‘The allegations were not included in Mrs Goddard’s statement and were therefore unexpected. With Your Honour’s permission I should like to recall our principal witness Miss Natasha Baker.’
‘And how long will that take?’ McDermid sounded weary.
‘No more than fifteen minutes, Your Honour.’
‘Very well.’
Natasha, who had been sitting behind the prosecution team, was recalled and sworn in again. As she placed her hand on the New Testament she gazed towards the high window of the courtroom. More theatre, thought Mel. When it came to her own evidence she would affirm.
‘Miss Baker, immediately prior to the assault in Mrs Goddard’s spare room, did you mention the defendant’s son, Jacob?’
‘Briefly, yes.’
‘In what context?’
‘I was telling the defendant I enjoyed meeting him. He was with Mel at the Dulwich Picture Gallery when we met for a coffee a couple of weeks previously.’
‘Why did you mention him?’
‘I wanted to find out if he was OK. He and I went off to buy the coffees and he just ran off. It was a bit odd.’
‘Did you tell her he was a good-looking boy?’
‘Not on that occasion.’
‘So did you say he was good-looking on some other occasion?’
‘It’s possible. Weeks before. When she showed me a photo of her son.’
‘Mrs Goddard suggested you had an interest in him, that you found him attractive.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I was just being friendly.’
‘So, if I can take you back to the moment in the bedroom. How did Miss Goddard react to your query about her son?’
‘She went berserk. Like I’d been trying to seduce him. Totally over the top. But I told you. She’s like that. Prickly. Paranoid I’d say.’
‘Why didn’t you mention this in your evidence before, Miss Baker?’
‘To be honest I didn’t want to upset his grandmother. Anyway, it didn’t seem important. I’m used to Mel overreacting. She does it all the time. What really tipped her over the edge was me mentioning Paul Freedman. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But when she called me a cheat and a liar I was furious. It was so unjust.’
‘Thank you, Miss Baker. If you would stay there, Miss Mehta may have some questions for you.’
Alisha obtained permission to take instructions.
‘I’ll have to challenge her,’ she told Mel once the door of the dock was shut behind her.
‘I’ve already told you I don’t want Jacob brought into this.’
‘I’ll need to contest what she said about your reaction. As for the allegations in detail…’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘OK. We’ll keep it low key.’
Natasha was waiting in the witness box, looking bored.
‘Miss Baker, I have two points to put to you. My first is this. You have stated that Miss Goddard was upset by the mention of her son and later by the mention of Mr Freedman.’
‘More than upset. She was out of control.’
‘That’s not correct, is it, Miss Baker?’
‘It certainly is.’
‘Throughout your confrontation in the bedroom, Miss Goddard remained calm.’
Natasha started to laugh.
‘Answer the question, Miss Baker,’ insisted McDermid.
‘With respect, Your Honour, it’s not a question. She’s just said something which is wrong. It’s so wrong it’s laughable.’
McDermid simply raised his eyebrows, indicating Alisha should continue.
‘In fact Miss Goddard accused you of deception and that is what sparked you to rush towards her and fall.’
‘Bullshit. Apologies, Your Honour.’
Alisha sat down. There was no re-examination.
When the jury was dismissed Mel was granted bail. She stepped out of the dock to where Alisha was waiting.
‘Don’t worry, Alisha. I understand your difficulty.’
‘It could go either way. There’s a lot under the carpet here. Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Without waiting for an answer, Alisha pulled off her wig and left the court room.
The room was emptying but as the backs of spectators moved towards the door Mel spotted Georgie heading towards her. When close he opened his arms and for a few seconds she rested her head against his shoulder.
‘Want to talk about it?’ he murmured.
‘I prefer not to, Georgie,’ she said, pulling back. They set off together for the exit.
‘I get that.’
‘But thanks for being here.’
They walked in silence to the front of the court building. One of the assistants from the Witness Service was helping Isabel into a taxi. A relief. If she wasn’t prepared to speak to Alisha or Georgie, she certainly wasn’t ready to face her mother.
Chapter Forty-five
Mel
Back home, Mel threw off her clothes and fell into a hot bath with a glass of Merlot for company. Never had wine tasted so good. The day’s evidence swirled in her head. She imagined the scene tomorrow, spiralling into the horror of a guilty verdict. McDermid would delay sentence. Alisha would ask for reports. More waiting. Swigging back the wine, she wondered whether prison might be better than a suspended sentence. She could continue to protest her innocence, write a bestselling book on conditions inside. It would change her life but that might be no bad thing. Someone, somewhere, would employ her when she came out. She might become a cleaner, long quiet days, dusting and vacuuming the houses of the rich, free to think, dream, perhaps even feel remorse.
Jacob would move in with Claude’s gang. He would survive, might even thrive away from the claustrophobia of the mother-son connection, though she would have to lie to him for the rest of her life. Whatever happened she would have to lie.
She took another swig, luxuriating in the deep, scented warmth of the water. No baths, no wine in prison. But as she turned on the tap for more blistering heat against her skin, she dreamt of a different touch, one she had not known since that painful afternoon in Barnes last summer. She and Paul had once seemed perfect, wrapped in their cocoon of private delight, untainted by the fevers of the world. Finally, the world had clattered down upon them, as it had always threatened to do.
She stepped out, reached for her towel, conscious of the sway of her buttocks, the spread of her hips which she had always thought too wide, the breasts which she had thought too large, but which had shrunk in the sixteen years since she had fed Jacob. Now that they were no longer of use to anyone, they were beginning to feel about right. She stood in front of the full-length mirror, examining her reflection. The gloss of youth was long gone. How cruel that in all those years of obsessive male attention, only Claude had touched her heart. Claude who had never truly wanted her. And now, as male attention faltered, the longing for connection had grown, the need for physical contact at times unbearable.
She rubbed herself dry. The longing became an ache. Would she ever love or be loved again?
Jacob was preparing her dinner. It was his friend Don’s birthday, but he had chosen to stay in to cook for his mother on what might be her last night at home. Neither had mentioned the possibility that she could be locked away.