Judith leaned against the wall of the toilet cubicle, breathing heavily, trying hard to relax. Five minutes earlier, when she had picked up a garbled message from Constance that she was going to be late, she had forced her way, alone, through an agitated crowd, demonstrating outside the court building. Jeremy Laidlaw, just ahead, had been cheered. A woman carrying a banner reading ‘Laid-ies Champion’ had handed him a bunch of carnations as he passed by, kissing him on the cheek. In contrast, a man had called out to Judith.
‘Hi there, Judith? How’s it going, do you think? Judith? Judith, over here!’
Judith had nodded non-committally and kept moving, alarmed to be plucked from anonymity so abruptly.
‘Are you a role model for young women?’ was his follow up. But this was met with some raucous laughter, which quickly morphed into a chorus of booing and hissing, growing in volume as she headed towards the thickest part of the crowd. Then someone shouted ‘shame on you’ and, within seconds, the call was taken up, the chanting of ‘shame on you’, ‘shame on you,’ assaulting her ears, as she dived through the doors.
It must be something associated with whatever Andy Chambers had said about her last night, Judith concluded. Constance had given her a précis, but perhaps she had sanitised it or not provided all the angles. Judith wished now she had watched the programme herself. It was so much easier to respond, to fight back, if you understood who the enemy was and why they were all fired up in the first place.
She checked her watch. ‘It’s nearly time,’ she whispered. Taking another deep breath, she headed out towards the court.
* * *
‘Mrs Harris. You were Rosie Harper’s neighbour?’ Jeremy Laidlaw began with his second witness. Lynn Harris was one week short of her seventieth birthday. A diminutive but wiry woman, she had been one of the first waiting outside the court this morning.
Lynn had lived in the East End all her life and she was proud of it. She had witnessed the slow gentrification of the neighbourhood, so that her home, which she’d purchased under Margaret Thatcher’s right-to-buy scheme, was now worth many times more than she would have dreamed, when she’d moved in as a newly-wed in 1972. But that didn’t bother her. It made her feel upwardly mobile, without having to move anywhere. And in no way had that been more proven than by her friendship with Rosie Harper, the TV star who lived over the road. Judith saw all of that in Lynn Harris’ peroxide hair, red enamel earrings, leopard-print jacket and pixie boots.
‘Yes. And a nice quiet place it was till all this ’appened,’ she replied. ‘Now it’s impossible to go out without being jumped on by someone with a furry microphone on a stick. You may as well forget trying to have any visitors or any parcels delivered.’
‘I can see it must be inconvenient for you. Can you describe where your property is and how close it is to that of Rosie Harper?’
‘Certainly I can. I live in the middle of the terrace, number 23. On the other side, there are some big ’ouses, like Rosie’s, but mine was always big enough for me and Frank, my late ’usband. We never had no kids. I suppose celebrities need more space, for all their trophies and things…and she had to wear so many different outfits for TV. It’s on lots of floors, five I think, with a basement too.’
‘Your home is directly opposite Rosie’s?’ Laidlaw was not responding well to Lynn’s embroidery.
‘Yes. Sometimes, if she was in her front room and I was up in my bedroom, we could wave to each other.’
Laidlaw gave a half smile, but Judith sensed it was more because Lynn had laughed her husky laugh and it seemed churlish not to respond than because he found her at all amusing.
‘You knew each other well?’
‘Ooh yes. I remember when they moved in. I babysat the children a few times to help them out, when Ben was little.’
‘Can you tell me what you were doing on the 17th of June, around lunchtime?’
‘I went to do some shopping in the morning and I was returning home around 1 o’clock. As I got out of my car, I saw Debbie parking his – sorry…her – moped outside. Then she went into the house, Rosie’s house.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I unpacked my shopping and made myself lunch.’
‘And how can you be sure about the time?’
‘When the police came around asking questions, after they found Rosie, I went to my car and I had a sticker from the local shops. I had parked at 12.02, so it must have been close to one when I came back. And I remembered watching Homes Under the Hammer, I told the police constable, while I was eating my lunch. That begins at 1.30.’
