Penny Vincenzi - The Best Of Times

“Yes. Thank you. And we have become good friends now. But only because they’re so good; they’ve been so forgiving.”

Andrews found himself rather taken by her; he thanked her for all her evidence, and then asked her if she had managed to get the part she’d been auditioning for. He did that sometimes, ventured into the personal or lighthearted where he felt it would help the atmosphere. Georgia said she had, and added that it would be shown on Channel Four in the spring.

“I have to tell you, Miss Linley,” he said, “commercial advertising is not normally allowed in the courtroom. However, I will make an exception in this case.”

He heard the evidence of Jack Bryant, the owner of the E-Type. He couldn’t think who he reminded him of, and then realised; he was a dead ringer for that Nigel Havers character, the Charmer, the same smooth dress style, the same confident public-school manner. Andrews was about to dislike him, when he said right at the beginning of his evidence, after taking the oath, “I feel absolutely ghastly about this. Terrible. The whole thing could be said to be my fault…”

“Mr. Bryant,” said Andrews, “as I said at the beginning, we are not here to establish blame. Merely to find out what happened. Now, we have heard it was one of your wheel nuts that flew off and shattered the windscreen of Mr. Connell’s lorry; can you tell us how you think this could have happened?”

“No,” said Bryant, “I really can’t. I checked them all really carefully-my mechanic will second that-before I set out. I was going to Scotland, long way, for a bit of shooting, and I wanted everything to be as safe as possible.”

“Indeed. And you weren’t speeding at all?”

“No, I most definitely was not. Chance’d be a fine thing, in that car. Very beautiful, but not much of a goer these days. She’s an old lady, bit past her prime…”

Every inquest has its turning point; this one was provided by one of the experts at the police Forensics department.

“Thing is, you can overtighten those old nuts. One turn too far and it can break the thread-in our opinion, and on examining the car when it came into our possession, that’s what happened.”

Andrews looked at Bryant; he was visibly limp with relief. And then at the families: it was the kind of thing that was in a way most painful, the fatal event that was still an accident, an act that had killed, but made in good faith. He was not surprised to see them all sitting up very straight suddenly, their faces taut, and, in the case of the young girl’s mother, already in tears…

The morning moved on. He heard some excellent evidence given by a young man, William Grainger, a farmer whose land bordered the M4: clear, concise, very helpful. Some more, very painful to hear, from the husband of the young mother who had been killed. They broke for lunch after this; Andrews felt he was not the only one who needed it.

In the afternoon Jonathan Gilliatt took the stand; now here was a smoothie, Andrews thought-even if he was a hero… Very self-confident he’d be, his evidence very well presented.

He was wrong; and it was not.

Gilliatt was uncomfortable, nervous, unclear as to exactly what he had seen of the crash, admitted-wiping his forehead repeatedly-that he and his passenger had been having what he called “a rather heated exchange” just beforehand.

“Sufficiently heated to distract you?” Andrews said, and yes, he said, and he was very ashamed that he had allowed it to do so.

“Not a good thing to be distracted on a crowded motorway, I’m afraid. Fortunate you were in the inside lane. You had met your passenger at a business function, I believe?”

“We had met through business, yes.”

Cagey answer. Should he press this? Andrews thought. No. It was hardly relevant.

“Now, I believe also that you were on the phone? Which must have added to your distraction.”

“I was, yes. Very, very briefly.”

“You don’t have a hands-free?”

“Not in the car I was driving, no. Well… that is to say, I do, but it wasn’t working properly. The car was brand-new, and there were teething troubles generally with the communication systems. The GPS wasn’t working properly either. I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone, but I was pretty sure it was my wife; she’d been trying to get through, and she’d have been worried. And I had to get to my clinic in Harley Street…”

“I see. But you were obviously driving perhaps unnecessarily slowly, given that you were under pressure. Why was that?”

“Well… as I said, there’d been the storm; conditions were nasty. I was tired; I think I must have been feeling generally nervous.”

“And then…?”

“Then, as it says in my statement, I realised the lorry was all over the place, that it could be very dangerous. I literally flung the phone into the back and… next thing I knew, I was on the hard shoulder. With all the… the carnage about a hundred metres behind me.”

“And then you walked back to see what you could do?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Which was very commendable. Well done. Now… I would like to ask you about the victims, and your undoubtedly splendid work amongst the injured… and I think that when I have finished, some of the relatives may want to question you. I hope that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

“I would like to call Abigail Scott. Miss Scott, please take the oath. But first we shall hear your statement from Sergeant Freeman…

Bit of a baggage, this one, Andrews thought. Very attractive, and very, very sexy. Unlikely the relationship with Gilliatt had been purely professional. No doubt he’d considered himself perfectly safe… and then found himself skewered by fate.

“Miss Scott. You were in the car with Mr. Gilliatt. I wonder if you can add to his evidence in any way, or rather confirm that, as far as you could see, there was no question of anything cutting in front of Mr. Connell’s lorry, from any direction, that might have caused him to swerve.”

“No. Nothing. I saw the whole thing, obviously, and everyone seemed to be driving very carefully and well.”

“Including Dr. Gilliatt?”

“Yes, he was driving very carefully.”

“But he admits himself he was distracted, that you and he were having a… a heated discussion?”

“Yes. We were. But it wasn’t making him drive badly. He… he’s a very good and careful driver always.”

“You’ve been driven by Mr. Gilliatt before, I assume from that?”

“Yes. Yes, I had.”

“In the course of your mutual professional duties, I presume?”

There was a long silence; the legendary pin dropping would have sounded like thunder.

Then: “Not always, no.”

Andrews could feel the entire courtroom tautening.

“Your relationship wasn’t entirely professional. Is that what you’re telling us? Remember, you are under oath.”

“Yes. I mean it wasn’t. I… liked him a lot. For a while.”

“I see. So… I want to keep this conversation relevant to the proceedings, Miss Scott.”

“Of course.”

“So… this heated exchange. Was it of a personal nature? I ask only because it seems to me that could have been more distracting for him.”

“Well, it was personal. Yes. He had told me that he didn’t think we should continue with our… our friendship.”

“And…?”

“And I was… disappointed. So I was arguing with him.”

“And… did you win this argument?”

“No. No, I didn’t. Any ideas I had of continuing with our… relationship were futile. He made that very clear.”

“Your relationship? I thought you said it was a friendship. Or do you regard the two as the same?”