Harriet scowled at her friend. ‘Dancing doesn’t fix everything Fi.’
Phoebe shrugged eloquently, smoothing her long dark hair over her shoulder, ’I was more thinking a good fuck… but however you want to dress it up.’
‘You are the worst!’ Harriet exclaimed, though she could not keep the smile from her face.
Phoebe was direct and blunt, and damn that could be refreshing.
‘No time just now, Fi. And besides, men are overrated.’
‘Don’t need to tell me that,’ Phoebe replied, grinning salaciously, a twinkle in her eye.
Harriet smiled, waving her hand to concede the point. Conversation shifted and swirled and cruised as the early dark settled around them. Kissing Phoebe on the cheek in farewell, Harriet had felt reset, tired, but lighter somehow.
It had been worth the email backlog to sneak in a few hours with her dearest friend. But as she walked the streets, illuminated by the glaring phone screens of passersby, her thoughts shifted, returning to the challenge before her.
Harriet shook her head and crunched into her beans on toast, chewing thoughtfully. Was the insanity defence the best route? Eloise was clearly not all there in the head, no memory of the event, forgetting she was in a mental hospital; who forgot they were on a psych ward?
But then other memories, like when Grant would visit and where her sister would be on a Thursday night were clear as day. It was a concern for her defence. So far the prosecution seemed willing to play ball on the insanity option. When the Magistrate refused Eloise’s bail application, citing the heinous nature of her crime (Harriet couldn’t really argue with that after seeing the pictures), the DPP had requested she be remanded in custody at The Orchard for psychiatric assessment pending trial. But would they change their mind as they investigated? Would Eloise’s eloquence play against her? It certainly counted against the M’Naghten Rules; she had a full understanding of right and wrong.
Could there be a history of domestic violence to throw into the mix? Grant and Eloise were separated at the time. He had left her after the birth of Jacob. Abandoned her while she was ill.
That she’d suffered greatly from post-natal depression was another tick for the insanity defence. But was Grant’s neglect as a husband the more pertinent point?
Harriet reached for the wine bottle and topped up her glass. Perhaps she should consider the automatism angle; that Eloise’s actions were not voluntary, some temporary disease of the mind, caused perhaps by the post-natal depression. There was no evidence that she was drugged, so the loss of control wasn’t from an external source. Internal then, making the case a variant on the insanity plea. There had been a few recent cases in Exeter using just that approach. She’d have to read up on the details and outcomes…
Her mobile blared into life, interrupting her train of thought. Harriet snapped her hand across her desk and took up the blaring device. Call from: Home. She frowned. It had been a long day, all she wanted to do was sink into her wine and her case, not talk to Anne Bell. But, like a dutiful daughter, she pressed the green button, ‘Hi mum, lovely to hear from you.’
‘Harrie love, I’m glad I caught you. I tried earlier but you didn’t pick up.’
Harriet rolled her eyes, glad her mum couldn’t see her. ‘I was at work, mum.’
‘You are effectively self employed Harrie, you can take a call from your mother.’
‘Not from inside St Bernards I can’t.’
‘St Bernards? What on earth were you doing there?’
‘New client, can’t say much else for now. So, what can I do for you?’
‘Well, I am just checking in about Christmas. You were coming up on the Wednesday to stay the week?’
Harriet closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. Sitting up straight, bracing herself, she replied, ‘Yeah, about that. This new case… I won’t be able to take that much time off. But I will still be there for Christmas lunch, that I promise.’
‘Harrie, we haven’t seen you since Easter. You need a holiday. Christmas is about family.’
Suppressing a sigh Harriet stretched her neck and replied, ‘It’s a big case mum. My first murder. I’ll come up once it’s done, stay a week. I promise. But Christmas, it’s just right in the middle of the workload. But I will be up for the day. Ok?’
Her mother’s sigh was heavy and frustrated. ‘There’s no point trying to change your mind Harrie, there never was. I’ll tell Billy he can have his lady friend stay over, she can use the spare room.’