Judith glanced at Constance’s empty place behind her. She had wanted the reassurance that came from sharing a nod or a glance or a gesture, something to indicate to her that Constance viewed Mrs Harris as she did – brash, self-important and ultimately shallow – and that gave her permission to strike, at the appropriate time.
‘Are you sure it was the defendant you saw?’
‘Your honour, the defence accepts that Debbie visited Rosie, arriving by moped at around 1pm.’ Judith smiled at Lynn, as she half-rose to deliver her lines. She wanted Lynn to feel confident, comfortable, even relaxed. Then her attack, when it came, would be all the more devastating.
‘Thank you. That’s helpful. Move on please Mr Laidlaw.’
‘Did you see Debbie Mallard leave the house?’
‘No.’
‘And what about the moped?’
‘I looked out once and it was still there. And the next time I looked, it was gone.’
‘And do you know when that was?’
‘I told the policeman that I wasn’t sure, but it must have been much later on. I don’t spend all day standing around looking out of the window.’
The last line was delivered with the emphasis associated with healthy repetition. Judith laughed to herself.
‘Did you see anything unusual or hear anything out of the ordinary that day?’
‘Much later, it was. Around five o’clock.’ For the first time, Lynn’s face grew serious and she stole a glance at Debbie. Her bottom lip trembled.
‘What happened around five o’clock?’
‘It was their dog. It’s a big collie; all fur. Rosie was always washing it, especially in the bad weather. It was barking and barking and then, sort of ’owling, like it was in pain. I ignored it at first, but then it went on and on. So, I looked out and I could see the dog; well, really just this great big, bushy tail, moving around and around, faster and faster. There’s a gate, you see, at the side of the ’ouse, into the garden. I could see Belle, the dog, through the gate.’
‘Did you go outside?’
‘First I tried calling her, Rosie, in the ’ouse and it went to messages. Then I tried her mobile and I got the same.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I crossed the road, but I couldn’t see anything. So I went up the front steps and looked through the window. And then I saw…’ Mrs Harris let out a sob and stuffed her fist in her mouth. She stared at Debbie, then out at the crowds of journalists, then back at Laidlaw.
‘Take your time, Mrs Harris. Is that when you saw Rosie’s body?’
‘Mm,’ she mumbled, stifling a sob.
‘Then what happened?’
‘I called the police and they came pretty smartish.’
‘Did you see or hear anything else unusual earlier that day? Anyone unfamiliar in the street? Any other visitors to Rosie’s house?’
Lynn swallowed and leaned heavily on the witness stand. ‘No. Just Debbie Mallard.’
‘And can you cast your mind back to February 2017, when Debbie was still living with Rosie? In fact, she was still living as a man, then, as Danny. There was an incident, when the police were called to Rosie’s house. Do you know anything about that?’
‘I heard them come. I don’t remember exactly what time it was, probably around one or two o’clock in the morning. Since my Frank passed on, I’m a very light sleeper,’ she added.
‘Do you know why they came to the house?’
She lowered her voice and leaned towards Laidlaw. ‘I heard a rumour that he ’it her; the defendant did. That’s why they came.’
‘Mrs Harris, I do need to ask you to clarify your answer,’ Judge Nolan intervened. ‘Do you have any personal knowledge that Debbie Mallard struck Rosie, back in 2017?’
‘Well I didn’t see it ’appen.’
‘Did you see any evidence of an injury?’
‘Elaine, Rosie’s mum, she told me that he ’urt her.’
‘Mr Laidlaw, is Mrs Harper going to be giving evidence?’
‘She is.’
‘We’ll wait to ask her directly, then. Thank you.’ Judge Nolan made some notes and nodded to Laidlaw to continue.
‘Thank you, Mrs Harris. No more questions.’
Judith snatched another expectant glance behind her, but Constance was still not there. Then she stared up at the camera above her head. Her pulse was suddenly racing and she clasped and unclasped her fists twice in quick succession. What, precisely, had Andy Chambers said on TV last night that had made this morning’s crowd so hostile? What could he possibly have criticised in yesterday’s performance? She always conducted herself properly, and acted with integrity. People must have misunderstood whatever it was that he had said.
