Good Girl, Bad Girl(41)

“She can’t have it both ways,” says Hodge. “She is trying to divorce the local authority like a child divorcing a parent.”

“What case law can she use to seek redress?” argues Caroline.

“Perhaps if she’d acted more like an adult,” says Hodge, who has stayed on his feet. Caroline tries to object, but Hodge ignores her. “Setting aside the issue of Evie Cormac’s age, we cannot ignore her mental fitness and her propensity for self-harm and violence. On twelve occasions, she has been fostered by safe, stable, loving families, but each time she has chosen to fight the system. She has run away from care at least twenty times, going missing for weeks at a time. Stealing, taking drugs, gambling, drinking, abusing police, resisting arrest . . .”

“Now who’s giving a history lesson?” asks Caroline.

“A very pertinent one, Miss Fairfax,” chides Hodge. “Evie Cormac has spent the past four years in a high-security children’s home because of her refusal to obey the rules or, dare I say, to act her age. She has abused staff, her peers, mental-health-care workers, therapists, psychologists, and psychiatrists—many of whom have provided submissions to Your Honor. Evie’s case officer is in court today and he regards Evie as the most damaged child he has ever encountered. Only last week she was involved in a malicious wounding incident at Langford Hall where she grabbed a knife, pointed it at her heart, and asked a highly disturbed young man to kill her.”

“Evie disarmed the man,” says Caroline.

“By offering herself as a victim.”

“It was a ploy.”

Hodge snorts and waves his hand dismissively, as though Caroline were resorting to semantics.

“Evie Cormac is not mature enough or stable enough to be released from care. She has no means of support, no job training, or anywhere to live. I should also point out that crime figures show that children in care go on to make up a disproportionate percentage of our prison population.”

“Hardly a glowing endorsement of local authority care,” says Caroline.

“The onus is not on the council to prove Evie Cormac’s age,” says Hodge.

“Whose job is it?”

“Her own. It is Mr. Guthrie’s submission that Evie Cormac knows her real name and her age but refuses to cooperate. She is her own worst enemy. She is not ready to be released from care, and even if she were deemed to be an adult in this court today, the local authority has instructed me to immediately seek to have her sectioned under the Mental Health Act and sent to a secure psychiatric hospital.”

“That’s outrageous,” argues Caroline.

“You can’t fucking do that!” yells Evie, leaping to her feet. Her chair topples over with a bang. She is on the bar table, crawling towards Hodge, as though ready to rip out his throat. Caroline has to pull her back, holding her around the waist. Evie is so small that Caroline lifts her easily but has to avoid her kicking feet.

Hodge has backed away. “I think that proves my point.”

“You’re a fuckwit!” screams Evie.

“Please be quiet,” Caroline pleads, glancing helplessly at me.

Judge Sayle waits until Evie is back in her chair before warning her, “There can be no more outbursts.”

Evie’s shoulders are shaking with rage, or maybe she’s crying. I can’t see her face.

The judge opens a folder and turns the pages. I glimpse notes scrawled in the margins and paragraphs that are underlined.

“I’d like you to approach the bench, Miss Cormac,” he says. “Come up and take a seat.”

Evie stands awkwardly, slightly pigeon-toed, and looks over her shoulder as she makes her way forward. The judge points to a wooden chair, which has been positioned to be on the same level as his own seat.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to that,” he says gently. “It can’t be easy hearing yourself described in such a way.”

Evie doesn’t answer.

“I have read your application and I think I understand how you feel. Children are taken into care for many reasons, but primarily due to parental abuse or neglect, but also because there is nobody else to look after them. Your case was considered to be so serious that you were made a ward of this court and we are your guardians.”

Sitting with her back straight and knees together, Evie listens with a disquieting intensity.

“Do you know how old you are?” he asks.

“Eighteen.”

“When were you born?”

“I can’t tell you the exact date.”

“You look small for your age.”

“You look young to be a judge.”

He smiles at that.

“I have at least eight statements here from child-care experts who say you’re a danger to yourself and a risk to the community.”

“I’m not.”

“In fact, the only submission that supports your application was delivered to me yesterday.” Judge Sayle searches his folder and fumbles to put his glasses on his nose. “The one person who thinks you are mature and stable enough to be released is a psychologist, a Dr. Haven.”

Evie turns her head to look at me. Caroline does the same. For the briefest of moments, I’m the subject of everyone’s attention, until Judge Sayle reclaims their focus.

“What will you do, Evie? Where will you live?”