by Mark Pearson
His boss, Superintendent George Napier, was standing in full dress uniform inside, waiting for him.
He strode across and pulled Delaney to one side. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’
‘Something came up, sir.’
‘What?’
‘Breakfast, sir. Needed to get something to eat.’
‘You better be bloody joking, Delaney.’
‘The car was playing up. The cold, sir. Took longer to sort out than I thought.’
‘And in the meantime you didn’t think to call or return any of Diane’s calls?’
‘The phone was inside on charge, boss. Didn’t see the calls missed until I was halfway here.’
Napier looked at Delaney closely. He was pretty certain the man was lying to him, treating him as he did everything else – like it was some kind of joke. Only Napier wasn’t laughing. The man had been skating on thin ice so long, it was a miracle to him that Delaney was still in the force. If Diane hadn’t protected him like a jealous tiger protects her cubs, he’d have been gone long ago. True, he had cleaned his act up in recent months – Dr Kate Walker was clearly having an influence on the man. But he didn’t trust him. Not as far as he could kick him.
‘Just make sure you stick to the script, Delaney.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Delaney and smiled, walking onwards into the court.
The look in his eyes told a very different story, however.
24.
PATRICIA HUNT TOOK the large aluminium kettle from the trivet it was sitting on beside her range-style cooker and carried it over to the sink to fill. As she did so, she watched her husband, still working in the garden. He had cleared the pathway to his wooden studio completely of snow and was now clearing the birdbath. He brushed the snow aside and, with the handle of a small trowel, tapped the surface of the frozen water, tilting it so that he could remove the top layer of ice. It came loose in one frozen circle, which he put to one side, and then filled the bath with fresh water from a can.
Patricia smiled, for she knew the water would be frozen again in no time at all, but Geoffrey hated to see the birds suffer. He hated to see anything or anybody suffer. It was one of the things she loved so much about him. It broke her heart to see him in so much pain himself. But they had done what they had to do. It was for the best, they had both agreed that.
In the background West London radio was playing. Another single from this year’s X Factor winner. She wasn’t sure if she preferred the old days when it would be Cliff Richard on the radio all the time, come Christmas. Sometimes it was good to know where you stood. She put bread in the toaster and fetched a jar of home-made marmalade from the dresser. Seville orange, a bit too bitter for her taste, she preferred lime marmalade, but Geoffrey liked it. She put it on the table and laid out some plates. As the song finished, she picked up the teapot and took it over to the work surface beside the range.
An announcer came on the radio with the local news. Patricia wasn’t listening until the announcer mentioned St Luke’s Church.
‘… St Luke’s Church south of Queen’s Park Rangers football ground. It is not known at this stage how the body came to be buried there, or how long it has been there. The police pathologist is onsite and we will update you with developments.’
Patricia Hunt screamed and looked down at her hand, which she had spilled boiling water from the kettle on. She dropped the kettle back on the range and ran to the sink to run cold water, putting her hand under it. As her husband came hurrying up the garden to see what had happened, Patricia found tears in her eyes.
Stephanie Hewson was an above-average-height woman with dark, curly hair. She exuded confidence and authority, and dressed accordingly. A pin-striped two-piece suit with a dark-red silk blouse. Her hair was tied back and she wore plain-framed black glasses.
Her voice, when she spoke, however, belied the assertiveness that her dress and bearing seemed to wish to present to the world. Her voice trembled in fact.
‘It was a Friday night. Ten o’clock …’ She paused to take a drink of water.
‘It’s okay, Miss Hewson. Take your time,’ said the judge, Helen Johns, a stern-faced woman in her late fifties. The severity of her expression softened, however, as she looked across at the woman standing in the witness dock.
‘Thank you, Your Honour. I know it was ten o’clock,’ she continued, ‘because I had just missed a train. And there were eight minutes until the next one. I was worried about missing my connection at Marylebone and having to wait another half-hour.’
The counsel for the prosecution, Selena Carrow, inclined her head solicitously. She was a woman in her late thirties, of medium height with a soft voice that belied her single-mindedness.
‘And were you alone on the platform?’
‘I was initially. Like I said, I had just missed my train. But other passengers came onto the platform.’
‘Could you describe them?’
‘It was a long time ago.’
Selena Carrow, QC, sketched her hand in the air. ‘Any stand out in particular?’
‘There was a group of young women, in their twenties, I should say. They had been on a hen-night, I think, some kind of party. It was close to Christmas. Maybe a works outing.’
‘What makes you say hen-party?’
‘They were drunk, unsteady, holding onto each other. Giggling loudly. One of them had on a pair of bunny ears, and they all had short skirts or dresses. Light coats on. It was cold but they didn’t seem to notice.’
‘And anyone else?’
Stephanie Hewson looked to her left across the courtroom to the gallery, where DI Jack Delaney was sitting, watching events with an impassive expression on his face.
The defence barrister, Hector Douglas – a tall, balding man in his fifties, a leading light in the firm of Gable & Wilson, and wearing a suit that cost more than Jack Delaney’s monthly salary – leapt to his feet.