Lynn Harris took advantage of the hiatus to glug down her water and ask for a refill. Shame on you, shame on you. Judith stood up tall and, in her head, she turned the words addressed to her that morning, on the garrulous widow. How had Lynn Harris been taken into Rosie Harper’s confidence? she asked herself. Had she knocked at the door one day and invited herself in, and Rosie, conscious of her public image, had felt compelled to oblige? Or perhaps she had sidled over on that memorable moving-in day and offered advice on local haunts. Either way, Judith found it hard to believe that their relationship had been anything other than superficial.
‘Mrs Harris. When you saw Debbie Mallard climbing off her moped, at about 1 o’clock on 17th June, did you speak to her?’ Judith began more briskly than she had originally intended.
‘No.’ Lynn spat out her reply and her trademark laugh was banished.
‘Are you certain of that? You see Debbie believes otherwise.’
‘She spoke to me. But that’s not what you asked,’ she said.
‘Quite right. It’s important that your answers are accurate.’ Judith took a deep breath. ‘Debbie spoke to you?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘She said ’ello and asked if I needed an ’and with my shopping.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘Well, like I said. I didn’t say anything.’
‘You ignored her?’
‘I was busy with the shopping and I didn’t need help.’
‘I understand. But you didn’t say “no thank you” or something similar?’
‘No.’
‘Or return her greeting?’
‘I’ve already said I didn’t talk to her.’
‘And why was that?’
‘I didn’t want ’er to ’elp me.’
‘Did you have a lot of shopping?’
‘Quite a bit.’
‘How many times did you return to your car?’
‘Two or three.’
‘So, some help might have been nice?’
‘I didn’t want her ’elp.’
‘I see. You don’t like Debbie?’
‘I just… Look, it’s not for me to judge. People can do what they want. It’s a free country and all that. But I just didn’t agree with what she did to that lovely family. Tore it apart, she did. So, no, I didn’t want to be friendly.’
‘And that’s why you ignored her?’
‘If you put it that way, yes.’
‘Did Debbie speak to you a second time?’
‘When I didn’t accept her ’elp, she walked to the door of the house and went inside.’
‘Did you see what Debbie was wearing that day?’
Mrs Harris thought hard. ‘She had a coat on, maybe black, maybe that khaki colour that’s all in fashion this year. Otherwise I can’t remember.’
‘A helmet?’
‘She took it off, had it in her ’and.’
‘Gloves?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘And you had Rosie’s telephone numbers, you said.’
‘And a key.’ Lynn threw back her shoulders and puffed out her chest.
‘You have a key to Rosie’s house?’
‘Not all the time. But when they went away on ’oliday, they would leave a key with me and ask me to keep an eye on things for them.’ Judge Nolan looked up and her eyes flitted over Lynn Harris’ pocket-sized frame. Judith could visualise Lynn secretly letting herself into the house, or making up some excuse to investigate, a light mistakenly left on, a suspected leak. Either way, she’d be lounging on Rosie’s sofa or running her fingers over those ‘different outfits’ she had mentioned. Why had no one discovered until this moment that the neighbour had a key?
‘So, you were on good neighbourly terms?’ Judith continued.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Did you ever hear Debbie and Rosie arguing with each other?’
‘No. But lots of things can happen inside the four walls of an ’ouse, can’t they?’
‘Did you ever hear Debbie raise her voice, perhaps with the children?’
‘I wasn’t over there that often.’
‘Mrs Harris. As Judge Nolan tried to explain earlier, we are only asking you to tell us about things you saw or heard. No one expects you to look through walls or provide an explanation for things you know nothing about. It’s far better, in fact, for you to say that you don’t know or don’t remember, as you did with my question about the gloves, than to manufacture an answer. Did you know that Debbie had moved out of the house?’
‘It was ages ago, more than a year.’
‘Was it usual for her to visit?’
‘She came in the evenings.’
‘And did Debbie still have a key to the house?’
Mrs Harris’ eyes narrowed as she fixed them on Debbie. ‘I don’t know,’ she eventually said.
‘When Debbie arrived, that day, did she knock or ring the bell?’
