by Peter Murphy
‘I’m not in a rush, dear,’ Mrs Pettifer replied. ‘I don’t have anywhere else to go, except home.’
The members of the jury were smiling; Jess returned the smile.
‘Thank you. You told the jury that you would see Susan when she came downstairs to hang washing up in the garden, and when she’d been to the shops and brought you something: is that right?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘So, you would see her, what, two or three times a week to talk to?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘On the other hand, you never really had the chance to talk to Henry, because he was always at work?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘I’m not going to ask you what Susan told you; but would it be fair to say that anything you heard about their marriage came from her, rather than Henry?’
Mrs Pettifer hesitated.
‘I never asked her about her marriage, Miss, it wouldn’t have been polite, would it? I’m not one to pry into other people’s affairs.’
‘No, no, of course. But you know how it is when women get together over a cup of coffee. I’m sure you shared a few confidences now and then.’
She smiled. ‘A truer word was never spoken, dear. We do like to gossip, don’t we?’
‘Yes, of course we do. And I’m not asking what you may have heard about their marriage. My suggestion was that whatever you heard, you heard from Susan, not from Henry?’
‘Well, yes… that’s true.’
‘Thank you. Mrs Pettifer, you saw Susan go out in the evenings twice or three times a week, is that right?’
‘More or less, yes.’
‘Leaving aside Friday nights, when she and Henry might go out together, she would go out on her own twice or three times a week?’
‘Yes.’
‘Leaving somewhere around 8 o’clock, and getting back as late as 1 or 2 in the morning?’
‘Yes, Miss, that’s true.’
‘And when she went out, would it be fair to say – tell me if you don’t understand this phrase – she would be “dressed up to the nines”?’
Mrs Pettifer frowned. ‘I understand what you’re saying, but…’
‘She would wear high heels, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And a cocktail dress?’
‘Yes.’
‘Her hair nicely done, nice makeup?’
‘Yes, quite true.’
‘Mrs Pettifer, I don’t mean to be rude, but people don’t usually dress up like that to go out for the evening in Islington, do they?’
Mrs Pettifer thought for a moment or two.
‘We did have a French restaurant once, and people dressed up a bit for that, but it only lasted a year or so. I suppose there wasn’t the call for it.’
‘They wouldn’t dress up like that to go to the pubs near you, would they?’
She laughed. ‘Oh, no, dear; not unless you wanted people staring at you.’
‘It was more the kind of thing you would wear for a night out in the West End, wasn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t know, dear. I don’t get up to the West End much these days.’
The jury laughed, and Jess joined in.
‘Fair enough. But would you agree with this? She was dressing up to look sexy, wasn’t she?’
Mrs Pettifer looked uncomfortable.
‘Well, she was a good-looking woman. But why do you have to call it sexy just because she dressed up nicely to go out?’
Jess smiled. ‘I won’t press it, Mrs Pettifer. But the pattern was that two or three times a week, Henry would come home from work, and a short time later, Susan would go out, dressed up to the nines, and she wouldn’t come back until the early hours. Is that what you saw?’
‘I suppose so, dear, yes.’
‘Mrs Pettifer, was Susan sometimes drunk when she came home in the early hours?’
The witness seemed taken aback.
‘How would I know that?’
‘You said that Henry would sometimes accuse her of being drunk. I wondered whether you ever saw or heard anything yourself to suggest that she had been drinking?’
‘What kinds of things? I don’t understand.’
‘Well, you heard her footsteps on the stairs. Did she ever seem unsteady? Did she have trouble getting up the stairs? Could you hear her saying anything? Did anything ever happen that made you look out of your window?’
‘No. Not that I remember.’
‘When you heard her voice, was her speech ever slurred?’
‘I couldn’t hear her clearly enough to tell. I could hear him, but not her so much.’
‘When you would see her for coffee, did she ever seem hung-over, a bit under the weather?’
‘She did look a bit pale some mornings, but I assumed that was just because she was tired.’
‘Did she ever tell you that she was seeing another man?’
Mrs Pettifer gasped.
‘What? What do you mean “seeing”? What are you suggesting?’
‘I’m asking whether she ever told you she was going out with a man other than Henry?’
‘No, Miss, she certainly did not.’
Jess paused.
‘I’m sorry to have to ask you this, Mrs Pettifer, but do you know what cannabis is?’
She chuckled.
‘Well, of course I know what it is, dear. It’s what those hippies and such smoke instead of proper cigarettes, isn’t it?’
Jess smiled. ‘Yes, exactly. Mrs Pettifer, do you know what cannabis smells like when it is smoked?’
‘No. Well, at least I don’t think so. I’ve never known anyone who smoked it, as far as I know.’
‘No, I’m sure you haven’t, but did you ever smell anything from upstairs that seemed strange, something very pungent that didn’t smell like food?’
The witness pointed a finger.
