something that came into my head.”
“I see. Love is a strong emotion, Thomas, isn’t it? Comes up on you unawares, like hate. Are you sure you didn’t start hating Greta because she didn’t love you like you wanted her to?”
“No. It wasn’t like that.”
“But you hate her now, don’t you, Thomas?”
“I hate her for what she did to my mother.”
“Can you remember not hating her?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I didn’t hate her that afternoon in the taxi. It seems so long ago now.”
“I suggest that’s when you did start hating her, Thomas. Then a chance similarity between two men brought your hate and your guilt together, and that’s where all this started, isn’t that right?”
“Don’t answer that, Thomas,” said the judge. “Make your questions clear and direct, Mr. Lambert. We’re not here to listen to you give us a lecture on psychiatry.”
“No, my Lord,” said Miles. “Thomas, I want to take you back to the night in London when you saw the man with the scar. You never saw him with Greta, did you?”
“No.”
“You can’t say that the man under the streetlight was the same as the person that Greta was talking to in the basement?”
“No. I know it was, though. They both went upstairs because they heard those creeps looking for me. Greta thought they might be burglars.”
“Did you hear Greta tell the other person in the basement to go upstairs?”
“No.”
“Did you see him go up the basement steps to the street?”
“No, I ran upstairs to get away. Like I said before.”
“And then you just saw the man standing there. You didn’t see where he’d come from.”
“I didn’t see but I knew.”
“Well, there doesn’t seem to be any evidence for your knowledge, Thomas. Let’s just go back to the man in the basement, whom we can agree about.”
But Thomas had had enough of being manipulated.
“Why? She didn’t agree about it,” he said angrily. “She lied about being down there. She said she was in Manchester. That’s what she told my father the next evening. I heard her.”
“Thomas, you’ve already given evidence about that,” said the judge. “Try just to answer Mr. Lambert’s questions.”
“You’ve told Mr. Sparling what Greta said to the man,” pursued Miles, “and I don’t have any argument about that, but I want to be quite clear about one thing. You just don’t know whether Greta said ‘Can’t you see I haven’t got it yet,’ or ‘Can’t you see I haven’t got him yet.’ Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Good. Then Greta said she was going upstairs, and you told us before lunch that she said: ‘Mrs. Posh won’t hear.’ I dispute that, Thomas. My client never called your mother Mrs. Posh.”
“Yes she did. Just like Aunt Jane heard her saying about Mum after Mattie died. She called her Mrs. Posh then too.”
“Did I hear that right, Thomas? Do you agree that you’ve been talking to Mrs. Martin about her evidence?”
“I talked to her about what happened after it happened. Of course I did.”
“You talked to her before she gave her evidence, compared notes. Is that what you’re saying, Thomas?”
“We talked, yes. We weren’t comparing notes. She heard what she heard and I heard what I heard.”
“And they both turned out to be the same thing. Very convenient. Now, Thomas, I want to turn to the day of your mother’s death. Let me assure you in advance that none of my questions should distress you too much — ”
“I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Lambert,” interrupted the judge. “Let’s get on and have the questions, though, shall we? We don’t need a prologue.”
This time Miles Lambert ignored the judge’s interruption. He wasn’t going to be put off his stride at this — the most important point of the trial — because of old Granger’s concern for a sixteen-year-old. Thomas was the one who had gathered the evidence that had made it possible for the prosecution to put his client in the dock. Those were hardly the actions of a vulnerable boy — more those of a determined young man. The case depended on Thomas’s credibility, and the jurors were entitled to hear a proper cross-examination of his evidence. Judge Granger’s interruptions wouldn’t stop Miles from doing his job.
“You have told us this morning that you assumed from what your mother said that the initiative for the arrangement for you to stay with your friend Edward Ball on the Monday evening came from Edward’s mother.”
“That’s right.”
“Did your mother say that the Balls had invited you?”
“I think so. I’m not sure of exactly what she said.”
“Could your mother have said that it was her idea for you to go to the Balls?”
“I don’t think so.”
“All right, is it possible that your mother didn’t say who had made the arrangement but that you just assumed that Mrs. Ball had invited you.”
“I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible.”
“Thank you. Now, you’ve given evidence that you became anxious when Mrs. Ball told you that it was in fact Greta who had arranged for you to go over there.”
“That’s right.”
“Why did you get anxious, Thomas?”
“Because that wasn’t her job. She had nothing to do with my arrangements.”
“Fair enough, but it would be different if your mother had asked her to ring up Mrs. Ball, wouldn’t it?”
“My mother would never have done that.”
“Why not? She had a headache on the Sunday afternoon when the arrangement was made, didn’t she?”
“I’m not sure. I think so.”
“So why wouldn’t she have asked Greta to do her a favor?”
“She’d have asked Aunt Jane, not Greta.”
“Mrs. Martin was out on Sunday afternoon.”
“My mother would have waited until she got back then, or rung up herself.”
“Why not ask Greta though? She was there.”
“Because my mother would never have asked Greta for anything.”
“Why not?”
“Because she didn’t like her.”
“I see. And what makes you say that, Thomas?”
“It was obvious. She avoided Greta. She never went to London because of her.”
“But she took you to London in April when you made your declaration in the taxi, and she went up for the Chelsea Flower Show four days before she died. Greta was there both times.”
“She always went to the Flower Show. She had to because of the roses.”
“I see. Did she tell you that she was avoiding London because of Greta?”
“No. I knew it though.”
“You knew it. Did she tell you that she didn’t like Greta?”
“No. She didn’t tell me but she told Greta. After Greta let my dog out and pushed me over. My mother told her that she’d turned my father against us and that she was poisonous, poisonous like a snake.”
“That wasn’t all your mother said to Greta that day though, was it, Thomas? She went into the study with you and apologized to Greta for those things that she’d said, and Greta accepted the apology. Isn’t that right, Thomas?”
“Yes. She didn’t mean it though.”
“Who didn’t mean it?”