‘Objection! Counsel is leading the witness.’
Selena shook her head, as though annoyed by the interruption. ‘Not at all, My Lord. I ask only if there were other persons present that night that she might recall.’
The judge nodded. ‘Overruled. You can answer the question, Miss Hewson.’
‘I saw a man further along the platform, he was looking at the women.’
‘And could you describe him?’
Stephanie Hewson looked across at Jack Delaney again, and once more the defence barrister sprang to his feet.
‘Your Honour!’ he said, seemingly outraged. ‘The witness seems to be seeking advice in this regard from members of the gallery. Are we not to have her opinion unalloyed by prejudicial direction?’
The judge sighed. ‘Please spare the court your theatrics, Mr Douglas, and sit down. And, Miss Hewson, please try to focus on counsel and her questions.’
‘He was a long way down the platform from me.’ She shrugged. ‘He was of medium height, had a dark coat on, was wearing a hat and had glasses.’
‘Okay. Now please tell the court what happened next?’
‘I waited for my train. More people came onto the platform. The train arrived and I made it in time to Marylebone to catch my overland train to Harrow-on-the-Hill.’
‘But you had to run in order to do so?’
‘Relevance, My Lord,’ asked Hector Douglas, this time not bothering to rise.
The judge gestured to Selena Carrow.
‘Goes to her state of mind, Your Honour. Focus as to who she may or may not have seen.’
‘Continue.’
‘So you were running, Miss Hewson?’
‘I was. As fast as I could, I had court shoes on.’
‘And did you notice the man you had seen in the hat earlier?’
Douglas stood up. ‘Objection, My Lord!’
‘You know better than to lead the witness, Miss Carrow.’
‘Sorry, My Lord.’ She turned back to the witness. ‘Did you take any notice of the people around you?’
&n
bsp; ‘I did not. No. Like I said, I was running as fast as I could.’
‘Quite so. And you made your train?’
‘I did.’
‘And then what happened that evening?’
‘The train came into Harrow station some twelve or so minutes later and I continued my journey home on foot.’
‘Could you describe that journey for us?’
‘I live on the hill, so it is a ten-minute walk. Usually I take a taxi.’
‘But that night you didn’t.’
Stephanie Hewson looked at the woman for a minute, her hand trembling. She took a sip of water, spilling some, then placed the glass down. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I did not.’
‘Why was that?’
‘It was a nice evening.’
‘You said earlier it had been cold?’
‘It was cold. But it was a nice night. Clear sky. The moon was full, so there was plenty of light, there were stars in the sky …’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know, I was in a good mood. I thought I would enjoy the walk.’
‘But you didn’t enjoy the walk?’
Stephanie Hewson looked down at her feet for a moment, then looked back up, her eyes wet. ‘No, I did not enjoy the walk.’
‘Can you tell the court what happened?’
The judge looked sympathetically at the woman in the witness dock. ‘It’s okay. Take as long as you like.’
‘Thank you,’ she said and raised the glass to her lips once more, taking a few more sips of the water. She placed the glass back down and then straightened herself, as if steeling herself for what was to come. ‘I was gagged and raped. And when he was done with me, he took a sharp knife and sliced it across my breasts, my stomach and my thighs.’
25.
THE WOMAN LOOKED across at the accused, who was watching her intently, but seemed neither agitated nor concerned.
Michael Robinson was in his early fifties with receding sandy-coloured hair, of medium height, but stocky with broad shoulders. He wore tortoiseshell retro-style glasses, and the skin on his balding pate was flaky. He was dressed in a two-piece suit and wore a white shirt with a green tie. He met the woman’s gaze with unblinking eyes, then turned his gaze on Delaney, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
Stephanie Hewson took another sip of her water and the prosecuting attorney waited for her to collect herself.
‘Please tell the court exactly what happened, Miss Hewson.’
‘I left the station at approximately ten to eleven.’
‘Had you looked at your watch?’
‘No, but the ten-thirty train was on time from Marylebone. It takes about twelve minutes to get to Harrow, and so a few minutes to walk up the steps, through the concourse and out the back entrance.’
‘The one that leads out to the hill, and not to the shopping centre?’
‘Yes. I walked down the steps and up to the alleyway that runs through to Roxborough Park.’
‘Were you aware of being followed?’
The defence counsel stood smoothly to his feet. ‘Objection, My Lord, it has not been established that Miss Hewson was indeed followed. Counsel is leading the witness yet again!’
‘Sustained.’ The judge threw Selena Carrow a look. ‘You really do know better than this.’
‘Sorry, Your Honour.’ If she meant it, it wasn’t evident in her expression. She turned to the witness stand again. ‘At that time were you aware of anyone else?’
‘No, I was not. I was walking home and didn’t notice anybody else out. But, like I said earlier, I was lost in my thoughts a little.’
The prosecution lawyer consulted her notes. ‘Yes, you said you were in a happy mood.’
‘Relevance, Your Honour?’ asked Hector Douglas.