‘Now you mention it, Miss, there was something. I thought it was just some different kind of coffee, you know, Turkish coffee or the like – not that I’ve ever had Turkish coffee, so I don’t know really, but they say it’s quite strong, don’t they? I did smell something during the week sometimes, but I couldn’t tell you what it was. She never smoked it in front of me. She smoked regular cigarettes sometimes, but not that cannabis, or whatever you call it.’
‘Did she talk about the children very much?’
‘No, not very much, come to think of it,’ Mrs Pettifer replied. ‘If I asked her about them, she would tell me how they were doing, but I don’t remember her just talking about them for the sake of it, or showing me photographs, or anything like that.’
‘And lastly, Mrs Pettifer, I want to ask you about the evidence you gave when you said you heard Henry hit Susan. You said this happened when they were arguing, after she got home late from her evenings out: is that right?’
‘Yes. Not every time, but…’
‘What you heard was the sound of a slap, is that right?’
‘More than one.’
‘All right, two or three slaps, or however many; but you were describing something you heard going on upstairs?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just so that the jury are clear about this, you never saw Henry hit Susan, did you?’
‘I never said I did.’
‘No, that’s quite right, you didn’t. It’s just so we are clear. It’s what you heard, not what you saw?’
‘Yes.’
‘You think you heard one person slapping another?’
‘Think I heard…?’
‘You couldn’t see what was going on. You heard what you thought were a number of slaps.’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s assume for a moment that you are right about that –’
‘I know what I heard, Miss –’
/>
‘You couldn’t see upstairs, could you? But let’s assume for a moment that you are right, that you did hear some slaps. You can’t say who slapped whom, can you?’
‘What…?’
‘You hear a couple arguing, they’re both angry, shouting at each other, and then you hear what you think are slaps. Assuming they were slaps, what I’m suggesting is that you can’t say whether he slapped her, or she slapped him, can you? You weren’t there.’
There was a silence.
‘I heard her cry out,’ she replied, after some seconds.
‘Cry out, or shout?’
‘Well…’
‘Mrs Pettifer, did you ever see any marks or bruises on Susan?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Pettifer. I have nothing further, my Lord.’
Andrew stood.
‘My Lord, I have one or two short, formal matters, and I will then be in a position to close my case. After that, may I suggest that we adjourn and begin the defence case after lunch?’
‘Yes, very well,’ the judge replied. ‘Isn’t there going to be an application of some kind, a matter of law?’
‘My Lord?’
‘I thought someone said there was going to be a matter of law for me to decide, a matter of whether certain evidence is admissible?’
Ben got to his feet.
‘My Lord, there will be a question of law, but not today. It’s a matter I will raise after Mr Lang has given evidence.’
The judge nodded.
‘Yes, very well. Then we will rise for lunch before you call Mr Lang.’
‘I’m much obliged, my Lord,’ Ben replied.
Andrew approached Ben to whisper.
‘How did he know about the point of law? Did you tell him?’
Ben shook his head. ‘I have no idea. He didn’t hear it from me. Perhaps he’s imagining things.’
Andrew grimaced. ‘Great. That’s all we need.’
64
Henry Lang made his way slowly from the dock to the witness box, accompanied by a uniformed prison officer. He wore the same suit he had worn in early April – it felt like a lifetime ago now – for his appearance before Mr Justice Wesley in the High Court. His hands were shaking.
He took the New Testament from Geoffrey.
‘I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’
‘Mr Lang, please give the court your full name.’
‘Henry James Lang.’
‘How old are you?’
‘I’m 32, going on 33.’
‘Mr Lang, have you ever been convicted of any criminal offence?’
‘No.’
‘Before your arrest, were you living at 36B Alwyne Road, in Islington?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Is that the flat you rented from Mrs Pettifer, the witness who gave evidence this morning?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Has it been your address since January of last year, 1970?’
‘Yeah.’
Ben paused.
‘Mr Lang, it’s important that his Lordship and the jury hear what you say. Can you keep your voice up, please?’
‘Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m nervous.’
‘I understand, but it’s important that we hear you.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Are you a mechanic by trade?’
‘Yeah.’
‘For how long have you been a mechanic?’
‘I started an apprenticeship with Mick’s Motors in Dalston when I was 16, as soon as I left school.’
‘Did you work for Mick’s Motors after completing your apprenticeship?’
‘Yeah, they took me on, gave me a regular job, and I was with them for almost eight years, until I started my own business.’
‘Your own business being Mercury Mechanics, based in King Henry’s Walk in Islington?’
‘That’s it, yeah.’
‘What sort of work do you do at Mercury Mechanics?’
‘We are more of a specialised firm. We handle cars that most firms won’t touch.’
‘Such as…?’
‘It’s mostly foreign imports: your basic European models – your Renaults and such, and the higher-end European models, your Ferraris and Lamborghinis. We also get a certain number of American cars that find their way over here. We even get some of the more exotic British models, Rolls Royce or Bentley, and the odd Jag or MG, the older models.’
