The Witches of Wandsworth

by Pat Herbert

  “Sense, sir?”

  Rathbone was glad to see his boss was in a good mood for once. In fact, he was positively ebullient.

  “Yes, Rathbone, sense! You should see Pickles’ face.”

  “What are you talking about, guv?”

  “Oh, sorry, getting ahead of myself there. The prosecution’s managed to persuade the judge to call Minnie Knox. That’ll scupper that bastard for sure.”

  “Which bastard? Carstairs or Pickles?”

  “Both, Rathbone, both.”

  “But I thought Pickles had managed to get Minnie’s evidence thrown out. How come they’ve changed their minds?”

  “It’s that Pym. He’s an even more devious bastard than Pickles. Said the fact Carstairs got his daughter pregnant meant that he had a motive for killing her. So, Minnie’s evidence is admissible after all.”

  “But it’s only her word. Not enough, I would have thought…”

  “Of course, it’s not enough. Whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter to the prosecution. The doubt will be put into the minds of the jury who will now hate Carstairs so much that, even if they brought in a man who confessed to the killing at the eleventh hour, they would still bay for Carstairs’ blood.”

  Rathbone was uneasy in his mind. “It’s wrong, you know, sir,” he said quietly. “If Carstairs is innocent, he’ll never be believed now.”

  “No, he won’t, will he?”

  

  Minnie Knox looked nervously around the court from her vantage point in the witness box. She cleared her throat and shuffled her feet as the clerk asked her to take the Bible in her right hand and repeat the words on the card he was holding up for her.

  “I sw-swear by almighty G-God,” she stumbled.

  “Take your time, dear,” said the judge kindly. “And speak up.”

  Minnie looked across at him, taking in his wizened features, piggy blue eyes and ridiculous wig. He looked like something out of the Dark Ages to her and, far from being intimidated by him, found she wanted to laugh.

  “Th-that the evidence I shall give will b-be the truth, the wh-whole tr-truth and n-nothing but the t-truth.”

  Pym stood up and tucked his thumbs into the lapels of his gown in the time-honoured manner. “Is your name Minnie Knox?” he asked.

  “Y-yes,” she replied.

  “Now, don’t be nervous,” he said. “We only need to ask you a few questions, then you can leave. All right?”

  Minnie nodded her head.

  “For the benefit of the jury, you must speak up,” interjected the judge, who was a trifle deaf himself.

  “She hasn’t said anything yet,” Pym pointed out.

  “Well, when she does – tell her to speak up.”

  “Right, Your Honour. So, Miss Knox, you told the police, did you not, that Helen Carstairs was your best friend?”

  Minnie nodded again.

  “Answer the question with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

  “Er- sorry – y-yes.”

  Bernard and Elvira were sitting at the back of the court following the proceedings with nervous interest. Elvira was still trying to digest what had happened the previous evening at the cottage. They had no need to attend today, but both felt they needed to see it through to the end. It was more interesting to sit in the public gallery and watch the drama below them than it was to sit outside the court, unaware of what was going on.

  Elvira felt sorry for young Minnie Knox, standing up there in the witness box, with all eyes on her. She was too young to be going through such an ordeal. She had found the experience bad enough, but the girl looked ready to faint with fright. Which is what she did.

  An official rushed over to her with a glass of water. The judge banged his gavel. “Order!” he demanded. “As we – er – have come to a natural break, as it were, we will adjourn for the day,” he said. “It’s almost half-past three. Let us give this young lady time to recover. We will reconvene tomorrow morning at ten.”

  Minnie was slowly coming round as the judge addressed her kindly. “Miss Knox, you will be in attendance to give your testimony at that time.” He looked meaningfully at the young girl as she sat in the witness box sipping her water.

  “Court will rise,” ordered the usher.

  

  The order of witnesses changed the next day, giving Minnie more time to calm herself. Her mother was sitting beside her outside the court, holding her hand.

