‘Oh hell,’ Estelle said, ‘They’re using it against us.’ 

‘Who are the Italian guys?’ I asked. 

‘You don’t recognise them? Maybe you’ll get a better look in court,’ Estelle pushed back her chair and stood, ‘Let’s go meet our maker.’ 

A guard was waiting for me at the door. I held out my hands behind me for the handcuffs dangling from his belt.

With the handcuffs in place, he led us to a waiting police car. With its light blaring we sped through the London traffic. 

Estelle was biting her nails as she stared out at the cars flashing past the window. 

I nudged her arm with an elbow, ‘What should I say when I get in there?’

She smiled at me, it was a sad smile, ‘Just tell them the truth Danny. The truth’s all we’ve got left.’ 

‘That’s okay.’ I said, when really I meant the opposite. I wanted to tell her I’d do anything to help Ayamin stay here. 

Estelle was staring into my eyes. She seemed to understand. 

‘I listened to your interview Danny, the one at the Italian radio station. You kids have been through a lot. I’m sorry this system is the way it is. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it easier for you.’ 

Our police car pulled up outside the court. I wanted to hug Estelle, but my arms were still handcuffed. Outside the tinted windows, I saw flashes of light. A tear spilled down my cheek. Estelle used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe it away. 

‘Let’s do it for Ayamin,’ she said. 

I sucked in a final breath, ‘For Ayamin.’ 

****

A shockwave of noise and light hit us the moment we stepped onto the footpath. 

It was raining – a proper British downpour – and the reporters who’d been huddling in the court entrance swirled around us. 

Estelle grabbed my arm as a microphone was thrust into my face. A flash went off and questions bubbled from their mouths. 

We made it through the entrance. Two security guys guided me down the hallway and into an office. 

‘The crows are hungry today,’ one of them said, ‘You okay buddy?’ 

I looked up at him. He was a young guy, not much older than me. his skin reminded me of Ayamin. 

‘Yeah. I’m okay.’ 

‘They want us to keep you here until the Italians are finished talking.’ 

‘Are they policemen?’ 

The guy laughed, ‘They’re traffic cops – apparently they didn’t like what you and your missus did to their van.’ 

Oh…’ I laughed, ‘That wasn’t us though, you see we had a flat tyre in a bunch of lavender fields…’

‘Hey,’ the guy held up his hands, ‘I’m just a guard, you don’t need to explain anything to me.’

So Estelle and I sat there, it might’ve been five minutes, but it felt like an hour. 

Finally, a crackling sound came from the younger guy’s walkie-talkie.

‘Okay Gus, bring them in.’

Estelle helped me to my feet, then the two security guards grabbed an arm each, took me back into the hallway and led me through the two large oak doors at the end of it. 

The courtroom was massive in person. Everything seemed to be made of oak or portraits of the Queen. 

The guards led me to the stand, then backed off a step or two. 

‘Mr Danny Frey,’ said the judge, so loud it almost hurt my ears, ‘There seems to be no end to the trouble you’ve caused…’ 

Just a few metres away from me sat Ayamin. I grinned and tried to wave my hands awkwardly from behind my back. She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing as well. 

‘Mr Frey,’ The judge half-yelled, ‘Would you please look at me when I’m speaking to you?’ 

I tore my eyes away from Ayamin, but ended up wishing I hadn’t. The judge was old and angry. I much preferred looking at Ayamin. 

‘Mr Frey, you’re our final witness to Mrs Yacoub’s character and actions – what you say could be very meaningful to this case.’ 

I nodded. 

‘Well then, say your oath and Counsel McCurdy can begin.’ 

I glanced at Estelle. 

‘I solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’ 

Estelle nodded, and next to her McCurdy began his questions. 

‘Mr Frey,’ he said, then gave a slight cough to clear his throat, ‘I want to start with the thing that is no doubt on everyone’s mind – the marriage…’ McCurdy glanced at the bulldog, whose face was like a  chess player’s – blank, yet in control of the situation. McCurdy seemed to pale a little. 

‘The marriage… Am I right in saying that you and Mrs Yacoub are in love?’ 

I nodded, ‘Yes.’ 

‘Had you thought about marrying Mrs Yacoub before you arrived in the United Kingdom.’ 

I thought back to the church in Briancon, arriving there on Henry the Vespa – I’d thought about getting married then.

‘Yes! I had.’

‘So am I right in saying that you didn’t so much get married because of the trial – but brought the marriage forwards.’

‘I guess… yeah.’

Draper – the bulldog had the corners of his lips curled upwards. He jotted down something on his yellow legal pad, then glanced back up at McCurdy who took a sip of water before beginning his next question. 

‘Why should Mrs Yacoub be allowed into the country?’

‘Because she’s been through so much already. She’s worked harder to get here than anyone in this courtroom, and because when she’s here she’ll make the United Kingdom a better place to live. She cares about people, she wants to work and earn her keep, she’s kind.’

McCurdy glanced at Draper a final time, then nodded to me, ‘That’s all the questions I have. Thank you Danny.’

The room’s attention turned to Draper who moved smoothly to his feet, the same way a spider might as it gets ready to spring. His eyes were firmly on me, sizing me up, searching for clues in my movements. 

