by Jane Bidder
Originally, there was going to be another one, a young girl who had been with Kayleigh earlier in the day. But she was unable to be here apparently.
Paul Black had said this in a dark sombre tone that had discouraged further questions on her part. Now he was sitting in one of the benches, his face on hers, waiting for her reply. Oh God. Why had she allowed herself to be involved with this? It was all very well wanting to help others. But this was horrible. Like being in a shop window with everyone staring.
Alice began to sweat. Glancing up at the Public Gallery, she saw Janice looking down. Monica from the tennis club was there too. So were some of the others. But where was Daniel?
“Mrs Honeybun,” repeated the lawyer with a hint of concern in his voice. “could you please tell us what happened on the day of June 9th please?”
“Of course.” Aware that her voice was shaky, she tried to steady herself. “I was walking our dog in the local park when I became aware of a couple sitting on a bench. They weren’t talking. Just sitting there.”
“Were they touching each other, Mrs Honeybun?”
“Objection, m’lord.”
A short, red-faced woman had leaped to her feet. She was the defence solicitor, Paul had explained beforehand. “The prosecution is encouraging the witness to embellish her description.”
Startled, Alice turned to the judge. He was younger than she’d expected; about her age. Indeed his face was familiar. She might well have sat next to him at a dinner party, she mused.
“Objection overruled. You may continue Mrs Honeybun.”
She paused. Everyone’s eyes were on her, reminding her of a time when she’d been chosen to play Dido in the school play and had seized up on the first night. Afterwards, the understudy had taken over.
“Then they got up and went towards a hedge. The boy remained standing and the girl … the girl bent down as though … as though she was going to put a plaster on his knee.”
There was a general titter round the court. This was awful! Alice began to feel resentful towards Paul Black. He had warned her this might be difficult but this was like being on display; a sort of human cockfighting sport. “I didn’t realise at first,” spluttered Alice, “what she was doing.”
The titters became a roar of laughter from up in the public gallery. Alice felt her cheeks burning furiously. Mortified, she turned to Paul Black. Keep going, his eyes said. Ignore them. Tell the truth.
He just wants you to help him do his job. That’s what Daniel had said. The laughter grew louder and someone cat-whistled from the gallery. Why hadn’t she listened to her husband?
“Quiet please,” said the judge sharply. “Please, Mrs Honeybun, go on.”
Her mouth was so dry that the words could hardly come out. “I went on walking but then, when I returned with my dog, I saw them … I saw them on the ground.”
“And what were they doing?”
The prosecutor’s voice was kind but firm. Alice’s face was so hot she felt it was going to explode. “They were … they were making love.”
“Objection!” The short woman leaped to her feet. “How did she know?”
“You will have your chance to question the witness in a moment.” The judge was glaring. “Objection overruled.”
The prosecution lawyer looked pleased. “And this was a public place at the end of the afternoon where parents often play with their children?”
Alice nodded, grateful to return to safer ground. “Yes. I was worried that someone else would see them.”
“And how else did you feel?”
“Sullied.” The word flew out of her mouth before she even thought about it. “The park felt tainted after that. Every time I walk in it, I can’t help looking at that place where … where it happened.”
“No further questions, m’lord.”
Alice felt a wave of relief but only for a second. The short fat woman was already on her feet. “Mrs Honeybun, how far away were you from the defence?”
Alice hesitated. “It’s difficult to remember.”
The woman was waving a piece of paper. “It says on your statement that you were about five to six metres away. Do you wear glasses, Mrs Honeybun?”
“No.”
“And when did you last get a sight check?”
Daniel had been nagging her about that for ages. I don’t need one, she always retorted but the truth was that, just like her husband, she was in middle-age denial over glasses too. “Not for a few years.”
“A few years, Mrs Honeybun? So is it possible that you were mistaken in what you saw?”
“No. I mean, I don’t think so.”
Desperately, she looked across at Paul Black. His face was impassive. Taut. Waiting. Save me, she wanted to say. Please. Save me.
The defence lawyer smiled tightly, reminding her of a crocodile in a book that Garth had loved as a child. It was her son who was important. Not this. Why was she even here? “In a minute, m’lord,” continued the lawyer, “I intend to show that the defendant had indeed cut his knee from splinters on the bench and that Kayleigh Long could have been putting a plaster on it.”
There was a roar of laughter from the gallery.
“Objection, m’lord.”
“Overruled.”
“I also question Mrs Honeybun’s impartiality on the subject. Is it not true that as a teenager you accused an innocent man of sexually assaulting you?”
Alice froze. How did they know?
“Yes. No. ”
“Please be clear, Mrs Honeybun.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I accused him but he wasn’t innocent.”
“In your opinion?”
She grew even redder before repeating his words faintly. “In my opinion.”
There was a taut hush as the defence lawyer then turned to the jury. “And is the court aware that Mrs Honeybun’s potentially slanderous accusation, even though it was kept within the confines of the immediate family led to a great deal of embarrassment on the behalf of the innocent man in question?”
Sweat began to pour down her back and she became aware of a deep heat burning her face and body. Who could have told them? Mum? Surely not even she would do this to her.
