‘You know I didn’t mean it in a negative sense. Stop being so bloody difficult. You refused to speak to me, and when I cornered you because it was obvious that you weren’t pregnant any longer you told me that the problem had gone away. I had nothing to worry about. But I was worried. I was worried about you.’
‘You ripped me in two, Gus. You made me feel that I had created that life inside my body all by myself, or that maybe I’d tried to trap you.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ve said it a thousand times in my head, and as often as I could to you – when you’d listen. I was in the middle of the case from hell, stressed beyond belief, and I behaved badly.’
She couldn’t do this any longer. The anger had evaporated, leaving her weak and vulnerable. She struggled to control her voice.
‘I didn’t have a termination. Our baby – he, if you must know – chose to leave my body when I was sixteen weeks pregnant. A month after you left. I was already three months pregnant when I told you, because I was afraid of your reaction and I knew the case was getting you down.’
Gus’s mouth had dropped open, and she could see so many emotions flash across his eyes. Guilt, sorrow, shock. She realised that in her own pain she had failed to consider his, but somehow the only way she had been able to cope with the loss of her lover and then her tiny baby boy was by trying to savagely thrust all feelings for Gus from her mind.
‘Steph, come here.’ He held out his arms, and she pushed herself off the chair and went to kneel on the rug in front of him. His arms came around her and he held her gently as her tears started to flow, only to turn into sobs. He bent down and lifted her onto his lap, and she buried her head in the warm hollow of his shoulder.
49
Harriet had spent the whole weekend working. She couldn’t keep still. She had pushed Evie to tell them about her scars, and the picture she had painted was enough to break the heart of the toughest lawyer.
Nothing Evie had said was new, but it was the chilling way in which she had told it and the obvious damage it had done to her that Harriet couldn’t drive from her mind.
More than ever she felt she owed it to Evie to make sure she was found not guilty of murder; that the judge and jury would understand why and how she had totally lost control and deliver a lenient sentence.
As she took her seat in court – glad that the weekend and the waiting were over – Harriet posed the same questions that she asked herself every day. Have I done enough? Have I accomplished everything I set out to achieve? Have I given this case everything I have got? It never felt like enough, no matter how hard she drove herself, and in Evie’s case the questions seemed more forceful and insistent than ever.
One of the most difficult aspects of the case had always been proving that Mark was routinely – almost ritualistically – hurting Evie. If they were unable to convince the court that this was true, the question of why she killed him was irrelevant. If he wasn’t hurting her she had no defence.
It had been hard to understand why the abuse only seemed to happen immediately before Mark left for a business trip – it appeared inconsistent and irrational. If he was suffering from Separation Anxiety Disorder, though, that gave credibility to his behaviour and added strength to the evidence of his abuse.
Devisha Ambo’s closing statement was bound to rely heavily on the fact that Mark North wasn’t on trial. There was no hard, irrefutable evidence of wrongdoing, and wasn’t it just as likely that Evie’s injuries were self-inflicted? But if the jury believed that the SAD syndrome was affecting Mark’s mental state, they would have less reason to question Evie’s testimony. Half the battle would be won.
They had one additional witness to call before Evie would take the stand, and Boyd rose heavily to his feet, explaining to the judge and jury why he had been invited to give evidence. He turned to the eager-looking young man, who seemed to be moving constantly from one foot to the other, pushing his glasses further up his nose and casting his smile around the courtroom.
‘Doctor Perkins, what can you tell me about Separation Anxiety Disorder?’
‘Oh, quite a lot,’ the doctor said, his speech fast and clipped. ‘Basically, someone suffering from this disorder will experience extreme anxiety and fear when separated from a major attachment figure – often a spouse. They worry that harm will come to those close to them if they’re not there.’
‘Is this a common disorder?’
The doctor smiled again, clearly enthusiastic about the subject.
‘It’s actually more common than you might think. It’s possible that somewhere between six and seven per cent of the adult population may suffer at some level.’
He nodded, as if this was good news.
‘Can you explain to us, Doctor Perkins, how this disorder might present itself?’
‘Yes, of course. Some sufferers feel excessive distress when separated from the person – or place – to which they feel attached. Others find it hard to be alone, and that can be very difficult for their partners, who may be unable to go out and leave them in the house. Sometimes they find it hard to sleep alone.’
‘Would any of these symptoms explain why Mark North repeatedly attacked the defendant, Miss Clarke, before he went away for a period of time?’
‘No. Not on their own, no. I don’t think so.’
Harriet saw Boyd momentarily stiffen. This was clearly not what he had been expecting.
‘When you say “not on their own”, Doctor, that suggests there may be other, related issues?’
‘Well yes, but without meeting the sufferer, I couldn’t say. It’s true that ASAD – sorry, that’s Adult Separation Anxiety Disorder – does often occur along with other psychiatric conditions, phobias, OCD, but there’s also a high probability that people with ASAD will experience some kind of mood disorder.’
Boyd appeared to relax a little.
‘And are any of those mood disorders linked to violence?’
‘Well, if a person also suffered from Intermittent Explosive Disorder, for example – and the two have been linked in some cases – then it’s not unlikely that the stress brought on by the separation could cause them to lose their temper.’
