‘We wanted to update you on the preparation for your trial,’ Constance announced to Debbie, as Judith flicked through her papers. It was a warm day and a shaft of sunlight bisected the shabby room, one of the few with natural light at Denmow. To Constance’s relief, this room was painted white.
‘And I thought you had come to tell me the police have solved the case and I’m free to go.’
Judith looked up and smiled. Constance remained serious. She wasn’t in the mood for jokes today. She thought Debbie appeared both thinner and paler than on their last meeting and had even darker circles under each eye. Even so, her hair was neatly styled and she was wearing pale pink lipstick.
‘How are things here? Have you managed to get out in the yard?’ she asked.
Debbie shrugged. ‘A little. It’s fine. Everyone leaves me alone, which suits me. Food’s not bad; I’m not the best cook anyway. And Laura and Ben visit loads. Otherwise, it’s very quiet. I read, I listen to the radio. Music, plays, even Woman’s Hour.’
‘And you’re allowed to wear your own clothes?’
‘Yes. Overalls would be awful, clash with my nails.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘And I can grow them for the first time in years. That’s one advantage of not scrabbling around in the mud, on the pitch. Just like an extended holiday really.’
‘There’s been a lot of press interest in your case. You might have seen?’
‘I know.’
‘It’s something we’ll have to deal with more as the trial approaches and, as I think you already know, the trial is going to be filmed.’
‘Ben said. So I need to look my best, turn my best side towards the cameras.’
Constance was relieved that she hadn’t had to break the news to Debbie and that Debbie seemed unperturbed. Maybe when you had lived much of your life in the public eye, the prospect of having your trial filmed was simply a home from home.
‘We can discuss preparation nearer the time,’ Judith interrupted. ‘Look, can we talk for a moment about Rosie? We’ve all seen the BBC eulogy and we’ve read the many messages of support. But, clearly you two disagreed over some things, particularly at the end of your marriage. And we’ve watched some of Rosie’s interviews. She was obviously not a pushover.’
Debbie’s smile waned. ‘We’re trying to build up a picture of what Rosie was like,’ Constance added. ‘I know it’s difficult for you to talk about, but it will help us with our case theory.’
Debbie sighed deeply. ‘You’re right that she wasn’t just a pretty face. And if something interested her, she wanted to get involved. She always wanted more control over the content of her programme and the producers didn’t like it.’
‘She clashed with them?’
‘I didn’t want to say anything before. I didn’t want to make trouble. But there was something going on with her contract and with Jason. He’s so spineless, he was happy to just feed the public whatever he was told, as long as they kept paying his salary.’
‘Obviously with the recording of the 999 call, some people will jump to the conclusion that you were abusive or bullying towards Rosie, maybe even violent, and we will have to deal with that,’ Judith took control again. ‘But with the picture you are painting of Rosie, a formidable woman…might anyone say that it was the other way around? That she ordered you about?’
Debbie’s face began to change colour, from its pale beige hue to pink, to red and almost to purple. ‘You want me to rubbish the memory of my dead wife?’
‘I’m not sure I…’
‘You do. You want some ammunition to fight back. Case theory, you said. You want me to say that Rosie was a bitch, that she didn’t understand me or that she…what? – threw me out of the house, at a time when I needed her most? That’s almost as disgusting as her murder… At least everyone has their memories of Rosie to hold on to. You want me to destroy those too.’
‘Why did you leave her if you were so happy together?’ Judith remained calm, but sat back a few inches from Debbie’s ire.
‘I didn’t leave her. I would have stayed.’ Debbie sat forward.
‘She asked you to leave?’
Debbie’s hands went up to her neck again, found a lock of hair and curled it around her fingers.
‘It wasn’t as simple as that,’ she said. ‘We reached an agreement that I should go, that it was best for everyone,’ she said.
‘But, if you had your choice, you would have stayed?’
‘Being selfish, yes.’
‘What do you mean, “being selfish”?’
‘I wanted her to stay my wife but…’ The anger was gone from Debbie’s voice now.
