After I had been sworn in, exactly as we had rehearsed, Mum’s barrister guided me through the events of that afternoon. She knew which details were likely to have an emotional impact on the jury so, if I forgot to include them, she would skilfully bring them out via her questioning. I didn’t look at Mum or Noah, focusing on every word of every question that was asked.
“No further questions, Your Honour.” Both Mark and the barrister gave me a smile before sitting down.
“Court adjourned for one hour,” the judge said before standing and waiting for everyone else to follow suit. The clerk shepherded me into an adjoining room where Mark joined me.
“You did well, Grace.”
“How did the jury react? I couldn’t look at them.”
“I’d say that you had them believing you were nothing but an innocent victim in all this and Andrea had no choice but to save you.”
His response angered me. “That’s the truth! It’s not about making them believe something!”
“Calm down. I’ve told you how the system works. Sometimes people don’t want to believe the truth or they need convincing that decent people can do terrible things. You did a good job. Let’s just hope that Anderson doesn’t give you too hard a time under cross-examination.” He had already told me that the prosecution solicitor didn’t need a barrister to support his side; Anderson was well-known as a terrier, refusing to let go until he had what he wanted from the witness. It was the reason Mark had reduced me to tears on several occasions with uncomfortable and personal questions during our practice sessions.
I ate a sandwich that could have been made of cardboard for all the notice I took of it and freshened up, willing the clock to tick faster. Revising the practice questions, I silently gave answers, including remembering to look up at where the jury would be. When the clerk returned to walk me back, I was as ready as I could be.
Which was so far from ready.
Anderson’s body language was as hostile as his tone when he introduced himself, the first time I’d seen what Mark had meant yet underestimated.
“Miss Dawson, may I call you Grace?” I had to accede to his first request or appear rude. First point to Anderson.
“Yes.”
“Thank you. You look very smart today. Is this how you would usually dress?”
“Objection!” He had antagonised Mark with his second question. Two points to Anderson.
“Sorry. I don’t want to upset you, Grace. Let me rephrase that,” he offered with a smarmy smile at the jury. “What were you wearing on the afternoon in question?”
I breathed a sigh of relief that this was one of the questions I had rehearsed. “Leggings and a tee shirt. I’d been at a drama rehearsal.”
“Oh, so these were clothes designed to help you move around easily?”
“Yes.”
“Like gymwear? Stretchy? Form-fitting?” I could see where he was going with this and knew how to respond.
“No. They were black, calf-length leggings like many women wear every day. The tee shirt was long and baggy, like a nightshirt.”
“I see, more like nightwear than gymwear. Interesting.” He looked at the jury in a knowing way, willing them to pass judgement on my choice of clothing.
“That isn’t what I meant. I was covered up. I was decent!” As soon as I said it, I knew he had won another point. It was me, not him, who had made the jury question me with my suggestion that sometimes what I wore wasn’t decent. I closed my mouth and looked at Mark’s serious face. Keeping them out of sight, I gripped my hands tightly and reminded myself to stay calm.
“Let’s move on, shall we? What was your relationship with William Hayden?”
“I didn’t really know him.”
“You need to be clearer than that, Grace,” Anderson said with another look at the jury, as though delivering a silent aside to the audience. “What exactly do you mean by ‘really’? Had you met him before?”
“Yes.”
“Had you spoken to him before?”
“Yes.”
“Did you like him?” The emphasis he put on the word like made my skin crawl.
“No!”
“Why such a strong response, Grace? Was that too close to the truth?”
“Objection!”
“Overruled. Please answer the question, Miss Dawson,” the judge instructed.
“I didn’t like him and I didn’t trust him. I tried to keep away from all of Jim’s friends.”
“Who was Jim?”
“My mum’s boyfriend.”
“And he had lots of friends who came to the house?”
“Yes.”
“And did you feel the same about all of these men? That you didn’t trust them?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell your mother that you felt this way?” And that was when I saw the scale of the trap he had lured me into. His questions weren’t just about me, even though I had treated them as such. They were more about demonising Mum. And he was getting me to do the hard work for him.
“Yes,” I admitted before looking at Mum. Her head was bowed, allowing her hair to cover her face, a pose I was familiar with looking at over recent years. I had to say something to make it better. “But look at what had happened to her. She lost her husband, her home and then her son. She was struggling to bring up two children—”
“Miss Dawson, please. You should only answer the question you are asked. Counsel, please advise your witness that any further outbursts will find her in contempt of court.”
“Of course, Your Honour. Grace, please just answer the question,” Mark told me, stroking his tie, our signal to ignore what he was saying.
“But nobody is asking the right questions. What would you do in that situation?” I addressed the jury directly. “You’re struggling to pay the bills, you’re lonely and probably suffering from depression. You’ve got two kids who don’t understand what is going on—”
“Miss Dawson! Please be quiet!” The judge’s lack of understanding frustrated me as much as Anderson’s insidious questioning, but I stayed quiet.
