Chapter 33
December 1986
The last few weeks had passed slowly but peacefully, to Julie’s relief. As Les and his accomplice were being held in custody, Julie was thankful to see an end to the stream of abusive letters and phone calls. It felt strange at first; the daily torment following Amanda’s death had become so much a part of her life. She still sometimes found herself tensing as she answered the telephone, half expecting to hear the chilling sound of Les’s distorted voice, tormenting her, threatening her and sending a rush of fear coursing through her body. Neither did she have the constant dread of the police arriving on her doorstep at any minute.
For the first couple of weeks after Les and his accomplice had been arrested for the murders of Amanda, Jacqueline and Ernie she still dreaded walking into her home after work in case further threats had been received. Instead of seeing the upset faces of her family, however, she saw happy smiles. Things were almost back to normal, almost but not quite, because Julie knew deep down that nothing would ever erase Amanda’s death or the torment that she herself had suffered as a result.
Julie had changed. It was as though she had been forced to grow up, to face life as an adult and take stock. Her relationship with Vinny had also changed; for the better. Instead of seeing Vinny as a stop-gap, Julie now pictured him in a whole new light. He had been the one who had defended her, her knight in shining armour. It had heartened her to think that, despite the accusations, Vinny never lost faith in her and she could always depend on his loyalty. It also shamed her thinking of how she had used him in the past, and she vowed to herself that she would never mistreat him again.
What she now felt for Vinny ran deeper than that though. He had gained her respect and that was an important turning point in their relationship. She no longer viewed him as a dim-witted manual worker; he was strong, determined, and brave. Apart from proving himself by defending her, he was also proving himself in his working life. His decision to work for himself had paid off. Employers trusted a good, reliable worker and because of the many recommendations, he was now receiving more work than he could handle, and he had employed a trainee to help him with the workload.
Julie’s work-life was much better too. People now spoke to her instead of ignoring her. Some were even apologetic. One lady had approached her to have a word following Les’s arrest, assuring her that she knew deep down that she was all right, and that it was the force of public opinion and the fact that she was arrested that had made her think otherwise.
Things were never quite the same as before though. There were still a few people who didn’t bother with her, mainly Jacqueline’s old associates, and Julie was reminded of Amanda’s death every time she caught sight of one of them. Certain things brought back the dreadful memories too; the space under her desk where the first threatening parcel had sat, and the faint traces of the graffiti on the lavatory wall. Despite the fact that she was no longer under suspicion, Julie could still not face going into the canteen.
Julie didn’t go out with her friends as much now, maybe because they had grown out of all those wild nights or perhaps because all of their priorities had changed. Rita spent a great deal of her time in Greece in between doing casual work.
Rita was still planning to buy a bar with Yansis but respected his wishes to invest some of his own money towards it. They had reached a compromise. Rita would put most of her redundancy pay up front, Yansis would contribute as much as he could save for however long they were prepared to wait, and the rest of the money they would obtain by loan. Julie was glad in a way because she was concerned about Rita rushing into things. At least this way it gave Rita a chance to get to know Yansis better before she committed herself.
Despite the recent improvements to the lives of Julie and her family and friends, she still felt that she was living her life in limbo. She was waiting for some great momentous event that could help to erase the pain and sorrow that had surrounded her. That event was the trial of Leslie Stevens for the murders of Amanda Morris and two others, and the start of the trial had now arrived. It was another date that would remain in her memory forever; Monday 8th December 1986.
Julie felt utter trepidation at the thought of the trial. A tiny part of her didn’t want the trial to go ahead. Could she face it all again? But she knew that she must. It wasn’t only about justice; it was about seeing an end to an arduous chapter of her life and putting it behind her.
Her parents had offered to attend the trial with her but she had declined. She knew what a difficult time it was going to be and she wanted to shield them from any more sorrow. Hadn’t she caused them enough grief already? Instead she had agreed for Vinny to accompany her. Despite her concerns about the trial, she felt that Vinny was the best person to help her through it. She was now waiting for him to call and drive her to court. They had arranged to pick up Rita on the way.
Although she had been ready for the last ten minutes, the knock at the door still took her by surprise, shattering her already jangled nerves and making her realise just how worked up she was. Within seconds Vinny had walked into her room.
‘Come on then, let’s get it over with!’ he cajoled with mock optimism.
Julie stepped towards him and took a deep breath as he squeezed her hand in a reassuring gesture. They set off. When they arrived at Rita’s house, Julie was invited inside by Rita’s mother, a woman in her mid-forties who looked older, her hair streaked with grey, and her complexion jaded and lifeless.
‘Come in, I’ll give her a shout,’ she instructed.
To Julie’s dismay Rita wasn’t ready.
‘You’d better go up, I think she’s still tarting herself up,’ said Rita’s mother.
‘Rita, I don’t believe you!’ Julie cried when she caught sight of her at the bedroom mirror. ‘I wanted to be there early today. It’s important!’
‘Oh give over, we’re not that late! Besides, we can make a grand entrance,’ Rita replied as she applied another layer of mascara.
‘It’s a trial Rita, not a bleedin’ fancy dress party,’ Julie snapped.