Harriet swallowed a laugh. Her brother William, Billy to his friends, Billy Bell (her parents really hadn’t thought that one through) was 29 years old. Surely old enough to have his ‘lady friend’ stay in his room… But Harriet declined to argue. She’d got out of a week of family time, she wasn’t going to push her luck by telling her mum how to run her good Catholic household.
‘Would have been nice to have one of my girls for the night though,’ her mother continued.
Harriet pressed her lips together tightly as Nellie’s face swam up from her memory to fill her heart and mind. Her older sister. The one who got away first…
‘How is Billy?’ Harriet asked, shifting the topic.
‘Oh, you know Billy, same old same old. Getting less shifts at the factory. All this Brexit talk is making your father nervous. But General Motors have assured them all the work will remain. Politicians, they just stir up trouble don’t they? Threats. We were fine before the Union and we will be fine after it too.’
‘And dad’s heart scan went ok?’
‘Yes, Fergus is just fine. I’ve had him on the DASH diet since that little scare in July. He grumbles about eating veal, calls it bloodless, but well, it’s not up to him, is it?’
Harriet smiled to herself. Anne might call Harriet stubborn, but Harriet knew where she got it from.
‘No mum, sounds like you have him under control.’
‘That I do.’
‘Look mum, I am sitting here staring at a pile of paperwork that’s not going to do itself and I have an early start tomorrow. So I’m going to go. Give dad a hug for me and I will see you in a couple weeks. Ok?’
‘Ok love, you take care. And if things change and you can stay a while, just say. I can have the room set for you in a jiffy.’
‘Thanks mum. Love you, bye.’
Harriet hung up the phone and took another bite of her now cold beans and toast. The paperwork was real, but it wasn’t getting done tonight. She shook her head, working to clear the nauseating emotions that flooded her mind and stomach.
She loved her mother, it was true. And Billy, and if she was forced to admit it, Fergus too. But that house, the memories. Nellie. It always took a while to regroup after a call from home. She’d stay the night, Christmas Eve. Why she even pretended she’d drive up to Ellesmere Port and back in one day she didn’t know. Her preference to just stay in Exeter was irrelevant in the face of her mother’s grief; she’d never recovered after Nellie. No one had.
Rising from her chair Harriet screwed the cap back on the bottle of wine and returned it to the fridge. She pulled some dark chocolate digestives from the cupboard and boiled herself a cup of tea before settling back at her desk to read through the case files she’d dug up that afternoon, after meeting with Eloise.
Time to research the case law, she thought to herself as she opened the first volume and began to work.
6: The parents
A week later Dorothy and Paul Lane sat in Harriet’s office on Exeter’s North Street. They’d sought her out for their daughter’s defence on recommendation from her boss, John Wykle, the lead partner at Wykle and Norton Solicitors.
‘We used to go fishing together,’ Paul smiled as he shook Harriet’s hand firmly. She indicated for them to take a seat and settled down behind her wide oak desk. ‘Before he moved up from Salcombe, to take the partnership here,’ he finished. Memories of happier summer days flitted over the faces of Dorothy and Paul, a moment of respite that vanished almost as swiftly as it
came. ‘But when all this trouble with Eloise came up, he was the first person I thought of for help. And he insisted you were the one for the job.’
Harriet nodded. Trouble was one way of putting it, not the word Harriet would have chosen. ’John has been like a mentor for me here at Wykle and Norton. I appreciate his vote of confidence,’ she said, taking a moment to observe her clients. They sat straight, shoulders tight, mirroring each other’s tension and uncertainty. Dorothy was small and neat, dressed in a matching shirt and cardigan outfit, hair grey but styled, her lined face tight against her bones, eyes slightly widened. Paul was broad of shoulder and tall. He looked strong for his age, sorrow limning his pale blue eyes. Eloise’s eyes, Harriet realised.
She plunged right in, ‘I have reviewed your daughter’s case file so far. Though there will be more from the DPP in the coming months as we await the Committal Hearing.’ She paused, scanning the faces before her, noting the glimmer of hope within their eyes. Time to get real, she thought, before continuing. ‘On the evidence gathered so far: your daughter found covered in Mr Huxley’s blood; the weapon being her crafting scissors and the letter from the Family Court requesting mediation for Mr Huxley to take custody of Jacob, it doesn’t look good for Eloise.’
