Tim Vicary - A Game of Proof

Judge Mookerjee contemplated her, considering the situation before him. But before he could decide, Sarah resumed. ‘Anyway, my lord, I have no more questions for this witness. So if I am causing distress, it is ended.’

The judge nodded, relieved. ‘In that case, Mr Brodie, you may stand down.’

David Brodie stood there, irresolute, shaking. He half turned to go, then changed his mind and faced Sarah again. His hurt, bitter voice carried clear across the court.

‘I loved Jasmine, and your son killed her. You know it, too, don’t you? Bitch!’

Amid the excited buzz of conversation, Sarah turned to look at Simon. Directly above him, watching from the public gallery, was her husband, Bob.

Since the start of the trial Sarah had felt stared at. It was not just the cameras outside — everywhere within the building people were aware of her, either watching her openly or from the corners of their eyes. She was on public view. But today was worse than ever. As the court emptied for the lunchtime recess, she could feel the eyes feeding on her, hundreds of them. As though they all belonged to one single organism.

She shivered as she came into the crowded lobby, where journalists, security guards, students, police and witnesses were milling around indiscriminately. Lucy squeezed her arm.

‘That was a tough thing to do.’

‘Tell me about it. Oh Christ, look out. Left turn, quick.’

David Brodie was a yard away, speaking indignantly to the prosecution solicitor. When he saw Sarah he stepped impulsively forward. ‘You’re a bitch, you know that? A rotten stinking cow! I never killed her and you know damn well I didn’t …’

‘David, David, come on. You’ll make things worse …’ The solicitor caught his arm, while Sarah and Lucy slipped past them out of the front door straight into the huge black eye of a TV camera. A smartly dressed young woman thrust a microphone in Sarah’s face.

‘Mrs Newby, how did the trial go this morning?’

‘No, sorry, not today.’ Lucy dragged Sarah down the steps and away, the camera filming them but making no attempt to follow. It was then that Bob appeared.

‘Sarah, can I have a word?’ His face under the beard looked grim.

‘We’re just off to lunch, Bob.’

‘Fine, I’ll come too.’

‘This is a surprise, Bob.’ Sarah kept walking briskly. ‘How will the school manage?’

‘For a day, it’ll have to. Sarah, what the hell were you doing in there?’

‘Defending Simon, of course. How can you ask?’

They stopped by a bench on the quay. Lucy watched awkwardly.

‘You were destroying that young man’s reputation!’

‘I’ll do whatever it takes, Bob. That’s the name of the game.’

‘But he didn’t kill her. You know he didn’t. Christ, you could see how upset he was.’

‘Guilty people get upset too, you know.’

He shook his head sadly. ‘You don’t believe it, though, Sarah, do you? Not for a minute.’

She faced him grimly. ‘Don’t I, Bob? How many more times? It’s not a question of what I believe, it’s what I can do for Simon that counts. How much doubt I can raise in the minds of the jury. That’s what this morning was about.’

‘Well, it’s a filthy business, in my opinion. Not a game .’

‘Is it, Bob? I’m sorry. But it’s what has to be done.’

‘Well, you may as well know that you didn’t raise any doubts in my mind with that performance. Just the opposite. If I were on the jury I’d be more likely to think Simon’s guilty, if that’s the best defence you can offer.’

And he was gone, striding swiftly away without a backward glance. Leaving Sarah and Lucy alone, with a couple of ducks waddling hopefully towards them.

‘Would you, Bob?’ Sarah murmured, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Well that’s a great pity, isn’t it? Really a very great pity indeed.’

She leaned her head on Lucy’s shoulder, and cried. For a marriage, for a husband who was gone. Then she straightened up, brushed the tears away, and smiled ‘Come on. I don’t know about you, but I need a good lunch. To give me strength for this afternoon. What do you say?’

‘It’s on me,’ said Lucy loyally, falling into step beside her. Thinking, the woman is as strong as a samurai sword. But even that can shatter, on stone.

Phil Turner’s last witness was Miranda Hurst, Jasmine’s mother. The court fell silent as she made her way quietly to the witness stand. A tall blonde woman in a plain black suit and gloves, she took the oath in a soft voice with one hand on the testament. Despite her make-up there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. Turner began gently.

‘Mrs Hurst, I realise how painful this is for you. I will ask as few questions as possible.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Would you say you had a close relationship with your daughter, when she was alive?’

‘Fairly close, yes.’

‘She was twenty three, wasn’t she? She’d left home some years before. Did she still visit you and discuss things from time to time?’

‘Oh yes. She was a good girl that way. She came every week or so. Sometimes we’d meet for a swim and have lunch or go shopping after.’

As Sarah watched, she wondered why she had never met this woman while Jasmine was alive, and whether it might have made a difference, if they’d been able to talk. But then, she’d never really liked Jasmine, and she doubted if this woman had ever had much time for Simon.

‘Did you talk about her boyfriends sometimes?’

‘Yes, we did.’

‘Did you meet them?’

‘Yes. I met him.’ She pointed at Simon, in the dock. ‘And David. Both of them.’

‘What was your attitude to Simon Newby? Did you like him?’

Here we go. Conscious of the eyes watching her, Sarah made her face a neutral mask.

‘Bit of a layabout I thought. Nice to look at but no guts.’

‘Did you tell Jasmine what you thought?’

‘Yes. But she wouldn’t listen, would she? Girls that age, they do what they want.’

‘Indeed.’ Turner smiled sympathetically. ‘As you got to know Simon better, did your opinion about him change?’

‘Changed for the worse, yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, his house for one thing. It was a tip. I’d brought Jasmine up proper, I didn’t want to see her in a pigsty with beer cans all over the floor. But worst thing was he beat her. I should have stopped it then.’

‘When?’

‘When I saw the bruises. We went swimming one day and she had a great black bruise on her arm. I asked her why and she said they’d had a fight. Simon had done it.’

A murmur, a vast collective intake of breath, passed through the court. There’s another serious blow, Sarah thought.

‘What did you do?’

‘I said she should come home to me. But she just laughed. She wouldn’t listen.’ Until now Mrs Hurst’s voice had been quiet, but it suddenly rose to a shout. She pointed at Sarah. ‘It’s her fault! His mother sitting there all prissy in her wig! If she’d spent more time at home bringing up her son decent instead of sticking her nose in law books, none of this would have happened!’

Another murmur, louder than before. This is a massacre, Sarah thought. She kept her face perfectly still, expressionless. Phil Turner glanced sideways at her, then continued.

‘Were you afraid for your daughter, when you saw these bruises?’

‘Of course I was. What mother wouldn’t be?’

But did you ring me? Sarah thought . Did you tell me about all this when I might have stopped it? No.Did I see the bruises myself? No again .

‘Very well. Her other boyfriend, David Brodie. What’s your attitude to him?’