“Talk about fiddling while Rome burns,” I said, picking at my crisps. “I know, but it’s best to keep busy, isn’t it? ” my husband Ty replied. We were waiting for the jury to come back.
Megan had been on trial for what she did to Sam, and the whole family was strung out, desperate for the verdict. “Do you really think we’ll turn it around? ” I asked. “I do, yeah.
”
“So why all the deliberations, then? ”
“Well, it’s what juries do. It’s literally what they’re there for. ”
Just then, the runner appeared in the doorway with a note.
Jeanette, she was called. “Verdict’s in. ”
We got up, barely able to breathe. I wanted to call Sam, but I couldn’t.
I’d missed his calls all day, and I knew he was still furious with me for lying about the trial. Ty and I had hidden the truth from him—we’d been scared it would set him back. He was in a mental health unit after everything that woman put him through, and we thought we were protecting him. He saw it differently.
He saw it as betrayal. “You lied to my face,” he’d said. “You both did. ”
“Look, I know you’re mad,” I’d tried.
“This is a mental health unit, Nick. Mad is a very loaded word. ”
He wasn’t wrong. But we didn’t know what else to do.
The prosecution was falling apart, and we were terrified that if we told him the worst, he’d spiral. “He didn’t want to set you back,” I’d said. “He was just trying to protect you. ”
“When in doubt, lie,” Sam had replied, his voice bitter.
Now we were at the court, and Sam had texted me from the unit. He told me he was still saying he wanted to challenge his section. He didn’t think he was ready to come home. I hated that.
I hated that Megan had taken so much from him. We filed into the courtroom and took our seats. Megan was in the dock, her face set in a mask of confidence. I watched her, and I thought, you can pretend all you want, but we both know you’re panicking.
“Foreman of the jury, please stand,” the clerk said. Sam’s dad stood up. He’d been the foreman the whole time. “Have you reached a verdict upon which all twelve of you agree?
”
“We have. ”
“On the charge of inciting a child to engage in sexual activity between the dates of the 20th of February 2025 to the 18th of December 2025, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty? ”
“Guilty. ”
Yes.
I threw a glance at Ty. “One down, one to go,” he whispered. “On the charge of inciting a child to engage in sexual activity while in a position of trust by virtue of their role as head coach, between the dates of the 19th of December 2025 to the 18th of March 2026, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty? ”
“Guilty.
”
Yes! I wanted to punch the air. She was guilty on both counts. We’d won.
But Megan didn’t take it quietly. “You are a liar! ” she screamed from the dock. “I’m innocent.
I’m not listening. This is a kangaroo court! ”
The judge pounded for silence. “SILENCE!
I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS TYPE OF BEHAVIOR IN MY COURT. ”
But Megan kept going. “Mom, please. Don’t let them take me.
Please help me. ”
The judge called for the guards. Megan was dragged out, kicking and screaming. It was ugly.
She was out of control. Ty squeezed my arm. “It’s over, son. It’s over.
”
I just sat there, shocked by the rawness of it all. We saw the ugliness behind the mask, I thought. Afterward, I spoke to Jeanette. “She got five years,” Jeanette said.
“She’ll only serve half. ”
“Janette says she’ll serve two-thirds because of the change in the law,” Ty corrected. “Still not enough,” I said. “Yeah, well, she’s got to live with that stigma forever,” Ty said.
“Exactly. And our boy needs to draw a line. ”
“He will. Just give him time.
”
I hoped so. I really did. Later that day, I went to the unit to see Sam. He was in the common room, looking calm and clear.
I hugged him tight. “Hey, it’s my two favorite boys in the whole world,” I said. “She didn’t do Flannery,” Sam said, laughing a little. “So, I’ve got news from the trial.
Megan got five years. I mean, that’s good, isn’t it? ”
“Exactly,” Ty said. “Now everyone knows she’s a liar.
”
“Now everyone knows she’s a liar,” Sam echoed. “Hey, look. Come on. Five years is a long time,” Ty said.
“What are you thinking? ” I asked. “We’re both locked up,” Sam said, quiet. “But only one of us is a liar.
And only one of us will be going home soon. ”
“You are so brave. Do you know that? ” I said.
“Not really. I’m just who I am. I’m just glad I’m not her. ”
I held his hand.
“So, no more Megan? ”
“Amen to that. ”
After I left Sam, I went back to the café where Ty and I work. We were still struggling financially, still not out of the woods.
“We needed the money,” Ty said. “We could barely afford to keep the lights on. ”
“Yeah. I wish we could afford to be more picky.
”
“No low lives, yeah? No one that leaves us feeling grubby. ”
“Yeah, we’ll get there. Eventually.
”
But even as I said it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was coming. The trial was over, but I felt restless, unsettled. A few days later, I caught up with Nick—Sam’s dad—at the café. He’d brought me a massive bunch of flowers.
Sixty quid’s worth, at least. “Thanks for the flowers,” I said. “Ah, it’s the least I can do. Just a blatant attempt to crawl back into your good books,” Nick said.
“Are you still cross with me? ”
“All right, look. Sam is my world. Cliche, but true.
Simon’s in Europe with his dad. And then my other son, Oliver… he died. ”
I went quiet. “I am so sorry.
”
“Sam was only three. Yeah, well, that’s the common reaction. It’s all right, you don’t have to say anything. And I’m doing okay.
I mean, well, some days are worse than others. ”
I looked at him. “Hold on. Look, I’m probably doing this all wrong.
I know men like bright and breezy, but…”
“No. No, men like real. ”
“Yeah, well, that I can do. I was selfish and stupid.
I just didn’t want our night to end. I had no idea that Sam needed you. ”
Nick nodded slowly. “I understand how precious your children must be.
” He gave a small smile. “It might be important. More important than this conversation. ”
“Will you accept my sincere apology?
I am more sorry than you’ll ever know. ”
“Yes, of course I will. ”
Just then, my phone buzzed. “I’ll answer your blooming phone,” I said, laughing.
“Hello? ”
“Is this the landlord? ”
The voice was a stranger’s. Sharp.
“Sorry? Clearly there’s some misunderstanding here. ”
“You’ve been giving me the runaround for weeks,” the caller snapped. “I assure you I have no idea… wait.
Are you the landlord? ”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my stomach souring. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. ”
“You’re the scumbag landlord!
” she shouted. “You’re caught red-handed! ”
I hung up, heart hammering. My phone buzzed again and again.
I stared at it, not answering. “I just… I can’t hate you,” I finally said, talking to myself more than anyone. “Feelings don’t just turn off like a tap, mate. ”
But the caller didn’t stop.
My phone rang and rang, and I let it go to voicemail. I sat in the café, watching the rain slide down the window. In the flat above the shop, my little boy Alfie had spent the day with swings and a slide right outside his flat, a kick-about at the red brick with his mommy. He’d had a takeaway and watched his favorite thing in the whole world—Greeny, my silly misremembering of Bluey—and gone to sleep with a kiss and a whisper.
But my phone kept ringing. And I knew, deep down, that Megan’s conviction hadn’t fixed everything. The anger was still inside me, still rattling around. And now a stranger on the phone was calling me a scumbag landlord, and I had no idea why.
That night, as I finally turned my phone off, I heard a cough from Alfie’s room. That nasty cough again. I’d have to take him to the doctor in the morning. One mess sorted.
A dozen more starting. And my phone, now switched off, was probably already filled with voicemails. But I didn’t listen to them.
Not yet.