Dorothy shifted in her seat, hands clamped tightly in her lap. Harriet waited, but the mother said nothing. She continued, ‘Coupled with your elder daughter, June’s testimony that she was away at precisely the time of the murder and arrived home to find Eloise hysterical… The DPP will argue Eloise is guilty by reason of means, motive and opportunity. On the evidence so far, it is likely the prosecution will succeed. The defence of those allegations will be difficult. There is not, at this time, a basis to argue she is wholly innocent. ’
Paul took in a sharp breath, burrows frowning. Tears were forming in Dorothy’s eyes, her lips quavering. Harriet gave them a moment, letting the stark reality sink in. She didn’t believe in false hope. Just the facts and the truth they revealed. Facts were everything.
‘But there may be an opportunity to argue culpability. Eloise has no memory of the event. And June has stated she was in Devon, living at your beach house, as a means of recovery from post-natal depression. If we can build a case to show Eloise was not of sound mind, or was unaware of the actions she took, she does not have the mens rea, or the mental element necessary to be found guilty of the crime. We might be successful in arguing Eloise is not guilty by reason of insanity. Having met with Eloise at The Orchard, I feel this to be the safest course of action. Psychiatric facilities can have a dark reputation, but The Orchard is a calm place. Somewhere Eloise can get the help she needs.’
A wobbly ‘oh’ sounded from Dorothy as the tears finally won over her composure and she buried her face in her hands. Paul placed a stoic hand on his wife’s hunched back, but his eyes did not leave Harriet’s face.
‘It would mean being detained in a mental hospital for the criminally insane, at the Queen’s Pleasure. Not a set sentence. But she would receive treatment and help for her illness,’ Harriet explained
‘The alternative?’ Paul asked, voice low.
‘Prison, High Security Prison. Life sentence, parole in 20, maybe. The nature of the crime was… heinous.’
‘Eloise can’t go to prison!’ Dorothy cried, ‘My baby can’t. She’s too fragile, she wouldn’t survive!’
‘Calm Dorothy,’ Paul said, hand still at her back.
Dorothy sobbed again and Paul shuddered. Harriet suppressed a flash of guilt. She’d been blunt, but they had to face the reality of the situation Eloise faced.
Paul fixed Harriet with his pale eyes. ‘Eloise has always been unsettled, mentally I mean. Dorothy had some, difficulties, with pregnancy after June. Eloise took a while to come along, it’s why the girls are so far apart. When Lou did come, she was early, sickly and small. She grew into an anxious child, prone to fancies. June would tease her, ‘you’d find something to worry about in paradise,’ she’d say.’ He paused, taking a deep breath. ‘Eloise was committed into the psychiatric ward at Hollydale when she was 15. For six months. Delusions, she thought her sister was trying to harm her, which was absolutely ridiculous. She was better after that. But we knew she had to stay close, so we could keep an eye on her. ’
‘Grant seemed to settle her, calm her,’ Dorothy took up the tale. ‘He was an old friend of June’s from their uni days. Seemed a perfect match. But then the troubles with Jacob…’
‘Troubles?’ Harriet prompted.
Dorothy continued, ’They’d been married five years. Eloise was working as a Medical Secretary in London, Grant was doing wonderfully at Barclays. They seemed, well, happy. But Eloise, she wanted a baby. So did Grant. And despite her youth, she was only 26 when they started trying, they just never fell pregnant. So they invested in IVF. The hormones, the procedures, the embryos that didn’t make it,’ Dorothy sighed, ‘Eloise fell into a deep depression. We suggested she take a break, a year to reset. But she didn’t listen…’
‘She was right though,’ Paul interrupted, ‘Jacob came along that year. She just needed the extra time.’
Dorothy’s eyes flicked up at her husband, lips pressed tight in irritation. Not a shared opinion then, Harriet surmised. Dorothy continued, ‘Lou was so happy. Grant too. Just so happy. And Jacob, he was perfect, a mini Grant. But Eloise… the depression returned, stronger. Grant said he’d come home and find her in bed sobbing, Jacob screaming, his nappy soaked. He hired a nanny to help her, but Eloise just got worse… He said she was impossible.’
