House of Correction

by French, Nicci

  She looked across at the jury for hints of friendliness or hostility.

  ‘I’m not going to say very much,’ she began. Her voice sounded too high, too loud. ‘I don’t know much about doing this. But I’ve heard that I don’t have to prove that I’m innocent. I don’t even have to give evidence at all, if I don’t want to.’ She gestured across at Simon Brockbank, who was leaning back on his chair, his eyes looking up at the ceiling. ‘But I will say a few things.’

  She took a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it and placed it on the little ledge at the front of the witness box, flattening it with the palm of her hand. On it was a numbered list she had written in her cell. It didn’t seem much, looked at in daylight, in the courtroom.

  ‘I came back to Okeham when I bought the house. My plan was to do it up and then see how it all went. I could make a go of it in Okeham or I could rent it out as a holiday home or I could sell it.’

  That was number one on her list. She looked down. She suddenly felt almost paralysed by the idea of talking about her life in public, describing motives she hadn’t actually thought through at the time.

  ‘Some nice person wrote a letter to the police telling them about whatever it was that I had all those years ago with Stuart Rees. I don’t know – abuse, seduction, teenage romance, rape, whatever. Looking back, I understand it wasn’t good for me. At all. I think it may have affected me, you know, in relationships—’ She stopped herself. She wasn’t meant to be saying this sort of thing. She was sounding more like the prosecution. ‘But all I can say is that I didn’t hold a grudge. It sounds stupid, but I didn’t understand what it had meant to me until this happened. I didn’t know what Stuart Rees was really like until I heard in this court what he’d done to other people.’

  ‘Please, Ms Hardy,’ said Judge Munday. ‘This is not your closing statement. Just describe your own relevant experience.’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ Tabitha said. ‘I’m trying to think of what’s relevant.’

  ‘Just tell us about your day,’ said a voice.

  Tabitha looked around to see who had spoken. She saw that the young juror in the second row had put his hand up.

  ‘It’s all very well for you to ask that,’ said Tabitha. ‘I bet you couldn’t remember every detail of some day six months ago.’

  ‘I bet I could if I’d been arrested for murder,’ the man said and was about to say something else when Judge Munday, whose face had been frozen in horror, interrupted.

  ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘For goodness’ sake, Ms Hardy, you can’t just start having a conversation with a member of the jury.’ She turned to the man. ‘You can ask a question, if you absolutely have to, but you should address it to me, not to a witness. And it would be preferable if it were written down, in case it’s prejudicial in some way.’ She turned back to Tabitha. ‘However, that is a reasonable thing to say. You can, if you wish, tell us your movements on the day in question. I should warn you that you can then be questioned about any of these statements by the prosecution.’

  ‘All right,’ said Tabitha, gathering her thoughts for a moment. She looked at the jury. ‘Look, I’ll say what I can remember and you can ask about it, if you like.’

  ‘Through me,’ said Judge Munday quickly. ‘And only if absolutely necessary. It is the job of the jury to assess the evidence not to cross-examine.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ said Tabitha. She paused again. ‘Right. Lots of this you’ve heard in bits anyway. There’s not much to say. I woke early. I just lay there. I wasn’t feeling good. It was one of my bad days.’ She looked up at the jury. ‘If I’d only known. I got up about half past seven. I started making my really basic breakfast, porridge made with water and tea.’ She stopped. ‘I don’t mean I make my porridge with tea. That would be weird. I make it with water and then I have a mug of tea by the side.’

  ‘Ms Hardy,’ said Judge Munday. ‘Only what’s relevant, please.’

  ‘Sorry, My Lady. It’s hard to turn your life into a story. Anyway, I’d run out of milk, so I put a coat on over my PJs and went to the village shop. It was the one busy time of the day, the school bus was there, I actually had to queue to pay for my milk. In the queue was Rob Coombe, who I didn’t have an argument with. I headed back for breakfast.’

  Tabitha thought for a few seconds before continuing.