Mrs Harris paused again before answering. ‘I think she had a key, but I’m not certain.’
‘Thank you. Now I’m wondering if we can pinpoint, with any more accuracy, the duration of Debbie’s visit. What did you do once you were in your house?’
‘I unpacked the shopping. Then I ate my lunch.’
‘And what did you eat for your lunch?’
‘I always treat myself to a Cornish pastie on a Monday, to remind me of me ’olidays. I warmed it up in the microwave and, like I said, I was just in time to watch Homes Under the Hammer.’
‘Which begins at 1.30, you said and ends when?’
‘I think 2.30.’
‘And did you watch any more after that?’
‘I can’t spend all day watching television, can I? I switched off and went to clean upstairs. I clean the upstairs on a Monday and the downstairs on a Thursday.’
‘Where is your television?’
‘In the living room next to the window.’
‘And does that window look out over the street?’
‘It does.’
‘You told Mr Laidlaw that you looked out twice through the window, the first time you saw Debbie’s moped was there and the second it had gone. Do you remember that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the dog, moving around, was also easily visible from your window?’
‘As soon as I looked out, there she was, marching up and down. You couldn’t miss her.’
‘And where was Debbie’s moped parked?’
‘A few car lengths to the left. There was no room right outside the house.’
‘When you looked out of the window, you would be looking first straight ahead at the house opposite and then, if you turned your head to the left, you would be able to see Debbie’s moped?’
‘Yes.’
‘When you looked out for the second time, and you saw that the moped had gone, that Debbie had left, could you see the dog then?’
‘It was much later, when I heard the dog making all that noise, that I looked out.’
‘So you would agree with me that Debbie Mallard left the house some time before the dog began to run around outside and bark?’
Lynn shrank down in the box. ‘I’m not sure now.’
‘Really? A moment ago, you said that the moped had gone, before Belle, the fluffy collie, was howling and waving her tail around. Are you now saying you were mistaken?’
Lynn bit her thumbnail and turned towards the judge.
‘I am trying to remember,’ she said.
Judith tipped her head to one side and wallowed, for a moment, in the convenient freeze frame that would produce, for anyone who cared to look.
‘I think the bike had gone and then I saw the dog, but I’m just not sure.’
‘Are you more or less sure about that than you are about whether Debbie opened the door with a key?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Or what colour coat Debbie was wearing.’
Lynn Harris opened her mouth, closed it and then stared at the judge.
‘I’m just trying to remember what I saw.’
‘Thank you. I have finished now, Mr Laidlaw.’ Judith was quietly triumphant, remembering, in time, the presence of the cameras, and stifling anything but the softest of smiles.
‘Mrs Harris, just one more thing to clarify, if you can,’ Laidlaw said. ‘What was the weather like that day? Is that something you can recall?’
Lynn Harris visibly brightened.
‘It was warm, sunny,’ she said. ‘I had some washing out in the back to dry and it was ready to bring in, when I got home.’
‘Thank you. That’s all.’
Lynn smiled at Laidlaw, then bowed towards Judge Nolan. As she scurried across the floor of the court, she scowled at Judith.
‘Mr Laidlaw, we are still awaiting the photographic evidence regarding the position of the leather glove at the murder scene. Is that correct?’ Judge Nolan was propping her head up on her hand.
‘Yes, my apologies, your honour. We are working to get you the best image.’
‘I understand. But this isn’t Wildlife Photographer of the Year. A simple, clear image will suffice. Let’s take a short break. Back at 2pm prompt.’
Judith watched Laidlaw carefully during the exchange. Oh, he was careful to keep his voice even and his body movements fluid, but his hands, those oh so extravagant hands, juddered as he spoke. Judith glanced at his instructing solicitor, a young man in his twenties, who was watching the judge intently, deliberately ignoring anyone else.
‘Perhaps,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Perhaps.’
* * *
Judith spent the break in a tiny room she had reserved for the duration of the trial. It was nice to have somewhere to sit quietly, without the combined scrutiny of the live, omnipresent audience and the hidden multitudes behind the camera lens. There was a tap at the door and then Constance was inside.
