“I’m sorry Miss, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. Please don’t make me use my handcuffs.”
I can’t see which of the officers has just spoken as tears are running down my face. I can’t breathe and I’m beginning to hyperventilate. I feel a hand on my arm and I’m guided back out of the room towards the door. I see a shadow in front of me and the person moving me stops. A low voice speaks and I instantly recognise it as Corr’s.
“I’ll only ask you once. Did you do this?”
“No.” I whisper back, before I’m thrust forwards and lead back into the maze of corridors.
It feels like time is standing still and I know that I’ll have to wake up in a minute. This has to be a really bad dream, it must have been the garlic bread last night! I pinch the inside of my elbow really hard with my nails and feel absolutely nothing. For a split second I could faint with relief until I hear a loud, male voice exclaim in pain.
“Fuck! She pinched me!” The procession stops and I’m pushed against the wall.
“We gave you the benefit of the doubt,” says one of the officers and turns me round so my face is pressed against the wallpaper. My hands are both twisted painfully behind my back and I feel a cold pressure on my wrists followed by a clicking noise. I’m pulled back into the corridor and forced forwards from behind. My eyes are stinging and there is no way I can rub them now. I blink frantically and try to speak.
“I was trying to pinch myself!” I sob, “I thought this was a nightmare.” Both men ignore me and we continue down the corridor. We stop at a plain door and the first officer opens it. To my absolute horror, I realise with a start that they’ve taken me back into our courtroom. My eyes focus through the tears and I can make out the people in front of me. There’s Serena, her mouth a perfect ‘O’ shape, Lucinda is gawping at me from the public gallery, the court staff are all watching me too.
The public gallery is full and the silence is deafening as they watch my movements. I’m taken out of the front exit of the court building too and the press have an absolute field day when they see a fully robed barrister being escorted away in handcuffs. They all start shouting as soon as we get near them.
“Miss Chase, what’s happening?”
“Officers why is she being arrested?”
“What’s she done?”
For a God awful moment I think the police are going to stop and tell them but they walk me down the steps and bundle me into the back of a waiting police car.
“Where, where are we going?” I ask.
After a pause, the officer next to me speaks.
“Carlode Lane. It’s only around the corner.”
My stomach sinks even further. I’m actually going to a police station. This isn’t some crazy joke. Jeremy Beadle isn’t going to appear from beyond the grave and tell me that I’m actually on ‘You’ve been framed.’ They’re going to put me in a cell. Oh God. Oh God! I start to cry uncontrollably and lean forwards in my seat. A hand forces me back up and I continue to sob.
We get to Carlode Lane police station after what seems like an eternity although I know it can’t have been more than a few moments because it’s only practically over the road from the court. The only thing I can draw comfort from at the moment is at least they didn’t make me walk.
We arrive in a large grey room with a formal desk at one end and lots of benches round the side. From the amount of CCTV footage I’ve seen of this room and ones like it, I know this is the custody desk where I’ll be booked in. I’m taken over to the desk and after a short, hushed conversation with one of the male officers, a very stern woman starts firing questions at me about my name, height, weight, medical ailments and whether or not I take any sort of drugs. I answer, completely dazed by the whole situation. I really think I’m going to faint.
I’m then taken to a small brightly lit room and they take my fingerprints using black ink. I stare at my neatly manicured nails in horror and start