With Mafuta thinking she was spending her day cooped up at the High Court, Tracy went home and carefully wrote what she knew could well be the most important article of her life, let alone her career. Now she just had to figure out how to get it to Darryl.
***
‘Are you allowed to read those?’ Gilad asked, indicating the newspapers she was holding. He plonked himself down on a flimsy-looking chair that creaked alarmingly.
‘I don’t see why not. They haven’t taken our cellphones away and there’s even more coverage online.’
‘I’m sure we’re not supposed to – or to discuss the case with each other.’
‘You’ve been watching too many American television series. It’s only the jury who are not supposed to read newspapers and we don’t have juries in South Africa. I’m sure there’s no rule that says we can’t talk to each other. Why else would be all be waiting together in this room?’
‘So what are you going to say?’ Gilad asked.
‘The truth. You?’
‘The truth.’
A court orderly stuck her head around the door. ‘Tracy Jacobs – Miss Tracy Jacobs! Please proceed to the courtroom now.’
‘Bye Tracy. Good luck,’ Gilad said.
‘What for?’ she asked, her heart hammering so fast she hoped she wouldn’t faint.
***
Tracy tried hard not to stare at Yair. He was so thin and pale. He didn’t look at her.
She spotted Aviva and Arno in the public gallery, only a few seats away from Susan Horwitz. Darryl looked at her and nodded. Yair’s advocate ignored her.
She swore on an Old Testament that she would tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but. Waiting for the prosecutor’s first question was like waiting for the gun at the start of a race on sport’s day at school. Tracy had always jumped at the sound, even though she’d known it was coming. And then she’d reacted so slowly that she invariably came last. Although she had come second last once, when Lara Braun tripped and twisted her ankle.
Tracy was relieved that the prosecutor’s questions were gentle, almost routine. She answered without hesitation: yes, she had attended the party – as a guest, not as a journalist; yes, she had spoken to both Tiffany and Yair. Could she recall her conversations with them?
Would she ever forget? ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Please tell the court about your conversation with the deceased,’ Mr Lefidi said.
Tracy had rehearsed this answer, so she did not hesitate. ‘Tiffany came and spoke to me in the spare bedroom where I was changing for the party. I had just come from work. She told me that Yair had rescued her in New York because she was destitute after her husband had died. She said she had moved into Yair’s—the accused’s—home and she made it very clear that they were now an item.’
‘An item?’ the prosecutor asked.
From the corner of her eye, Tracy noticed Yair staring at her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the prosecutor’s red tie.
‘She said they were a couple. She said she was pregnant and that they were going to announce their engagement at the party.’ Tracy bit her lip, hard. She would not allow herself to show the slightest emotion, let alone cry.
‘What did you do then?’
‘I went down to the party. I approached Yair who confirmed what Tiffany had told me. I congratulated him and I started to leave the party... but,’ Tracy hesitated. ‘But Gilad Zaldain tried to stop me. He appeared to be very drunk.’
Tracy saw Darryl and Yair’s advocate looking at her in surprise. The prosecutor also appeared to be a little confused at her answer.
‘Yes, thank you, Ms Jacobs. Your witness,’ Mr Lefidi said.
‘Good morning Ms Jacobs – or may I call you Tracy?’ Henriette Weinberg said.
‘Tracy’s fine.’
‘Thank you. You and Yair are good friends – close friends, correct?’
‘We were. Yes.’
‘Prior to your conversation with the deceased, had you been aware of any relationship between Yair and Tiffany?’
‘No! I was shocked – surprised when she told me.’
‘But you believed her?’
‘I had no reason not to. I knew Yair had been in New York and Tiffany was so pretty. Boys—men—had always liked her.’
‘Was anyone else present during this conversation? Can anyone corroborate what you have just told the court?’
‘I’m not lying!’
‘Of course not.’
‘Sorry. No, Tiffany and I were alone. No – wait. I think I saw Zivah in the doorway. She might have overheard.’
