Dorothy let out vexed breath. ‘You honestly believe Junie did this?’ she demanded. Her eyes scanned Harriet’s face.
‘I am not June’s lawyer. I can’t speak for all the evidence in the case against her. But from what I have seen in my research to defend Eloise, it does seem so, yes. The facts fit.’
‘The facts!’ Dorothy exclaimed. ‘The facts! What about the truth in the heart? What a mother knows? What she doesn’t want to acknowledge openly, but she carries deep inside. What about the truth?’
‘Mrs Lane,’ Harriet said calmly, ‘I understand you are upset. This is all a lot to take in. But justice was served here today. Eloise should not be incarcerated. You must see that.’
‘All I see is a young lawyer who is too clever for her own good.’
‘Mrs Lane…’
‘No more,’ Dorothy held up a hand to silence Harriet. ‘I hope it was worth it,’ she said, eyes boring into Harriet’s.
With that she and Mr Lane walked away, leaving Harriet standing alone in shock behind them. As they reached the large front doors of the Crown Court Paul glanced back over his shoulder at Harriet, eyes filled with sorrow and shook his head softly.
Confused and upset Harriet adjusted her jacket and ran a hand over her hair to smooth it. It’s a bad day for them, she reasoned, nothing more. Forcibly putting the encounter from her mind she turned back down the corridor, mind focused on her client, who was now free.
27: The wronged sister
The Crown Court loomed behind them, a bright white frame against the pale blue sky. Eloise breathed deeply, smiled. Harriet felt peace settle inside her own self. Eloise was out.
Laughing, Eloise turned to Harriet, giddy joy spreading across her face. She was clad in jeans and a pink shirt. The pink set off her beautiful eyes, lightened her complexion. She looked years younger than she had inside The Orchard. Youthful and free.
‘I can never thank you enough,’ Eloise enthused. ‘This is all because of you.’
‘No,’ Harriet said, ‘it is because of justice. You deserve this Eloise.’
Eloise nodded, face momentarily solemn. It was a heavy burden to hold; freedom at the expense of your sister. Harriet hoped Eloise could surmount it.
‘Doctor Taylor gave you a list of recommended psychologists?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do ring them, Eloise. When you are ready. I think they will really help with all of this.’
‘Of course,’ Eloise turned away.
Harriet let the topic drop. Who was she to push? Eloise had just spent six months locked up awaiting trial for something she didn’t do. She had been through untold stresses coming to terms with the murder of her husband and the belief that she was responsible. It would take time for her to be ready to trust anyone again after this.
Harriet changed the subject, ‘So, what are your first plans for when you get home?’
‘Cuddles with Jacob.’ Eloise beamed. ‘I have so missed my little man. His first birthday… He will have grown so much.’ Sadness drifted across her features. So much time, lost. Harriet watched her rally, pulling herself back from the abyss of self-pity into the future of possibility. ‘You’ll have to come down to Torcross and meet him,’ she exclaimed.
‘I have met him already,’ Harriet answered gently.
Eloise flicked a glance at her, eyes narrowing. ‘No, you met my sister’s nephew. Not my son.’ She straightened her shoulders. Harriet frowned. Odd reaction. Yet, was it really? After all she had been through, after what her sister did to try and keep Jacob for herself…
‘Oh!’ Eloise suddenly turned to Harriet, ‘And I must make you a new folder. A felt one, for your notes and files. Such important and amazing work you do. That dreary black one has to go. It will give me a new crafting project. Something to focus on, something positive and meaningful.’
Harriet, caught up in Eloise’s gentle affection, laughed happily. She couldn’t stand felt art, but it was the thought that mattered.
‘Well, that would mean a lot, Eloise. Though, you’ll have to wait until you get some new crafting scissors, unfortunately. Your pair will remain with evidence. You won’t get them back, I’m afraid.’
Eloise waved this away, looking out to the street before them. ‘Those old things? No loss there. I only ever use my scissors for crafting anyway. And they are safely tucked away in my office. Ready and waiting.’
‘You have another pair of scissors?’
‘Of course. You don’t use the good set for dirty work, do you Harriet?’
