“I’d like to call my next witness – Alicia McBride.”
Just hearing her name makes me quiver. I watch nervously as she places her hand over the Holy Bible. This is the first time I’ve seen her in months.
My hands make involuntary fists. I don’t know how to hold in my hatred. I long to leap over the dock and pummel her to a pulp.
You don’t know how close I’ve come to losing my mind.
I stare at her with intense hatred, revulsion even.
I hate you Alicia McBride! I wish you were dead.
I’ve built her up to be so much bigger in my mind, but here she is, looking sweet and innocuous as she stumbles her way through the oath. The prosecution lawyer begins to question her and her high-pitched voice breaks as she says the very words I ought to be saying:
“I don’t know why she’s saying these things about me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
She glances fearfully in my direction and tears trickle down her cheeks.
“Take your time,” he tells her, softly.
I squirm in my seat. The prosecution must think Christmas has come early. Alicia is too convincing, too conniving. The entire courtroom is under her spell. I see one of the jurors reach up and pat her eye with a hanky.
I don’t believe it. Is that a tear?
I try to catch Brian’s eye, but he is focused on the next witness, who is already making her way to the stand. My heart beats a little faster as I catch my first proper glimpse of her. The likeness is uncanny. So much like Alicia, only more weather-beaten and wrinkled. She pauses a moment and looks guiltily in my direction. I look deep into her eyes, but it’s not there, the wickedness that lurks beneath. Finally, I know for certain. She isn’t the one. It really is Alicia who is behind all this. Jody is just too weak, too pathetic to refuse to do her bidding.
The prosecution lawyer questions Jody about her whereabouts on the night of Holly’s attack but she lies through her teeth. She admits going to the reunion, but as an ex-camper, there is nothing really incriminating about this. She denies seeing Holly there, denies ever having met her. The way she tells it, she just finished her lemonade and went home to bed.
But she isn’t Alicia. Is there a chance the jury won’t believe her?
Finally it’s Brian’s turn to speak up for me. He puts on a good show, but I can tell he’s lost some of his usual confidence. After questioning me in detail, he calls Deacon to the stand. I hadn’t even known he was going to testify. If Deacon is feeling nervous, he shows no sign of it. His tone is confident and straightforward as he answers Brian’s questions:
“Where was Alicia McBride staying on the night in question?”
“At my house.”
“And do you know what time she went to bed?”
“Yes – around half past midnight.”
“And do you know if she remained in her room for the rest of the night?”
“She did not.”
I sit up straight.
What?
“How do you know?”
“Because I looked in on her later and she was gone.”
“Do you know what time that was?”
“Yes – it was a quarter past two in the morning. I know because I’d just got a text which I thought was from Isabel, asking me to meet her at Robertson’s.”
Why has he never mentioned this before? Unless…unless he’s made it up. I watch him closely.
He has! He’s lying under oath!
My heart swells.
I can’t believe he lied for me!
The prosecution lawyer is quick to jump on him, though.
“Could she have been elsewhere in the house?”
“I don’t think so – she wasn’t in the en suite and there was no one in the lounge or kitchen when I left the house.”
“But it is a big house, isn’t it? Is it possible you missed her?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think so.”
I brace myself as Brian calls his final witness – my neighbour, Mr Krinkle. Neville, apparently. Funny, I had never thought of him as having a first name before. I chew on a jagged thumbnail. My previously manicured hands are now rough and calloused, my nails brittle and broken. I work intently on the nail. I can’t watch. Everything hinges on his testimony.
“Did you see anything unusual in the early hours of February 27th, the night Holly was attacked?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did you see?”
Mr Krinkle straightens his tie.
“I saw a blue Honda pull up outside Isabel’s house, just after midnight.”
“Did you see who was driving?”
“No.”
“Did you see anyone get out?”
“No, he – or she - just sat there.”
“How long were they there?”
“Quite a while, at least quarter of an hour.”
“And then what happened?”
“I don’t know. I fell asleep.”
“What time did you wake up?”
“About two in the morning. There was a noise.”
“What sort of noise?”
“A terrible moan. It didn’t sound human. I thought it was a fox.”
“Did you see anything else?”
“Yes. I saw someone leaving Isabel’s house.”
“And was it your neighbour, Isabel Anderson?”
“No, it was not.”
“Did you see where this person went?”
“Yes. They got into a car and drove off. Not the Honda, but another car parked further up the street. A white one. I didn’t see what make.”
“Did you notice anything else?”
“Yes. They drove off at quite a speed, as if they were in a hurry to get somewhere.”
“Or away from somewhere?”
“Yes.”
The prosecution lawyer steps up. “You said you couldn’t see this person clearly?”
“No, it was dark.”
“Then what makes you so sure it wasn’t Miss Anderson?”
Mr Krinkle frowns. “Isabel is tall, with an average build. This person was small and slight – almost like a child. And she had a different walk. It was…I don’t know – daintier.”
It was Jody, I know it was. If only the police had been able to find her DNA at my house.