  “I still don’t know why they’ve called you, dear,” said Sylvia Knox. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Minnie, who didn’t want her mother to know what lie she was about to tell to the court, took her hand away. “You don’t have to hold my hand, Mum,” she grumbled. “I’m not a child.”

  “But why have you been called? And why didn’t you tell me before so I could have come with you yesterday? You shouldn’t have to go through this on your own. Whatever it is.”

  “Look, Mum, it’s all a misunderstanding. Don’t worry. I suppose they just want to talk to me about Helen, as I was her best friend.”

  Sylvia wasn’t satisfied but could see she wasn’t going to get anything more out of her daughter.

  As they sat there, they looked up to see Colonel Powell who had just come out of court number one. He was muttering to himself.

  “Hello, Colonel,” Sylvia called out to him. She liked the old duffer and often passed the time of day with him. “Have you been called as a witness, too?”

  He turned at her voice. “Oh, hello, dear lady. Er, dear ladies, I should say. I didn’t see you sitting there. Are you here to give evidence at the Carstairs trial?” he asked, coming to sit beside them.

  “Not me. My daughter,” answered Sylvia. “Although I’m not sure why and she won’t tell me.”

  “Oh, Mum. Don’t keep on.”

  “Anyway, what is your part in all this, Colonel?” Sylvia asked, ignoring her daughter’s rudeness. She was used to it.

  “I had to tell them what I saw on the night of the murder. I got a right telling off for my pains, as well.”

  “Why was that?” She glanced nervously at Minnie, hoping her daughter wasn’t about to suffer the same fate.

  The old man shrugged. “I told them what I saw, but that prosecution bod gave me such a hard time. It was dark, I told him, and I’d had a few.” He coughed nervously. His drinking was legendary throughout the neighbourhood, and he could see Sylvia smiling slightly. “I told them I saw two people, I thought they looked like women, but I couldn’t be sure. Anyway, I saw two people that night, about midnight, carrying what looked like a rolled up carpet between them.”

  “Oh? Why was that significant?”

  “Because, dear lady, it could have concealed a body. And they were carrying it towards the Common where that poor girl’s body was found.”

  “Oh, I see. But why was the barrister cross with you?”

  He looked down at his feet, one of which was still bandaged up. He could feel it throbbing through the layers. He gave a derisory snort.

  “Just because I couldn’t tell him that one of them was Henry Carstairs. He pushed and pushed, but I wasn’t going to say I’d seen him when I hadn’t. I wasn’t going to perjure myself.”

  “Quite right,” said Mrs Knox. The prosecution couldn’t prove Henry was somewhere where he definitely wasn’t.

  “Hmmph!”

  Although Colonel Powell was inarticulate, Sylvia understood him completely. To her, he was a harmless old duffer who drank too much, but his heart was in the right place. No court of law could intimidate the likes of him. He’d seen too much on the battlefields of the Somme and Ypres.

  “Well, if you’re not sure who it was you saw, then you can’t say, can you? You can only tell the truth.”

  They watched the colonel hobble off along the corridor, and mother and daughter exchanged a grin, united for once in their amusement at the poor colonel’s affliction. He looked a comical figure to them as he disappeared from view.

  “Poor old soul,” o
bserved Sylvia. “He doesn’t know the time of day, does he?”

  Minnie giggled in agreement.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Minnie Knox lay on her bed, listening to the noise of the radio in the room below. It was a comedy, she could tell by the bursts of laughter every so often. She wished she could laugh along with them. Once or twice she heard her mother laugh too, something she hadn’t heard her do for a while.

  Sylvia Knox had ordered her daughter to bed on their return from the court. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other on the journey back. “I don’t want to see you or hear you, is that clear? I’ll come and talk to you when I’m ready.”

  Minnie had known what she was in for when she had stood in the witness box that afternoon. Her mother, despite Minnie’s protests, had insisted on coming into the court with her. If only she had remained outside waiting for her, all would have been well. She would have been sitting with her mother now, enjoying Tommy Trinder too.