Harriet felt her brows bunch, ‘But I thought you couldn’t find your scissors that night? That June had taken them.’
‘Hmmm,’ she hummed vaguely, gaze forward. ‘Isn’t it amazing how often we are underestimated, Harriet?’
Mind still focused on her previous comment and thrown by the change of topic Harriet stammered, ‘I’m sorry?’
‘You and I, or at least, people like us. I think it might be because we are small, we look frail,’ Eloise turned to face Harriet, eyes suddenly fierce, piercing. ‘People just assume things about you, your character, your power. They think you are vulnerable, that you can be controlled, pushed around. Doesn’t it just make you mad? You must find it all the time in your profession! But I wasn’t fooled Harriet, not for one moment. I saw your potential.’
She broke off, looking back down the street, breathing suddenly laboured. Harriet nodded warily. I guess that’s right, Harriet thought. Perhaps I should give myself more credit for my management of arrogant people…
‘Yes, but Eloise, what were you saying about the…’
‘I’ve had enough of living that way,’ Eloise interrupted. ‘More than enough.’
Eyes fixed on the horizon, she took a deep breath, ‘They thought they were so secretive, so clever. But I knew about June and Grant. And I wasn’t surprised. Boringly predictable really. I knew she’d never got over him. And Grant, well, my husband would fuck anything on two legs if it was willing.’
Harriet blinked in surprise at the rough language and the distain that dripped from her words.
At the revelation.
‘You knew?’
Eloise had folded her arms across her chest in angry defiance.
‘Grant always had another woman on the go, right from when we were first married,’ Eloise said, ‘I didn’t mind, more time for me to be me, doing my own thing. I loved the freedom. But things changed when I got pregnant with Jacob. Grant became attentive, interested. Suddenly wanted to know what I was doing, where I was going. Telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, because of the baby. It was just like being home with mum and dad. Worse… he hated it when I disagreed. Hated it!’
Eloise gave a short shake of her head, like a nervous tick, before rolling her shoulders as if releasing a store of pent up tension. Harriet had seen that gesture before, when they talked about Hollydale…
‘I wanted out,’ she continued, ‘but I couldn’t leave Grant, not if I wanted to stay in the city. There wasn’t the money if I did.’
She paused, rubbing her hands on her arms, eyes far away, ‘A return to being unwell was the perfect answer. You learn a thing or two about playing the system when you’re committed.’
A knowing smile.
‘The perfect answer?’
‘My “troubles” meant mum and dad were forced to help. No lectures about “duty as a wife” and all that crap. They just paid the rent after Grant moved out, got me a nanny. But they couldn’t leave it could they? Oh, no, they had to meddle!’
Eloise took a shuddering breath and ran a hand through her hair. Harriet stood staring at her, forehead creased in confusion.
‘They pulled the rent, moved us down to the house on Hiddley. That fucking stupid holiday shack. Then June gave up everything to come and support me. Always was a martyr that one. “So you can relax. Enjoy each day and Jacob.” I mean, how would she know what I wanted? She’s never asked! The only ones who were truly helpful were the Huxleys paying us suppo
rt money for Jacob, no strings attached. But me, I was back in my childhood again, under the thumb of my parents and my sister. When Grant came back I was so relieved. It was my chance to get out again.’
She shrugged, ‘I was happy to play along, I wanted to be in London, and divorce didn’t interest me anymore. I was sure I could make it work. Though, if I’m honest, it was a relief when he and June first started seeing each other. Took the pressure off of me. I mean, I had Jacob, why would I want any more sex with Grant? You know?’
She looked at Harriet as if in shared conspiracy. Harriet faked an agreeing nod. A strong sense of unease slowly uncoiling in her gut.
‘Anyway, I thought I had it all going well. Then the letter arrived from the Family Court. Sole custody. Can you believe it? The fucking cheek of it! I wasn’t having that, oh no.’
‘You knew about the letter? Before you were interviewed?’
Eloise cocked her head, giving Harriet an incredulous glance.