The defence lawyer was waving a sheet of paper; a nasty grin on her face. “I have evidence here from the accused himself. A Mr Phil Wright. He isn’t able to be here himself as he is in hospital.” A murmur of sympathy ran round the court. “But it is part of my argument that Mrs Honeybun has a vivid imagination especially when it comes to sex and what she has and hasn’t seen.”
“That’s not true!” Her voice rang out in a scream, just as it had all those years ago when her mother had said she’d ‘either imagined it’ or led Phil on.
“Please Mrs Honeybun.” The judge’s voice was sternly reproving. “I must ask you to remain silent until directly questioned.”
The defence lawyer’s eyes glittered as if with pleasure. “And is it also not true that the witness has not had marital relations with her husband for nineteen years? So it is possible, that her statement is the result of a woman who is sexually frustrated and makes things up in order to feed her physical cravings?”
Alice felt the room blurring around her, dimly aware of the gasps and the rustlings from the public gallery. How did the lawyer know? Had Daniel told her? Was that why he wasn’t he here? Her eyes stung with tears. How could her own husband betray her like this?
“Objection, your honour.”
The judge glanced in her direction. Was it her imagination or did the judge look mildly sympathetic? “Objection overruled. Mrs Honeybun, please answer.”
She tried but once more, the words stuck in her dry throat; trapped in a net of fear and embarrassment.
“May I remind you that you are under oath, Mrs Honeybun.”
“Yes. No. I mean, it is true that my husband and I do not …”
She couldn’t say it. She really couldn’t.
“But I didn’t make up that scene in the park. I didn�
�t.”
Her voice came out as a cry, ringing round the court. But the lawyer on the boy’s side smirked as if to say to the jury “Surely you don’t believe this mad woman.”
Only Paul Black continued to look steadily at her, his face soft with understanding and sorrow. “I’m sorry,” he seemed to say. “I’m so sorry to put you through this.”
Did he mean it? Or was it an elaborate charade? Did he even care providing he got his conviction? Dimly Alice recalled reading something about policemen being promoted on account of the number of ‘guilties’ they achieved.
“STOP!”
A voice rang out from the public gallery. For a moment, Alice thought it was Janice. But then she saw a tall woman with immaculately styled silver hair, resembling a well-groomed fox, rise majestically to her feet. “I can’t keep quiet any more. I saw what happened that day. And I want to give evidence.”
Everyone was turning round to look at her. Voices rose like a tidal wave around her. Even Paul Black appeared unsettled. The two lawyers were approaching the judge now and talking, urgently, in low tones. What was going on? Who was this woman? And where was Kayleigh? Shouldn’t she be here to give evidence too?
The judge struck the bench with his hammer. “Jury out please. I am declaring a recess of half an hour.”
Alice sought refuge in her car, not wanting to speak to anyone. Time and time again, she rang Daniel on both his mobile and landline. Each time it went straight through to answer-phone. Where was he? Did his betrayal – only he knew they hadn’t had sex for years – mean he’d given up on her? That he no longer wanted to continue with the marriage? The idea was both terrifying and yet strangely exciting. Maybe this was finally her chance to break free and be the person she really was, whoever that might be. Yet on the other hand, she couldn’t imagine life with Daniel. Even grown-up children needed two parents. Garth … Garth …
As for Paul Black, Daniel was right. He had simply thrown her to the lions. Now she’d done her bit, he hadn’t even bothered to come and see if she was all right. If he’d been really worried, surely he’d have checked out the court car park?
When she returned, she found the court was about to convene. “What’s happened?” she asked someone.
“Seems like they’re going to allow that woman to be a witness.”
Paul Black was nowhere to be seen. It was both a relief and disappointment. Glancing around the public gallery, acutely aware of the stares and pointing, Alice continued to search for Daniel. No. He definitely wasn’t here. All the anger which she’d been trying to repress (“It’s not nice to get angry,” her mother had told her as a child) now shot round her body in hot tidal waves. Again and again she kept asking herself the same question as if it might somehow re-write what had just happened. How could her husband have betrayed her like that, telling the police about their private life?
“I call Mrs Patricia Williams to take the witness stand,” said the prosecutor. He sounded smug, Alice noticed. As though he’d already won. Despite the anger and embarrassment, she was curious.
Everyone turned as the smartly dressed woman in her fifties clattered across the courtroom floor in red high heels. Despite her own distress and apprehension, Alice could not help taking in the woman’s elegant appearance. Her silver hair had that feathery cut which only looked right when professionally blow dried (which it appeared to have been) and she held her head high as though she may well have done something wrong but was not ashamed to admit it.
The new witness took her oaths loudly and clearly, rather like an actress, Alice thought. Once more there was a hush about the court; as if the curtain was about to rise on the first act.
“Can you tell us what you saw on the evening in question?” asked the prosecution lawyer. He spoke, Alice noticed, as though he didn’t care for the woman very much.
She nodded. “I was staying at the Hotel Regent overlooking the park. I had just had a shower and was looking out of the window to cool myself. It had been a hot day.”
