Fiona Barton - The Widow

The judge put down her pencil and looked at her notes in silence. “I will retire,” she said finally, and the court rose as she walked back to her chambers.

Twenty minutes later, the clerk called, “All rise,” and the judge delivered her decision. She ruled the Goldilocks evidence out, criticizing Fry’s encouragement and prompting and the exposure of such a junior officer. “The evidence is unsafe and cannot be relied upon,” she said.

Sparkes knew it was simply a formality for the prosecution team to throw in the towel and offer no further evidence and began packing his briefcase.

In the dock, Taylor listened to the judge carefully, the reality slowly dawning on him that he was about to be freed. Below him, Jean Taylor looked stunned. “I wonder what she’s thinking,” Sparkes muttered to Matthews. “She’s got to go home with a porn addict who has cybersex with strangers dressed as children. And a child killer.”

Suddenly it was over. The judge ordered the jury to return formal verdicts of not guilty, and Taylor was taken down to the cells to prepare for freedom. In the courtroom, a press free-for-all began with Jean Taylor as the main prize.

She half stood, surrounded by reporters, white-faced and silent as Tom Payne tried to extricate her from the pew in the well of the court. Finally, the press parted, and she struggled sideways like a fleeing crab, her legs knocking against the bench in front and her bag strap catching on edges.

TWENTY-SEVEN

The Widow

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2008

She gives evidence, of course. Her big moment. She wears a black dress and a “Find Bella” badge. I try to avoid her stare, but she’s determined, and in the end our eyes meet. I feel hot, and the flush rises up my face, so I look away. It doesn’t happen again. She keeps staring at Glen, but he’s wise to her game and looks straight ahead.

I find my attention wandering as she tells the story I’ve read and heard a hundred times since she lost her baby—a nap, then playtime while she cooks tea, Bella laughing as she chases Timmy the cat out the front door and into the garden, then realizing she can’t hear her anymore. The silence.

The court goes completely quiet, too. We can all hear that silence. The moment when Bella vanished.

Then she sobs and has to sit down with a glass of water. Very effective. The jury looks worried, and one or two of the older women look like they might cry as well. It’s all going wrong. They must see this is all her fault. That’s what Glen and I think. She let her baby out of her sight. She didn’t care enough.

Glen sits quietly and lets it all wash over him, like it’s happening to someone else. When the mum is ready, the judge lets her stay sitting down to finish her evidence, and Glen cocks his head to listen to her story of running to neighbors, ringing the police, and waiting for news as the hunt went on.

The prosecutor uses this special tone of voice with her, treating her like she’s made of glass. “Thank you very much, Miss Elliott. You’ve been very brave.”

I want to shout, You’ve been a very bad mother. But I know I can’t, not here.

Our barrister, a scary old bloke who had shaken my hand firmly at each meeting but gave no other sign that he knew who I was, finally gets his turn.

The mother begins sobbing when the questions get hard, but our barrister doesn’t put on the understanding voice.

Dawn Elliott keeps saying her little girl was out of her sight for only a few minutes. But we all know now that she wasn’t.

The jury is beginning to look at her a bit harder now. About time.

“You believe that Bella is still alive, don’t you?” the barrister asks.

There is a rustle in the court, and the mum starts sniffling again. He points out that she’s been selling her story to the press and she looks really angry and says the money is for her campaign.

One of the reporters gets up and goes out quickly, clutching his notebook. “He’s going to file that line to his news desk,” Tom whispers, and winks.

It’s a goal for us, he means.

When it’s all over, when the police have been told off for tricking Glen and he’s been freed, I feel completely numb. My turn to feel like this is happening to someone else.

Tom Payne finally lets go of my arm when we get into one of the witness rooms and we stand, catching our breath. Neither of us speaks for a moment. “Can he come home now?” I ask him, my voice sounding strange and flat after all that noise in the courtroom. Tom nods and busies himself with his briefcase. Then he takes me downstairs to the cells to see Glen. My Glen.

“I always said the truth would come out,” he says triumphantly when he spots me. “We’ve done it, Jean. We’ve bloody well done it.”

I hug him when I get to him. It’s been a long time since I’ve held him, and it means I don’t have to say anything, because I don’t know what to say to him. He’s so happy—like a little boy. Pink and laughing. A bit out of control. All I keep thinking is that I’ve got to go home with him. Be on my own with him. What will it be like when we shut the door? I know too much about this other man I’m married to for it to be like before.

He tries to pick me up and whirl me round like he used to when we were younger, but there are too many people in the room: the lawyers, the barristers, the prison officers. They’re all around me, and I can’t breathe. Tom notices and takes me out into a cool hall and sits me down with a glass of water.

“It’s a lot to take in, Jean,” he says kindly. “All a bit sudden, but it’s what we all hoped would happen, isn’t it? You’ve waited a long time for this moment.”

I raise my head, but he doesn’t look me in the eye. We don’t speak again.

I keep thinking about that poor young officer, pretending to be a woman to try to get to the truth. I’d thought he’d acted like a prostitute when Tom told us about the evidence, but when I watched him in the witness box with everyone laughing at his act, I felt sorry for him. He would’ve done anything to find Bella.

When Glen comes out, Tom goes to him and shakes his hand again. Then we leave. On the pavement, Dawn Elliott is weeping for the cameras. “She’ll have to be careful what she says,” Tom says as we hover by the doors at the back of the mob. She’s bathed in light from the TV cameras, and the reporters are tripping over power cables, trying to get near her. She’s saying she’ll never give up looking for her little girl, that she’s out there somewhere and she’ll find out the truth about what happened to her. When she finishes, she’s led away by friends to a waiting car and is gone.

Then it’s our turn. Glen’s decided to let Tom read his statement. Well, Tom advised it. He wrote it. We step into the spotlight, and there’s a noise that physically shakes me. The noise of a hundred voices shouting at once, firing questions without waiting for answers, demanding attention. “Over here, Jean,” a voice near me hollers. I turn to find out who it is, and the flash goes off in my face. “Give him a hug,” another says. I recognize some of them from the pavement in front of the house. I go to smile, then realize they’re not friends. They’re something else. They’re the press.

Tom is all serious and quiets everything down. “I’m going to read Mr. Taylor’s statement. He’s not going to be answering any questions.” A forest of tape recorders rises above heads.

“I am an innocent man who has been hounded by police and deprived of my liberty for a crime I never committed. I’m very grateful to the court for their decision. But today I’m not celebrating my acquittal. Bella Elliott is still missing, and the person who took her is still out there. I hope the police will now get back to finding the guilty person. I would like to thank my family for standing by me, and I would like to pay a special tribute to my wonderful wife, Jeanie.