“I’m sorry for that, ladies and gentlemen,” Anderson said to the jury, but I knew that some of them had taken on board what I said. I had seen the understanding, the empathy in their eyes. Anderson directed a couple of straightforward questions at me and I started to believe the worst was over. I was wrong.
“Now Grace, in your testimony, you said, and I quote, ‘He pressed me into the cupboard from behind and I could feel he was aroused.’ Could you have misunderstood what was happening? Maybe he was reaching over you, to get something from a cupboard perhaps?”
“He wasn’t reaching for anything. Both of his hands were on me, one on my hip and one in my hair.” I remembered every movement of both.
“Ah, I see. So he was deliberately touching you. Thank you for that.” There was another dramatic pause. “Now, Grace, you were seventeen at the time. How can you be sure he was aroused?” I was repulsed by his question and waited for Mark to object. How on earth was I supposed to answer that question without making myself look far removed from an innocent victim?
Anderson pushed for an answer and the jury were all looking at me intently, ready to judge Mum on the basis of my past. “Maybe it was his hipbone or his belt buckle, Grace? How can you be sure?” Even the way he was saying my name made my skin crawl.
I glanced up at Noah for reassurance but he wasn’t there.
“I know what I felt and it wasn’t a hipbone or a belt buckle.” My voice showed that my spirit was seeping out of me with every question, every time I was being made to feel like crap about myself.
“But how did you know?” Anderson’s refusal to concede his point brought me to tears.
I looked down at my hands. “Because he was pressing it into me so hard I could feel the shape. Because he unzipped his jeans and rubbed it against me. Because—”
“Objection! This witness is not on trial here, Your Honour, and nobody is disputing the nat
ure of the attack.”
“Sustained. Counsel, you will refrain from any such lines of questioning. Continue.”
“No further questions, Your Honour.” Anderson shot me a look of disdain and sat down, immediately scribbling notes of our exchange.
“Thank you, Grace,” Mark said as he approached the witness stand and helped me down. “Go and have a break.” We had practised this departure too, but I hadn’t realised then that I would need the strength of his body to support me as I left the courtroom, emotionally shattered.
NOAH WAS STOOD in the same spot as the day before and rushed over before the door had closed behind me. Placing an arm around my shoulders, he walked us to his car and sat me in the passenger seat, all without saying a word. “I can see your brain whirring. Stop thinking,” he said as he pulled the seatbelt across me.
If only it were that easy to forget Anderson’s questions and the way he made me feel about myself.
“Why did you leave?” I asked when he started the engine. He didn’t reply but pulled out into the traffic and drove us home. To my home. That was all the answer I needed.
When he pulled into a parking space on my road, I opened the car door before he had even switched off the engine, wanting to make the goodbye as quick and painless as possible. “Thank you.” I registered him following me up the path. “I’ll be fine from here.”
Noah ignored my hint and continued to follow me. At the front door, I turned to him and looked at his face for the first time. I saw the cloud of raw pain. Maybe this ending was going to be as hard for both of us.
“Please go. Don’t make this any worse than it already is,” I pleaded.
“I’m not having this conversation on the doorstep. Open the door.” I didn’t have the strength to argue so did as I was told. He followed me up the two flights of stairs to my flat and waited as I let us in. Once the door was closed behind us, he picked me up and carried me to my bedroom. Standing me up long enough to take off our coats and shoes, he lay me down as though I were made of glass before lying next to me, scared any pressure might shatter me.
“What is happening here, Noah?” I couldn’t read him, couldn’t see any of the usual signals that told me where his mind was at.
“I have never felt as frustrated, as fucking impotent, as I did in that courtroom today, Grace. I wanted to rip that bastard’s throat out. I wanted to shout at that jury and make them understand the beautiful, talented, sweet person you are. I wanted to protect you but I couldn’t do a thing to help.” His voice was that of a broken man.
“You did help. You were there. You’re here.” Reaching out, I put my hand over his heart.
He sighed. “But it’s not enough, is it?”
“What do you mean?” I had only doubted him once today, but now I understood why he had left the courtroom when he did.
“It’s not enough for me.”
How much more did he want to feel? This was immense to me. “What do you mean?”
“I know it’s only a day since we said no big decisions, but I can’t do this. I can’t be just your friend. My feelings run so much deeper, so much bigger, than friendship. It feels like I’m lying to both of us pretending that I’m okay with this.” His body was straight with tension and still not touching me.
“I don’t think I’m okay with it, either,” I breathed as I took his hand and placed it over my heart. “I missed you so much when you were away. We hurt each other. We made mistakes. And Bob was right. We were both to blame. But that’s the past, and I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”
“Really?” He edged closer.
“Really. I have no idea what my future will look like or where it will be. All I know is that there will be a Noah-shaped hole and you’d better be filling it.”
“Is it wrong that I want to make highly inappropriate jokes about filling holes right now?” His grin was mirrored by mine.
“Probably. But hey, I could do with some light relief after the day I’ve had.”
