Judith and Constance sat opposite Debbie in a room with pale green walls at Denmow prison. Constance’s primary school had green walls. She had asked her form teacher, Miss Singh, why everything was green and she’d shrugged and said, ‘Better than purple, isn’t it, Constance?’ Since then, she’d read that green was considered soothing; Dulux advised that ‘celadon, eau de nil and mint green’ created ‘a peaceful ambiance and relieved tension’. No doubt the prison service had considered how appropriate that would be as a backdrop for prisoners’ consultations or perhaps, given the current trend for feature walls and bold colours, this was just what was left behind in the paint shop.
Debbie sat very still, her back straight, her chest hardly rising and falling, although her fingers crept up to her neck once or twice, retreating disappointed; her valuables had been packed away before her incarceration and there was no necklace this time to occupy them.
‘I hate the way she looks at us every time we arrive,’ Constance had confessed to Judith on their journey over, ‘like she thinks we’re going to tell her it was all a big mistake, and then we don’t.’
‘A mistake? What? That Rosie’s sitting at home with an intact cranium?’
Constance closed her lips tight.
‘I hadn’t noticed,’ Judith continued. ‘You’re better at that sort of thing than I am. It must be preferable that she still has hope, though? Otherwise, we’d have even more of a mountain to climb.’
Judith had been careful to watch Debbie as she entered the room today. And it was true that Debbie scrutinised each of them in turn, her eyes roving over their faces, exploring and probing. And that, by the time they were seated, that sharpness had gone.
‘Hi, Debbie. We have a court hearing tomorrow, where we are going to ask for a few things, mostly procedural. But we have some questions for you, things it would be good to clarify now, just in case. In particular, to try and work out who might be good witnesses for you and who the prosecution might want to testify against you. Is that OK?’
‘I’m not going anywhere, am I?’
Debbie hardly moved as she spoke.
‘Can we talk about the day of Rosie’s murder again?’ Judith leaned back in her chair, hoping her own movement might elicit something reciprocal from Debbie. No one liked to interview a statue.
‘But we’ve been over it so many times before,’ Debbie said.
‘You left Rosie at, what, 2pm, 2.10?’ Judith said.
‘Around then, maybe 2.15.’
‘And your training session started at 6?’
‘Yes.’
‘And it’s, what, twenty minutes on your moped from one place to the other?’
‘Depends on traffic and on where I can park the bike, but roughly that, yes.’
‘Where did you go in between?’
‘I went home. I told you before.’
‘Which is, what, fifteen minutes away?’
‘I wanted to grab some lunch, change, pick up my stuff: cones and flags. One of the girls brings the balls. It’s not easy to bring them on my bike.’
‘Didn’t Rosie offer you lunch?’
‘No.’
‘You usually start at 5pm, don’t you?’
‘I sometimes do an earlier session for kids who want to get into the team. I cancelled it that day.’
‘Why?’
‘When I arranged things with Rosie, I thought we might need to talk for longer, that I might hang around to see Ben, after school.’
‘Why was that?’
‘We were talking about what he was going to do, next year, in sixth form.’
‘So you anticipated that your session with Rosie might go on and then you would have to go straight into your 6pm training?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you have your stuff with you then, the cones and flags you just mentioned? I imagine you wouldn’t leave them on your moped.’
Debbie’s face coloured. ‘No,’ she said hotly. ‘I must have forgotten them.’
‘What clothes were you wearing when you went to visit Rosie?’
‘Nothing special, a blue tracksuit.’
‘Which you were wearing later on for training?’
‘Yes.’ Debbie huffed.
‘You didn’t change your clothes, then, when you arrived home, after all?’
‘No, I…I just didn’t. I can’t remember why now.’
Judith and Constance exchanged looks.
‘Isn’t that good enough? The police checked my clothes. They said there was nothing on them. You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that if I had battered my wife to death there might have been just a tiny bit of her blood on my clothing. Oh God!’ Debbie lay her head in her hands.
‘We only have your word that is what you were wearing earlier in the day,’ Judith said. ‘Constance, we should look at ways of corroborating that – other people who might have seen Debbie. Street cameras – that kind of thing – would be useful.’
‘But the other stuff isn’t, is it?’ Debbie looked up. ‘About leaving the kit at home.’
‘Not terrible, but it’s an anomaly and juries hate anomalies. At best it makes you look disorganised.’ Judith’s words hung in the air.
‘Oh,’ Constance said, remembering her visit to East Road. ‘Isn’t there a camera outside the front of Rosie’s house? That will help.’
‘It doesn’t work.’
‘It doesn’t work?’