‘Can you please explain to us what Intermittent Explosive Disorder is, although the name is itself a very clear indicator.’
‘Basically it’s the inability to resist aggressive urges. The attacks might be brought on by tension, or sometimes by arousal. The action of aggression gives them an immediate sense of relief, and it’s over as soon as it’s begun.’
‘Do they feel remorse for their actions?’
‘People react differently. Some appear to genuinely regret their actions, others are embarrassed and might try to pretend it never happened.’
Boyd nodded and his glance took in the jury.
‘And what does research indicate about the life of someone living with a sufferer of either of these disorders, let alone both?’
Dr Perkins shook his head and lost his smile for the moment. ‘Oh goodness, that wouldn’t be pleasant at all. ASAD is extremely hard on relationships. Sufferers are very needy and it can be extremely difficult to handle. If that same person suffered from Intermittent Explosive Disorder it would force those closest to them to be constantly on their guard, making sure they do nothing that might tip the sufferer over the edge.’
‘And in your expert opinion, Doctor, would that level of pressure be sufficient for someone close to the sufferer to have moments when they find that combination of behaviours impossible to bear?’
‘Absolutely. There would be times when they would be at their wits’ end.’
‘Thank you, Doctor Perkins. I have no further questions.’
Devisha Ambo rose quickly to her feet.
‘Doctor Perkins, at what age do either of these two disorders tend to present themselves?’
‘Separation Anxiety Disorder wasn’t recognised as an issue in adults until about twenty years ago. It often starts in childhood. Similarly, Intermittent Explo
sive Disorder usually presents itself in late childhood or adolescence. But not exclusively.’
‘So you would expect this issue to be noticed by someone close to the sufferer – someone, for example, like his sister?’
‘It depends how close they are and how often they see each other. Certainly if they are close in age she will have seen it as they grew up.’
‘So would you expect her to describe her brother as,’ she consulted her notes, ‘gentle, sensitive?’
The psychologist shook his head. ‘He was her brother. He’s dead. I’m sure she’ll be wanting to remember the best bits of him. It’s what we all do, isn’t it? And if she wasn’t his major attachment figure it’s possible she never experienced his anxiety on separation.’
Harriet wanted to punch the air. The perfect answer.
But Devisha hadn’t finished.
‘Did you ever meet or see Mark North as a patient?’
‘No.’
‘So all of your comments today are purely hypothetical?’
Dr Perkins frowned at the prosecutor.
‘I was asked to talk about the two disorders and how they might present themselves. I was not asked to diagnose someone I’ve never met. Whether he suffered from either or both of these disorders I can’t say. All I can do is tell you what they are.’
‘In other words, your testimony and Mark North are not in any way related?’
‘No, they’re not.’
The prosecutor turned to the jury and then back to the doctor.
‘So we have no evidence at all that Mark North suffered from either of these disorders. All we have is the testimony of a Samaritan to whom Evie Clarke – the woman accused of his murder – passed on her suspicions based on an internet search. Is that correct?’
‘I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid. I don’t know the details of the case. I’m here as an expert witness in psychology.’
‘Thank you, Doctor Perkins. You’ve been most helpful.’
Shit, Harriet thought. They could have done without that. They just had to hope the jury didn’t disregard Dr Perkins’s testimony. She couldn’t lose this case.
Harriet felt her chest grow tight. All they had left now was Evie. It would all come down to her testimony.
50
Cleo wasn’t sure if she had the strength to sit through Evie’s testimony. It would all be lies. Evie wasn’t even going to be questioned about the garage door, according to Sergeant King, because apparently the prosecution didn’t think it was significant. They felt certain that she would offer a plausible reason for why it was open when Aminah had turned up. To them it seemed like a small thing, but to Cleo it had felt like a beacon of hope.
All she wanted now was the verdict, and even if the jury let her down badly by finding Evie not guilty of murder, she hoped and prayed that the judge would have the sense to lock her up for years to come for manslaughter. She didn’t deserve to be free after depriving Cleo of a wonderful brother and Lulu of a loving father. If Evie was sentenced to life, Cleo would make sure Lulu grew up understanding what had happened and how wonderful her daddy was.
Aminah had asked if Cleo wanted company during the final stages of the trial, but she didn’t. She wanted to be alone. If she felt the merest waft of sympathy for Evie coming off Aminah, she would lose it.
Evie was being sworn in, and Cleo looked at her with disgust. She was dressed in a dark blue skirt which sat well on her slender hips without being too tight, and she had chosen a white silk blouse that hung loosely but nevertheless managed to hint at the woman underneath. She had pulled her long fair hair into a small neat bun and wore minimal makeup. It seemed to Cleo that she had managed a look that couldn’t offend anyone, but at the same time spoke of a balanced, neat woman. Clever.
The defence barrister’s opening surprised Cleo.
‘Miss Clarke, there has been a great deal of evidence provided to the court relating to your more recent horrific injuries – the result of which was the loss of control that resulted in Mark North’s death. The prosecution has suggested that these, together with the older injuries noted by Doctor Moore at the hospital, could have been self-inflicted. Would you please explain to the court the origin of the old scars that the doctor noticed?’
