‘Calm at first, even when Melanie accused her. Then she grew animated, as if she was enjoying herself. I think she might have laughed.’
‘Mrs Goddard, you say in your statement there was a scuffle but that you don’t know who started it.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Yet you have just told us that Miss Baker was calm, Melanie angry.’
‘Everything happened so fast. One minute they were standing there arguing. The next minute the poor girl was on the floor covered in blood.’
Digger changed tack. ‘Can you describe Miss Baker’s character? What sort of person is she?’
Isabel glanced quickly at Natasha, sitting behind the CPS representative.
‘A nice person. Organised. Helpful. She cleaned my house, took me out. She gave me a new interest. I was becoming fond of her.’
‘Yet you have told us that your daughter found Miss Baker difficult.’
This was safer ground. But the reply was a shock.
‘Melanie finds lots of people difficult. Lots of people find Melanie difficult.’
‘In what way do they find her difficult?’
Judge McDermid intervened again. ‘Mr Diggory-Brown, Mrs Goddard cannot give evidence as to what other people might think or feel.’
‘My apology, Your Honour. I’ll rephrase that. In your experience as a mother, Mrs Goddard, is there anything you have seen by way of behaviour in your daughter that you would call difficult.’
‘She can be touchy, hot-tempered, opinionated. I suppose we all can.’
‘Mrs Goddard, I will ask you for the second time, have you ever witnessed your daughter being physically violent?’
‘I prefer not to answer that.’
Judge McDermid spoke. ‘Mrs Goddard, you cannot be forced to answer a question. But you should be aware that the jury may draw an inference from your silence.’
‘I understand.’
‘Your Honour, I have no further questions.’
An usher walked to the witness box with a fresh carafe of water. The judge asked, ‘Mrs Goddard, would you like to sit down to give your evidence?’
‘That’s very kind, Your Honour, but no, I prefer to remain standing.’
When the Isabel’s examination was completed Alisha asked permission to speak to her client.
‘So Jacob’s in it now. How do you want me to deal with it?’
‘Don’t challenge her,’ said Mel. ‘I’ll sort it.’ Though she had no idea how.
Alisha went through Isabel’s first meeting with Natasha, the new friendship, the shared interest in fashion and jewellery.
‘In a short time you grew very fond of Miss Baker, didn’t you?’
‘That’s true.’
Then she turned to Isabel’s relationship with her daughter. Whatever she asked there would be risk.
‘Mrs Goddard, you have never witnessed your daughter being physically violent, have you?’
Isabel looked at Mel and then back to Alisha. ‘She was a rough little thing at school. Scrapping in the playground. Once she bit another child.’
‘And as an adult?’
Mel felt herself trembling. Could the jury see her hands gripping the ledge in front of her? Why hadn’t Alisha checked with her client first? The fundamental rule of advocacy. Alisha had asked a question to which she did not know the answer, going way beyond what they had agreed at the conference.
What Isabel said next was so unexpected Mel almost laughed.
‘I had a little cat. Peanuts. One day he tried to jump on Melanie’s lap. I’ll never forget it. She hurled him to the floor. If that wasn’t violence, I don’t know what was.’
Out of the corner of her eye Mel could see two of the jury members smiling. One woman looked upset.
‘Any other time?’
‘Yes. Melanie was at my house. Worrying about her work as usual. She found it very stressful. I remember darling Peanuts slinking up beside her. She kicked him away across the floor. Dreadful behaviour. I told her to leave the house. We didn’t speak for weeks after that.’
Now the jury really would hate her. Hurling herself at a pregnant woman was bad enough. But kicking a defenceless cat would be unforgiveable. Alisha moved on to the defence case.
‘Returning to the day in question, the prosecution say that your daughter pushed Miss Baker against the dressing table.’
‘That’s what they say.’
‘You saw Miss Baker fall.’
‘I did. She went flying.’
‘But you don’t know why she fell?’
‘No.’
‘You saw a scuffle.’
‘Yes.’
‘But you did not, at any time, see your daughter push Miss Baker?’
Isabel paused. The pause felt very long. Mel’s heart was banging in her chest. Her mother had presented her as heartless, cruel and violent. Would she lie for her now?
‘No. I didn’t.’
Isabel stepped from the witness box and walked slowly towards the public seats, exhausted by her efforts, avoiding the eyes of her daughter. Mel’s heart was still pounding. That bloody cat. The jury would hate her. But as Isabel turned towards the almost empty benches of the public gallery it occurred to her that Alisha had played a clever game. She had allowed Isabel to become a credible witness. Most mothers would support their daughter. But a mother who had issues with her daughter would be less likely to do so. Isabel had written her own script and acted her own part. It had been a brilliant performance.
Bail was refused over lunch. Mel was offered a sandwich on a tray in the cell behind the dock. The dock officer held onto her phone, bringing her yesterday’s Metro to read. She asked for a pencil and for half an hour she succeeded in blocking out the world with a Sudoku. Her heart had grown quieter though the weight was still there. In this second day she was beginning to feel more detached. Trial by jury was a form of theatre and she was still offstage. There was nothing she could do to change anyone else’s part and she had already learnt her own.
For months she had thought of little but of how she was to get off this charge. Now, as she set aside her Sudoku, a new awareness was surfacing. Beside the instinct for self-preservation was another instinct, equally solid, equally powerful. It was the desire that the jury, here to administer justice, should know what Natasha was really like.
Luke Gearing was next on the stand. After sitting transfixed through Isabel’s account, the members of the jury now gave their full attention to the young man with the film-star looks. What he said concurred closely with what they had already heard from Natasha. He had been at home when Miss Goddard brought Natasha back from the hospital. Natasha had been woozy at first and slept. But the following day she was more alert and had told him everything. His speech was hesitant, and though the words were well chosen and articulate, the voice seemed to come from elsewhere. At times it shook and wavered in pitch, there was even an occasional stammer. He repeated Natasha’s story almost word for word.
Alisha got nowhere in cross-examination.
It was 3:45 p.m. Mel was preparing to give evidence herself when Digger addressed the judge.
‘Your Honour, allegations concerning the defendant’s son, Jacob Villiers, have been made in court this afternoon by our witness, Mrs Isabel Goddard.’
‘I think I know what’s coming next, Mr Diggory-Brown.’ The judge who had been tapping notes on his laptop looked down over his spectacles.