by Ruth Mancini
“Your Honour, Helena Taylor is not an expert, I agree. But she’s given evidence before this court that she – she who has always loved her mother and been close to her – has seen her mother’s behaviour change over recent months. She’s described her own mother as paranoid. It’s an observation that Helena Taylor has made.”
I glance across to the public gallery, where Helena averts her eyes.
“And it’s been noted by the Court,” says the judge. “Move on.”
“Alright. Ms. Taylor, would you care to tell the court how you managed to find out where Martin Brown and his then girlfriend, Lindsay Spears, lived?”
I glance over at the jury. “I pretended to be my sister, Keri. I told Lindsay that I’d found Sky’s wallet and that I wanted to drop it off.”
“And did you? Find Sky’s wallet?”
“No. I took it from Helena’s car.”
“So you lied?”
“Yes, but...”
“To get Martin Brown’s address, so that you could go round there?”
“Yes. But...”
“So, you admit you lied to Lindsay Spears to find out where Mr. Brown lived. How do we know you’re not lying now?”
*
There are some things that I’ve been led into that I wish that I’d answered differently. I know that they are going to keep me awake in the night, or in the early hours of the morning, as I replay the prosecutor’s questions and my answers over and over in my head. I may just break my own rules tonight and take a sleeping tablet, I decide. It’s been a long day. The week has only just begun and I’m shattered already. And Zara’s on the stand tomorrow. I need to be there for her.
As we leave the courtroom and walk along the Thames Path, looking out at the gray swirls of the river and the gulls that are swooping over the water, Zara nudges me.
“Look,” she says, nodding her head back in the direction of the court building.
The Thames Path is busy, as usual, with office workers who’ve finished for the day and tourists taking photos. I shade my eyes, and a moment later I can see what Zara sees. It’s the same woman in the coat and headscarf, hurrying along the path towards us. This time, she’s facing us. A stray lock of brown hair protrudes from her headscarf and a pair of big sunglasses cover her eyes.
“Oh my God,” I say. “Is that Lindsay?”
“Is it?” Zara peers at her.
The woman gets closer. “I’m sure it is.”
I’m wondering if, when she sees me, she’ll make a run for it again. But, this time, she appears to be heading straight towards us.
“Has she been following the trial?” I ask Zara, who has sat outside from beginning to end, every day.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”
“Me neither.”
I lean against the wall and wait.
As she draws closer, I say, “Lindsay?”
She keeps on walking, and it seems she’s going to walk right past us, but as she does she glances momentarily in my direction and looks at me.
It’s definitely Lindsay.
But before I can open my mouth, she’s gone.
23
The sleeping tablet works. I’ve had more sleep in one night than I’ve had in a month, but in the morning, I wake to discover that Zara and I have both overslept. When we enter the court building, we’re half an hour late and Sarah is there waiting for me near the entrance at the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
Sarah responds by grabbing my arm and pushing me up the stairs and into the lift at the top. Zara runs to catch up and only just manages to dart into the lift with us before the door closes.
We’re the only ones in the lift. Sarah turns to me and grins. “A witness has come forward,” she says, excitedly. “She’s prepared to take the stand today. Now.” She turns to Zara. ”Ahead of you, if that’s okay?”
“What? Who?” I still don’t get it. My head hasn’t entirely cleared; the sleeping tablet hangover and the rush to get here have left me somewhat dazed.
Sarah grins and shushes me as the lift door opens onto level two. She leans over and whispers in my ear, “It’s Lindsay Spears.”
My heart races. “But...”
Sarah puts her finger to her lips again. “Not a word,” she says, and disappears into the courtroom.
Zara and I look at each other excitedly. “Did Lindsay have something to do with the car crash?” Zara asks.
“No.” I shake my head. We wait silently for a few moments. My family and friends are all sitting in the waiting room and we join them, briefly. I’m desperate to tell them that there’s been a new development, but Sarah has asked me to keep this to myself.
Dan reappears with Sarah and I hurry out to meet them. “I don’t have time to explain,” Sarah says. “I’ve barely had time to proof the witness. But let’s just say that Martin should never have insisted that the prosecution make that bad character application against you. We just need you to agree that Dan can put her on the stand.”
I’m so shocked and my heart is beating so fast that I think I’m going to be sick. “Of course,” I say, “I agree.”
“Good.”
At that moment the loudspeaker calls my name and the usher appears. I follow Dan and Sarah into the courtroom, and then my family and friends all follow and I take my place in the dock.
The judge, who is already in the courtroom, looks at me sternly. “You’re late, Ms. Taylor.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honour. I haven’t been sleeping,” I say. “And then last night, I gave in and took a sleeping pill, and then I overslept.”
I glance at my mum, to my left, who makes a sympathetic face.
The judge also looks sympathetic. He says, “Try not to let it happen again.”
The jury file in and there is some muttering and rustling behind me. I smooth my skirt over my bottom and glance round. Helena and Sky are sitting there, as they did last week. Sky looks straight through me, but Helena, for the second time, gives me the briefest hint of a smile.
The clerk then announces, “The defence call their next witness, Lindsay Spears.”