‘So the weakling ran,’ Paul stated, voice flat and dark. ‘Left her with her illness and moved in with a friend. A female friend.’ His tone said just what his opinion on that was. Harriet nodded solemnly.
‘She needed help, but after our experience when she was committed… it was a horrid place, we didn’t want to put her through that again. So we moved her down to Devon, to be near us.’ Dorothy went on, ‘We thought the sea air and the quiet would do her some good. And June was wonderful. Cut back her hours at her management business so she could work remotely, and moved in with Eloise to help care for her and Jacob. June has always been a wonderful sister, always protective of Eloise, even now, as adults. She took Eloise for walks, encouraged her to chat with the neighbours. And it seemed to be working. She was doing well.’
‘When did Grant start visiting?’ Harriet asked.
‘Late September, I think,’ Dorothy replied. ’Said he wanted to reconcile, that he missed his son…’
‘Took him six months to develop a conscience,’ Paul said, scathingly.
‘He visited on weekends. Eloise lit up. She was like a young girl again, being courted. She seemed so happy. Just the week before she told me she believed they would move back to London together soon…’
‘Then the custody letter came,’ Paul said.
Harriet consulted her notes, the letter was dated November 8th, one week before the murder.
‘Luckily June saw it before Eloise. Rang me when Lou was on one of her walks. We all agreed it was best not to show it to Eloise, not yet. We hoped… well, we hoped Grant could be reasoned with. That we could find another way…’
‘Had either of you or June approached Grant in the week leading up to his murder?’
‘We hadn’t,’ Dorothy said, looking to her husband for confirmation. ‘And as far as we know neither had June. He only came down for the weekends… so none of us had had the chance.’
‘So you are saying that, to the best of your knowledge, Eloise didn’t know about the custody application?’
‘Oh no, we all agreed not to tell her. She was doing so well. A big shift like that… it would have put her back. The threat to her child, but also the financial burden.’
Paul coughed loudly.
‘Financial burden?’ Harriet asked.
Dorothy’s hands fluttered before her. ‘Oh, well, the Huxleys, they pay Eloise an allowance. £400 a fortnight, to support Jacob’s care. It comes out of Grant’s
salary from their Estate. He wasn’t too happy about it, but the Huxleys wanted to help support Eloise. The payments allow Eloise to just focus on her health, and Jacob’s too of course. But if Grant had sole custody…’
‘The payments would stop.’
‘We were able to help, but only so long. We gave all we could…’
Harriet jotted down some notes, keeping her face neutral. More motive, she sighed inside.
The family’s subterfuge, however well intended, didn’t help Eloise’s case either. If she’d found the letter, which was not an unreasonable assumption, how would she have reacted? The police transcript said she flew into a red rage when they showed her the letter… Yet when Harriet had spoken to Eloise she had said she and Grant were working on a reconciliation. As if the letter didn’t exist. Curious.
‘Did Eloise ever see a psychologist, for her post natal?’
Guilt lit Dorothy’s eyes. ‘No,’ Paul supplied. ‘She just needed some rest and time with Jacob. And if that rat had stayed by her side, supported her like a husband should…’
‘Peace, dear,’ Dorothy whispered softly, placing a hand on her husband’s knee. Paul drew in a deep breath and settled. ‘A husband is meant to stick around, good times and bad,’ he said, ‘not cut and run when things get tough. We should have known after what happened with June…’
‘June?’ Harriet enquired. Paul looked frazzled, eyes shifting side to side.
‘It was a long time ago,’ he mumbled.
Harriet looked to Dorothy who grimaced. ‘June and Grant were together, at University. Not just friends. But things got, complicated. They broke up.’
‘And when did Grant and Eloise start seeing each other?’
‘Oh, not until mid 2013, nearly a decade later. It was water under the bridge by then.’
Harriet nodded, that was an interesting piece of information, but was it relevant? She filed it away for consideration. Her eyes slid subtly across to check her desk clock. The hour appointment was up. Harriet had a court appearance in two hours and fancied lunch before then. Time to wrap up.
The Unsound Sister Page 4