Right, yeah, underestimating. But…
Eloise continued, ‘What to do?’ she mused to herself, one finger resting on her chin in a mime of thoughtfulness, ‘Junie was the answer, of course.’
She looked up at Harriet, eyes two orbs of blue flame. ‘No one was going to take my son. No one.’
A chill ran down Harriet’s spine, she swallowed. The fury in Eloise’s eyes, the depth of hate brimming there, shocked her to the core. Yet wasn’t that the reaction you would expect from a mother defending her child? It was only natural. Except…
Breaking into Harriet’s thoughts, Eloise went on, ‘I booked the car in for a Thursday, I knew it would interrupt June’s plans to visit Grant, frustrate her, especially with the secret of the custody letter hanging around her neck like a millstone. Another lie to keep inside. She never was good with guilt, our Junie. ’
‘You knew they met on Thursdays?’ Harriet said, breath coming faster now.
Eloise didn’t pause, her words flowed on ignoring Harriet’s question, lost in her recollection, ‘I made sure June knew just how thankful I was to her, for everything. For giving up her life in London, for taking care of me and Jacob, for being the only person in the world I could depend on, trust fully,’ she laughed low and vile. ‘It was quite fun really, seeing just how deeply those words cut her. When I saw she’d taken dad’s old fishing knife, well…’
Shock locked Harriet’s brain, her stomach clenched tight.
‘Eloise,’ she breathed, throat tight. Swallowing she continued, ‘Are you saying that you manipulated June into killing your husband?’
‘Oh!’ Eloise turned two big blue eyes, wide and full of innocence, to Harriet, ‘did I think that?’ she looked momentarily confused and glanced away, watching the line of pine trees swaying in the gentle breeze.
A small crease marked the perfect surface of her forehead as she slowly shook her head, ‘No, I don’t think I truly ever thought she would, not really. You can never be sure what a person will do, can you, Harriet?’ A pause. ‘I needed to be sure.’
Harriet’s breathing was coming in short painful bursts now, the heaviness of panic settling along her limbs. Her palms began to sweat.
‘Eloise,’ she began, almost panting, ‘Eloise, are you saying…?’
‘Hmmm?’ Eloise regarded Harriet with calm sea eyes and smiled gently. ‘I’m not saying anything love,’ she replied, cocking her head to the side. ‘It’s like you said. The facts are clear. June was angry with Grant and she took the knife. Not much room for reasonable doubt there. Justice done.’
She turned away, face set with determination. Harriet couldn’t speak. A dark feeling had flooded her senses. Her knees felt weak.
Eloise breathed in deeply, oblivious to Harriet’s distress, ‘And I can finally go home,’ she said to the skies arms stretched out wide as if taking the world into her arms, ‘no more digging around in confusing memories. I can hug my baby, take Bella for a walk,’ she spun round to face Harriet, joy writ across her features, ‘I can see a sunset! You know I haven’t seen one since that night? It’s always so beautiful off the coast of Beesands…’
Harriet froze.
‘You remember being in Beesands?’
‘It was such a cold night, I absolutely made the wrong choice of jacket.’ Eloise laughed lightly, shaking her head as if in rueful recollection of a past oversight.
Harriet opened her mouth to speak, once, twice, throat tight, questions trembling through her mind, ‘Eloise…’ she managed.
Two blue eyes, open, sincere.
Abruptly, a car swung into the car park. Eloise looked away, ‘Oh, here’s my ride.’
Harriet glanced at the car, saw Helene Swift behind the wheel.
‘Your parents aren’t picking you up?’
‘No, they have to collect Jacob from the Huxley’s. He’s been with them since June’s arrest. And they are very tired after all of this… fuss,’ her eyes reflected sympathy, understanding. ‘And as you know, Helene owes me. A lot of people owe me.’ The fire lit for a moment, then banked.
Helene pulled up in front of them and leaned across the car to open the passenger side door. Eloise stepped over, bent down and said something quickly to Helene. Helene nodded.
Eloise turned back to Harriet. ‘Thank you again Harriet,’ she smiled softly, ‘I could never have done it all without you.’
A glimmer, cold and foreign, shone from her eyes and was gone, replaced with the open innocence Harriet was used to.
