by Peter Murphy
‘And as a result of that, could you see anything?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What could you see?’
‘His…’
Silence.
‘Do you know the word for it?’
‘I am not sure, sir.’
Ben saw Gareth turn towards the judge. He was going to ask permission to ask a leading question, and the judge would almost certainly allow him to lead Raymond on such a sensitive subject. Ben calculated quickly and decided on a pre-emptive strike. He rose quickly to his feet.
‘I have no objection to my learned friend leading,’ he said, ‘as long as the jury understand that we do not accept the evidence.’
‘I’m much obliged to my learned friend,’ Gareth said. He turned towards Ben with a look – apparently hurt, but with the hint of a smile – which Ben understood immediately.
It said: ‘You got that trick from me, didn’t you? And you turned it against me.’
Ben gave him an innocent look in return. Gareth turned back to his witness.
‘Raymond, was it his penis?’
Raymond nodded.
‘You have to…’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you understand what the penis is?’
Hesitation.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did Mr Little do anything?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What did he do?’
Hesitation.
‘He asked me to touch his…’
‘His penis?’
‘Yes, sir.
‘Do you remember exactly what he said?’
‘No, sir.’
‘All right. What did you think he wanted you to do? How did he want you to touch him?’
‘With my hand.’
‘Did you touch it?’
‘No, sir.’
‘How many times did he ask you to touch him?’
‘Once or twice, sir.’
‘But you didn’t?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Did Mr Little say or do anything else?’
Silence.
‘Raymond…?’
‘He touched me, sir.’
‘He touched you? Where did he touch you?’
Hesitation.
Quietly. ‘The same place, sir.’
‘Your penis?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did he touch you through your trousers?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did he say anything while he was touching you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I ran, sir. I ran out of the vestry as fast as I could.’
‘Did Mr Little follow you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘I ran home.’
‘How long did it take you to run home?’
‘I’m not sure, sir. Not long. Just a few minutes.’
‘All right, Raymond. Now, when you got home, what did you do?’
‘I ran upstairs to my room.’
‘Without speaking to your parents?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did your father come upstairs to see what was going on?’
‘Yes.’
‘And did you tell him…?’
Ben stood quickly.
‘I would ask my learned friend not to lead on this, sir.’
The judge nodded.
‘Of course,’ Gareth said. ‘What did you say to your father?’
‘I told him that Mr Little had touched me.’
‘Do you remember exactly what you said?’
A shake of the head.
‘I can’t remember now, sir.’
Gareth hesitated, as if unsure whether to press. After some time he nodded, as if to himself.
‘Thank you, Raymond. I have no more questions to ask you. Mr Schroeder will have some.’
Ben stood quickly.
‘Sir, I’m entirely in your hands. If Raymond would like a break, we can certainly take one now. But I am only going to be a few minutes, and he may prefer to get it over with.’
The judge nodded.
‘Raymond, what would you like to do? Would you like a break, or would you like to go on for just a few more minutes?’
‘We can go on, sir,’ Raymond replied politely.
* * *
‘Raymond, can I ask you first about the vestry? It’s a very small room, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You could fit three or four vestries into this courtroom at least, couldn’t you?’
Raymond smiled. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘And the table in the middle of the room, that’s a rather large, round wooden table, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A bit too big for the room, really, don’t you think?’
Raymond nodded. ‘Much too big.’
‘Yes. And there’s not much room between the table and the wardrobe, is there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘In fact, there’s hardly room to open the wardrobe doors without banging them into the table, is there?’
‘There is not much room, sir, no.’
‘So, if you were taking something out of the wardrobe, and someone else was standing behind you, by the table, you could easily bump into them by accident, couldn’t you?’
‘I suppose so, sir.’
‘Is it possible that’s what happened – that you bumped into Mr Little as you were turning round to put the wine on the table?’
Hesitation.
‘I don’t think so, sir.’
Ben paused.
‘You don’t think so. All right. Raymond, how long have you been singing in the choir?’
‘Since I was seven, sir.’
Ben smiled.
‘You started young, didn’t you?’
Raymond smiled back.
‘Yes, sir. My parents started giving me singing lessons when I was just five or six.’
‘They wanted to encourage you, didn’t they?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you like singing?’
‘I love it, sir.’
‘Would you like to go on singing when you grow up?’
‘Yes, sir. I hope so.’
‘So do I,’ Ben said. ‘I understand you are very talented musically, a very good singer?’
‘Well…’
‘It’s all right. Don’t be shy.’
‘Yes, sir, I think so.’
‘You go to school in St Ives, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you have music lessons there?’