‘Oh for Christ’s sake, lighten up will you? Get back on the bleedin’ happy pills or summat.’
That last comment stung Julie to the core. It upset her to realise just how insensitive Rita could be at times. They left Rita’s house in silence, a hostile atmosphere surrounding them as they joined Vinny in the car.
‘Hiya Vinny, are you all right?’ Rita asked.
Julie remained silent as did Vinny. Instead of starting the car immediately, he leaned over and took Julie’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, everything will be all right,’ he assured her. ‘Why don’t you take one of those pills the doctor gave you to calm you down?’
‘I don’t like to, I thought I was past all that.’
‘Just think of it as temporary. It’s just to get you through these next couple of days. It’s not like you’re going to be on them forever, is it?’
‘Oh all right then,’ Julie agreed, relieved in a way that her use of tranquillisers had been condoned. She had felt the need of something to calm her down for the last two days but had managed to fight the urge, telling herself that she should be able to manage without. Managing without at a time like this, however, was proving very difficult. The previous night, despite a stiff measure of brandy, sleep had evaded her until four o’clock in the morning, making her feel even worse. She reached into her bag and withdrew the small tablet bottle.
Rita must have felt guilty at her own insensitivity, as she said, ‘I’m sorry about what I said about the happy pills Julie. You go for it if it makes you feel better. We all handle things in different ways; there’s no need to feel bad about it. I wouldn’t mind a couple of them myself at the end of the trial topped down with a good measure of Bacardi and Coke to celebrate putting that bastard behind bars.’
Vinny tutted and pounded at the hand break. He then slammed the car into gear and sped up the road. Following her faux pas, Rita remained silent for most of the jou
rney.
When they arrived at the courts five minutes late, they were directed to Court 3. Julie became more agitated on noticing that there was nobody waiting outside the court; they had already gone inside.
‘Oh I don’t believe it; I knew we were going to be bloody late!’ she cried.
‘It’s all right,’ said a court official, you’re not due to give evidence yet; you’ve got plenty of time.’
He directed them to a separate waiting area where they were to remain until called to give evidence. Vinny gave Julie a quick kiss goodbye then made his way to the public gallery to watch the trial. As well as Amanda, Les was being tried for the murders of Ernie and Jacqueline.
Although Julie and Rita were being called as witnesses to the night of Amanda’s death, Julie felt as though she was being tried herself. She knew that once the defence barrister started questioning her, she would once again feel as though the finger of accusation was being pointed towards her.
They were told that they wouldn’t have to wait long but the court officials were unable to specify exactly how long the wait would be. It hadn’t occurred to Julie or Rita to bring anything with them to help pass the time; they had other things on their minds. It was doubtful whether they would have been able to concentrate anyway. Instead they spent the time speculating about what was happening in the courtroom, what they could expect and how much longer they would have to wait.
As the minutes turned to hours and the tension mounted, their periods of discussion were interspersed by Rita pacing the room and Julie biting the wicks around her nails.
‘You’ll have no bleedin’ nails left the way you’re going on,’ declared Rita.
‘I’m not biting my nails, I’m biting my wicks,’ snapped Julie.
‘Your wicks then; look at them, they’re going all red.
‘Oh, who gives a shit? They’re only bleedin’ nails! You’re the one that’s marching round the room like a demented sergeant major. You’re driving me up the wall!’
‘Oh, belt up Julie. It’s not my fault those bastards are keeping us waiting. They’re probably doing it on purpose to wind us up.’
Rita then proceeded to hammer on the door, shouting for attention until Julie yelled at her. ‘Will you give over Rita? For God’s sake; you’re not helping matters! They can’t make it go any faster. We’ve just got to wait until they’re ready for us.’
She was on the verge of tears at this point and Rita, shocked by Julie’s outburst, stopped what she was doing and took the seat beside Julie. Realising that the tension was getting to them both, Rita took Julie’s hand and said, ‘I’m sorry Jules, it’s just that it’s driving me mad in here. I feel like I’m back in that bleedin’ cell again.’
Julie didn’t respond straightaway, but sat contemplating. After a few moments she spoke:
‘I can’t do it, I just can’t face it!’
‘Julie, you’ve got to face it, you’re a key witness,’ Rita cajoled. ‘Just think of how relieved you’ll feel when it’s all over.’
But Rita’s tender approach was having no effect as Julie was becoming more distressed and refusing to give evidence. After a few minutes and several futile attempts to talk Julie round, Rita was also becoming agitated. As frustration took over she abandoned her persuasive efforts and reverted to type.
‘You’ve got to fuckin’ do it!’ she shouted.
‘You remember what it was like at the police station,’ Julie pleaded. ‘That bastard defence will make us look guilty, and it’ll be just like it was when we were arrested.’
‘No it won’t! It’s just a game to them. Everyone knows what a load of bullshit it is. Besides, we’ve got a good bloke on our side, and think of the grilling that bastard Les is gonna get when he gets up there. That’ll be something to look forward to.’
‘I can’t do it!’
‘You fuckin’ can and you will! I don’t care how many happy pills it takes Julie; you’re gonna do it. Let’s get this over with once and for all!’ Rita roared with an air of finality that forced Julie to a silent consent. She knew that Rita was right, despite the compelling way in which she voiced her opinion.