‘I hope you’ve got a note from your parents?’ Judith said.
Constance was grinning broadly, despite Judith’s admonishment. ‘I’m only a bit late and it was worth it,’ she said.
‘All right. What have you discovered?’
‘I finally got Dawson to release Debbie’s phone back to us. He had said there was nothing relevant on there, if you remember. But I kept pressing and, in the end, he handed it over. I think he just wanted to get rid of me. I’ve got two trainees back at the office trawling through it now.’
‘Trainees? Do they know what they’re looking for?’
‘I’ve briefed them, don’t worry. Anything remotely interesting, they’ll leave for me.’
‘So why are you looking so smug?’
‘You remember we talked about how it was a really new phone and you said you could track them?’
‘Vaguely.’
‘So that’s what I’ve been doing. Then I had to work out how to present the results, that’s what took the time. I’ll show you now, but, well, I think it’s a big help.’
‘Fantastic.’
‘How was the neighbour?’
Judith shrugged. ‘You can watch it back in glorious Technicolor, with a glass of wine, this evening.’
Constance sat down. ‘I am sorry I wasn’t there,’ she said. ‘It’s not like I had a lie-in, or anything.’
‘I know. I know that. I just… I almost went too far with her and I’m not sure why. There’s a scene in…God, I can’t remember the name of the film. It’s one where someone’s pretending to be a lawyer and he goes really over the top explaining stuff, until the judge stops him and tells him it’s only a preliminary hearing.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t…’
‘I didn’t, but I wanted to. I really wanted to. In the end, it was OK, I think. I stopped myself. She didn’t have anything that important to say anyway, except she found the body, end of story. And why shouldn’t she want to overplay her connection with Rosie? I would probably do the same, in her place. But I looked up at that camera, which, naturally, she was playing to with her smiles and her polished nails and I felt this…desire, this impulse to destroy her, to ensure that everyone could see what a flimsy excuse for a human being Lynn Harris was.’
‘Well, the important thing is that you didn’t.’ Constance coughed and checked her watch. It wasn’t like Judith to have these moments of self-doubt.
‘No. That’s right. Although she had a key to the house.’
‘What?’
‘When they went on holiday, Rosie gave her a key.’
‘You think she’s a suspect?’
‘What better way to cover up a murder than to discover it?’
‘Wow! She really got to you, didn’t she?’
Judith laughed. ‘I’m fine. You’re right. She’s just a lonely old soul, making the most of her moment of fame. I need to pace myself, not peak too early. Laidlaw asked her what the weather was like, at the end though, and when she said it was hot, he looked triumphant.’
‘And you don’t know why?’
‘No. Maybe it’s because she also said Debbie was wearing a coat, to make her look suspicious. I don’t know. Shall we head back to the action?’
Constance picked up her bag, but hovered by the door.
‘There is one thing Dawson let slip this morning…but I’ll tell you after court? It doesn’t impact the phone evidence.’
‘I think I should know now. Never hold back bad news.’
‘OK.’ Constance leaned back against the door. ‘All right. Dawson also said something about Rosie’s laptop. They weren’t going to do any more data analysis, but when I asked for the phone, they reconsidered…’
‘Reconsidered? Did he really say that? I think he means forgot or couldn’t spare the resources or didn’t have someone with the right expertise, ’cos they’ve all been sacked as a result of cutbacks. I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?’
‘Well now they’ve put it under the spotlight and they think they’ve found something, after all.’
‘What kind of something?’
‘Dawson wouldn’t say, but he says it’s definitely relevant to the case. And he said to send you his best wishes, so it must be something bad.’
Judith fingered the curls on her wig.
‘And when will we see it? We’re already on day two.’
‘He’s talking to the lawyers and he knows it’s very late. Apparently, it was password-protected and it’s taken them a while to access it.’
Judith sighed. ‘Well there’s no point worrying till we know what it is. Come. Show me what magic you’ve weaved this morning with Debbie’s mobile phone.’
Relief flooded over Constance. Judith was concentrating on the evidence again and, as long as Constance could keep her focused and not allow any political sideshow to derail things, everything would be just fine.