The Rapunzel Act, page 11
‘I’m grateful…’
‘But I am not willing to confiscate the jury’s mobile devices for so many reasons, including a lack of resources on the Court’s part to keep them safe for the duration. I doubt my clerk, or anyone else’s for that matter, is going to be willing to do anything other than provide the usual locker facility.’
Judge Nolan poured herself some water and looked out at the legal teams gathered before her. ‘Anything else?’
‘The defendant’s children may give evidence. I’d like them to be screened from the public. It’s a common enough measure…’
‘I know when screening is used, thank you, Ms Burton. How old are they?’
‘Laura is 21 and Ben is 16.’
‘Are there any reasons, other than their age, why you are making this request?’
Judith snatched a glance over her shoulder at Constance.
‘Well, just the obvious ones. This is likely to be an extremely traumatic process for them…’
‘Your honour, the children’s identities are well known. There were never attempts by either of their parents to keep them out of the public eye and, since the murder, many images of them have been reproduced in the press.’
‘I’m not sure that’s your best point, Mr Laidlaw.’
‘Your honour,’ now Leo Nimble tried. ‘The children are key witnesses. If the public can’t see the key witnesses give their evidence, then what’s the point of this scheme; where’s the transparency? I know my colleague, Mr Laidlaw, will treat them with courtesy, so there is no reason for them to do anything other than give their evidence in the usual way.’
Judge Nolan thought for a moment. ‘I agree. Ms Burton, you can rest assured I won’t allow any aggressive questioning, but they can’t be screened. Mr Laidlaw. Anything from you?’
Jeremy Laidlaw rocked backwards and forwards, like a jumping bean, before he found his equilibrium.
‘Yes, your honour, just one application from me.’
‘Let’s keep it brief and to the point, shall we?’
‘The prosecution wants to bring evidence from an expert in the process of transitioning.’
‘Transitioning?’
‘Yes. The defendant is a transgender woman, who recently underwent gender reassignment surgery. We want to bring in an expert to explain to your honour and the court how that treatment may have affected her.’
‘Is Debbie Mallard legally a woman now?’
‘Yes, but the expert would address medical issues that are not well understood, which it is appropriate for the jury to hear and evaluate.’
‘Is the expert Debbie Mallard’s own doctor?’
‘No, your honour. But Dr Alves is an expert in the field, who has worked with many transgender individuals.’
‘This all sounds incredibly remote and, well, totally irrelevant, quite apart from being inadmissible. Ms Burton?’
‘Your honour, I’m with you completely.’
‘Thank you. No, Mr Laidlaw, no “expert” on transitioning. Anything else?’
Laidlaw conferred with his solicitor before shaking his head. His face was flushed and Judith had caught a few words of remonstration exchanged between the two. She glanced at Constance.
‘No? Then I have a request for you, Mr Nimble.’
Leo Nimble stood up, less sprightly this time around than before.
‘Despite your protestations that your clients are up to speed on the intricacies of what they can and cannot report, I have read some of their work myself over the last few days and I expect you to deliver a refresher course. As you were so keen to communicate with your clients and, as we are on target to finish early, I suggest you take the rest of the morning to do just that. And I don’t expect to see you or any of your clients back before this court for the duration. That’s all. Thank you so much. See you back here six weeks today.’
* * *
‘What do you think?’
Constance and Judith were seated in a taxi on their way back to Constance’s office. It was a rare luxury, but the quickest way to escape from the crowd which had enveloped them as they left the court. They had intended to drive only a couple of blocks and de-camp onto the underground, but then it had started to rain and they had stayed put.
‘Of who?’
‘Jeremy Laidlaw, for a start.’
‘I thought he was slippery.’
‘Did you? That’s interesting. He can be very smooth; I thought he was relatively well-behaved today. But then, asking for an expert in transitioning. I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous in my life! At least Bridget gave him short shrift.’
‘He winked at me.’
‘Ah. That’s why you disliked him. I thought it wasn’t like you to be so uncharitable. How do you mean winked?’
‘When you were speaking, he sort of leaned back, puffed out his chest and stared me out. Then his eye kind of squeezed closed very quickly.’
‘Sounds like he winked at you. You could do worse than Jeremy Laidlaw. Comes from a wealthy family.’
‘Oh stop.’
‘And he is very clever, although they say he’s a bit lazy. And he doesn’t get on well with his solicitor; quite an unnecessary public display of disagreement, I thought. But he knew just which buttons to push today, telling the judge that it would lead to a proliferation of claims from disgruntled jurors if they had to give up their devices. That’s what nailed it. She didn’t care about limiting their freedom.’
‘He was also giving these little sideways looks to the other barrister, all sort of “boys together”.’
‘You were observing him quite closely, then. He and Leo are at the same chambers, so they will have wanted to help each other out. You know – you scratch my back. He wasn’t always quite so smug though. Clearly, being crowned king of the hotties has gone to his head.’
‘Hotties?’