‘That must be a bit different from the cars you worked on at Mick’s Motors –’
Henry grinned. ‘I should say so, yeah.’
‘How did you get into that kind of work?’
‘One of my mates worked for a high-end garage in Mayfair, and he was doing a bit on the side on his own account. I used to help him out at weekends. I made a few quid, and I learned a lot from him. After a while, I thought I could do just as good a job as they were doing in Mayfair and, being based in Islington, my overheads are lower, so I could be competitive on price. I got started by putting a few ads in the right kind of magazines, and once you get started, it’s all word of mouth after that.’
‘I understand you’ve been quite successful.’
‘Yeah, touch wood, it’s gone very well. I’ve got three mechanics working with me now. My foreman, Ernie, has been looking after the business while I’ve been in prison.’
Ben paused again.
‘Mr Lang, on 28 April this year, did you stab your wife Susan Lang to death in Dombey Street, or Harpur Mews, as the prosecution allege?’
Henry looked down, and Ben saw tears in his eyes. He did not rush him.
‘Yeah,’ Henry replied, after some time. ‘I did.’
‘Thank you. What I want you to do this afternoon is to tell the jury, as far as you can, what happened before 28 April of this year, that led to what happened on that day. Let’s start with how you and Susan first got together. How did you meet?’
‘We met at a New Year party at my mate’s parents’ house in Dalston.’
‘What year would that have been?’
‘That would have been the end of 1960, beginning of 1961.’
‘What happened at that party?’
‘Nothing much happened. We were having a couple of drinks, and they had a record player, so we were dancing. It was your typical New Year’s Eve party. We waited till midnight, and we drank a toast to the New Year, and did the Auld Lang Syne and the Hokey-Cokey and all the rest of it. Oh, and yeah, my mate’s mother was Scottish, so his elder brother as the first-born son had to come through the door carrying coal into the house just after midnight. It’s a Scottish custom, apparently.’
‘What about Susan?’
‘Susan was there. She was with a couple of her friends. I can’t say it was love at first sight or anything like that, but we noticed each other – let’s put it that way. We danced a few times, and it was obvious that we were attracted to each other. I asked how I could get in touch with her, and she gave me her phone number, and that was it, really.’
‘Did you have a girlfriend at that time?’
‘Not a regular girlfriend, no. There were two or three girls I took out, but no one steady.’
‘Did you contact her in the New Year?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And did you start going out?’
‘We did, yeah.’
‘And soon you were going steady?’
‘By about May, April or May, we were, yeah.’
‘And in due course, did you agree to get married?’
‘Yeah. I think I asked her in September, October, but we didn’t get married straight away. We tried to save a bit of money first. We got married in the June of the following year, 1962.’
&nbs
p; ‘You then had two daughters, didn’t you? Marianne, who was born on 8 October 1963, so she’s – well she’s going to be eight on Friday as a matter of fact, isn’t she?’
There was no reply. Looking up, Ben saw that Henry was weeping quietly.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Lang. I know this is hard for you.’
‘Too hard,’ Henry breathed, after some time.
‘And then you had Stephanie, who was born on 4 February 1966, so she’s now five.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And we will come back to this, but since Susan’s death, have both children been living with her parents?’
‘They have, yeah.’
He was weeping again.
‘I’m sorry, my Lord,’ Ben said, ‘but could we take a break, just for five or ten minutes, to allow Mr Lang to compose himself?’
At the second time of asking, Mr Justice Rainer agreed.
After Henry had returned to the dock and the judge had risen, Ben turned to Jess and Barratt.
‘Is he taking any interest in the proceedings at all?’
‘Not noticeably,’ Jess replied.
‘He’s still not taking any notes of the evidence,’ Barratt said. ‘God knows how he’s going to sum the case up to the jury.’
‘We need to take our own notes then,’ Ben said, ‘as detailed as possible.’
Barratt grinned. ‘I’ve been gripping my pen so hard I can hardly feel my right hand any more. I may have my arm in a sling by tomorrow. But don’t worry. Between us, Jess and I will have it word for word.’
65
‘Are you all right to continue, Mr Lang?’ Ben asked.
‘Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s just when I think about the girls…’
‘I understand –’
‘But I’m all right.’
‘Good. Then, let’s move on. Thinking back to that party on New Year’s Eve 1960, can you tell the jury what it was about Susan that attracted you?’
He shook his head. ‘She seemed different, you know. She’d taken a lot of trouble over her appearance. She’d put her hair up at the back, and she was wearing a nice dress, and makeup. Her friends hadn’t bothered very much at all. I remember one of them was even wearing a cardigan, but Susan looked really pretty. She was interesting to talk to, and there was something – I don’t know – something a bit exotic about her: the way she talked about herself; the way she wasn’t shy about talking about sex; and there was a smile she would give you when she really wanted to get your attention. I can’t really describe it, but…’