collecting them. A school counsellor became involved and made several attempts to discuss her concerns with the mother, to no avail. As a result, the situation deteriorated and there were several aggressive episodes where both parties received minor injuries. My client was apprehensive enough as to obtain an intervention order against his wife, hoping that distance would restore some calm.'

Maddie felt Hannah take her hand softly and realised that her fingers were clenched into a fist, the short nails still managing to score the soft flesh of her palm.

‘And we also note that the mother's affidavit makes claim of long-term family violence. My client refutes this absolutely and has obtained an affidavit from the neighbours attesting to this. It is his belief that there is absolutely no evidence to support this claim. That nothing remotely abusive occurred until the stressors of separation led to some mutually physical altercations between the two parties. Scuffles, as it were.'

Maddie closed her eyes, as if in pain.
She was trying to open the door. Frantically, urgently, even as she could hear his breathing rasp from across the room. Knowing she had made things worse, horribly worse, by fighting back. Feeling the doorknob slide uselessly between her sweat-slicked hands. And now he was talking again, with clenched fury leaching through the words. You bitch. You fucking bitch. I'm going to fucking kill you.

She jerked upright and sucked in a gulp of air. Her hand was squeezed as Hannah leant in closer, looking at her with concern. Maddie shook her head, managing a reassuring smile. Behind her she could hear a hissed conversation, with female voices, but the only word she could decipher was ‘bitch' so she knew they were talking about her.

Jake's lawyer still had the floor. ‘And I should mention that a hearing had been scheduled at the time. However, before it could take place the mother informed my client she was returning to the marital home and then, while he was preparing for reconciliation, she vanished with the children. Disguised their identities and set up home in country Victoria. For six years.' He paused for effect, gazing towards the magistrate, offering the number up within silence. ‘Six years. In the meantime my client never gave up hope. He employed private detectives, conducted his own search, and finally he was able to contact his daughter on the Facebook social network website. He collected the children two weeks ago and they have been living with him since.'

The magistrate glanced down at the file and then up again. He spoke in a low voice that didn't amplify well, despite the microphone before him. ‘Yes, thank you for that, Mr Redman. But I am curious as to why your client didn't seek recovery orders when the children were taken.'

‘If my client had known that he would be separated from his children for
six
years, there is no question he would have applied for recovery orders immediately.' Jake's lawyer, Mr Redman, nodded for emphasis. His chin folded in on itself and then out, like an accordion. ‘But the mother had a history of this sort of behaviour, and had always returned within a short period of time, so initially he assumed this would be similar. He wanted to settle things as informally as possible, and he hoped, for quite some time, that there was still a chance of reconciliation. That perhaps his wife just needed some time. And then, Your Honour, there is the fact that my client is a proud man. And he found the entire situation deeply embarrassing.'

Maddie wanted to jump to her feet and object, because he made it sound like she was a basket case, with Jake the long-suffering husband. When her
history
amounted to leaving twice before, both times after a severe beating, and then returning only because she had been convinced to give their marriage another try. She was guilty of stupidity, but that alone.

The magistrate was talking once more. ‘But if he believed his wife was mentally unstable, wasn't he fearful for his children?'

‘Not at all, Your Honour. In fact my client feels even now that the children are in no danger from their mother. Not physically, that is. Emotionally is another matter.' Mr Redman nodded once more, agreeing with himself, and then lowered his bulk into the chair.

The magistrate slid his gaze over to Diana and, as the lawyer stood, Maddie realised that now was
her
chance. Her stomach tightened, but this time with anticipation. Hannah squeezed her hand again and this time she squeezed back, then gently pulled away, laying her hand in her lap.

‘Your Honour. The respondent mother agrees that she did indeed take the children and change their names to avoid the father discovering their whereabouts. However, she did this because the father had a long history of violence towards her. This was indeed the cause of the separation, at which point the violence escalated. You have before you an affidavit from the mother's sister detailing injuries that she observed during this time. There are also photos.'

The magistrate lifted one hand slightly and Diana paused. He shuffled through the papers before him and began reading, looking up again a few moments later. ‘Are there any other witnesses to the alleged violence?'

‘There is a neighbour who lived next door to the mother after the separation, who also had cause to ring the police on occasion. Unfortunately she is overseas at this time. But the lack of witnesses is entirely in keeping with this sort of abuse. Before and after separation.'

‘Do we have these police reports?'