‘Yes, I know. It’s hardly my choice of words, just in case you were wondering. He topped a league, voted the most attractive male barrister, some years back. He’s had a swagger ever since.’
‘Yuck.’
‘And rumours are that he spent a year in Hollywood before bar school and only came back here when his father threatened to stop his allowance. The TV stuff will be a gift for him.’
‘And Nimble?’
‘A bit parochial but he did his job. No, after today I’m more worried about our delectable lady judge.’
‘She was a bit fierce, wasn’t she? Why did they choose her, do you think?’
‘She has enough experience. And she was prepared to do it. I heard a number of judges are taking a sabbatical to coincide with the pilot and only coming back once the dust has settled. She must be attracted by the prospect of her name in lights. It’s a shame about the screening for Ben and Laura. I couldn’t say anything…about Ben’s issues – not without permission. And if I had, I worried whether Leo would keep them to himself.’
‘Agreed.’
‘At least she wanted to keep the press in check.’
‘Yes, and it was good about the jury, so at least the public doesn’t get to identify them.’
‘Hm. If we’d lost that one, I would have been very concerned for the future of British justice.’
18
Ellis Harper was sitting outside the Birdcage pub, a whisky glass perched on the table. It was a good people-watching spot, positioned on the corner of Columbia Road and Gosset Street and opposite a small park. Dog walkers, cyclists, joggers, all headed past in a variety of colourful gear. Judith had smiled at him from a distance of a few metres and held out her hand as she approached.
‘Is that Lagavulin?’ she asked, as she clambered onto the bench next to him, slipping on her sunglasses and pointing at his drink.
‘It is. You know your whisky then?’ Ellis picked up his glass and held it up, so the sun’s rays emphasised its amber tones.
‘A little. You can’t really mistake the odour of peat bog. I’m Judith Burton, in case you thought I was just some random woman with an unhealthy knowledge of whisky. Thank you for agreeing to meet.’
Ellis smiled. ‘Anything I can do to help,’ he said.
‘You don’t look like her,’ Judith said.
‘What?’
‘Rosie. You don’t look much like her.’ Judith shifted her glasses to the top of her head and squinted at him. ‘I suppose that’s not so surprising. I don’t resemble my sister, or at least I can’t see it.’
‘There you are then. Rosie got the brains. I got the looks.’
Judith laughed gently, her tinkling laugh, reserved for first encounters. ‘Although other people say they can see it, the resemblance.’ Judith looked around her. ‘What a fabulous pub,’ she said. ‘Your local?’
‘No. This is the closest to Ben…and Laura. That’s why I chose it.’
‘It’s very good of you to come and spend this time with your niece and nephew, provide them with support,’ Judith said.
‘My sister’s been killed. I couldn’t stay away.’
‘And Constance said you set up a meeting for her, with Ben. We’re very grateful.’
‘He wants to do his bit, to help his dad. I’m hoping you’re agreed that he doesn’t need to be a witness.’
‘We’re still not sure. I understand you have some concerns.’
‘He’s so young. They both are. And this is hard enough on them, without having to talk about things in public.’
‘Is that why you’ve stayed so long? Can your employer spare you all this time?’
‘I’m self-employed,’ Ellis replied, ‘which means I can stay around, to help Laura and Ben, as long as they need me.’
‘What do you do for work?’
‘Interior design. After the initial visit and measuring up, I do most of my work remotely. And I’m less than an hour away from most of my customers in Bucks anyway, if they really require the personal touch.’
‘But you’re staying here in London?’
‘At the house. At Rosie’s. Someone has to, now the police have finished with it. Otherwise who knows what might happen? Could get leaks or squatters even. And I suppose they’ll need help to sell it…eventually.’
‘Yes. I hadn’t thought of that. Were you and Rosie close?’
‘Is this an interview?’
Judith laughed, more full-throated this time. ‘Of course not. But every little bit of information helps.’
‘It doesn’t help Rosie.’
Judith waved to a young man collecting glasses and ordered two more whiskies, for herself and Ellis.
‘No, it doesn’t. So were you?’
Ellis shrugged. ‘My work took me overseas when I was younger and we lost touch.’
‘Overseas?’
‘Hong Kong.’
‘That must have been interesting.’
‘Sure, for a while. But it was good to come home too.’
‘Why did you go?’
‘I needed a change of scene. I’ve used things I learned out there too.’
‘I see. You know I’ve been thinking of sprucing up my apartment for a while and I love Oriental design. Maybe you could send me a few examples of your work. It will give me some ideas, if nothing else.’
‘Sure, no problem. I’ll choose a couple of the best.’
‘That’s very kind.’ Judith fished in her purse and handed Ellis a business card. He tucked it in the pocket of his jeans.
‘And when you returned from overseas, you saw more of Rosie?’
‘We were much closer, recently, as I was just up the road. And I love the kids; Ben and Laura. Rosie was so proud of them.’
‘Can I ask about your parents?’
