‘I don’t know. I didn’t think of it.’
‘You didn’t think of it.’ Xander sounded exasperated. ‘Mrs Metcalf, we all heard your message. You sounded deeply distressed. Do you really expect us to believe that you didn’t consider calling the police?’
‘Yes, because it’s the truth.’
‘Or perhaps you were scared to because you realised that your game had gone a bit too far? Perhaps you were worried someone was going to get hurt and you knew you would be implicated?’
V stifled a cry. ‘No, not at all. I was only worried about Angus at that moment.’
‘Would you say you’re good at ending relationships, Mrs Metcalf?’ Xander asked, turning back to V.
The question was obviously not what V had been expecting. ‘I don’t know. Who is?’
‘You like to use others, don’t you? Like with Mr Sage and Mr Hayes.’
‘God, I was a teenager with Gordon and I’ve explained the situation with Mike.’
‘Would you say you’re good at your job?’
V looked surprised again. ‘Yes.’
‘I believe you’re one of the youngest people ever to be taken on by the Calthorpe Centre, in a scientific role. Remind us what you’re working on again.’
‘I’m part of a team which is working on the idea of artificial intelligence.’
‘So, replacing humans with robots?’
‘That’s a very simplistic way of putting it and no, of course we’re not trying to do that. If anything we’re trying to help humans with the programmes we hope to create.’
Xander raised his eyebrows and turned to the jury. ‘You must have been very single-minded to have climbed to the top. Very focused. Worked very hard.’
‘Yes, I have.’
Petra stood again. ‘My lord, are we now trying Mrs Metcalf for being a woman with a good job?’
The judge looked over at Petra again, his lips pursed. ‘I am sure that is not what my honourable colleague is implying, is it, Mr Jackson?’
Xander laughed lightly. ‘Of course not, my lord. I am just trying to establish if Mrs Metcalf is the sort of person to become easily confused, or to not see logical ways out of situations.’
‘I’m good at my job, yes,’ V answered, her voice thin.
Xander tapped the rolled-up paper he was holding against his leg. ‘I don’t suppose that either you or Mr Hayes wanted Mr Metcalf dead.’ He looked at the jury. ‘I think we all can see that neither he nor you are hardened murderers. But I think it is fair to say you are a woman who enjoys game-playing and sex.’ He let the word hang in the air. ‘You are clearly clever and adept at problem-solving. And I think you are good at getting other people to do your dirty work for you. So, when you found yourself attracted once again to Mr Hayes, you started looking for his help to get out of your marriage.’
‘No. That is completely not true.’ I could tell V would be crying again in a minute.
‘Come on,’ Xander said. ‘It would have been very embarrassing to end that marriage only a couple of months after such a lavish wedding.’
‘But I didn’t want to end the marriage.’
‘And there is an obvious connection between you and Mr Hayes. Christ, we can all feel it right here, right now. It’s like electricity passing between you.’ Xander moved his hand as he spoke and I felt the jury looking between us, so they must have seen the shimmering, neon string attached to both our hearts. ‘And it’s hardly surprising. You’re both very good-looking, intelligent people who have this secret sex game you’ve played together for years, who’ve flirted with the idea of orgies and homosexuality. It’s hardly a leap of the imagination to see what’s happened here.’
‘Objection,’ Petra shouted, standing up.
Justice Smithson banged his hand on the table. ‘Sustained. Mr Jackson, your questioning is crossing the line.’
Xander bowed his head lightly to the judge and then Petra. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I got carried away with the atmosphere. No further questions, my lord.’
He walked back to his seat calmly, but the air in the courtroom was anything but. It fizzed and squealed around us, enclosing and disposing of us. V and I were breathing in the same air, our bodies recycling it to keep each other alive, as the moments passed in thundering heartbeats.
V stood shakily to exit the witness box and I thought she might stumble but she made it back to our box, where she sat with her head dropped and her back curved away from me.
Xander looked tired when we met in our strange airless debriefing room at the end of the day. I was angry with him for bringing up the Kitten Club without warning me, but he countered with his own anger which, I realised, was just as vibrant as mine.
‘Was she lying?’ he asked, like a threat. ‘Did you go more than once?’
‘No,’ I answered. ‘It was just as she said.’
‘Shame,’ Xander said, rubbing his temples like he had a headache.
‘I don’t even see how it helps anyway. I mean, I did all the same things she did. Petra’s bound to ask me about everything.’
Xander looked at me disdainfully. ‘Grow up, Mike. It’s totally different for you.’
It is morning now and I haven’t slept. I have had to go over and over all the things that were said yesterday. Writing it down has helped somewhat. I am sitting on my bunk now, watching the sun break milkily in the fogged sky and all I know is this: Verity is truth. She is my truth. The only truth. What we know and do is the only thing that matters. It transcends all the petty lies and misrepresentations, all the innuendos and gossip. We rise above it like the eagle does above the mountains. We look down and see mess but it doesn’t touch us. I need to use the truth today to reach a greater truth, a greater place of safety in which V and I can live forever, untouched by all the banality which constitutes this sorry world.
After watching you on the stand yesterday, V, it was like you were giving me permission to lie. You lied for what you thought was our good, but you got it wrong in your confusion, and now I must swoop in like the eagle and guide your hand. I now know what I must do, V. I know how to save you, my love, my darling, and nothing has ever felt more wonderful.
I am just back from court, but I am compelled to write because the adrenaline is still coursing through my veins. V, all of this has always been for you. I even understand now why I am writing at all: this will stand as a record of our pure, unending love, binding us together for all eternity. We will share and celebrate these words forever and the way we have conspired with our enemies to bring us to the ultimate craving truth of our love. When you read this, as you surely must, I want you to know that I own every word I uttered today. Every single movement I made in there I made for you, my love.
There was real hate in Petra’s eyes when she stood to cross-examine me. Her long thin body vibrated with distaste and her voice was harsh. ‘Mr Hayes, I put it to you that you are a fantasist. A dangerous fantasist at that.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m not.’
‘But then you would hardly admit to it, would you?’ She put on her glasses and flicked through her notes. ‘We have of course heard from Mrs Lascelles, your old headmistress, and I have several school reports and social service referrals in my possession and they all talk about your lack of empathy, your trouble with making friends, your tendency towards violence and your sexualised language.’
I still don’t recognise this person, though hazy memories are appearing through the smoke of my mind. I can just about make out chairs flying across rooms and girls crying and adults pinning me to the floor. ‘I left school a long time ago.’
‘Not that long,’ Petra replied. ‘So you don’t deny how you behaved back then?’
‘I can’t exactly remember. But I think we’ve established I had a bad childhood. I was an angry kid.’
‘Would you agree it’s fair to say you’ve never dealt with that anger?’ Petra asked, removing her glasses and beginning her walk.