And it is.

*

Two days later, they get a phone call informing them the trial is about to start and even though

they had known for weeks, months even, that one day this call would come, it still leaves them silent

for minutes.

“So this is it. Crown court the day after tomorrow. You’re going to give evidence,” Daniël says

quietly. “And you’re not allowed to refuse.”

“That’s how the law works. I get that.” Steve feels so calm and detached he knows something

must be wrong.

“There will be a cross-examination and they will force you to remember everything in detail. It

will happen all over again. It’s like you’re entering that park again. You won’t run away because you

don’t know. They will hurt you again. You will say goodbye to me again. I will see your broken body

again. Isn’t what you told the police enough? What about the medical reports? What about all those

pictures? God knows what else they have, like DNA and other stuff. That should be enough to put

those bastards behind bars for the rest of their lives, shouldn’t it?” Daniël’s hands move erratically

through the air in acute panic. It’s almost like he doesn’t even realise Steve is with him, waiting until

the stream of desperate words has come to a halt.

Steve has no thoughts concerning what is about to happen, it’s simply not real enough, even

with all the preparations and explanations given by the ever-friendly and patient lady of the Witness

Service. Danny is upset, that message burns itself into his brain, overriding everything else.

Daniël clutches his arms around him in fierce protection. “I can’t even promise you that I

won’t let them hurt you without lying.”

There’s so much hopeless pain in his voice.

“Is my love going to be enough when they drag you through hell again?”

Steve takes his lover’s face between his hands and kisses him on his forehead. “It won’t be

easy for either of us, but remember what they explained to us, that I’m not the one on trial? That I

have rights, too, and that there are people to make sure everything happens according to the rules?”

Daniël nods, but he doesn’t look half convinced.

“You love me and yes, that will be enough.”

Chapter 28

He has listened to the prosecution’s opening speech, though he can’t claim he actually heard

any of the words spoken. He has gone through the ritual of promising to tell the truth and nothing but

the truth. He has answered the handful of friendly questions of the prosecuting counsel about his

earlier statement. It felt like he was there foremost as the physical reminder of why all this is

happening in the first place. The police officers, the medical and forensic specialists will all be heard

later, and the consequences of what happened to him in the Queen Elizabeth Park will be reduced to

factual matter. The accused will have their turn to answer the questions, to say what they have to say

in their defence. So far, it’s all been like he’s one of the leads in a very experimental indie film: badly

acted, hardly watchable, but nothing to be overly nervous or frightened about. The cross-examination

by the counsel for the defendants, the part he should fear even if there’s nothing to fear because he’s

not on trial and he has nothing to hide or lie about, refuses to become more than a formality,

something that simply has to happen. Still, as soon as he had answered the last question as a witness

for the prosecution, he heard himself say, “Please, can I have a short break?”

It’s twenty minutes later and only now he’s able to look around, to allow the room and those

who are in it to become really part of what’s happening to him and Daniël.

They are there, the men who are on trial because of him, seated behind glass or perhaps

plexiglass, and Steve wonders if it’s bulletproof though he can’t imagine why. Six of them. Monsters

in cheap suits, with ordinary faces, puffy as a result of years of binge drinking and poor diets. He

doesn’t believe they are much different from the men in that park. Their eyes are still the same.

They do look out of place and unhappy, but Steve guesses that’s not because they’re in a totally

unfamiliar surroundings. They have been in similar settings before, if only because of a pub brawl, a

job that wasn’t as legit as their mate had told them, or some other stupidity. You know, we’ve all been

young and stupid, before the missus set us straight.

Not this time. This is beyond their means of understanding. Why are they the ones having to

defend themselves in front of a judge and jury; decent men, some with families and all, while there’s

this poofter holding his poofter boyfriend’s hand ...?

Steve stops his train of thoughts. He knows all too well what he’s trying to do. As long as he

pretends he has some, however speculatively, insight into their thinking, into their lives and

characters, he’s safe in some inexplicable manner.

They are there, seated behind a glass screen, the men who had tried to kick him to death. Six of

them. Not even monsters. Not even that.

Hideous suits, ill-fitting.

His hand in Daniël’s hand.

“You, me and no one else,” his beloved whispers.

Steve nods. Daniël never lies to him.

There’s the six of them, behind glass, in their cheap hideous suits.

And there’s the man who ran away, who wrote those letters about standing up in trial. The man

who kept his promise. Smith keeps his head down. In shame? In thought? He has recounted his story

before Steve was asked into the courtroom, but has been allowed to stay for the rest of the trial. For

one second he looks up, his eyes in Steve’s direction.

“Poor man,” he hears himself say.

Daniël strokes the back of his hand with his thumb. “Look,” he says.

Steve looks. Matthew is there, with Gael right next to him; both smiling their

acknowledgement. This is their friendship. Their support. Their penance.

There are some unknown faces too, most likely family members of the accused. Steve has no

emotions of any significance about them. And there’s the people doing their job. Judge, jury,

prosecutor, defence lawyers, usher, clerk, police, press. All are present in this room because he had

walked into a park, with a spring in his step and a silly grin on his face. He still doesn’t comprehend

how he got out.

He’s being called to the witness box again. His hand no longer in Daniël’s.

As before, the usher asks in a friendly tone if he needs assistance, handing Steve his crutches,

the courtroom being too unfamiliar to trust his own legs and, perhaps more importantly, his brain.

He smiles. “I’m fine, thank you.” And makes sure he’s stable on his feet before he takes the

few steps to the witness box. He has taken the oath about an hour ago, standing up and facing the jury

but once again, he’s thankful for the permission to be seated during the questioning. He’s supposed to

concentrate on the questions, not on how to keep his balance for as long as it takes the prosecution and

defence to ask them.

“Remember what’s on that piece of paper in the pocket of your jacket,” Daniël had said.

DANIËL LOVES STEVE

He doesn’t have to look at the writing or feel the paper between his fingers to be aware of the

absolute truth of those words. He doesn’t even have to put his hand in the pocket of his jacket. He

knows Daniël wrote those words. He doesn’t need to know more.

... The truth and nothing but the truth …

He made a promise and that promise still stands. He won’t tell a deliberate lie even by

remaining silent – those days are long past – but will that be the same as telling the absolute truth?