I still struggle to get my head around what must have happened. Holly had never been to my house before, so when she thought she was following Jody home from the reunion, she must have actually been following her to my house. Jody must have had a key to the front door. She walked right in, as if she owned the place. She led Holly into a trap. I don’t know exactly what happened next. Maybe Holly decided to get out of the car and have a snoop, or maybe Jody went and got her, but somehow, Holly ended up injured and unconscious in my garage.
*
And so the proceedings draw to a close. As Judge Bagshott sums up the case, I struggle to take in what he’s saying. Despite sitting through the entire trial, day in, day out, I feel like I’m hearing it all for the first time.
“I think we’ve done enough,” Brian says, as the jury goes to deliberate.
But I’ve come to know him well enough to know when he’s putting on a brave face. Outwardly, his confidence has increased as the days have gone by, but there have been telltale signs to the contrary – the sweat he keeps mopping from his brow, the heavy bags that have appeared under his eyes. These are not the signs of a confident man.
Waiting is the worst kind of torture. The jury does not reach a verdict that afternoon, or the next. I take a deep breath and let the air gush through my lungs. When will it all be over? Will it ever be over?
Then, finally, just when I think I can’t bear it another minute, the court reconvenes.
“Has the jury reached its verdict?”
“It has.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“On the count of the abduction and attempted murder of Holly Handsworth, we find the defendant, Isabel Anderson, not guilty.�
�
I jerk my head up. Have I heard right?
“On multiple counts of arson, we find the defendant not guilty.”
Somebody gasps. I think it might be me.
Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty.
“I’m…free to leave?”
I can’t believe it.
Judge Bagshott is still talking but I don’t hear a single word. It’s over. It’s all over. I just want to get out. I try to step out of the dock, but the ground below me tilts 90 degrees. I half-walk, half-stumble towards the door.
“Isabel?”
Strong arms reach out to steady me.
“I’m free. I’m finally free!” I bury myself in Deacon’s chest.
He looks as shocked as I feel.
“You really didn’t think this was going to happen, did you?” I whisper.
“No. I was all set to appeal.”
But for once, God is smiling on me.
For no reason at all, I laugh. People turn to stare, probably wonder if I’m crazy after all, but I can’t help it. This is the first time I’ve laughed in months. The first time I’ve had something to laugh about.
“What’s so funny?” Deacon asks, as I catch my breath.
“I think it’s just the immense relief,” I gasp.
“You OK now?”
I nod. “Get me out of here!”
The need to get out is suddenly overwhelming. I am terrified that if I don’t get out immediately, the decision will somehow be reversed and I’ll be thrown back into prison. Deacon understands my urgency. Taking me by the arm, he leads me through the open doorway.
Not a second too soon. A line of fire soars through the air and a loud bang echoes around the chamber. Order descends into chaos as people scream and panic to get out.
“Keep going,” Deacon hisses.
“What’s happening?”
“Someone’s let off a load of fireworks.”
I look back, alarmed to see a rocket erupt from under the very seat where I was just sitting. It explodes in a hissing shower of sparks that would be very pretty in the cool, night sky, but here, in this enclosed space, is downright dangerous.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. Let the police handle it.”
He pulls me towards the exit and we both shake the sparks from our hair and clothes.
“You alright?”
“I think so.”
I can’t help but take one more look back into the chamber. Amidst all the chaos, someone is being handcuffed, I can’t make out who. Alicia wouldn’t be stupid enough to do it herself, would she? No, she’d have a lackey. She always has a lackey.
*
Cameras flash in my face as Deacon guides me past the waiting press. I shield my face, not wanting to look at them, let alone talk to them. Moments later, Brian appears and jubilantly announces that he’ll be making a short statement on my behalf. I smile slightly as the crowd diverts its gaze to him. Let him enjoy his moment in the spotlight. He deserves it.
Deacon’s car is parked round the corner. I heave a huge sigh as I climb in and shut the door behind me.
“Congratulations!” Rhett and Kate yell, as they clamber into the backseat. I know I should be pleased to see them, but I haven’t got the energy to respond. I smile weakly.
Deacon starts the car. “You OK?”
I nod, but I’m not really. Now that the initial burst of elation has died down, I feel deflated. My life as I knew it is over. It can never be the same - not after so many months in prison. I have lost so much time – an entire spring and summer that I will never get back. More than that, I’ve lost a part of me.
Deacon wakes me as we approach the lights of Queensbeach.
“Where to? You want to go home?”
“Can we go back to yours?” I ask, sleepily.
“I’ll cook something special to celebrate,” Rhett offers from the back. “What do you fancy? Toad-in-the-hole? Lancashire hotpot?”
“Anything,” I smile sleepily. “Just as long as you make it.”
Another person in my situation might have indulged in elaborate fantasies of what they’d do when they got out. Where they would go, what they would do, who they would spend that first special evening with. But not me. When I was in jail, I couldn’t allow my mind to wander that far – to believe I could actually be set free. And there is still Alicia to think about. Where is she now? And what is she planning next?