‘I’ll send you that felt folder as soon as I can. And remember, it’s a good thing to be underestimated. An advantage. Took me years to realise that, it’s really a strength. Bye for now!’
She settled into the car, drawing her seatbelt across her chest as Helene pulled away from the curb leaving Harriet standing alone, armpits slick with sweat. Mind numb with shock.
‘Fuck,’ she breathed, hands shaking. She took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Her body felt frozen despite the gentle warmth of the spring sun.
Suddenly, Harriet burst into action, striding for her car at a brisk place. She had to move, had to get away. She needed to think.
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains of Harriet’s lounge room. Her hands cradled a cup of coffee, long gone cold. Dressed in yesterday’s suit, blanket wrapped about her shoulders, Harriet stared, unseeing, at a dent on her coffee table.
She’d come straight back to her apartment after accompanying Eloise as she was released from the Orchard, messaged her secretary that she was working from home, and slumped down on her couch.
She hadn’t moved since. The long dark hours of night spent tossing and turning, mind in turmoil.
Free from the Orchard, Eloise had transformed, seemingly before Harriet’s very eyes, anger, bitterness, determination had emanated from her. Yet wasn’t that to be expected? The natural response to all she had been through: the betrayal of her husband and sister, the fear of losing her child. Breaking free from a lifetime of control from her parents.
But her words could suggest more, much more…
She’d admitted knowledge she previously denied. Details of the night of Grant’s death. Was her memory returning, or had she never lost it? And what did those memories mean now?
Harriet pressed her palm against her forehead, fighting the wave of nausea that threatened to empty her stomach. Placing her cold mug on the table, she reached for her phone, bringing up Robert’s number as she had done several times already that morning. She needed a sounding board, someone else to talk it all through with. Together they could make sense of it all.
Robert. He’d believed Eloise was guilty, right from the start. Harriet’s instincts said the opposite. Had he been right all along?
She paused, thumb hovering over the call button. She couldn’t make the call. What held her back? Pride? Uncertainty?
Harriet’s stomach cramped, the nervous fluttering intensifying. She curled up on her side, pulling the blanket tight about her shoulders. Seeking warmth, comf
ort.
She felt unanchored, cut loose, lost.
Old verses new crafting scissors. Did the whole case really come down to those few little words? The clue to the truth, or just a throw away sentence?
Picking the sleep from her eyes before vigorously rubbing her face in an effort to work some feeling back into her skin, Harriet ordered herself to focus. She needed to think clearly, logically. Review the facts. Her eyes stared blankly at the white ceiling.
What had Eloise said, really? That she had manipulated June, definitely. But to what end? To feel guilt over her betrayal and confront Grant on Eloise’s behalf? Or to commit murder? Did it even matter? June chose to take the knife of her own free will…
But was it really June who killed Grant? Or had Eloise got there first, cold wind at her back, old scissors in hand, filled with rage at Grant’s betrayal and the threat of losing her son?
She’d said just enough to raise doubt but not enough to form a conclusion. Leaving Harriet with clues and suggestions, but no hard evidence, nothing she could use to confirm or deny this question that now wracked her soul; impotent in the face of potential injustice.
And what she had said about them being similar. Eloise’s fury at being underestimated was too close to her own anger at her father’s dismissal of her career, her rage at Robert’s dishonesty…
A defiant spark lit inside her, it wasn’t Harriet who had decided to arrest and charge June Lane, that was on the DPP. All she’d done was defend her client, create doubt. That was her job wasn’t it? Defence. If the DPP couldn’t get their act together that was on them.
Harriet groaned
No.
No matter how hard she tried to make herself believe that, she couldn’t.
Everyone deserved a defence, that was her calling, the whole reason she’d entered the law in the first place. But after Eloise, that just wasn’t enough anymore. She found something real to defend, a true injustice to fight against. She’d trusted the system. Evidence, facts, truth. But had she just been the one to corrupt it? Had she saved a vulnerable, innocent woman from unjust incarceration? Or had she allowed a manipulative psychopath to turn her head and set a killer free?
The Unsound Sister Page 19