‘And were the conversations you’d had with the deceased and the accused the basis for your publication in the Daily Express that Yair and Tiffany were engaged to be married and that she was pregnant?’
‘Yes. As I said – Yair confirmed everything Tiffany had said.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ the advocate said.
Tracy gaped at her. ‘What? Of course I’m sure!’
‘I put it to you that my client did not confirm anything about his relationship with the deceased because there was nothing to confirm.’
Tracy didn’t know how to answer. Her mind was racing. Could she have misunderstood Yair? She tried the recall his exact words, but... nothing. All she could remember was Tiffany’s smug, smirking condescension.
‘I put it to you that you were upset and angry when you spoke to my client. You were upset, weren’t you?’
‘I was a bit upset, yes. As I said, I was shocked.’
‘So would you concede that you might have been mistaken and that my client did not confirm the deceased’s claims?’
‘No! I don’t know. Oh God, I don’t know.’
She looked across the courtroom at Yair. His expression of hurt cut her to the quick. She blinked furiously.
‘That’s all, Ms Jacobs. You can step down,’ the judge said.
Tracy stumbled out of the witness box. And then she remembered. She dug in her handbag for her carefully typed and printed notes. She’d wait for Darryl and give them to him as soon as the court adjourned. She just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter 36
Yair
Yair watched Tracy stumble from the witness box, her distress and confusion apparent for all to see. He wanted to call out to her, to tell her that it was all a huge, horrible mistake. He couldn’t believe that she’d genuinely thought he had confirmed Tiffany’s lies – but her sincere conviction that that had been the case was patently evident. He, meanwhile, had blamed her for believing Tiffany at all. He should have realised how vulnerable she was to Tiffany’s wiles. Despite her tough exterior, he knew—probably better than anyone—that inside, Red was a churning mass of insecurities and uncertainty. That was one of the things he loved about her. And he did love her. Despite everything, despite all the hurt and misunderstandings, despite her unbridled ambition to rise to the top in her profession, he loved her. And now it was too late. But at least some good would come of it all – Zivah would be safe.
‘Call Zivah Silverman,’ said the court orderly.
Yair barely recognised his little sister as she was guided to the witness box by a kindly-looking, middle-aged woman he had never seen before. Zivah’s long blonde hair had been cut into a neat above-the-shoulder bob; and she was wearing a bright blue and pink top under a pale blue jacket. Her matching skirt was short – a few centimetres above her knees. She had grown, Yair thought, and then realised that her long black boots sported a neat medium-height heel.
He turned around and saw Aviva gazing proudly at her. If Aviva had chosen Zivah’s outfit, she had done well. The frail wraith who had flitted around the house dressed only in white had grown up and been transformed into a beautiful young woman.
Except, Zivah would never grow up. Not like other young women.
‘My Lord,’ the prosecutor said. ‘Because of the special circumstances of this witness, it has been agreed that she be assisted, should this be necessary, b
y her psychologist, Dr Vivienne Taylor.’
So that’s who’s with her, Yair thought. He was furious that Zivah had been called to testify, but he felt slightly better knowing that a professional person was beside her. He just hoped she wouldn’t fall apart on the stand, or say something stupid and incriminate herself. And he knew that that was exactly what his lawyers were hoping for.
Mr Lefidi gently led Zivah through a series of innocuous questions about the rooms her brother had built for her and her relationship with him.
‘I love Yair. He is the best, best brother,’ she said, and blew him a kiss. There was a gentle ripple of laughter in the public gallery. Even the judge smiled.
‘Now Zivah. I want you to think very carefully. Do you remember the day of the party at your house?’
‘Oooh yes. It was my twenty-first party. I was a grown-up and Yair invited everyone to come and sing Happy Birthday to me.’
‘Did you see Tiffany there?’
‘Yes. I don’t like Tiffany. She was horrible to me.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ the prosecutor said. ‘Now, after the party, did you hear Yair and Tiffany arguing?’
‘Ooh yes. Yair was soooo cross. He was shouting and shouting and Tiffany was shouting too.’
‘Do you remember what they were shouting about?’