  ‘In a way, this is all pointless,’ she said. ‘I’m just going to be describing a run-of-the-mill, grimly depressing day in which I didn’t kill Stuart Rees. I had breakfast and didn’t kill Stuart Rees. I went to have a swim and didn’t kill Stuart Rees. After my swim, I didn’t kill Stuart Rees.’

  ‘Please, Ms Hardy,’ said Judge Munday. ‘You’re here to give evidence not just to repeat your plea of not guilty.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Tabitha, actually grateful that the judge had interrupted her. She turned almost pleadingly to the jury. ‘My problem is that I have difficulty in having a specific memory of the things I do every day. For example, I can say that I had some scrambled eggs on toast for lunch, but that’s only because that’s what I always have. Unless I have nettle soup. What I can remember is that it was one of my bad days. Sometimes swimming in cold water makes me feel better, but it didn’t really work that time. I remember meeting Dr Mallon and meeting Melanie Coglan and I thought I was having friendly, trusting talks with them. But most of the day I was at home. I was meant to be working, or getting things done in the house, but mainly I just lay on the sofa. I felt too tired even to make myself a cup of tea or read or…’

  While she was speaking, Tabitha started to listen to herself as if she were another person and she started to think of the strangeness of her situation, standing in a courtroom, everyone staring at her, and then, quite suddenly, she couldn’t think of what to say.

  ‘Well, anyway, then Andy came round, Andy Kane. He was going to help me with some of the work on the house but I wasn’t really in the mood. And then it all happened. And now I’m here.’

  She paused again, trying to think of a way of coming to a close. She should have planned this better.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t have a killer fact that somehow proves that I’m innocent of this. I don’t even know what that would look like. But I didn’t want any of you people thinking I was hiding away and hoping that I’d get off on some kind of technicality. I’ve probably made things worse by standing up like this and talking. God knows, I usually do. Anyway, sod it, that’s all I’ve got to say.’

  Tabitha started to leave the witness box.

  ‘Please, Ms Hardy,’ said Judge Munday. ‘We need to hear from the prosecution.’

  Tabitha silently cursed herself. She’d forgotten that. Simon Brockbank stood up with a solemn expression on his face.

  ‘I’ll try to be brief,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to try everyone’s patience.’ He put his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘I hoped we could just clear up a couple of points. You have just said in your testimony that the police learned of your intimate relationship with Stuart Rees because of an anonymous letter from a member of the public. We need to be clear about that. This letter was written because you hadn’t told the police yourself, is that right?’

  ‘I don’t know why it was written.’

  ‘But you didn’t tell the police yourself?’

  ‘No.’

  Brockbank’s face assumed a puzzled expression and he gave a slight sniff as if this was a damning admission. Perhaps it was, Tabitha thought. She was tempted to start protesting but she had discussed this with Michaela. They had agreed that she should answer any questions as briefly as possible. ‘Don’t give him anything,’ Michaela had said.

  ‘The jury have heard the tape of your police interview,’ Brockbank continued. ‘We all remember that you said many things in response to police questions. However, the jury may be struck by what you didn’t say. You didn’t say that you were innocent. Why not?’

  ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’ Tabitha shook her head slowly, almost talking to herse
lf. ‘Nobody can unless they’ve experienced it. I was in a state.’

  ‘Because you’d killed Stuart Rees?’

  ‘Because I’d just found a dead body in my house,’ Tabitha said, more loudly. ‘Because I realised they thought I’d done it.’

  ‘All it took was a clear, ringing statement of innocence. Why didn’t you make it?’

  ‘I’ve said. I didn’t know what I was saying.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Brockbank, savouring the word, running it over his tongue. He seemed to be pondering his next question, although Tabitha was nervously aware that everything about him was prepared in advance. ‘I have just one question about your testimony. You told us a lot that, quite frankly, we didn’t really need to know. But when you came to what we really did need to know, you were strangely silent.’

  He paused and looked from Tabitha to the jury and then back to Tabitha. She felt a sudden lurching sensation in her stomach. What had she forgotten? What was the trap he was laying for her?