Hesitation.
‘Yes, sir… well, sort of…’
‘Not very good?’
‘Not as good as my parents, sir.’
‘No. I understand. You would probably have preferred to go to the King’s School at Ely, the cathedral school, wouldn’t you? Do you know about it?’
Ben saw Gareth rise.
‘Sir, I’m not sure where my learned friend is going with this. Is it relevant to the case before this jury?’
‘Mr Schroeder?’ the judge inquired.
‘It is, sir. That will become clear with a subsequent witness, if the court will allow me a little leeway.’
Gareth shrugged and sat down.
‘Very well,’ the judge said.
‘Much obliged, sir. Raymond…?’
‘I think any boy would, sir.’
‘Yes, of course. Because you can sing in the cathedral choir, and perhaps even go on to Cambridge University as a scholar when you are older, can’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
&nbs
p; ‘But there are not many places for choristers, are there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And you have to get in quite young, don’t you? By the time you are your age, it’s almost too late, isn’t it?’
A look of sadness.
‘Yes.’
‘Your parents did apply to send you to the King’s School, didn’t they?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you were not accepted, were you?’
‘No.’
‘Did they tell you why?’
Resentful now, arms folded across his chest, a frown on his face.
‘Mr Sharples didn’t think I was good enough.’ Then, suddenly. ‘But I was. I was. What does he know?’
Ben nodded.
‘You knew you were good enough, Raymond, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. I was.’
‘Your parents knew too, didn’t they?’
‘Yes.’
‘If Mr Sharples didn’t recommend you, was there any other way to get in?’
Hesitation.
‘If Mr Little had asked them to take me…’
‘That’s what your parents said? If the vicar asked them, they might take you, even if Mr Sharples didn’t agree?’
A nod.
‘You have to…’
‘Yes.’
‘But Mr Little wouldn’t ask them, would he?’
Quietly.
‘No. He wouldn’t ask.’
Ben allowed a few moments to pass.
‘Were you angry about that?’
Silence.
‘All right. Raymond, Mr Little didn’t touch your penis, did he?’
The frown still on the face, the arms still folded tight.
‘He did.’
‘And he didn’t expose his penis to you, did he?’
‘He did.’
‘Thank you, Raymond. I have no more questions.’
‘Thank you, Mr Schroeder,’ Judge Peterson said. ‘If there is nothing further…’
Gareth shook his head.
‘It’s a bit early, but the jury has had a long morning. We will adjourn until 2 o’clock for lunch. The public and press will be re-admitted to court after lunch.’
The jury left court. Bows were exchanged between Bench and Bar, and the judge was gone.
Out of the corner of his eye Ben saw a folded note being pushed across counsel’s bench towards him. It read: ‘nicely done’. Ben turned, but Gareth was already on his way out of court.
* * *
Lunch was a hurried sandwich at the George. Jess was preparing to set out for Peterborough to meet Joan Heppenstall, and John Singer had left for Ely to ensure that the church witnesses were in place and prepared for the next day.
‘So far, so good,’ Barratt Davis observed.
‘Yes. I’m glad to have that behind us,’ Ben replied. ‘We may make some headway with the father this afternoon, and then it’s up to Little tomorrow.’
‘I’ve been trying to read the jury, but they’re an expressionless bunch, aren’t they? They are not giving anything away at all. I thought there might be some reaction to the boy’s evidence, but not even a flicker, that I saw.’
‘They are straight out of jury central casting,’ Ben replied. ‘I couldn’t even make a clear choice about who I wanted to challenge.’
‘I noticed that. How did you decide, just out of interest?’
‘I picked the two I thought were wearing the most expensive suits.’
Barratt laughed out loud.
‘Well, if Little does well in the box, and if the Canon gives him a ringing endorsement, and if we decide we can call Joan, we may be in with a chance, don’t you think?’
Ben nodded.
‘The trouble with this case, Barratt, is that I’m not entirely sure what our defence is. It seems to be that someone made this story up because Little wouldn’t recommend Raymond for the King’s School. But the problem is, I’m not sure who.’
‘What does your gut say?’ Barratt asked.
‘The father,’ Ben replied immediately.
‘Mine too.’
Ben finished his coffee.
‘All right. Let’s go and find out what he has to say for himself.’
25
‘Please give the court your full name,’ Gareth began.
‘Godfrey Stone.’
‘Are you the father of the previous witness, Raymond Stone?’
‘That is correct.’
‘Mr Stone, where were you on the evening of 22 January this year?’
‘I was at home with my wife.’
‘Where was Raymond, to your knowledge?’
