make love to him. Were you angry?’
‘Of course I was angry, but … I knew if she’d stay with me, she’d get over it in the end.’
‘But on that day when you argued at the protest, Tuesday 11th May, she told you she was leaving, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, but … she’d said that before. I didn’t believe her. I knew she’d come back — it was on her way back that he killed her!’ The court was hushed, completely silent now.
‘You say my son killed her, but you have no evidence to prove that, do you, David? It could have been someone else, who also had also had a motive. Couldn’t it?’
‘Well, who else could it be?’ He looked around, desperate, astonished. ‘For Christ’s sake, you’re not suggesting
And so he’d said it himself, without her having to accuse him. The atmosphere in court was electric. She felt the crackle of attention all round her.
‘On the morning she died, where did she say she was going?’
‘To the protest. But it wasn’t true. I went there myself to check.’
Sarah smiled grimly. ‘So what did you do then, David? Did you go to Bramham Street to spy on her, as you’d done before?’
‘Really?’ Sarah shook her head, disbelievingly. ‘And while you were at work, you forgot all about Jasmine, did you?’
‘So you were upset about Jasmine. What time did you leave work that night?’
‘At the end of the shift. Ten o’clock.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I cycled home.’ He watched her warily again.
‘But you’d been thinking about Jasmine all evening at work, you say. Did you go to Bramham Street on your way home?’
‘No.’
‘Didn’t you, David? Why not? How could you resist the urge to stand outside, see if the bedroom light was on, see if you could hear her laughing with him?’
‘I told you, I didn’t go. Anyway I thought she might have come home.’
‘But she hadn’t, had she? Did you go out again, to look for her?’
‘No. Of course not. There was no point.’
‘Because you knew where she was?’
‘I thought I did, yes.’
‘You didn’t go back along the cyclepath by the river, where Jasmine’s body was found?’
A soft indrawing of breath ruffled the air as the point of Sarah’s question became clear.
‘Did you cycle home that way?’
‘No. Not that day.’
‘Why not?’
‘It was dark. I don’t go that way when it’s dark.’
‘But it’s a route you know well?’
‘I use it sometimes, yes.’
‘And Jasmine used it too?’
‘She did, but I told her not to use it after dark, for that exact reason. Anyone could be hiding in the bushes. A monster like him!’ He glared at Simon.
‘I see. So you knew that this was a route that Jasmine used, and you thought it was exactly the sort of place where a murderer or rapist might attack her. Is that right?’
‘Yes.’
Sarah drew a deep breath. Almost there. ‘So if the idea had come into your head to murder Jasmine, you’d have known exactly the right place to choose. Wouldn’t you, David?’
His face paled in horror. ‘You’re mad!
‘So you say. But there was no one with you that night, was there, David? No one who can support this story that you didn’t use the cycle path, or go out again to look for Jasmine late that night?’
‘No. But it’s all true. For Christ’s sake!’
Turner was back on his feet. ‘My lord, I really feel that this has gone far enough. My learned friend is badgering this witness without a shred of evidence to support these allegations. She is causing great distress to no purpose.’
Resolutely, Sarah faced the judge, on whose face was a clear expression of distaste. ‘I have made no allegations, my lord, none. I have accused this witness of nothing: he has accused himself. I have merely sought to establish that he has the motive, the opportunity, and the lack of alibi, precisely that which is alleged against my son.’
Judge Mookerjee contemplated her, considering the situation before him. But before he could decide, Sarah resumed. ‘Anyway, my lord, I have no more questions for this witness. So if I am causing distress, it is ended.’
The judge nodded, relieved. ‘In that case, Mr Brodie, you may stand down.’
David Brodie stood there, irresolute, shaking. He half turned to go, then changed his mind and faced Sarah again. His hurt, bitter voice carried clear across the court.
‘I loved Jasmine, and your son killed her. You know it, too, don’t you? Bitch!’
Amid the excited buzz of conversation, Sarah turned to look at Simon. Directly above him, watching from the public gallery, was her husband, Bob.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Since the start of the trial Sarah had felt stared at. It was not just the cameras outside — everywhere within the building people were aware of her, either watching her openly or from the corners of their eyes. She was on public view. But today was worse than ever. As the court emptied for the lunchtime recess, she could feel the eyes feeding on her, hundreds of them. As though they all belonged to one single organism.
She shivered as she came into the crowded lobby, where journalists, security guards, students, police and witnesses were milling around indiscriminately. Lucy squeezed her arm.
‘That was a tough thing to do.’
‘Tell me about it. Oh Christ, look out. Left turn, quick.’
David Brodie was a yard away, speaking indignantly to the prosecution solicitor. When he saw Sarah he stepped impulsively forward. ‘You’re a bitch, you know that? A rotten stinking cow! I never killed her and you know damn well I didn’t …’
‘David, David, come on. You’ll make things worse …’ The solicitor caught his arm, while Sarah and Lucy slipped past them out of the front door straight into the huge black eye of a TV camera. A smartly dressed young woman thrust a microphone in Sarah’s face.
‘Mrs Newby, how did the trial go this morning?’
‘No, sorry, not today.’ Lucy dragged Sarah down the steps and away, the camera filming them but making no attempt to follow. It was then that Bob appeared.
‘Sarah, can I have a word?’ His face under the beard looked grim.
‘We’re just off to lunch, Bob.’
‘Fine, I’ll come too.’
‘This is a surprise, Bob.’ Sarah kept walking briskly. ‘How will the school manage?’