‘Oooh yes. Yair told Tiffany to fuck off out of our house. I was glad. Tiffany said Yair loved her better than me, but she was wrong. Yair told her to fuck off.’
Yair fought hard to contain his laughter, but the public gallery wasn’t as successful. Hearing Zivah’s sweet, soft, girly voice saying ‘fuck off’, in what she apparently thought was a close approximation of the way her brother had said it, was really funny.
Zivah, however, continued without pause: ‘So you see, he didn’t want her, or the baby. He didn’t love her. He didn’t want to marry her! She had to fuck off. Served her right for being so horrible to me.’
‘Did Tiffany tell you that she and your brother were going to get married?’
Zivah looked down. Yair knew that look – she was going to start crying, or screaming. The psychologist took her hand and whispered to her. Zivah nodded, gulped and looked back at the prosecutor.
‘She told Red. I wasn’t snooping, I promise, it was an accident, it was an accident. I wasn’t spying on her.’
Dr Taylor touched Zivah’s arm and spoke softly to her again. Yair watched, fascinated, as Zivah immediately calmed down.
‘That’s okay Zivah. I’m sure you weren’t snooping,’ Mr Lefidi said gently. ‘But I would be very pleased if you could tell me what else you heard Tiffany tell Red – who is Red?’
Zivah giggled. ‘Tracy. Yair calls her Red because she has red hair. I thought Yair was going to marry her but then Tiffany said Yair was going to marry her. I was so cross because I don’t want Yair to marry anyone. Except me. But, that’s just me being silly. Of course, he can’t marry me. Brothers aren’t allowed to marry their sisters. Dr Vivienne said so.’ She paused, tilted her head to one side, and then continued: ‘Actually, I wouldn’t mind so much if Yair married Red. She is never horrible to me, not like Tiffany.’
Yair’s face was flaming. He wondered if Red was in the courtroom listening to his little sister reveal his very private feelings for her to the entire world. Thankfully, the prosecutor interrupted: ‘What else did Tiffany say?’
‘I don’t know. I was cross with her, and Yair, so I went to find him to tell him that he couldn’t marry Tiffany. But then I saw Carol and I don’t like her, so I went back to my room.’
Yair looked at the psychologist in admiration. He had been trying to explain to Zivah for years that he could not marry her; and that their father could not have married her, but each time he’d tried, Zivah had flown into a rage. Now here she was, calmly discussing the subject and even giving her indirect blessing to his potential marriage to Red – albeit that that marriage was about as likely as... as his acquittal.
His delight at seeing the progress Zivah had made in the months since he had last seen her dissipated as Henti rose to cross-question her.
***
‘Zivah, do you understand that Yair is in a lot of trouble and that he needs you to tell the truth about everything?’ Henti asked.
Zivah nodded.
‘Do you understand the difference between the truth and a lie?’
Yair watched a flame light in Zivah’s eyes. For the first time in his life he found himself praying that Zivah would launch into a tantrum. That would end any chance of her answering any more questions.
‘I’m not stupid. Of course I know the difference between truth and a lie,’ she hissed. The psychologist touched her arm and whispered to her. Zivah’s shoulders relaxed and her eyes lost their opaque blackness.
‘Can you tell me a big lie?’ Henti asked.
‘You want me to tell a lie? But you said I mustn’t lie.’
‘You are quite right. But I want you to show My Lord – that’s the man sitting up there in the red robe. I think he’d like to see that you know the difference between what is a lie and what is the truth. So – let’s pretend this is a school test. And the test is to make up a big lie that everyone will know is a lie. And then, if you can, you must tell the truth about that lie. Do you understand?’
Zivah tipped her head to the side and examined Henti. ‘Okay. But you mustn’t be cross with me. Okay?’
The advocate nodded.
‘Okay. You are young and pretty!’
Straight-faced, Henti asked: ‘Is that a lie?’
‘Yes,’ Zivah giggled. ‘You are really ugly. And old!’
The court erupted with laughter – and Henti’s laugh was the loudest. The judge smiled broadly as he banged his gravel for order.