The judge gestured to the prosecution counsel.
‘State of mind, Your Honour. We intend to establish that the accused, Michael Robinson, targeted Miss Hewson, that he followed her home on the train, that he pursued her down the alleyway that she has just described. That Miss Hewson was not aware of anyone else that night was because her thoughts were preoccupied.’
‘Your Honour,’ Douglas stood up. ‘My client has never denied being on that train – he lives in Harrow. That her mind was elsewhere prior to this terrible assault taking place is evident in that she has mistakenly identified my client as the man who attacked her.’
‘Sit down.’ The judge rapped her gavel sharply. ‘You will have ample opportunity to cross-examine, Mr Douglas. Please continue, Miss Carrow.’
‘I am obliged, My Lord. Miss Hewson, please tell us what happened next.’
‘I came out of the alleyway into Roxborough Avenue, when a man suddenly appeared behind me and said that if I screamed, he would kill me.’
‘And did you believe him?’
‘Your Honour, leading the witness!’
‘Sustained.’
‘He had a knife in his hand, which he held to my side. I was too terrified to scream.’
‘This alleyway, and the one opposite, is overlooked by housing.’
‘Yes, there are apartments. But I was too scared to call for help. His voice …’ She took another sip of water. ‘His voice was ugly, terrifying!’
‘So, as you say, you were in fear for your life?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened next?’
‘He stood beside me telling me to keep my head down, so as not to see his face, and led me into the alley that leads to the hill.’
‘And did you see his face?’
‘Not at that time.’
Selena Carrow consulted her notes again. ‘So he led you across the road into the opposite alleyway. This is the one that runs alongside the Catholic church of Our Lady and St Thomas, past a junior school and out onto Harrow Hill itself.’
‘Yes, only we didn’t go so far.’
‘What did happen then, Miss Hewson?’
‘Just past the church, before the primary school, there is a Scout hut.’
The lawyer made a show of consulting her notes again. ‘The Seventeenth Roxborough?’
‘Yes. He opened the door and pushed me inside, telling me to be quiet.’
‘How did he open the door?’
‘He had a key.’
Selena Carrow turned pointedly and looked at Michael Robinson for a moment or two, letting the jury see the scorn on her face.
‘Can you tell the court, please, what took place in that hut, Miss Hewson.’
‘He closed the door behind him; it was dark inside.’
‘Even though it was a moonlit night?’
‘The windows were grimy, it was dark. He came in, like I said, and closed the door. He ordered me not to look round. He said he would hurt me if I didn’t do exactly what he said. He held the point of the blade to my throat as he said it. It was a very sharp blade.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I …’ She paused for a moment and took another sip of water. ‘I voided my bladder,’ she said.
‘You wet yourself?’ Selena Carrow clarified and looked at the jury.
‘Yes.’
‘And what did the man do?’
‘He laughed and said I would be punished for it, then ordered me to take my clothes off.’
‘And what did you do?’
The woman put a hand to her neck, in an involuntary gesture.
‘I did as he said.’
‘You stripped naked?’
Stephanie Hewson shook her head. ‘I left my knickers on.’
‘And what did he do?’
‘He told me to get on all fours, pushing me down. Then he held my knickers and ripped them up hard. I gasped with pain as they pulled between me and then he tore them right off, stuffing them in my mouth and ordering me to keep quiet.’
Selena Carrow nodded sympathetically, letting the words hang in the air as she consulted her notes.
‘And you did?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did he do?’
‘I heard a zip being
pulled. He said he was going to put on a condom, that he couldn’t afford to pick up diseases in his line of work.’
‘And then he raped you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Repeatedly?’
‘Yes, first he …’
She trailed off and Selena Carrow held her notes up. ‘It’s okay, Miss Hewson. I know it is hard for you to talk about it. To relive the horror. I have your police statement here. You informed the police surgeon on duty that night at Harrow Police Station that you had been anally and vaginally raped. Is that correct?’
Stephanie Hewson nodded her head, tears springing in her eyes.
‘I am sorry, but we will need to hear your answer. Is it true that you were brutally raped, anally and then vaginally?’
‘Yes! And when he was done he sliced me with his knife and left.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I got up and went to the window.’
‘You weren’t feeling any pain?’
‘I didn’t register the knife at the time. I was in shock. The surgeon said I was in shock. It was later … it didn’t really hit me until later.’
‘So you went to the window. Could you see anything?’
‘He was outside, adjusting his hat, and then he hurried off past the school towards the hill.’
‘Did you see his face?’
‘Sideways on.’
‘Enough to recognise him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what did you do?’
‘I waited some minutes, then I put my coat on, grabbed my other clothes and ran to the apartment block to raise help.’
‘And then the police and ambulance came, and they treated you and took your statement.’
‘They took my statement the next day at the police station. I was sedated overnight and kept in at Northwick Park Hospital.’
‘Thank you very much, Miss Hewson. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.’
‘I can go now?’
‘Not just yet, my learned colleague will have some questions for you. But I have one final question?’