‘He left the house at about ten minutes before seven to walk to the church for choir practice.’
‘Was that a regular occurrence on Wednesday evenings?’
‘It was, yes.’
‘What time did you expect Raymond back?’
‘Some time after 8 o’clock; not later than 8.30.’
‘At what time did Raymond actually get home on this particular evening?’
‘A little after 8.30.’
Gareth paused, as if consulting a note.
‘How did you become aware that he had returned?’
Ben suddenly sat forward and concentrated hard on the witness. He seemed ill at ease. He had his hands behind his back, but the pose did not seem relaxed. Ben felt sure that the hands were tightly clasped together. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
‘I heard the back door open.’
‘Did Raymond have a key?’
‘No. We would leave the back door open for him.’
‘Did you hear him come in?’
‘Yes. But then…’
‘Go on, Mr Stone.’
‘Instead of coming into the living room and saying “hello” to his mother and me, as he usually did, and telling us about choir practice, he ran straight upstairs to his room and closed the door.’
‘And that was unusual for him, you say?’
‘Very. In fact, I don’t think he had ever done that before.’
‘I see,’ Gareth said. ‘What, if anything, did you do?’
Ben glanced at Gareth. It was a very cautious question, as non-leading as it could be. He turned his head back and watched the witness hesitate.
‘I didn’t do anything at first. I thought perhaps he needed the toilet, or there was something he wanted in his room. So I was expecting him to come downstairs. But he didn’t. I left it for five or ten minutes, then my wife and I looked at each other, and said…’
‘Well, you can’t tell us what was said, but what did you do?’
‘I went up to Raymond’s room.’
‘What did you find?’
‘I went in and found him crying. He was sitting at the desk that he uses for his homework, he had his head down on it, and he was crying his eyes out.’
‘It may be an obvious question, Mr Stone. But I want you to tell the jury as precisely as you can what state Raymond appeared to be in.’
‘He was very distressed. Almost hysterical, I would say.’
‘I see. What did you do?’
‘I tried to comfort him, and I asked him what was wrong. At first, I thought he might have been hurt, but I couldn’t see any sign of injury. He was just very upset.’
‘Did he tell you what was wrong?’
Ben hesitated. He noticed the judge glance down at him. He had, of course, prepared for this moment in his mind. He could venture a technical objection on the ground that whatever Raymond said was hearsay and inadmissible. But Gareth would argue that it was a recent complaint – a complaint by a victim of a sexual crime shortly after the event – and so was admissible. The probability was that the judge would allow the eviden
ce, and the probability was that he would be right to do so. Ben quickly decided to follow his instinct, and remained in his seat.
‘Eventually.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I had to ask him several times. He did not want to talk about it. I didn’t want to force him. But I didn’t know what was wrong, and I felt that I had to find out.’
‘What, if anything, did he tell you, eventually?’
Ben noted the form of the question again. The witness hesitated for some time; when he finally answered, he blurted his answer out quickly, without pausing for breath.
‘He told me that the vicar had touched him, in the vestry, after choir practice.’
‘What did you understand Raymond to mean by that?’
Ben shot to his feet.
‘Sir, my learned friend knows very well that he cannot ask that.’
‘Mr Morgan-Davies…’ Judge Peterson began.
Gareth held up a hand. ‘My learned friend is quite right.’ He looked down at his notes, flashing Ben a grin, which Ben pretended to ignore.
‘What did he say, as precisely as you can, please?’ Gareth asked. His tone suggested that he did not expect a useful answer.
‘He said that the vicar had exposed his penis to him and had touched his penis through his clothes.’
Gareth and Ben exchanged glances.
‘I see. What did you do after Raymond had told you all this?’
Stone raised his eyebrows.
‘I went downstairs and told my wife what had happened. She immediately went up to see Raymond, to comfort him. She was up there with him for at least half an hour. Then she came down, made him some cocoa, and we put him to bed. Once he was in bed, we talked about what to do. At first, I didn’t want to do anything.’
‘Why was that?’
‘Well… Mr Little was our vicar, you know. The whole family are members of his congregation. I was shocked. To be honest, I thought that Raymond might have imagined it. I didn’t want to tell anyone until I was more sure. So we talked about it, and we decided that I should telephone Mr Little and ask him about it.’
‘What time was it by then?’
‘It was late, close to 11 o’clock, I should think. We talked about it for a long time, going back and forth.’
‘Did you then phone Mr Little and talk to him?’
‘I did.’
‘What was said between you?’
‘I told Mr Little what Raymond had said. I asked him about it.’
Hesitation.
‘What, if anything, did Mr Little say?’