  She must have dozed off, fully clothed, for the next thing she knew her mother was in the room, holding a cup of tea.

  “What’s the time?” she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

  “Nine o’clock,” replied Sylvia. “I’ve made you a cup of tea.”

  Minnie sat up and took it from her. “Thanks, Mum,” she said, realizing she was very thirsty. After taking one sip, however, she pulled a face. ”You’ve put too much sugar in it,” she complained.

  “Sugar’s supposed to be good for shock,” said her mother. “You’ve had a shock today. At least one of us has.”

  Minnie put the cup down on her bedside table. “I – I’m sorry, Mum.”

  Sylvia Knox glared at her daughter. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry for not drinking the tea I kindly made for you or for lying in court? If it’s that, then ‘sorry’ doesn’t begin to cover it. What were you thinking? I still can’t believe I heard you say those words. About Henry of all people. He’s always been so kind to you.”

  Minnie started to sob uncontrollably.

  “Oh, yes, you can cry, missy.” Sylvia’s face was stern, but her heart was already melting. “Just tell me why. You know what you told them isn’t true. Why did you lie?”

  “I … I don’t know … I wish …” Minnie continued to sob.

  Sylvia put her arms around her daughter, unsure what to say or do. Although she loved the very bones of her, she had never been a demonstrative woman and had rarely given Minnie hugs, even when she was small. So why now? she wondered. Now, when she should be chastising her instead?

  Minnie gulped back her tears and tried to regain her composure. “I – I need to tell you something….”

  “Okay. You can tell me anything, you know that. And, well, if it explains what you said in court today, I think you’d better.”

  Minnie climbed off the bed and retrieved her slippers from under it. “You like Mr Carstairs, don’t you, Mum?”

  “That’s an odd question,” said Sylvia nervously. “You know I do. He’s been a tower of strength since your dad died.”

  “You like him more than a bit, don’t you?” Minnie stood in front of her.

  Sylvia, still sitting on the bed, stared up at her. “What are you getting at?”

  “He’s been coming round here more and more often, even when we don’t need anything. Well, not anything like fixing a leaky tap, at least.”

  Sylvia was beginning to realize her daughter knew more about her relationship with Henry than she had ever suspected. “Well, of course. He’s been a good friend to us,” said Sylvia. “He – he sometimes came for a cup of tea and a chat. What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, if that’s all it was. But, all right, Mum, I know. I’ve known for a long time.”

  “Known what?”

  Sylvia Knox stood up and went over to her daughter, a wild look on her face. She grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently. ”Known what?” she repeated.

  “He’s been sharing your bed.” It was out at last.

  “Wash your mouth out, my girl,” Sylvia screamed. “That’s a wicked thing to say.”

  Minnie stood her ground. “It’s true, though, isn’t it?”

  “Of course it’s not true! Who’s been telling you such lies? Helen again?”

  “I wasn’t told anything. I saw with my own eyes.”

  Sylvia Knox stepped back and fell onto the bed, her limbs too weak to hold her up. “How – how could you h-have seen us? We were always so careful.”

  “You never knew,” said Minnie. Her mother was at her mercy now. “I came home from school earlier than usual one day – they’d sent me home because I had a headache. I came home expecting you to comfort me and give me one of your endless cups of tea, but instead there was no sign of you. I thought you were at the shops, and then I heard voices coming from your bedroom.”

  Her mother gulped. “You – you h-heard voices? Coming from the bedroom?”

  “Yes,” said Minnie. “Need I go on?”

  “I – I – er – you m-must understand – a woman has needs…”

  “I saw you in bed with him. You never saw me…”

  “Oh God,” said Sylvia. “I never knew. Why didn’t you say anything? We never meant for it to happen, but one thing led to another…”

  “How many times did – ‘one thing lead to another’?”

  “Oh, dear, you don’t need to know. Just that Henry’s a kind man. He was a rock after your dad died. I couldn’t have managed without him.”