‘You wanted to continue to see your lover.’ Judith completed Debbie’s sentence.
‘I would have been discreet,’ Debbie said. ‘But Rosie couldn’t accept that, and I understood. And she was entitled to want to meet someone else, herself.’
‘You were fine with that?’
‘I made my bed,’ Debbie said.
‘Did Rosie find someone else?’ Constance asked.
‘I’ve already said that I don’t know,’ Debbie said. ‘I didn’t ask. Look, there is something else you should know.’
Judith and Constance exchanged glances. ‘Go on.’
‘You know how you asked me if I was certain that the person I recently became close to would stay quiet?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was wrong.’ Debbie chewed at her bottom lip. ‘I had a letter, asking for money.’
‘Threatening to go public?’
‘It didn’t say that. Just said that he was in between jobs, would appreciate some financial assistance to “tide him over”.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I threw it away.’
‘When was this?’
‘About a week ago.’
‘And you’ve heard nothing since?’
‘No, but it isn’t exactly easy getting post in here.’
‘All right. No point dwelling on it,’ Judith said. ‘If you hear anything else from him, you let us know.’
* * *
‘You were relaxed about Debbie’s lover reappearing?’ Constance decided it best to broach the subject, only when they were alone together, heading back to London in her car.
‘I was, wasn’t I? Give me an Oscar. Sadly, this one’s totally out of our control,’ Judith answered. ‘I’ve learned to let go of those kinds of things.’
‘Should we have a plan B?’
‘You mean if Mr Lover Boy pops up somewhere and spills the beans, or Dawson finds him? Definitely. I’m toying with give up and move to a desert island, but I’ll work on something more constructive.’
‘I thought Debbie looked pale.’
‘She’s clearly under a lot of pressure, although she did manage the odd joke and the lipstick, keeping up appearances and all that.’
‘How do you think she learned?’
‘What?’
‘To put it on…the makeup. I mean, who do you think she asked? She could hardly ask Rosie.’
‘Her mother? Laura? A sympathetic friend.’
‘It’s important to her. I’ve noticed.’
‘I suppose it helps her feel more feminine. It’s understandable. The anger seemed genuine this time, though.’
‘You criticised Rosie and she didn’t like it.’
‘We got close to the truth. She’s defending Rosie. Either because she doesn’t want to speak ill of the dead – very laudable but useless for our purposes – or she doesn’t want people to know Rosie pushed her around: pride, maybe even masculine pride, finding its way through. Or it’s the guilt thing again.’
‘What guilt thing?’
‘That she blames herself for making Rosie angry, for all Rosie’s bad behaviour, because she feels she put her through the ringer. Ah. What does it matter? Just another area of questioning to avoid in court then, and we’re no further forward either.’
‘Listen, I know you don’t want to ask Ben to give evidence now...’ Constance continued.
‘That’s what I’ve said.’ Judith answered quickly.
‘But, I told you he was critical of Rosie, and he’ll say they loved each other.’
Judith fiddled with her seat belt.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But the more I think about it, the more I believe Laidlaw will twist it. And he’ll milk the sympathy angle. You know: “poor motherless boy”, “needs closure” – that kind of thing.’
‘Ben wants to help. You heard.’
‘Since when were we therapists, on top of everything else? Although I suspect Laidlaw will want him for the prosecution, for all the reasons I’ve just expounded, so he may get his moment in court anyway.’
‘What about Laura?’
‘You say she’s cold?’
‘Yes.’
‘Didn’t get on with Rosie?’
‘I don’t think they were close, no.’
‘Then we’ll have Laura. We need someone to redress the balance and Rosie’s own daughter is a good choice… What?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Tell me.’
‘It’s just that you’re, somehow, so protective of Ben but you don’t seem to feel the same about Laura.’
‘She’s older. She’ll cope better. And Laidlaw won’t be able to use the same angle.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Look. It’s not entirely logical. I accept that. Just my feeling about what’s best. Anything else?’
‘No.’ Constance set her lips firmly together and concentrated on the road. Half a mile along the way, she turned the radio on.