‘And so you mention him now in an attempt to malign the character of the complainant, Miss Baker?’
‘My sole intention is to tell the truth about her. Natasha is a thirty-year-old woman. She flirted with Jacob online. Got him to send her pictures. Texts. I didn’t want to mention him but my mother did, so you might as well know the whole story.’
McDermid was staring at her. Mel was amazed he hadn’t stopped her. Her glance shifted from the Bench to the public seating area. On this final day of the hearing it was almost full. Alongside the law student and the self-appointed court expert, were Georgie and Farouk and several members of her own chambers and others she had no time to register because her attention was drawn to her mother, upright, elegant, perfectly turned out and sitting in the back row. Next to her, to Mel’s amazement, sat Claude, looking stern, and next to him, his face bleached white, dark eyes wide, sat Jacob. Mel clutched the side of the witness box.
‘None of this was put to Miss Baker,’ said Digger.
‘No.’
‘Even though she was called back and Miss Mehta had the opportunity of cross-examining her once more.’
‘I didn’t want my son brought into it.’
‘Yet you bring him into it now. Isn’t the truth of the matter, Miss Goddard, that you have made up this allegation?’
‘Why would I make it up? It only gives me a motive for hurting her.’
‘She made an innocent remark about your son and you have twisted it for your own purposes.’
‘I don’t see how it helps me. On the contrary.’
‘It wasn’t put because it didn’t happen.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Is all this relevant, Mr Diggory-Brown?’ asked the judge. ‘It is, as Miss Goddard herself concedes, relevant as to motive.’
‘Yet these purported photographs and text messages have not been put in evidence.’
‘No, Your Honour. Because they don’t exist.’
The judge turned to Mel. ‘Miss Goddard. You have raised certain allegations concerning the complainant. If you wish to pursue these allegations, the jury will need to see the documentary evidence to which you refer.’
‘I understand, Your Honour.’
‘And do you propose to disclose this evidence?’
‘Your Honour, I cannot do that. My son has deleted the texts and photographs.’
Mel glanced at Natasha. Her expression was unchanged. Though she must be relieved, must have realised the risk she had taken in bringing this prosecution. In some perverse way, Mel found herself admiring her enemy.
‘I think that answers your question, Mr Diggory-Brown. I will address the jury on the issue in my summing up. Please proceed.’
‘So, Miss Goddard, you admit you felt aggressive towards Miss Baker.’
‘I didn’t feel aggressive. I’m not an aggressive person. I was upset. I may have felt angry. That’s not the same as aggressive.’ Wasn’t it? When she hurled herself at Natasha it had felt more instinctive than aggressive. Could anyone hear the blood pulsing through her veins as she spoke? Was this what they picked up on lie detectors?
‘That’s not what your own mother said.’
‘We’ve had our difficulties.’
‘This is not the first time you’ve been violent.’
‘You mean the cat. It was awful. I know how much my mother loved that little creature. I told her how sorry I was…’
‘You have been violent towards people too.’
‘I deny that.’
‘You used to be married to a member of the Bar. Your son’s father, Claude Villiers.’
‘What has he got to do with anything?’
Alisha jumped up. ‘Your Honour, the defendant’s relationship with Mr Villiers is not in issue here.’
‘Continue, Mr Diggory-Brown,’ said McDermid.
‘Miss Goddard, did you not, on at least one occasion, hit your husband?’
It was clear in her memory, sharp as a well-defined etching. Claude was shouting. She could see his face, heavy-featured, broad and unshaven, contorted with anger, bellowing. Jacob had been a baby. His cries resonated from the next room, as loud as his father’s. What had the row been about? She couldn’t recall. But she could recall hating Claude at that moment, wanting to hurt him, slapping him hard across the face. And now he was sitting in the public gallery. Here to support her.
‘I hit Claude once. I regret it.’
Where had Digger got hold of this? Claude wouldn’t have said anything. Or would he? They were friends now, but it had not always been friendly. She might even have told someone herself, confessed it drunkenly over too many drinks in Daly’s. The Bar was a small place. Word got around. Digger carried on questioning.
‘Anyone else?’
She couldn’t lie about Jacob. Not with his eyes burrowing through her.
‘I once smacked my child. I regret that too.’
‘Where did you smack him?’
‘In a swimming pool changing room.’
‘Where on his body?’
‘His face.’
Digger waited. There was an aching silence. A woman in the front row of the jury coughed. After that, only the hum of air conditioning.
‘How old was Jacob at the time?’
‘About four.’
She stared at the jury, avoiding individual faces, allowing her vision to blur, conscious of Jacob’s silent presence on the other side of the court room.
‘You have a short temper.’
‘Sometimes. I mean, if provoked.’
Bugger. Why use that word? Provocation. She might as well dig her own grave.
‘You were provoked on that Sunday in Dulwich.’
‘No.’
‘You believed Miss Baker was stealing from your mother.’
‘Yes.’
‘Betraying her trust as your mother’s guest.’
‘Yes.’
‘You accused her of deception, and she countered with your affair with a married man, Paul Freedman.’
It was not a question. And it was impossible to speak.
‘You also decided, either wilfully or mistakenly, that Miss Baker, a woman of almost thirty, was stalking your teenage son.’
‘I wasn’t mistaken.’
‘You were furious with Natasha.’
‘Yes.’
‘Without thinking, just as you lashed out at your husband, your son, a defenceless cat, you grabbed hold of Miss Baker’s arms and threw her backwards.’
She must deny it. For Jacob’s sake she had to deny it.
‘That’s not true.’
‘Causing her to hit her head on the glass edge of the dressing table.’
‘No.’
Mel was shaking. She looked at Alisha, seeking rescue, but Alisha could not rescue her from her own untruth.
Digger looked satisfied with his morning’s work. ‘Thank you, Miss Goddard.’
‘Any re-examination, Miss Mehta?’ asked the judge.
‘No, Your Honour.’
It was time for speeches. Digger went first. He set out the background, the difficult relationship, Mel’s resentment of her successful pupil, the allegations of theft and lying. He seemed about to wind up when to Mel’s surprise he referred to the online stalking.