As we drive past Robertson’s, I can’t help noticing that the place has been completely repainted. And in place of the giant ‘R’ on the roof, there is now a happy squirrel.
“Robertson’s changed hands?” I say, in disbelief. “Sonya never said a thing!”
“Yeah, Filbert’s bought it after the fire. Apparently Robertson’s wasn’t properly covered by their insurance.”
So someone did benefit from the fire! Does that mean someone paid Alicia to start it? Was it Bernie? A slight prickle runs down my spine. Did he also pay her to set fire to his car? Bile builds in my mouth, and I turn my head in the other direction, just in time to see the sea, glimmering and green.
I watch as the last fishing boat of the day chugs in. The sea tosses it this way and that before allowing it into the safety of the harbour. But it could just as easily have dashed it against the rocks. The sea is unpredictable like that.
Rhett is as good as his word and cooks up a storm. I sit round the table with my friends, eating chicken and potatoes and glugging wine, just like the old days. We talk about all the things I’ve missed while I’ve been away. Apparently, the police swarmed on Mustafa a few weeks ago and tried to deport him, but he was back at work a couple of days later.
“The man must have a really good lawyer,” Deacon says, serving me another helping of potatoes.
I don’t bring up my own strange history with Mustafa. I haven’t got the strength. And we don’t discuss where I’ve been, either. I’m not ready to, not yet. You could be forgiven for thinking I’d been on an extended holiday as we all adjourn to the lounge to watch Eastenders.
Or you would, if it weren’t for that damn knock at the door.
Rhett answers it.
“Isabel, it’s for you.”
I sit up in alarm.
Who knows I’m here?
“Relax, it’s just Julio.”
“Oh.”
Reluctantly, I make my way to the door.
“I thought I’d find you here. I wanted to tell you… I wanted to apologise…”
I fold my arms. “I’m not interested.”
“But if you’d just give me a moment to explain…”
“I don’t have a moment,” I spit. “I have just spent 8 months in prison. I can’t stand here and listen to your bullshit. I don’t have time.”
I try to shut the door, but he sticks his foot in the way.
“Alicia threatened to kill you,” he blurts out. “That’s why I…we said what we said. You’ve seen what they did to Holly. I couldn’t let them do that to you too.”
I bite my lip. My anger is a rabid dog. I am in no mood for reconciliation.
“I think you’d better come in,” says a voice from behind me.
I look round in astonishment. Deacon, who has never liked my brother and never tried to hide it, ushers him inside.
Julio sticks his hands in his pockets as he follows him down the hall. We go into the lounge and sit down. I am too numb to think straight. It is not the time for explanations and forgiveness, not on the night of my release. And yet, here is Julio, desperate to get this off his chest.
Just when I think things couldn’t get more uncomfortable, Kate appears.
“Hi Julio.”
“Er…hi…”
I look from one to the other and realise that this is the first time they’ve met since the divorce.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Kate offers. “Rhett’s just made some.”
“Um…OK. Thanks.”
“You still take it with two sugars?”
“Y
eah.”
Julio’s hand shakes slightly as he holds his coffee, causing it to drip down his arm and onto his jeans. There is a box of tissues on the table but I say nothing.
I’ve heard that his wedding has been postponed. The official story is that Holly needs more time to recover, but I can’t help wondering if she’s having second thoughts. I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to put as much distance between herself and our family as possible.
Julio is here to unburden himself. He tells of his panic when Holly failed to come home that night and his horror, when the police called to say they had found her.
“How is Holly now?”
“Physically, she’s on the mend, but it will take her a while to get over the trauma. Especially after Alicia paid us a visit and told us what to say in court. Holly thought we should go to the police, but I wouldn’t let her risk it. We both knew she meant business.”
I know he’s expecting my sympathy, but I’m not sure I can give it. It’s not that I don’t care about what happened to Holly – of course, I do but I wouldn’t have got through the last 8 months if I hadn’t hardened my heart just a bit and it’s not that easy to undo. Not overnight, anyway.
Deacon excuses himself to take a phone call, and Rhett and Kate busy themselves, clearing the table, leaving Julio to my mercy.
“Why didn’t you warn me, tell me what was going on?”
“I was scared of what she might do.”
“Don’t you think I was scared, locked up in a cell all that time, not knowing if I was ever going to get out?”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Well, sorry isn’t good enough. Not by a long way.”
“Isabel…”
“You’re not going to believe this!” Deacon bursts in, before I can release the full torrent of my anger.
“What?”
“That was Brian on the phone. He reckons she’s been arrested.”
“Who?”
“Alicia.”
All time stands still.
“What? What happened? Tell me! Quick!”
“They got her on that firework stunt.”
“That was her?”
“No, she got some poor exchange student to do it, but a witness saw her giving the kid the fireworks.”
I can’t believe this. Alicia arrested, on the very day I’ve gained my freedom. How is this possible?
Fry Page 21