  ‘You briefly mentioned Andrew Kane’s visit to your house, but you didn’t mention the crucial detail of his testimony. He told this court that when he announced his intention to go out to your shed in search of some building material, you tried to prevent him. The obvious explanation for that is that you knew that Stuart Rees’s body was lying on the floor in the shed and that if he went out there he would find it before you had the opportunity to dispose of it. That, as I say, is the obvious explanation. What’s your explanation?’

  ‘I didn’t try to prevent him.’

  Brockbank’s theatrical expression of puzzlement appeared once more.

  ‘Are you saying that Mr Kane was lying to this court and lying in his statement to the police?’

  ‘I didn’t try to prevent him. I told him not to go.’

  Brockbank gave a heavy, disapproving sigh. ‘Very well, Ms Hardy, I stand corrected. Why did you tell him not to go?’

  ‘Look,’ said Tabitha desperately, ‘sometimes when I look back at it, it’s like looking at someone else and trying to work out why they’re doing what they’re doing. In all the stress, I’d forgotten saying that to Andy. It was in his statement, so I guess it happened. The fact is that I didn’t know the body was there, so I must have had some other reason.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘I didn’t want him to work on my house that day. I didn’t feel up to it. I wanted to be alone.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell him as soon as he arrived?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tabitha. ‘I wasn’t in a good condition… I wasn’t thinking straight.’

  ‘Ah, yes, exactly,’ said Brockbank, almost in a drawl, turning once more to the jury. ‘You weren’t thinking straight.’ He said each word distinctly, then turned directly to Tabitha. ‘What else weren’t you thinking straight about on that day? Was it your meeting with Stuart Rees? Was it your wish to revenge yourself on him? Was it the problem of disposing of the body?’

  Tabitha’s answer when it came sounded frail and defeated.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t do any of those things. I’ve thought about it, over and over. I couldn’t.’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to know,’ said Brockbank. ‘You can go now.’

  Tabitha walked back across the court to her table. It felt a long way.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  ‘How long have we known each other?’

  ‘How long? I’m not sure. I’m no good at dates. Did we start secondary school together?’

  Tabitha was having difficulty remembering why she had thought calling Shona as a character witness was a good idea. Shona was obviously very nervous, and that was making her ricochet between different forms of communication: one minute she was monosyllabic and expressionless, the next gabbling. To make it worse, she would occasionally give a high, anxious giggle. She wouldn’t meet Tabitha’s gaze. Instead her eyes flickered around the courtroom.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tabitha shortly. ‘We did.’

  ‘Well, so that would be, what?’

  ‘Nineteen years.’

  ‘Oh my God, that’s strange.’ Shona put her hand to her mouth, like a surprised child. In spite of her make-up and her glamour, she did still look like a bit like a child, thought Tabitha: wide-eyed and pretty. She was wearing an ivory-coloured blouse that set off her tan; her hair gleamed softly. Facing her, Tabitha felt like a hobgoblin, small and grimy and pale. ‘Are we really that old?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Giggle.

  She’s scared I’m going to tell the world about her affair with Rob Coombe, realised Tabitha. That’s why she’s being so jumpy.

  ‘So,’ she said, trying to meet Shona’s skittering gaze, ‘we’ve known each other for about nineteen years. How would you describe me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want you to describe me,’ said Tabitha.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You’re my character witness. What did you think you’d be doing?’

  She heard a bark of laughter from the public gallery.

  Shona had heard the laugh too and she looked annoyed. ‘You’ve always been—’ She stopped dead.

  ‘Yes?’ said Tabitha after a pause that went on longer than felt comfortable.

  ‘Well. Clever, of course. And stubborn: when you set your mind to something, you’ll do it. An awkward person and that makes you a bit prickly sometimes. When you were at school, we used to call you Tabby Cat and say you had claws.’

  There were many things Tabitha wanted to say in response to that but she said none of them.

  ‘Would you say I was trustworthy?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Shona, though her tone sounded unsure.