‘It’s just an empty box. It did work for a few months, then Rosie got fed up with having it monitored. I don’t know why, but I could never get her to take security seriously. She thought she was…invincible, I suppose.’
‘That’s a shame then, about the camera. But there must be other ways to check. Where is your moped?’ Judith asked.
‘The police took it.’
‘Does it have any kind of tracker? That could help with times as well, couldn’t it?’
‘It’s eight years old. But you can check.’
‘And your phone is with the police too, is it?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s also old?’
‘It’s the latest iPhone. Ben insisted, when I was having problems with my ancient model. He took me to the Apple shop. I don’t use half the features. They got a very good deal out of me.’
‘Connie. You need to talk to Dawson and get access to Debbie’s phone. I can’t believe we haven’t had it already, now I think about it. If they give you any rubbish about there being nothing relevant on it, tell them we will apply immediately to court.’
‘Why is it so important, suddenly?’ The spark was lit momentarily in Debbie’s eyes.
‘Even I know that these new phones track your whereabouts and whether you are stationary or moving. It won’t solve the crime, but it will go a long way to corroborate what you say about the time you arrived and left and going home in the middle.’
Debbie smiled weakly. ‘Good. That sounds good.’
‘Can we take a minute to talk about your public image?’ Judith asked. ‘You were often on the front pages and not always for playing football?’
‘So what?’
‘It may be used against you, to…show that you’re not such an upstanding citizen.’
‘Do I really have to worry about any of that, when it was nothing…and years ago.’
‘It’s part of your public image.’
‘Look, I was a kid from the East End and all these doors opened for me. I wasn’t going to stand outside and watch the others go in, was I? But it was all harmless stuff.’
‘All of it?’
‘All of it.’ Debbie shifted her weight forward for the first time and sniffed loudly.
‘All right. What about on the pitch? You had a few nasty moments.’
‘I only ever had two red cards. Sure, I would take other players on, that’s how I played, but I was never reckless.’
‘What about the tackle on Craig Mosby, in the FA Cup semi-final?’ Judith looked on with astonishment, as Constance asked her question. ‘His leg was broken in two places. It almost ended his career.’
‘All right, maybe that one time. But I slipped. It wasn’t deliberate. Anyone could see that on the replay. Craig knew that too. We had a photo together, in the hospital. And it was years ago.’
‘Tell us about George Scopos?’ Judith continued.
‘He’s the West Ham owner.’ Debbie frowned before replying. ‘We…disagreed over the new hires,’ she said, ‘and he asked me to leave.’
‘So the prosecution will bring someone from the world of football, maybe him, most probably the person who liked you least. Have a think who that might be and who we could put forward to say nice things about you. We have the girls you coach now, which is great.’
‘I don’t want you bringing them into this. They’re all kids and they don’t need it.’
‘Your sentiments are very noble, but this is a murder trial. If I were you, I would accept help where it’s offered. Can we go back to Rosie’s parents now?’ Judith asked.
Debbie scowled at Judith. ‘How is any of this relevant?’ she said.
‘It’s relevant to motive. Would you rather discuss this with us now or, for the first time, in front of the jury?’
‘Her father is dead. Her mother, Elaine, and me, no, we really don’t get on. I’ve already told you that too.’
‘Yes, you called her a witch as I remember. Why didn’t you get on?’
‘They thought Rosie should have married better. She had met Prince Harry when he set up those Games, her programme covered it. That was more what Elaine wanted for her precious daughter.’
‘Did they tell you that?’
‘Rosie told me, laughed it off. When I didn’t laugh, she tried to dress it up with fancy words; her parents worried we were not compatible, we had to give them time, as I was different from other men she’d dated. But they never liked me. Her father wasn’t even going to walk her down the aisle. Point blank refused.’
‘What happened?’
‘Rosie could be very persuasive. She worked on him till he agreed.’
‘How did that make you feel?’
‘Is that what they’re going to say? That I was full of hatred and resentment since my wedding day and it all boiled over. I wasn’t that bothered, really. I was only upset because it hurt Rosie.’
‘Elaine will be a witness. What will she say?’
‘That I ruined her daughter’s life. That her husband’s heart attack was because of me, the shock of hearing about me.’
‘And what do you say to that?’
‘That I was a good husband, always, in every respect.’
‘Supportive?’
‘Yes.’
‘Loving?’
‘Yes.’
‘Interested in Rosie’s wellbeing?’
‘Yes.’
‘Faithful?’
Debbie was silent. Constance caught her breath. She would never have asked that question.
‘Were you faithful to your wife?’ Judith asked again and the room shrank in size. Did Constance imagine it or did Judith’s lips twitch at the word ‘faithful’?