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Monday 8th December 1986
The interior of the courtroom was an unnatural environment for Julie. It reeked of officialdom and, as she walked in, she noticed a number of people in smart suits, gowns and wigs whispering amongst themselves. She caught the eye of Inspector Bowden who stared at her. A feeling of paranoia seized her as she sensed the atmosphere that seemed to descend on the public gallery. Then she spotted him, Les Stevens, standing in the dock. His ferocious glare tore through her, reminding her of the vicious attack that he had subjected her to.
After a few minutes the judge called the court to silence and the multitude of voices faded amidst a rustling of papers. The quietness unnerved Julie and she felt a compulsion to clear her throat repeatedly.
Julie was helped by the fact that Rita had taken the stand prior to her. Just as Julie had surmised, Rita had given a good account. Even as Julie stood trembling in anticipation of her turn in the witness stand, she smiled inwardly at the thought that Rita would have given the defence lawyer a good run for his money.
“All I have to do is take it calmly, and not let that defence lawyer trip me up,” she told herself in an attempt at positivity. The looks of encouragement that Vinny and Rita were giving her were also encouraging.
Nevertheless, as she approached the witness stand, she was acutely aware of the ominous silence in the courtroom, the faces that followed her and the evil eyes of Les Stevens, piercing through her, willing her to slip up. She took the Bible in her right hand and swore on oath as instructed, her hand shaking so much that she almost dropped it.
The prosecution barrister began his examination, starting with simple questions although, to Julie, even confirming her name and address in front of an audience of ardent listeners was a struggle.
He seemed a pleasant enough man, late 50s and a little obese, but still with handsome, kindly features and a shock of silver grey hair. He spoke gently, attempting to put her at ease, and within a few minutes his soothing tones had had the desired effect as Julie started to feel the tension drain away from her body, feeling that he was on her side.
By the end of his questioning, he had prompted Julie into giving an account that had the jury almost reaching for their handkerchiefs. The scenario that he had outlined was that Julie, a decent, law-abiding citizen had, in recent months, had to cope with the bereavement of a close friend. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she had been labelled guilty of her murder and been persecuted by former friends and colleagues. On top of that, she had also been a victim of Leslie Stevens’ callousness as he subjected her to months of harassment because she had threatened to expose him.
She felt relieved when he had finished, knowing that the jury were impressed by his emotive speech. “So far, so good,” she thought until the defence barrister stood up. “Now here comes the difficult bit.”
The defence barrister was a thin, wiry man with harsh, ferret-like features and an odd twitch to the top right of his lip. His eyes were small and piercing, and his movements hasty and edgy.
He began his cross-examination straightaway, hardly giving Julie a chance to draw breath.
‘Now, Miss Quinley, if I can take you back to the night of Friday 20th June once again. You have already admitted to the court that Miss Amanda Morris was extremely drunk when she arrived home that night?’
‘Yes,’ Julie replied.
‘All right, well perhaps we can move back a little to the actual night out itself. Can you estimate how many drinks Miss Morris had consumed prior to returning home?’
‘Not really, no. Well, we were all knocking them back really; it’s difficult to say.’
‘Are you suggesting that you were so drunk yourself that you are unable to say how many drinks Amanda Morris consumed?’
‘No, it’s just that we were that busy having a good t
ime, that’s all.’
‘Very well, perhaps you could tell the jury how many drinks you yourself consumed.’
‘Objection!’ cried the prosecution. ‘The witness is here to give evidence regarding Amanda Morris’s drunkenness, not her own.’
‘I am exploring Miss Quinley’s reliability as a witness,’ the defence argued.
‘Very well, objection overruled,’ said the judge.
The defence wasted no time in returning to his question. ‘Well, Miss Quinley, can you tell the jury please, how many alcoholic drinks did you consume on the night of 20th June?’
‘I don’t know, a few…maybe eight or so.’
‘Eight drinks or more?’ queried the defence emphasising the word eight. ‘I think that would hardly place you in a sober frame of mind, would it?’
‘I was all right. I can take my drink.’
‘Perhaps we can discuss what Miss Morris was drinking that caused her to be so intoxicated.’
“Oh no!” thought Julie. “Here we go.”
The defence had probably already presented witnesses who claimed to have seen Julie and Rita add something to Amanda’s drink, so she knew there was no point denying it.
‘We slipped a few shorts in her drink, that’s all. We just wanted her to loosen up a bit so we could give her a good night out.’
There were a few disgraced mutterings around the courtroom as the defence said, ‘I hardly think your pranks resulted in a good night out, did they Miss Quinley?’
‘No,’ Julie uttered, feeling her face and neck redden.
‘What about when you left the last public house, the Boardrooms, what sort of state was Miss Morris in by this time? Was she coherent? Could she walk unassisted?’
‘No, she was rambling on a bit. We had to help her out of the pub, but she did seem to be sobering up a bit while we were waiting for the taxi.’
‘And what about when you arrived at her flat; what sort of a state was she in then?’
Slur: The Riverhill Trilogy: Book 1 Page 22