‘No charges were laid, Your Honour. Which is
also
in keeping with –'

‘That's all very good, Ms Le Gassick, but it means I am left with affidavits from both sides about witnessing injuries
after
the event. And I also have an intervention order against your client. If this was long-standing, why didn't
she
have an intervention order at some point?'

‘Once again, Your Honour, my client not having ever applied for an intervention order is entirely in keeping with domestic violence. The simple fact is that she was too scared that this in itself would escalate the abuse.'

‘Yes, but that doesn't help
me
,' said the magistrate, frowning at Diana as if she was personally responsible. ‘There appears to be no doubt that the relationship became violent. And the intervention order supports the father's claim that these physical altercations were not entirely one-sided. So we have a volatile relationship that was about to head to court for parenting orders six years ago. When instead the wife chose to take matters into her own hands and disappear with the children. Thus denying the father even his day in court.'

‘
Bastard
,' hissed Hannah, but under her breath so that the word slid out in one syllable.

‘Your Honour,' said Diana smoothly. ‘My client's affidavit explains how she was in fear for her life at the time. And also for the lives of her children as the father had made several threats towards them should she not acquiesce to his wishes. With regard to the last altercation, the boy witnessed his mother being beaten and was himself struck by his father on this occasion.'

Mr Redman jumped up. ‘Your Honour, this was an
accident
, where the boy Max came into the room behind the father and was knocked over in error.'

The magistrate sighed crossly. ‘I think I'd like to have a word with the mother.'

Diana stared at him for a moment, as if expecting him to elaborate, or address Maddie through her, and then turned, gesturing for her to come forward. Maddie's stomach heaved as she stood and made her way along the row of seats, past Hannah who touched her supportively on the arm as she went. Keeping her eyes down, away from those behind her who she knew would be watching her slow progress. Could even
feel
them watching. The clerk ushered her forward and up to a table set at one side. Then she positioned Maddie to face the magistrate's bench and spoke briskly. ‘Oath or affirmation?'

‘Affirmation please.'

As soon as Maddie was sworn in, the clerk returned to her computer, leaving Maddie to gaze up at the magistrate. Close up his skin was pasty, with pallid jowls that looked almost canine.

‘Is it Mrs Hampton?'

‘I prefer Ms McCourt,' replied Maddie, surprised to hear her voice emerge relatively even. ‘Your Honour.'

‘Which is the surname you adopted when you left six years ago?'

‘Yes.'

‘And herein lies my problem.' He gazed at her levelly for a few moments. ‘I have no real evidence here to support your claims of domestic abuse. Clearly there was aggressive behaviour occurring, but the affidavits before me suggest it was coming from both sides.'

‘No.' Maddie shook her head. She grasped for words, the importance of which were heightened by the knowledge that this was her chance, perhaps her
only
chance, to convince the magistrate that she was right and Jake was wrong. She glanced towards the public seating and caught Hannah's eye, who immediately smiled encouragingly. Maddie looked back towards the bench. ‘I
was
abused throughout my entire marriage. And when I finally left it only got worse.'

‘But it states in your husband's affidavit that you both continued an intimate relationship after you left the marital home. That for quite some time, until you took the children, he regularly stayed over at your home and vice versa. Is that not correct?'

A half-smile that turned his eyes into crinkled crescents. One eyebrow lifting just slightly in an age-old question. Your Husband.
Maddie blinked. ‘No, I mean yes, that's correct. But I thought that maybe we could make things work. That the abuse would stop.'

‘How many times in total had you left the relationship?'

‘Ah, three. No, four. Including the last time.'

The magistrate closed his eyes briefly, as if tired. ‘So with this history in mind, and if the violence was escalating during this last separation, as you claim, then why didn't you simply discontinue the relationship? Or seek help? Or even, for your children's sake, reach out to the school counsellor who clearly had serious concerns?'

‘Because . . .' Maddie paused, searching frantically for some way of describing how things had been. The fear, the love, the misplaced loyalty. The sticks and stones. She rubbed her arm fiercely as she looked back over towards the gallery, meaning to catch Hannah's eye again but instead catching Jake's. And instantly the ideas, the words that were trying to evolve into cogency shrivelled like burnt offerings, leaving only ashes in their wake. And she swallowed painfully as she continued to stare, now desperately willing him to wink or grin or
something
, so that the magistrate would realise how things were. Without her having to say a word.