‘Mr Frey…’ He paused, and without realising it I began to lean forwards, like an insect into his web. 

‘Danny, I’m going to ask the same questions as my learned colleague McCurdy – only I’m going to ask them with a little more detail, I’m going to find out what you actually mean when you say I guess.’

The judge cleared her throat, ‘I’d like to remind you all that we do not tolerate personal attacks in this courtroom – I’m not reprimanding you Counsel Draper – but you did come very close. You may continue.’ 

Draper nodded; he was barely trying to hide his smile.

‘Why did you marry Mrs Yacoub?’

‘Because I love her, and because I want her to stay in the country.’

He raised an eyebrow, and leaned forwards, over his desk. I decided then that court is unfair. He was in his element – a little king of the courtroom. I wondered how things would be different if we were sitting in a muddy tent – or met on the road.

‘Did anyone tell you,’ he said, pausing between each word, ‘That marriage is about more than just swapping rings. If you do it properly it’s life-long.’ 

I felt my cheeks start to heat up. I balled my hands up into fists and tried not to shake. 

‘I already knew all that.’

Draper laughed, ‘Be honest Danny, even if it gets her into the country – do you think your marriage is going to last?’ 

I looked at Ayamin. Tried to breathe deep. 

 ‘I do.’ 

‘And if she’d freely choose to marry and associate with a convicted criminal and assist him with breaking the law here and in foreign countries do you think Mrs Yacoub is the sort of person we want in the U.K?’ 

A snarl appeared on his face as he finished his sentence.

‘I do.’ 

‘Why?’ 

‘Because I grew up here. I’m a product of the English foster families, the English schooling system, and I’m a product of the English justice system.’ I gestured to the court around me, ‘I stole alcohol from a hard-working liquor store owner – I ran away from a Red Cross programme that was supposed to change my ways. I’m a thief, an escapee, I’m a nasty piece of work, but so are you bulldog.’ 

There was a gasp from the media benches. I laughed like a maniac. 

‘Mr Frey, we do not allow personal attacks in the courtroom,’ the judge began, but I just grinned and ploughed on. 

‘You steal people’s dreams, bulldog. Maybe their lives too… do you ever think about the people that get sent back? The hopelessness they must feel. You’re stealing human rights – to safety, to shelter. I think we don’t just need Ayamin here in the U.K, we need more people like her – people who just want the things we take for granted.’ 

The judge’s gavel came down. 

‘If you speak one more word Mr Frey, I’ll have you thrown out.’ 

I glared at Draper. His forehead was red and his fists clenched the pen and paper in his hands. From the corner of my eye, I could see Estelle trying not to laugh. 

‘Now Mr Frey,’ the judge said, taking off her glasses and resting them on the table in front of her, ‘I have one more question for you. If you can refrain from slandering anyone here in court today, I shall ask it. Otherwise, you can leave.’

I bit my lip and looked at Ayamin. She was just sitting in her bench wearing her yellow coat. In that moment I stopped caring about Draper or anyone else in court. I was there for Ayamin – all that mattered was her getting into the country.

‘I’ll answer it.’ 

Something in my voice must’ve convinced her because she nodded.

‘Mr Frey. Did you really think you could abuse the principles and sacredness of marriage just to try get Mrs Yacoub into the country?’

I thought for a moment, and my eyes wandered from the judge to Ayamin, to Draper, McCurdy, Estelle…

‘Mr Frey… Are you going to answer my question?’

I nodded to the judge, ‘I’m sorry… I was just thinking about the purpose of marriage – Isn’t it to signify love?’

The judge nodded, and I continued. 

‘If you show you love someone by buying them roses, what have you sacrificed? Fifty quid? An hour of your time?

‘What about walking with someone from Turkey to England? What have you sacrificed for your love?’ I looked down at my calloused hands, then back up at the court, ‘You sacrifice months of your time, broken ribs, drowning, freezing, hunger…’

I pointed to Ayamin, ‘What about loving a criminal? – When she came back to me in France Ayamin potentially sacrificed her chance at making it to England. No police were looking for her, she risked her freedom by throwing her lot in with me. She risked her chance at a trial without the bias of being linked with a criminal.

We’re young. We’ve got a life of mistakes and opportunities ahead of us – A lot of people our age would say we sacrificed our individual freedom by getting married, but I love Ayamin enough to say those vows and commit to a life with her if it means she has a better chance of staying in England.’

****

The court was quiet. Draper was looking much less red, Estelle was staring at me with wide eyes, and Ayamin was smiling. 

The judge picked up her glasses, dusted them with a cloth from her pocket and put them back over her eyes.

‘Usually, I’d disappear into the backroom to make my decision, but that would mean Mr Frey would have to be taken back to confinement and I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing the decision first hand.’

The judge sighed.

‘Ayamin Yacoub, I hope you enjoyed your time in England, because as far as the law is concerned…’ the judge paused, and the entire court leaned forwards. I saw the hope, and then bitter despair that played across Ayamin’s face, all in a second.

‘… Ayamin Yacoub, you can stay as long as you like. We will accept you as a refugee.’