‘To tell’t truth, young man. For justice’ sake. In’t that what you do ‘ere?’
Morris was sunk. He floundered on for some time but only dug himself deeper into a hole. Sarah blew Lucy a silent kiss. Despite the unfortunate comment about prison, Dewar was a gem. She had hit the bullseye this time. The only trouble was, he was the only shot in her locker.
James Morris sat down at four o’clock. The judge peered at Sarah over his spectacles.
‘Will your client be taking the stand, Mrs Newby?’
‘That remains to be decided, my lord. I need to take instructions.’
‘Very well. We will resume at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’ The judge levered himself to his feet, the clerk cried out ‘All Stand!’ and court was over for the day.
Lucy came out of court with her. ‘Will you put him on the stand?’
‘I would advise not.’
‘Why? We’re doing well, and he’s consistently denied it.’
‘You know how he talks. Lloyd-Davies will prick him and goad him until he explodes. The jury will loathe him.’
‘But if we don’t, they’ll think he’s got something to hide.’
‘He has. His voice, his temper, the lies about his alibi. He’s got everything to hide. But if he doesn’t speak they won’t hear it from his own mouth. They’ll just hear me.’
In his cell Gary grinned at them. ‘We’re doing well, lasses, eh?’
‘I’m doing well,’ said Sarah coolly. ‘You’re probably going to jail.’
‘Eh? What d’yer mean, you stuck-up bitch? It’s your job to keep me out of jail, in’t it?’
‘Yes, but unless you prove your alibi, the jury are going to draw the obvious conclusion.’
‘What d’you mean? You’ve just heard about Sean, haven’t you?’
‘We’ve heard he exists but that doesn’t mean he was with you that night, does it? And their last witness saw you in Albert Street, for heaven’s sake! What were you doing there?’
‘I’ve told yer. I was on me way home after shagging this bird I met.’
‘A bird whose name we don’t know, with a friend called Sean who’s conveniently vanished. The prosecution will crucify you about that, Gary. It would have been better to say nothing than tell the police a tale about girls whose names you can’t even remember.’
‘Have you never had a feller whose name you forgot next day? It happens all’t time.’
‘To you, maybe, but not to me,’ Sarah said primly, thinking bleakly of her first husband Kevin and how similar he was in some ways to this thug before her. ‘And my girlfriends didn’t do a bunk the next day, either. You do realise, if we could find this shagging companion of yours — Sean — and he confirmed your story, you’d be a free man tomorrow.’
Gary grinned, amused by her unexpectedly coarse language. ‘I know, but he’s scarpered, ain’t he? He always were a devious bugger.’
‘Not much of a friend, then, after all?’ Sarah said sarcastically. ‘If he was ever there.’
‘You calling me a liar, woman?’ He rose suddenly to his feet, six foot three of tattooed brawn and beer belly towering above them. Lucy flinched, but Sarah stood her ground. She was not surprised; she had intended to provoke him.
‘That’s what Lloyd-Davies will say tomorrow. He’ll say you’re lying about this man Sean and the two prostitutes. Sean’s scarpered and they never existed.’
His fists opened and closed like claws. Sarah imagined them closing around her throat. But he looked more sly than angry. ‘Aye, well. It’s not a crime is it, to have the coppers on?’
‘It’s not exactly a brilliant idea to lie to the police when they’re accusing you of rape. Is that what you’re going to say in court tomorrow, that this alibi was just a fantasy of yours?’
‘What if I do? It don’t prove I raped the cow, does it? You said so yourself!’
‘I didn’t call her a cow, Gary.’
‘No. But she is for all that. You don’t know her.’
‘All right, Gary.’ Sarah became brisk, preparing to leave. ‘We’ve done quite well, like you say, and tomorrow is the final speeches. As a defendant you have the right to give evidence on your own behalf if you choose, but as your advocate I strongly suggest you say nothing. If you go in the witness box Julian Lloyd-Davies will do his best to make the jury dislike you, and to be frank I think he’ll succeed. If you say nothing then I can emphasise the weaknesses in the prosecution case, which will give us a better chance. But it’s for you to decide. Do you agree?’
He frowned at her, thinking. ‘You want me to keep me trap shut and tell no more lies?
‘Exactly. If you’d done that in the beginning you’d be better off now.’
‘I’ll think on. I’ll tell you in’t morning.’
‘All right. But think hard, Gary. Juries don’t like liars. Nobody does.’
With that she left. In the corridor outside she looked at Lucy. ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Tell no more lies,’ Lucy sighed.
‘Quite.’ Sarah took a deep breath and walked quickly up the stairs. Crossing the entrance hall with her solicitor was Sharon Gilbert. As Sarah watched, another woman, her friend Mary probably, met her on the steps outside with two small children — one of them the little boy who had dared to attack the brute who was raping his mother.
She went back to her chambers where two young barristers were commiserating with Savendra over the conviction of his filthy farmer for polluting the borehole with his slurry pit.
‘My expert assured them that it takes twenty years to reach the water table,’ he said, gloomily watching the bubbles in a glass of mineral water instead of the champagne languishing in the fridge. ‘But that only made it worse. The applicants could see themselves drinking foul water for decades to come — you could see the steam coming out of their ears!’
‘Leaving the pollution in their minds, no doubt!’
‘Exactly. They got costs as well. My client may have to sell up …’
‘Is there much money in slurry these days? Maybe you can bottle it and sell it as perfume for dogs …’
Sarah squeezed past into her room to write her speech for tomorrow. There were plenty of questions she could raise about the evidence; her real problem was how to appeal to the jury, to get them to feel good about acquitting a man who not only looked like a horrendous thug but probably was one. Particularly when the acquittal would be so devastating for Sharon. And for her children too.
That was the problem. To question the evidence was easy, to gain the jury’s sympathy … not so easy. Not even slightly easy. Impossible, probably.
Well, that’s what I’m paid to do. Not the easy things, but the difficult ones. That’s the whole point of the challenge.
For an hour she tried out phrase after phrase, rejecting one after another. All the time Gary’s words haunted her: ‘Keep me trap shut and tell no more lies.’ It was as close as she was likely to get to an admission of guilt. Gary was an old enough lag to know the game; a client must never admit guilt to his barrister. If the client did admit it, it was the barrister’s duty to advise a guilty plea, even at this late stage. If that advice was rejected the barrister could, as some did, withdraw from the case there and then, or more likely, offer only a token defence, questioning the evidence with a lack of conviction that clearly signalled to everyone in court — except the jury, who were new to the game — how little you believed in your task. Sarah had seen that done but always hated it. She wanted to do the job properly, go all out for victory.
After all Gary, repulsive as he was, had consistently professed his innocence.
Until now.
‘Keep me trap shut and tell no more lies.’ You sod, Gary — why didn’t you keep it shut with me! But of course he hadn’t admitted his guilt — she and Lucy had just inferred it from a couple of words. There was no ethical reason why she shouldn’t continue to defend him, and every practical reason — including a substantial fee from the legal aid fund — why she should. It was a good case, a step up in her career. If only it didn’t feel so tacky and sordid, suddenly.