  “I bet you couldn’t.”

  “Look, Minnie, I’m not proud of myself. But you must never tell Ivy. It’d break her heart.”

  “What’s the betting she already knows? She’s not a fool. She must have noticed something.”

  “Why would she? Henry always came in the afternoon – except that time when Ivy was away visiting her sister. It was the night of the murder – so I know for a fact that he couldn’t have done it. He was here with me – all night!” She spat the last two words at her daughter.

  “Then why don’t you tell the police?”

  “Because he won’t let me. He wants to protect me.”

  “Or his own rotten reputation, more like.”

  “Whatever the reason, he won’t let me tell them. But I’m going to if they find him guilty.”

  “Don’t forget the other charge.” Minnie smiled snidely. “The jury believed every word I said, I could tell.”

  “You can’t let people believe that of him. You have to tell the truth.”

  “Do I?”

  Sylvia wondered when her daughter had become so hard. It seemed her secret liaison with Henry had turned her into a lying little bitch.

  “Helen’s baby isn’t Henry’s. Whatever you say about her, and I know she was your best friend, she wasn’t a saint. You know she’d got in with a bad crowd, don’t you?”

  Minnie shrugged. “So?”

  Sylvia couldn’t control herself any longer. She slapped her daughter across the face. “You bitch! You told the police that he was the father as some kind of sick revenge on him? You wanted him to be put in prison for something he didn’t do – just because – just because I slept with him?”

  Minnie put her hand to her cheek. Her mother hadn’t hit her hard, but she pretended it hurt more than it did. “Mum! That hurt!” she protested.

  “Serve you right. Anyway, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  Still rubbing her cheek, Minnie looked contrite now. “I – I didn’t mean to let it get this far. But I can’t retract now, can I? Won’t I be done for perjury?”

  Sylvia Knox stood up again. “You should have thought of that before. Anyway, you have to put the record straight. Hopefully, they’ll let you off with a caution when I explain to the police why you said it in the first place.” She wasn’t convinced it would be that easy, but Minnie was young, younger even than her age. And as long as she was genuinely sorry, all would surely be well. “Did – did Helen tell you who the father was? Was it that Tyrone?”


  “No – no it wasn’t him. She said it was just some boy she met at an all-night party. I don’t think she even knew his name. I didn’t approve, of course.”

  “You don’t really approve of anything, do you, Minnie? You just can’t accept that people are human with human failings – even your own mother.”

  Minnie burst out crying again. “Please, Mum, you’ve got to help me.”

  “The only way I’ll help you, my girl, is to march you straight down to the police station so you can make another statement. A true one, this time.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  After Elvira had finished her third port and lemon, courtesy of Bernard, she felt on top of the world, as if she could do anything she set her mind to. Her state of near euphoria wasn’t just down to the port and lemons, either. Colonel Powell’s evidence had been inconclusive at best, leaving the prosecution case no further forward. She was happy about that. But she was even happier that the old colonel hadn’t given her away. He must have a sneaking liking for her, she thought. It was becoming clearer to her, by the day, that she had more friends than she had once thought.

  Robbie had joined them in the Feathers that evening and, after Bernard and Elvira had brought him up to date with the day’s court proceedings, he bought another round.

  “I really can’t believe Carstairs would rape his own daughter,” said Robbie rather graphically, setting the tray of drinks down. “I’ve no liking for the man, but I don’t see him as that kind of a monster.”

  Both Bernard and Elvira agreed. “He’s a bit of a stuffed shirt,” observed Bernard, “but I’m sure he’s a decent enough man.”

  “Is that because he comes to church every Sunday?” Robbie raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Not just because of that, no,” said Bernard huffily. “He has given quite a lot to St Stephen’s one way or another. Only last month he gave me a cheque towards some repairs. He loves the church.”

  “So, you can’t see him writing that cheque with one hand and fiddling with his daughter with the other?” Robbie continued to be uncomfortably graphic.