Debbie stood up and crossed to the tiny window. She lay her hand against the pane, noticed her fingernail was broken and rubbed it against its neighbouring finger. ‘Not in the way you mean,’ she said.
‘There’s only one way to be unfaithful in my book.’
‘It was right at the end and we were already getting the divorce. We were together for twenty years and I never strayed, even though there was lots of temptation. I was…experimenting, enjoying some freedom again.’
‘And will the other willing participant in this celebration of liberty have anything to say publicly, do you think?’
‘No, definitely not.’
‘I hope not, for your sake.’
Debbie reached up and plucked at her hair, curling a strand around her index finger.
‘Why did you marry Rosie?’ Constance asked.
‘I loved her,’ Debbie said. ‘I loved her more than anyone else I had ever met. And I still do.’
Judith closed her note book. ‘Can you see that your declaration of love for Rosie, may be…difficult for people to accept, given your divorce and your transition?’ she asked.
‘I see that,’ Debbie said, ‘but it’s still the truth.’
‘All right. One thing we need to decide is whether or not you give evidence in your own defence, which is particularly pertinent, as you keep vetoing my recommended defence witnesses. How do you feel about that?’
‘I want to, I think. I want to be able to tell people, to tell the jury, what I just told you. If you believe me, I hope they will too.’
Debbie returned to her seat.
‘After tomorrow’s hearing, we’ll consider everything and talk to you again, though we won’t decide finally until nearer the trial. But, if you do give evidence, you have to stay calm, like you are today. Do you understand? No shouting, no swearing, no nasty comments, no sarcasm, no theatricals. Just calm and understated.’
‘I’m not stupid.’
‘I can see you’re not. I am advising you that it’s not easy to keep your cool, when you are in the spotlight and questions are being fired at you from all directions. Connie will update you on what happens tomorrow, and any questions, just let us know. Have you thought again about bail?’
‘I’m going to stay here,’ Debbie said, although she stared for a moment too long through the window. ‘It’s quiet and everyone leaves me alone. I read and the kids visit. Not much of a summer for them really, is it? Ben was hoping to go away with his friends.’
‘I’m sure he’ll have plenty of time to do that, once this is all over. You make sure you look after yourself, then.’
* * *
As Debbie was led out and along the corridor back to her cell, Constance whispered to Judith, ‘Did you see what I meant, about how she looked at us?’
‘She’s scared and trying not to show it and I’m not surprised.’
‘Scared of being found guilty?’
‘That, yes, but I think she’s also scared of being judged by us, on all the choices she’s made about how to live her life. And, sadly, we’re likely to be more generous in our appreciation of some of those issues than the general public will be.’
‘Will you put her on the stand?’
‘I don’t know. We don’t have to. We can make a defence around the lack of evidence and pick apart the circumstantial stuff they have. That might be enough. At least she was calmer today, like I said, more measured, until you caught her out about that tackle. She didn’t like that one bit.’
‘She didn’t like me hinting she’d been irresponsible.’
‘We’ll have to remember the things which might set her off and make sure we avoid mentioning them in court. But we can’t stop the prosecution.’
Constance sat back down and replaced her laptop deliberately on the table. This was her opportunity to bring up the things Greg had told her.
‘I thought you were going to tell her about the new pilot scheme,’ she said.
‘You tell her. You don’t need me for that.’
‘You know, I’ve heard there won’t just be a live feed,’ Constance said. ‘There’s going to be a new channel, Court TV, in the day, showing the trial live, and a special current affairs programme in the evenings, commenting on the day in court with experts. It’s much more…informal than I expected. What do you think?’
‘I think they could have been a bit more imaginative with the name…’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
Judith puffed out her cheeks. ‘OK. I can see why they want our case for their little experiment. Shame on them.’
‘Debbie wasn’t specially selected. They’d chosen a date for it to start. And they’re not calling it an experiment.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you? It’s an experiment. A “scheme”, and we – well, Debbie – is the guinea pig. And they want the scheme to be successful, because you can’t even begin to imagine how many hoops they had to jump through, just to get to today. Someone important really wanted this. You think they’re going to allow it to kick off with some spotty youth, up on a shoplifting charge?’
‘You’re always so suspicious…’
‘And I’m usually right.’
‘But does it change how we prepare the case?’
‘God, no. Why should it? We can’t allow it to. It will be just the same, except people can tune in and watch us, if they want.’
‘Do we need to make any special applications at tomorrow’s hearing, maybe?’
Judith walked towards the door and rang the bell to be released.
‘One or two things, I suppose, nothing major. I have it all in hand.’
‘I didn’t think you’d be so…calm about it all.’
Judith squeezed a smile.
‘Perhaps that’s what comes from years of dealing with the unexpected.’