The usher exits the court room. I pray that Lindsay hasn’t got scared and run off, out of the building and up the Thames Path.
But a second later, the door behind us opens and Lindsay walks in with the usher and a lady from the witness assistance programme. The sunglasses, coat and headscarf are gone and she is wearing a smart pink dress. Her long brown hair is tied back in a pony-tail. She looks tiny and beautiful. Her face is so pretty without that horrible, big black eye. I glance across at Catherine, whose mouth is hanging open. I wonder what on earth Sky and Helena, behind me, must be thinking right now.
I can see that Lindsay is shaking as she takes The Bible in her hands and swears to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Dan rises to his feet. The prosecutor sits back and looks at Lindsay, curiously.
“Can you tell the Court your full name,” Dan asks.
“Lindsay Jane Spears,” she says. She clears her throat and takes a sip of water from the glass in front of her.
“Lindsay, I know it hasn’t been easy for you to come here today,” says Dan, “And I want to thank you for doing so.”
“That’s okay,” says Lindsay. “I want to help.”
“Why?” asks Dan, and I can tell that, to some extent, he is playing this by ear. He hasn’t had time to prepare this properly. Even he doesn’t know for sure what her answers are going to be. “Why do you want to help?”
Lindsay looks at me and says, “Because you need to know the truth about him.”
“Who?” asks Dan.
“Martin,” she says.
There is a wave of noise, which travels round the courtroom. The judge asks for silence and the prosecutor starts to get up, but then sits down again.
Dan asks, “You’re talking about the complainant in these proceedings? Martin Brown?”
“Yes
.”
“And what’s your relationship with Mr. Brown? Martin?” asks Dan.
“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” she says.
“How long were you in a relationship with him?”
“Over twenty years, on and off.”
I glance across at Catherine, who is staring at Lindsay, her jaw still hanging open.
“And how did that relationship end?”
“He gave me a black eye,” she says, “Last September. And then he threw me out. It was after I’d spoken to Lizzie on the phone. He went crazy.”
The prosecutor jumps up. “Is this really relevant, Your Honour? This appears to be nothing more than a gratuitous slur on the victim’s character.”
The judge turns to her. “Ms. Collins, you made this evidence relevant when you put an application before me requesting that Ms. Taylor’s bad character in relation to the ‘knife incident’, as you so eloquently referred to it, be allowed before the court. I understand that Ms. Spears’ evidence relates to the ‘knife incident’, is that right, Mr. Bradstock?”
“That’s right, Your Honour,” Dan agrees.
“Then proceed, Ms. Spears,” the judge speaks directly to Lindsay, who nods, nervously and clears her throat again.
“When you say he threw you out?” Dan repeats Lindsay’s last answer.
“Yes.”
“What do you mean, exactly? Physically?”
“Yes. He shouted at me for a while, saying that I was a stupid cow, a moron, and an imbecile for talking to Lizzie and telling her what I knew. And then he punched me in the face, grabbed me by the hair and pushed me out of the front door.”
“That sounds... shocking, Ms Spears. Truly shocking. Did you call the police?”
“No. I never called the police on him. He’s hit me hundreds of times. But I’ve never reported it.”
“Why not?”
Lindsay laughs, ironically. “Because I know what he’s capable of. He’d do to me exactly what he’s done to Lizzie. He’d stitch me up. That’s what he’s like.”
The prosecutor jumps up.
The judge shoots her a warning look. “We will hear this evidence, Ms. Collins. Can we have no further interruptions, please?”
“When you say ‘Lizzie’,” Dan continues, “To whom are you referring?”
“Her. Lizzie.” She looks across at me.
“You’re indicating the defendant, Elizabeth Taylor, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And how do you know Ms. Taylor?”
“I don’t. I mean, I know who she is, obviously, from that day, the day she phoned... and, well, she came to the dance studio once. And then, of course, this case has been on the local news and in the local paper. That’s how I found out about it. But she’s not a friend of mine, someone I know.”
“So. Apart from that one time, the time she phoned about the wallet, there have been no other occasions?”
“No.”
“She never called your house again?”
“Not that I know of, no.”
Dan scratches his chin. “What about any other types of calls from her? Silent phone calls, for instance. Were there any other kinds of calls that worried you?”
The prosecutor shakes her head in a deliberate motion. She has her back to me but I can tell she’s rolling her eyes.
Lindsay looks confused. “I never had any silent phone calls.”
Dan stops talking and makes a confused face too, so that the jury have time to digest what Lindsay has just said. I glance over at them. Their eyes are nearly popping out of their heads. “Did you or did you not receive a series of telephone calls last summer that led you to become afraid of Lizzie Taylor and what she might do to your family?”
Lindsay shakes her head. “No. I’ve never had any reason to be afraid of her. She probably shouldn’t have tricked me into giving her our address that time, but then Martin had found out about Helena and was seeing her behind Lizzie’s back. She’s a mother. She was just worried about her daughter. With good reason.”
“Oh?”
“He’s crazy,” says Lindsay. “He’s a complete and utter nutjob. He’s got a screw loose. I don’t know Lizzie, but I know him, and I don’t doubt for one minute that he’s done this to her on purpose, got her arrested deliberately...”