  ‘Is there anything you’d like to add to that?’

  Shona chewed the side of her thumb. ‘You speak your mind. You don’t let yourself get pushed around. You never have. That’s why it was so surprising to learn about Stuart Rees carrying on with you when you were just a kid really, let’s face it.’

  Tabitha didn’t know if this was helping or damaging her case. She wanted Shona to say outright that she wouldn’t be capable of killing anyone but didn’t know how to phrase the question.

  ‘Would you—’ she began, then stopped. She felt like something had detonated in her brain. She grimaced, feeling its aftershock work through her.

  ‘You said Stuart was “carrying on” with me?’

  ‘I don’t get what—’

  ‘Wait. Hang on. Pass me that folder. That one there!’ she said to Michaela.

  She started fumbling through it. Michaela was whispering urgently to her but Tabitha couldn’t hear anything. Her hands were clumsy and she dropped several documents onto the floor and it took an awful few seconds to gather them but she found what she wanted and held it out.

  ‘Will you read that out loud, please?’

  The piece of paper was delivered to Shona, who stared at it, and then at Tabitha.

  ‘Please read it,’ said Tabitha.

  Shona licked her lips. Her eyes flickered around the court then back to the papers.

  ‘ “FYI,” ’ she said. ‘ “It is my duty to inform you that Stuart Rees was carrying on with Tabitha Hardy when she was underage and he was her teacher. This is true.” ’

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ said Tabitha. ‘It was you who wrote that letter to the police. Of course it was you. How could I have been so stupid?’

  She banged the heel of her hand against her head. ‘Stupid,’ she said. ‘Who else would it have been?’

  There was noise going on around her. Michaela was saying something, and someone in the gallery was calling out and Judge Munday was asking her to please control her behaviour. Meanwhile, Simon Brockbank was leaning back and smiling broadly and Shona, standing in the witness box, had both hands to her face, one at her mouth and the other to her temple, like a caricature of helpless fear.

  ‘You never liked me,’ said Tabitha to Shona. ‘You always thought I was weird, didn’t you? Not cool or glamorous. Not one
of the in-crowd.’

  ‘What’s this about?’ asked Shona.

  ‘You’re my witness. I want to ask you a single question and you have to answer it. Did you write that anonymous letter to the police pointing out that Stuart Rees had been carrying on with me, as you put it, when he was my teacher?’

  Shona stared at her and then her eyes darted around the court again. It was as if she was trying to work out how to escape.

  ‘Answer the question, please,’ said Judge Munday calmly. ‘And it’s important you answer truthfully.’

  Shona didn’t look like a pretty child anymore. Her face was blotchy and scared.

  ‘I thought they should know,’ she whispered.

  ‘That’s a yes, is it? What the fuck?’

  ‘Please, Ms Hardy, you must curb your language.’

  Shona lifted her head higher. ‘It’s true. It was my duty as a citizen,’ she said primly.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Tabitha. ‘Very honourable.’

  Shona flushed. Tabitha could see the red seeping under the golden tan on her throat, and another thought flashed through her.

  ‘How did you have the money to go on your holiday?’ she asked. ‘You were in debt when I talked to you, you couldn’t even afford to pay for my notebook, and then you swanned off on holiday all of a sudden.’

  ‘Is this really relevant?’ said Judge Munday.

  ‘Someone’s paid you, haven’t they? Some tabloid.’

  ‘What?’ said Shona. Her mouth was gaping open; her face was shiny with sweat.

  ‘How much? How much to give little titbits about my life?’

  ‘Stop now,’ said Judge Munday. ‘This is a serious allegation you’re making. Against a witness you yourself called to help you in your case, by the way.’

  ‘I know. You ask her then.’

  The judge glared at her. ‘I do not need you to instruct me how to run my court. Which you are, by the way, turning into a public brawl.’ She turned to Shona. ‘Miss Fry. A serious allegation has been made and it is my duty to pursue it. Have your received any money or payment in kind from any outlet for your story?’