Chapter Twenty-Nine

Peter hands me the file of newspaper clippings. I tell him, truthfully, that I have never read an account of the trial before and that I am likely to become emotional as I read it. I ask him to let me read it by myself. I grab the pink folder and take it into the vestibule at the end of the carriage. There are two little flip-down seats attached to the wall next to the lavatory. I sit down on one of these and start reading.

Peter’s researcher friend has done a good job. The first clippings are from the Spalding Guardian and dated two days after my grandmother died: 4th September 1975. The Spalding Guardian is a weekly newspaper, which will explain the short delay that had taken place between my grandmother’s death and the publication of the story. The story was plastered all over the front page, though the actual report was very short. Most of the space was taken up by several very grainy photographs of the shop and one of an ambulance parked outside it, though rather quaintly no individuals were named.

Police called to the premises of a local shopkeeper on Tuesday 2nd September confirm that they discovered there the body of a sixty-three-year-old woman in the residential part of the building, on the ground floor. Chief Inspector Richard Cushing, making a brief statement to the Press, said that the circumstances of the woman’s death were suspicious, but that he could release no further details. It is understood that a forty-five-year-old woman is helping with enquiries. The owner of the shop and his very elderly mother are being comforted by relatives.

Next door neighbour Miss Marjorie Needham said that she had heard shouting and sobbing coming from the house at approximately two-forty p.m. on Tuesday afternoon. This was unusual: her neighbours were very quiet people who kept themselves to themselves, when not working in the shop. However, she knew that they had visitors staying in the house and she had thought that the screams and other noises that she had heard must be some kind of game. She therefore hadn’t attempted to visit her neighbours to enquire if all was well and she certainly did not think that what she heard warranted calling the police. When asked if she had considered that a burglary might have been taking place in the shop, she declined to comment.

The shop is a convenience store situated in Westlode Street, and has belonged to the same family for more than eighty years.

The next cutting, from The Lincolnshire Free Press, is even briefer. It describes Tirzah’s appearance at Lincoln Assizes when she is charged with murder.

Mrs. Dorothy Mary Atkins was charged with the murder of Miss Doris Ann Atkins, which was alleged to have taken place on the afternoon of 2nd September at 36, Westlode Street, Spalding. Mrs. Atkins, who was wearing a purple suit and black blouse, did not speak except to confirm her name and address. No plea was entered. Mr. Justice Evans, presiding, said that the accused should be remanded in custody pending the preparation of psychiatric reports. Responding to a request for bail from the defendant’s solicitor, Mr. Liam O’Donnell, the judge, said that bail could not be granted because he did not accept that if freed Mrs. Atkins was not likely to harm either herself or others.

After this come several clippings from different newspapers speculating on what had happened in the house and why ‘Dorothy Mary Atkins’ might have murdered her mother-in-law. Peter has folded all of these in half, presumably to remind himself to skip them because they are really only a record of journalistic water-treading, of keeping public interest alive until the case is heard in court. I riffle through them, nevertheless. One of them interests and annoys me in equal parts: a luridly sensational account from Ronald Atkins of his marriage to my mother, complete with his own analysis of her mental condition. This was published in a magazine called People’s Post. It is followed by another short clipping which records that Ronald Atkins has been reprimanded by the judge following a complaint from the defence for divulging the information and opinions contained in this article, and has been forbidden to talk further to the media on pain of contempt of court. I wonder if it is because of the article that my mother became so notorious. I have never quite understood why the whole country became so obsessed with the murderess of one little old lady. After all, murders happen all the time.

There follows a substantial sheaf of clippings from several national newspapers describing the actual court case. Once more Peter’s ‘little researcher’ has served him with assiduity; she has included stuff from the whole spectrum of news on the subject, from the lurid to the learned. She seems to have found more about the case in The Times than other publications, however, and I decide to read the articles from this newspaper in sequence.

Although the accounts stretch to many pages, the most striking thing about them is how little happens during the court hearings, and how slight is the amount of admissible evidence presented. My mother refuses to enter a plea. Uncle Colin is called but can recollect nothing – his mother, my great-grandmother, has died in the interim and clearly the surge of grief that he feels at her death far eclipses any thoughts or feelings he may harbour for Doris. My father is called as a witness, but says that he only arrived after Doris was dead. However, he is questioned at length about his marriage to my mother and provides chapter and verse about how difficult she is to live with, though in more restrained terms than were used in the magazine article. Miss Needham tells her story of strange noises that nevertheless did not strike her as alarming enough to interfere with her neighbour’s privacy. And so on. No-one actually admits to having seen my mother kill my grandmother and all the evidence against her is circumstantial.

And then, since she still refuses to plead one way or the other, Liam O’Donnell offers a plea on her behalf: guilty.

After this, Dr. Bertolasso says that she had a ragbag of psychiatric problems, including depression, narcissism and borderline personality disorder. He is asked to elaborate particularly on what he means by ‘narcissim’ and how it might affect someone who has been accused of murder. Mr. O’Donnell objects to this on the ground that the narcissim and the charge of murder are two separate ‘events’ that should not be conflated. His objection is upheld.