“Objection!” screeches the prosecutor. She jumps to her feet. “The witness had nothing to do with the offence, the offence that we’re actually trying here. She was not party to it and she can’t possibly know...”
The judge puts up his hands. “Yes, yes.” He turns to Lindsay and says, gently, “Ms. Spears, please try to limit your evidence to the things that you actually saw or heard.”
Lindsay nods. “I’m sorry.”
“Can I assume,” asks Dan, “From what you’ve told us, that you don’t want Martin back?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Because he hit you?”
“Yes.”
“But you’d been with him over twenty years, on and off – he’s hit you before and you’ve gone back to him before. What was different this time?”
Lindsay clears her throat again. She looks across at me and then back at Dan. “What he did to Lizzie. It made me realise.”
“Can you clarify?”
“I did go back,” she says. “I went back the same day, after he threw me out.”
I think I’m going to fall off my chair. My heart starts beating rapidly and my palms are sweating. I cling onto the edges of my seat.
Lindsay continues, “I went back to get some clothes and stuff. I saw his car out the front and so I knew he was home. My plan was just to creep upstairs, grab my things and leave again. But when I got to the front door I heard voices. Shouting. It was him and a woman. I could tell something was going on, and guessed it was Lizzie. She had told me that she’d be coming round to drop Sky’s wallet off. She was going to push it through the letterbox, that’s all, because I’d told her no-one would be home. But when Martin found out that I’d told her where we lived and that she was coming round, he left work straight away and came back home. He wanted to be there when she arrived. He wanted to see her, I knew. And he didn’t want me there. I knew he was hoping that they’d...”
“They’d what?”
“Get it together. You know. That’s why he dumped me. He wanted her. To be honest, I think he’s always had a thing for her.”
“A thing for her?”
Lindsay looks at her feet. “He’s always fancied her. Sometimes, over the years, when he was calling me names or hitting me, he’d compare me to her. He’d tell me that I was a stupid bitch and not as clever as her.”
I take a deep breath. I can feel Catherine’s eyes on me, but I can’t look her way.
Lindsay looks up again. “I was jealous of her, if I’m honest. In spite of the fact that he hit me and stuff and made me feel like a failure. Or maybe because of it, who knows? He made her sound like this amazing talented person, who was something pretty special, and when I heard them shouting, I thought to myself, ‘Is he going to hit her too? Because, if he does, then it’s not just me. If he hits her, this amazing woman that he always compared me to, then maybe I wasn’t so... so...’” Her eyes are filling with tears.
Dan passes her a paper tissue.
“Shit,” she says, loudly and Dan jumps. “If he hit her, as well as me, then I wasn’t so shit. I was the same as her and it couldn’t have been all my fault that he hit me. I mean, I know I’m not as clever as she is. I’m just a dance teacher and she’s this brilliant journalist who used to be on the radio and everything...”
I bite my lip. I’d had no idea.
“So I crept round to the back door, “Lindsay continues, “And I kept my head down. But I peeked through the kitchen window and I saw them in the kitchen together.”
I’m holding my breath now, hanging onto her every word. The prosecutor sits back in her chair and puts down her pen.
“I could hear everything. Martin was sw
earing at Lizzie, and saying stuff like, ‘You think you’re clever? You think you can get one over on me? Eighteen years of her life you’ve kept her from me’. He was furious.”
“And what did Lizzie say?”
“Lizzie says, ‘Why do you think I left the country? You raped me.’ And then he says, ‘You wanted me.’ And she says, ‘No I didn’t! I was drugged. I was asleep.”
“What were they talking about, do you know?”
“Yes. They were talking about the time that he had sex with her eighteen years ago and then she ran away to France because she was pregnant. He was mad at her for keeping the baby – Helena – a secret from him, and she was saying that she had no choice.”
“How did Lizzie seem to you?”
“She was angry. She kept shouting, ‘You raped me, you raped me.’”
“And Martin?”
“He was just making her out to be stupid to start with. He called her ‘deranged’ and things like that. That’s what he’s like when he’s starting to get angry. I knew that there was going to be trouble.”
“What happened next?”
“He grabbed her. He just grabbed her by the wrists and pushed her to the floor. He said, ‘You want to know what rape is?’ And I got really worried then. It made me feel sick to the stomach, because... because...” She tails off.
“Ms. Spears?”
“Because he’s done it to me.”
There is another flurry of noise that trickles round the courtroom. Lindsay wipes her eyes. The prosecutor is sitting forward in her seat, writing furiously onto a pad in front of her, but she doesn’t react to what Lindsay has said.
“Silence,” says the judge. He speaks directly to Lindsay. “Do you feel able to carry on?”
Lindsay nods. She is crying openly now, but she wipes her eyes repeatedly and sobs as she continues. “I mean, somehow, when you’re in a relationship, it doesn’t seem as if you can make it stop. He makes you feel like he has the right, and everything. And he was always so nice afterwards, and so, in a way, you just think to yourself that it’s... well, almost worth it if you can just put up with him hurting you when he does it... but when you see it happening to someone else...”
She stops talking and looks at Dan.