‘Well, Ms Weinberg – I think the witness has clearly demonstrated her understanding of these important legal concepts. Well done, Miss Silverman,’ he said.
Zivah looked so pleased with herself that Yair wanted to get up and hug her.
‘Well done Zivah. You are a smart young lady,’ Henti said. ‘Now, I want you to answer my questions as truthfully as you can. If you are not sure, you can ask me to repeat the question. Take your time if you need to think about your answer – we are not in any hurry.’
Henti paused. Yair held his breath. This was it.
‘Zivah, do you remember what happened after the fight between Yair and Tiffany.’
‘Uh-huh. Yair went to his room and slammed the door so hard the house shook. Tiffany went to her room too but she didn’t slam the door. She was crying.’
‘How do you know she was crying?’
‘I saw when I took her a glass of cold water from the fridge. She asked me to.’
‘What happened then?’
‘I gave her the water and she took some white, funny-shaped pills out of a little bottle next to her bed and she drank them with the water.’
‘Do you know how many she took?’
Zivah shook her head. ‘I didn’t count them. She just poured some into her hand and chucked them into her mouth, like the way Yair eats peanuts. Except Yair doesn’t need water to eat peanuts – he chews them.’
‘And after Tiffany had taken the pills, what did you do?’
‘I went to bed.’
‘Did you go to sleep?’
‘Yes. But then Tiffany woke me up and I got up and then Tiffany tripped and fell down the stairs.’
Yair stared at Zivah in surprise. She had never told him that she’d actually seen Tiffany fall.
The judged banged his gravel and the courtroom went silent again.
‘You saw Tiffany fall down the stairs?’ Henti asked, her astonishment clearly evident.
‘Yes.’
‘What time was this?’
‘I don’t know. Late. I was asleep but she woke me up. She was bumping into everything in the passage and making a big noise.’
‘What do you mean she was bumping into things?’
‘She was all w
obbly. I saw her. She was like Mommy. But when Mommy got all wobbly she went to bed and stayed there. Tiffany was so stupid. She didn’t stay in bed like Mommy. She kept bumping into the wall and the hall table and then she tripped over the carpet and fell.’
‘Down the stairs?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘Well, I was worried she’d hurt herself, so I went to see. But she was okay. She told me to fuck off and leave her alone. Then she went to sleep. So I went back to bed.’
‘Do I understand you correctly? Tiffany spoke to you after she had fallen down the stairs?’
‘Yes. She was all slurry and horrible, like Mommy. But then she went to sleep so I left her.’
‘How to you know she was sleeping?’
‘She was snoring. Mommy snored too, but Mommy was always in bed when she snored, not lying on the floor in the entrance hall. Tiffany was stupid. She should have stayed in bed and gone to sleep there. And then she died. Like Mommy.’
The court was deathly silent. Yair felt his throat constrict. Why, oh why, had Zivah mentioned their mother’s death? Now Henti would ask her about it.
Henti asked: ‘Zivah, what happened to your mother.’
‘Mommy died.’
‘Do you know why your mother died?’
Zivah shook her head vigorously. ‘No. She was stupid. She was only supposed to get sick. But she died.’
‘What do you mean Zivah? Why was she only supposed to get sick?’
‘Because Daddy said so.’
Yair gasped, and heard a corresponding gasp behind him. He knew it had to have come from Aviva.
Henti stared at Zivah. The prosecutor started to rise, but sat down again.
‘Zivah,’ Henti said, very softly, very gently. ‘When did your Daddy say that your mother was only supposed to get sick?’
‘When we were in the kitchen when I was making Mommy cappuccino to say sorry.’
‘Zivah, sweetie. Can you go back to the beginning? Do you think you can tell me what happened before your Mommy died?’
‘No. Daddy said I mustn’t tell anyone. He said it was our secret – like when he showed me how much he loved me. That was our secret too. I never told. I never. Daddy will be so cross with me if I tell. I love Daddy. I won’t tell. He told me not to. He told me, he told me...’
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