“Please, Ms. Hardy,” said Judge Munday. “This is not your closing statement. Just describe your own relevant experience.”
“That’s the problem,” Tabitha said. “I’m trying to think of what’s relevant.”
“Just tell us about your day,” said a voice.
Tabitha looked around to see who had spoken. She saw that the young juror in the second row had put his hand up.
“It’s all very well for you to ask that,” said Tabitha. “I bet you couldn’t remember every detail of some day three months ago.”
“I bet I could if I’d been arrested for murder,” the man said and was about to say something else when Judge Munday, whose face had been frozen in horror, interrupted.
“Stop,” she said. “For goodness’ sake, Ms. Hardy, you can’t just start having a conversation with a member of the jury.” She turned to the man. “You can ask a question, if you absolutely have to, but you should address it to me, not to a witness. And it would be preferable if it were written down, in case it’s prejudicial in some way.” She turned back to Tabitha. “However, that is a reasonable thing to say. You can, if you wish, tell us your movements on the day in question. I should warn you that you can then be questioned about any of these statements by the prosecution.”
“All right,” said Tabitha, gathering her thoughts for a moment. She looked at the jury. “Look, I’ll say what I can remember and you can ask about it, if you like.”
“Through me,” said Judge Munday quickly. “And only if absolutely necessary. It is the job of the jury to assess the evidence, not to cross-examine.”
“OK, OK,” said Tabitha. She paused again. “Right. Lots of this you’ve heard in bits anyway. There’s not much to say. I woke early. I just lay there. I wasn’t feeling good. It was one of my bad days.” She looked up at the jury. “If I’d only known. I got up about half past seven. I started making my really basic breakfast, porridge made with water and tea.” She stopped. “I don’t mean I make my porridge with tea. That would be weird. I make it with water and then I have a mug of tea by the side.”
“Ms. Hardy,” said Judge Munday. “Only what’s relevant, please.”
“Sorry, My Lady. It’s hard to turn your life into a story. Anyway, I’d run out of milk, so I put a coat on over my PJs and went to the village shop. It was the one busy time of the day, the school bus was there, I actually had to queue to pay for my milk. In the queue was Rob Coombe, who I didn’t have an argument with. I headed back for breakfast.”
Tabitha thought for a few seconds before continuing.
“In a way, this is all pointless,” she said. “I’m just going to be describing a run-of-the-mill, grimly depressing day in which I didn’t kill Stuart Rees. I had breakfast and didn’t kill Stuart Rees. I went to have a swim and didn’t kill Stuart Rees. After my swim, I didn’t kill Stuart Rees.”
“Please, Ms. Hardy,” said Judge Munday. “You’re here to give evidence, not just to repeat your plea of not guilty.”
“Sorry,” said Tabitha, actually grateful that the judge had interrupted her. She turned almost pleadingly to the jury. “My problem is that I have difficulty in having a specific memory of the things I do every day. For example, I can say that I had some scrambled eggs on toast for lunch, but that’s only because that’s what I always have. Unless I have nettle soup. What I can remember is that it was one of my bad days. Sometimes swimming in cold water makes me feel better, but it didn’t really work that time. I remember meeting Dr. Mallon and meeting Melanie Coglan and I thought I was having friendly, trusting talks with them. But most of the day I was at home. I was meant to be working, or getting things done in the house, but mainly I just lay on the sofa. I felt too tired even to make myself a cup of tea or read or . . .”
While she was speaking, Tabitha started to listen to herself as if she were another person and she started to think of the strangeness of her situation, standing in a courtroom, everyone staring at her, and then, quite suddenly, she couldn’t think of what to say.
“Well, anyway, then Andy came round, Andy Kane. He was going to help me with some of the work on the house but I wasn’t really in the mood. And then it all happened. And now I’m here.”
She paused again, trying to think of a way of coming to a close. She should have planned this better.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have a killer fact that somehow proves that I’m innocent of this. I don’t even know what that would look like. But I didn’t want any of you people thinking I was hiding away and hoping that I’d get off on some kind of technicality. I’ve probably made things worse by standing up like this and talking. God knows, I usually do. Anyway, sod it, that’s all I’ve got to say.”
Tabitha started to leave the witness box.
“Please, Ms. Hardy,” said Judge Munday. “We need to hear from the prosecution.”
Tabitha silently cursed herself. She’d forgotten that. Simon Brockbank stood