There was an appreciative murmur from one or two of the male members of the jury. “I saw a couple sitting on a bench and then moving towards the hedge. The man stood very straight as though he was in another word and the girl bent down to perform oral sex.”
There was a gasp.
“You are sure of that?”
The woman smiled. Her lipstick was glossy and appeared to shine in agreement. “I am very sure. The man then proceeded to take the girl’s clothes off below her waist and have intercourse with her.”
Another gasp.
“Did she seem willing?”
“Extremely willing.”
Another hushed silence.
“But that might have been because of the pill I saw him give her on the bench.”
“Yet you were some distance away.”
There was a foxy smile. “I always carry my opera glasses in my handbag. One never knows when one might need them.”
The noise around her in the gallery almost deafened Alice’s ears.
“Silence,” roared the judge.
The prosecutor’s eyes glinted. “And may I ask why you didn’t come forward before as a witness?”
The elegant woman’s gaze stiffened. “I was having an affair with a married man. That was why we were in the hotel. But now that is over. I felt it was time that his wife should know the truth.” She smiled. “And that the real story should be told about the young couple too, of course.”
Alice felt sick. So this woman had come forward as a witness, not out of the goodness of her own heart but to wreak revenge on a man who had, quite possibly, let her down.
How awful.
“Objection.” The defence was on her feet. “What proof is there that Patricia Williams hasn’t made this up?”
“I thought you might ask that.” The woman smiled thinly. “I took the precaution of taking photographs on my phone. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some kind of a voyeur.” She laughed as if the idea was highly amusing. “Something told me they might be needed.”
“Objection,” said the defence leaping to her feet.
“Overruled,” said the judge smartly. “You were made aware of these photographs during the recess and I made it quite clear they could be used as part of the evidence.”
The lawyer sank back in her seat with a sullen expression.
The youth in the dock was looking at her, Alice suddenly realised. He had a smile playing on his lips. I know something you don’t, he seemed to say. Alice shivered.
Meanwhile, the court was in uproar. It looked as though they were going to win if the expression on the prosecutor’s face was anything to go by. But at what expense to her? The whole world knew now that she and Daniel hadn’t had sex for years. They also knew about Phil, even though in her view the full story hadn’t been told. She was a laughing stock. It was almost, but not quite enough to make her forget about Garth.
There was another witness too. A teacher at Kayleigh Long’s school. A Mr Brown with a brown ponytail; what kind of school did he teach at? Alice was still too upset to take it all in. But his evidence clearly implied that Kayleigh made things up. Vivid imagination … natural storyteller … potentially dangerous … even said she saw me in an inappropriate situation with a pupil … her statement not to be believed …
Something about the man rattled Alice. She didn’t like him. And why wasn’t Kayleigh herself here to give evidence? Maybe they’d allowed her to do it on video but if so, they hadn’t shown it yet. Perhaps there was no need now that the silver fox woman had stolen the show with her recorded film on her mobile.
At last! The judge was allowing them to leave while the jury debated. She’d go outside again. Quietly. Get some air.
“Are you all right?”
Paul Black’s voice was behind her.
She shook her head, not wanting to turn round; to face the man she’d trusted. “Not really.”
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“Are you
?”
Alice heard her voice come out sharply; not like her own. To her satisfaction, there was a flicker of unease in Paul Black’s eyes. Good. He’d know now she wasn’t an easy pushover. “Who told them. About me and … my husband? And … and that stuff about me as a teenager?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say, I’m afraid.”
“Can’t say because you don’t know or because you’re not legally allowed to tell me?”
His words slid into the space between them, locking them together in complicity. “The latter.” For a brief second, he touched her hand. “I’m sorry. More sorry than you realise.”
He meant it. She could tell. Either that or he was a good actor and she was even more stupid than she’d thought.
Alice looked down at the spot on her bare arm where his hand had been seconds earlier. She waited. Waited for the all too familiar wave of revulsion. Where was it?
“We’d better go back inside.” Paul Black made as though to offer her his arm but then seemed to think better of it. “Something tells me the jury won’t be long.”
Her head spinning, Alice returned to her seat. No point in looking for Daniel now. He’d abandoned her. Thrown her to the dogs. Maybe he was right. Perhaps she deserved to be punished. As Daniel had said often enough, a man has physical needs in a marriage. It couldn’t survive alone on breakfast marmalade and other domestic banalities. Not if sex wasn’t involved.
Damn you, Uncle Phil. Damn you. Too late, Alice wished with all her heart that she hadn’t been weak enough to forgive him in the nursing home. She should have forced him to make a confession to her mother – to the whole world – instead of allowing her better nature to pity a dying man.
The judge was rapping the bench with his hammer now. “Do you find Frankie Miller guilty or not guilty of rape and the supplying of drugs?”
“Guilty, my Lord.”
There was the sound of a hammer. “Frankie Miller. I hereby sentence you to ten years.”
Good, thought Alice, as she tried to weave her way through the crowds and snapping cameras. At least she’d done something right. But at what cost to her? Not to mention her marriage …