His eyes darkened and he moved, leaving a mere sliver of air between us. “Let me help you to forget about it.” He traced a feather-light line down my spine before cupping my ass and melding our hips. “Let me make you feel better.” He scattered kisses on my neck and collarbone.
“Yes.” Resistance was futile; I had ached for this for too long. We both needed to erase the memories of the last time we had been together, of how we had tainted our love with the pain of losing Max.
My lips welcomed his, opening at the merest hint of his tongue. Heat flooded me at the pressure of his body against mine. I wasn’t quite sure how he removed my clothes without leaving me, but I was soon lying naked on the bed as he shimmied down my body. He buried his face between my legs, kissing, licking and stroking me until my legs were trembling and my body was arching off the bed.
“Please,” I begged, so close. His fingers beckoned me towards him and I gasped, breathing no longer as important as the way he was making me feel. He held my hips down and continued to kiss me as I began to free-fall through space, crying his name.
When I reacquainted myself with gravity, he was next to me, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“Feeling better?” There was a well-deserved note of smugness to his question.
“Oh, yes.” He kissed me, and I could taste my relief. I squirmed, uncertain as to how to ask the next question. “Umm, can I, umm, reciprocate?” Placing my hand on the fly of his trousers, I could feel how much he needed relief.
“How about we eat first?”
“That’s what I was suggesting,” I quipped.
“Ha ha. Like I said, later.” He moved off the bed and adjusted himself. “Have you got anything in the fridge, or shall I ring a takeaway?”
We were eating a Thai curry when my phone rang and Mark’s name flashed up on my screen.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I’ve just come from the station where Andrea is being held.”
“How is she?”
“She found today tough and she’s not in a great place.”
I withheld the sarcastic replies that played on the tip of my tongue.
“I know how she feels. Anderson was vile.” Noah rubbed his hand along my thigh as I talked, but my warm glow from earlier was disappearing with each second that passed.
“Well, that’s why I’m ringing. She doesn’t want you to be in court when she’s on the stand tomorrow.”
“Why? I want to be there to support her. I know what it will be like more than anyone else!” Noah’s hand stopped moving.
“I think she’s trying to spare you what she felt today, having to sit in silence as he ripped into you. It’s a hard thing to do.” I thought back to what Noah had said and knew Mark was right.
“Okay. I’ll do what she wants, but I want to be there for the rest of it. What time shall I come in for?” I needed to be as close to her as I could.
“It’s hard to tell. If Anderson wants to draw it out into the afternoon, the judge will probably adjourn for the rest of the day. He won’t want his summing up disturbed by a break.”
“I’ll come to the court at lunchtime. Can you let me know when the cross-examination starts?”
“Of course. And well done again for today, Grace. Stronger people have fallen harder than you did in the face of Anderson.” His words sounded sincere.
“Thank you. But even in the role-play practices, you weren’t as vicious as he was. I’m glad you’re on Mum’s side.”
“Thanks. Have a good night.” Mark hung up and I crawled closer to Noah, needing comfort.
There was no ‘later’ after all. He held me until I fell asleep and was still holding me when the next day dawned.
WE CREPT INTO the public gallery and stood against the back wall so Mum couldn’t see us. I tried so hard to stay downstairs, but as the cross-examination passed the two-hour mark, I needed to find out what was going on. I recognised the sound of Mum’s sobbing, having spent too many nights listening to it through the bedroom
wall. Noah gripped my hand, knowing how hard it would be for me not to make myself known.
“I put it to you that you felt guilty at the lifestyle you had exposed your children to, that you realised the unwholesome, wholly inappropriate, way you had been leading your life, irrespective of how unhappy it made them feel.” Anderson’s words hurt more than they had the day before, coated as they were in a veneer of truth.
“And, on the day in question, you were given the opportunity in some way to redeem yourself as a mother. A way of proving your love, if you will, because it hadn’t been visible to either your children or the people you were inviting into their home that you were capable of being what a mother should be—the person who protects her child, whatever the cost to herself.” I heard the sound of his leather soles as he moved across the courtroom. His next words were so quiet I struggled to hear them, and I imagined him close to Mum, whispering them in her face loudly enough for the jury to hear.
“So when you walked in and saw William Hayden with his hand between the legs of your seventeen-year-old daughter, you didn’t lose control at all. You didn’t suffer an abnormal state of mind. You saw the opportunity to make amends and you made the cold, calculated decision to take advantage of it. You are not a mother. You’re a murderer.” The sound Mum made in response to his taunting was similar to the one she made that day in the kitchen and I ran to the front of the balcony.
“Mum!”
Her hands dropped from Anderson’s neck and she fell back into her chair.
“Order! Order!” The judge banged his gavel, even though the room was sitting in stunned silence. “You overstepped the line, Anderson. Strike the last comments and defendant’s response from the record,” he ordered, and I could have kissed him for finally standing up to the bully. “Any further questions, Counsel? And trust me, they had better be factual recall and nothing else.”
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