‘Elaine is still local, living in Essex. She’s taking this so badly, but then how else would she? That’s also why I’m here. I go to visit her most days and it’s nearer. Dad passed away two years ago.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Unfortunately, the news about “Debbie” was out before he died. She didn’t even have enough respect to spare him that.’ Ellis sighed.
‘You don’t like Debbie much then?’ Judith said.
‘I should like the man who murdered my sister, caved her head in and then, what, coolly went off to run some football training?’
‘Before. You didn’t like her much before?’
‘Her, him. No. I didn’t like either of them very much. Rosie said that all people have two sides to their personality; their masculine and feminine sides – kind of yin and yang – and that Danny had spent forty years embracing one and now he wanted to devote time to the other.’
‘And what do you think about that?’
‘Total bollocks, that’s what I think. Look. He humiliated my sister, total and utter humiliation. Can you even begin to imagine what people were whispering behind their hands, and how embarrassing it was for her? He didn’t care. He wanted to flaunt himself around in stupid, skimpy clothes. But Rosie withstood all that. She shrugged it off and she was striding out on her own. But he couldn’t have that, could he? Total narcissist that he is. He couldn’t leave her alone. He had to come back and finish her off completely.’
‘You seem very certain.’
‘You don’t know him.’
‘The children don’t think that – Laura and Ben – and they know him.’
‘That’s because he’s brainwashed them.’
‘Is it right that they never liked Danny, your parents?’
‘Is that what he said?’ Ellis finished his whisky. ‘I don’t know what they really thought, but they always welcomed Danny, even though he was a bit of a lad, maybe not your first choice for your daughter, if you know what I mean. But Rosie had Dad wrapped around her little finger, so if she’d wanted to marry Hitler, he’d have probably given his blessing. It was only when he…when he dumped Rosie and went off with all this disgusting stuff…that’s when they told him what they thought. And I don’t blame them.’
‘No. You’ve made that very clear.’
‘Look, I didn’t say this to the other lawyer. I didn’t think it was right, when Ben was there. But Danny’s crying, saying how sorry he is that Rosie’s gone, how much he loved her. I’ve known him a few years, OK. So take it from me. Those tears you see. They’re all fake. He married her for the fame. It wasn’t enough for him to be a footballer. He used his celebrity status to find himself a really special wife. He never loved her. And he knew footballers’ careers were short and that he had to think to the next stage. It was all about what she could do for him.
‘And the photos they used to print of them gazing into each other’s eyes. Also fake. You watch him take a penalty, back in ‘96 or before. Even when he was in the youth team; he kept his cool. Most kids of that age are…what? Hot-headed, risk takers? Not him. And he’s the same now. He is…cold, emotionless, detached. Anything else is false, what he thinks the public wants to see, expects to see. That’s why he was rubbish as a coach. Sure, he was a skilful player, one of the best in the world, but he has no heart.’
19
An hour later, and only fifty metres down the street, Constance pushed her way through the crowds on Columbia Road, flocking, like the thirstiest of bees, to the striking array of flowers. She came here most Sundays, even if only for a few minutes, and she usually returned home with something to brighten up her flat. Today, the fuchsia gerberas had caught her eye, fifteen for £5, neatly boxed, their blackened centres dark as soot.
‘What about a few hydrangeas too?’ the stall owner asked. ‘They’re the best you’ll see in here.’
Constance contemplated the enormous lacy-headed blooms and shook her head.
‘This is good for today, thanks,’ she said, before stepping out of the melee into a cobbled side street and on, into the nearby courtyard. If she lingered, she knew she’d be tempted to buy more and flowers were a luxury, even at only £5 a box. She also didn’t want to be late for her appointment at her favourite café. Seated outside Lily Vanilli was Judith, coffee in hand, nestling up to a striking watercolour, which had overflowed the gallery next door.
‘Uncle Ellis is an interesting chap,’ Judith began.
‘You met him, then.’
‘We share a passion for whisky, so he says, although I wonder if he really knows his Lagavulin from his Laphroaig.’
‘You went drinking together?’
Judith threw her head back and laughed. ‘I suppose we did. And I’m still feeling the after-effects. Hence the caffeine fix.’
‘What did he tell you?’
‘Oh, nothing much, but he insists Debbie is a fraud. Called her a narcissist. I thought that was an interesting choice of word.’
‘It just means vain, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s often more than that, and that’s what Ellis meant, I think. One of the three dark, triadic personality traits, along with Machiavellian and psychopathic.’
‘OK?’
‘Callous and manipulative.’
‘Manipulating who?’
‘All of us. Ellis thinks it’s an act – that Debbie has everyone taken in. That she’s icy cold underneath and switches emotions on and off. Who knows? Some lions in public are little mice in private, and look at comedians; the profession’s awash with manic depressives.’
‘Ben says Debbie was more gentle at home than on the pitch, but that’s not that surprising. Although…’
‘What? Go on, tell me what you think.’
Constance took a deep breath and then lowered her voice, although they were alone in the courtyard and the noise from inside the bustling café would have hidden most conversations.