She saw Evie swallow hard. She breathed in deeply and appeared to be holding her breath as she spoke.
‘It was my uncle,’ she said.
Cleo almost laughed out loud. Evie clearly habitually found someone to blame for things that had happened to her. Surely the court weren’t going to be taken in by this?
‘And the scars weren’t confined to your chest and stomach – those the doctor saw and commented on. They are in fact on your back too, aren’t they?’
‘He inflicted many wounds on my body.’ Her voice was so soft that Cleo strained to hear.
The QC referred the judge and jury to the screens in front of them and gave them time to study the photographs. From where Cleo was sitting, she couldn’t see the detail of the images, but she could see looks of concern on the faces of the jury, some of whom gave Evie worried glances from beneath lowered brows – almost as if they didn’t want her to know they were staring at pictures of her body.
‘How, exactly, did your uncle inflict these and other scars?’ the QC asked eventually.
‘The scars you can see on the photograph and the ones the doctor spoke of on my chest, stomach and arms, were inflicted with a bullwhip.’
There was a small gasp of horror from the woman to Cleo’s left.
‘For the sake of the court, a bullwhip is a single-tailed whip, originally designed for use on livestock. The main part of the whip – often called the thong – is typically made of braided strips of leather. At the end of this is a flexible piece of leather, which in turn is attached to the cracker – a piece of string or nylon cord or any number of other materials. The length of the overall whip could be anything from three feet to twenty feet.’
The QC handed some papers to the usher for distribution.
‘We asked a doctor to examine Miss Clarke this weekend, and in his report – of which you now have a copy – he has confirmed that the scars on Miss Clarke’s body could have been made by such a weapon. He is available for cross-examination, should the court require it.’
The jury were given time to read the documents before Boyd continued.
‘It is abundantly clear from this evidence that these older scars were not self-inflicted, and therefore there is no reason at all to believe that the more recent ones were either, as was previously suggested.’ He paused to allow that statement to register. ‘Miss Clarke, I understand these aren’t the only injuries your uncle inflicted. Can you talk us through the others, please?’
‘He broke my left ulna and on another occasion my clavicle. I had broken ribs twice, and broken bones in my foot.’
Evie spoke with an air of detachment, as if she was talking about someone other than herself, and Cleo stared at the woman she thought she knew. Could this be true? But Evie couldn’t lie – at least, not about the broken bones. An x-ray would prove immediately if she was making it up.
‘Can you please tell us the circumstances under which this happened, Miss Clarke?’
‘I was in care from the age of nine. My mother was an alcoholic and she died about a year after I was taken from her. Social Services contacted my grandmother. She and my mother hadn’t spoken since my mother left home just after I was born, but they wanted to know if she would take me in. Of course, she was only interested if she could be classed as a foster carer so she got the money for looking after me, rather than acting as a concerned grandparent. On the basis of the cash, I was probably worth having – just about. My uncle was her youngest – my mother’s half-brother.’
‘And did he live in the family home?’
‘Not to start with. He was married, but his wife kicked him out – threatened to go to the police about his behaviour – so he came back to live with my grandmother.’
‘Did t
he physical abuse start immediately?’
Evie shrugged. ‘In a way, but it wasn’t too serious to start with. It began with small acts of cruelty – a foot outstretched, a cry of pain as my knee hit the ground. He developed a taste for it. He pushed me, slapped me, took great joy in tripping me up so I went sprawling on the floor. That kind of thing. But he seemed to get more and more angry as the years went by.’
‘Why do you think that was?’
‘He was angry with life. Women didn’t find him appealing – I don’t think anyone did because he had a permanent snarl on his face. He was so belligerent that he rarely managed to keep a job for more than a week or two, so in the end he gave up and took to stealing instead.’
‘And when did he start to beat you?’
Evie closed her eyes momentarily as if the pain of what she was about to say was too unbearable. Cleo saw her bite down on her bottom lip.
‘I was about thirteen. He made me strip to the waist, then he whipped me.’
The QC gave her a moment, but the silence in the court was taut, as if every person in the room had become rigid, scared of breaking the tension.
‘Was the abuse sexual as well as physical?’ The QC’s voice was quiet and Evie’s matched his.
‘Only in his mind. Beating me, or causing other harm to me, seemed to offer him some sort of release.’
The lawyer peered at her over his glasses.
‘I’m so sorry to be putting you through this, Miss Clarke, but as the scars have been mentioned and were being suggested as evidence of self-harm, it was necessary to get to the truth.’ Evie dipped her head in acknowledgement and he continued. ‘What was your grandmother doing while all of this was going on?’
‘She pretended she knew nothing about it. She told me, just once, that if ever I told a soul she would take me to the edge of a cliff, suspend me by my hair, and drop me off. I believed her. She had taken me in for the money, and she wouldn’t kick my uncle out because his thieving was proving lucrative too. I only went to hospital twice – when I broke my arm and my collar bone. The ribs and foot were left to heal themselves. She took me to two different hospitals and gave the names of some other kids at my school so there was no paper trail.’
And So It Begins Page 21