Declared Dead

chronological details of my marriage, he turned to my relationship with Tom.

It was only then that I noticed what was lying on the table in front of him. I had always kept Tom's letters tied together with a red ribbon and now Scott's left hand was gently playing with the bow as he questioned me. My heart sank. They had been missing when I searched the chimney of the cottage and here they were, two months later, in the Old Bailey. It just didn't make sense.

'Mrs Pryde,' he asked in his soft yet resonant voice, 'would you please tell His Lordship and the jury how and when you first met the accused?'

'Tom, Mr Radcliffe, was kind enough to let me ride a number of horses in his yard. I was an amateur then, of course.'

'And when was this?'

'I suppose the first occasion was about three years ago.'

'And did you see each other regularly?'

'Only when I was riding for him. Our relationship at that stage was purely platonic.' I knew that seemed a strange word to use but I was already anticipating his line of questioning. I told myself to calm down.

'And when did it cease to be 'platonic'?'

'About eighteen months ago. I think we had both tried to fight against it for some time.'

'How would you describe your relationship with the deceased at that stage?'

'Edward? We were still living together and I had no desire to be parted from my young son.'

'Try and be more precise, '• snapped Snipe. 'Ask Mrs Pryde the question again, Mr Scott.' There was no doubt whose side the judge was going to take.

'Let's put it another way, Mrs Pryde. Did you still love your husband?'

I hesitated. 'No.'

'Was the accused aware of this?'

'Yes. I told him my marriage was unhappy, yet equally he accepted that I had to stay with Edward for the sake of my son.'

'Did intercourse take place between you and the accused?'

What a ghastly, impersonal way of putting it. 'Yes, we made love together.'

Snipe's snort was loud enough to be heard by the jury, as he no doubt intended.

'Where did this occur?'

'If we were away racing together we sometimes made love in a hotel room and on other occasions in the back of the car or, if the weather was warm, in the open air, in the country.' Discussing our love-life like this in front of a crowded court made it sound so cheap and unsavoury. I could see the journalists scribbling away furiously in their note books.

'Do you know the disused chalk pit near Melksham?'

'Yes.'

'How often have you been there?'

That was a difficult one. I didn't want to mention the picnic with Tom; on the other hand, if they had intercepted and read that letter he sent me from prison, there was no point being caught out in a lie. I decided to tell the truth.

'Twice. Once with my husband and son, and once with Tom.'

'When did you visit it with the accused?'

'In, I think, May of last year.'

'And whose idea was that?'

'Mine. He'd never heard about it before.'

'How often did you see the accused during your relationship?'

'Not regularly, it just wasn't possible. I'd just turned professional and was trying to establish myself and then of course I had to do my best for my son.'

'But you still found time to sleep with this young man?' boomed a voice from the bench. It was clear that I could trust Snipe to know when and how to put the boot in. I didn't know how, or even whether, I was meant to answer that kind of judicial comment and decided reluctantly to hold my tongue. No doubt Lord Pryde's lawyers were in court taking all this down for the custody proceedings. The uncaring selfish adulteress was not a very flattering image.

'And during this time did the accused write to you?'

'Yes, at least once a week.'

'How did these letters reach you?'

'I used to collect them from a hiding place in the woods above his stables.' However I had answered that one I was on a loser. If they had been sent to my house I would have been called brazen and by telling the truth I appeared duplicitous and secretive.

'Would you look at this bundle please, Mrs Pryde?' He handed the bundle of letters to the usher who marched ceremoniously and self-importantly across the court towards me as if he was carrying the crown jewels. 'Can they be numbered exhibit seven, My Lord?' asked' counsel. A grunt from the bench presumably meant they could.

'Are these the letters you received from the accused?' There was a slight change in inflection in his voice, a quickening of the pace.

'May I look at them?' I asked. In fact there was no need for identification, but I wanted a few seconds to compose myself.

'Finished? Would you please take the first letter in the bundle? Do you have it?'

'Yes.' My hands were shaking as I put the others down on the ledge in front of me.

'Is that dated 16th November and does it begin 'My precious darling'?'

'Yes.' It might sound like sentimental bilge in the cold and heartless atmosphere of a court room but at the time I used to live for Tom's letters, and the warm show of genuine affection they contained.

'Would you turn to the third page and read out loud the second paragraph?'

In my anxiety, I dropped one of the pages and only after a good deal of reshuffling did I find the passage.

'Do get on with it, Mrs Pryde,' barked Snipe, looking at his watch and tut-tutting. I began reading in a faltering voice:

''Why won't you give him up? You say you're afraid of what he might do, but why should you go on indefinitely allowing that bully to stand in the way of our love and your own happiness?''

The counsel stopped me there. 'By the word 'he', does the accused mean your husband Edward?'

'Of course,' I snapped back, and immediately regretted doing so.

'And do the sentiments expressed in that passage fairly represent the accused's attitude at the time?'

'Yes, but you must understand that Tom would never hurt a fly. I don't deny he wanted me to leave Edward but…'

'Would you please take the next letter in the bundle, I think it's dated 22nd December.'

'Just before Christmas Day,' remarked Snipe, pointing out the unchristian timing of my adultery.

Grange continued. 'Do you remember receiving that letter from the accused?'

I nodded.

'Please answer, Mrs Pryde, as otherwise your response will not be recorded.'

'Yes, I remember.'

'Was that left at your usual point of collection?'

I had prayed he wouldn't ask that question. 'No, he left it inside a magazine in the women jockeys' changing room at Fontwell race course.'

'What magazine?'

'Playgirl, but it was just a joke,' I muttered weakly. A titter of moral reprobation went round the court.

'Would you kindly turn to the last paragraph at the foot of the second page and read it out to My Lord and the jury. And a little louder this time, please.'

I found it straight away and tried to throw my voice so the whole court could hear me. Neither Tom nor I had anything to be ashamed of and now was the time to stop being so defensive.

''I cannot go on like this much longer. I love you, Victoria, and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Unless you are prepared to leave Edward…'' I stopped at the foot of the page. 'Shall I continue on to the next