The Redeemed (34 page)

'We'll deal with
the issue of your contempt before we go any further,' Jenny said. 'The
consequences of failing to attend were clearly stated in your summons.'

Turnbull
stiffened. 'If I might offer my apologies — '

Jenny cut him
short. 'I fine you the sum of one thousand pounds. You'll arrange payment with
my officer before leaving court.'

Turnbull made no
comment, responding with a not quite contrite nod she could imagine him having
practised with Ed Prince.

Jenny turned to
her handwritten notes of Cassidy's evidence, conscious that she was far from
mentally prepared for the coming confrontation.
You can get through this,
she told herself.
You're the
coroner, for goodness' sake.

'Lord Turnbull,
you weren't present, were you, when Miss Donaldson's former partner, Mr
Cassidy, gave his evidence?'

'No.'

'You might have
heard that he stated his opinion that by the time of her death Eva didn't have
faith any more.'

'That certainly
wasn't my impression,' Turnbull said mildly. 'In fact, I would say that her
faith had never been stronger. Her efforts on behalf of Decency were
relentless.'

'Campaigning for
a ban on pornography doesn't require religious faith.'

'Eva was an
ever-present member of the church. I never heard of her expressing doubts.'

Fighting the
urge to go in hard at the outset, Jenny told herself to stay calm. Even the
merest hint of bias would send Prince scurrying to the High Court; the Ministry
of Justice would leap at the chance to remove her. She had to appear neutral,
however hard Starr stared at her from his seat at the back of the room. She
turned at the sound of Alison emerging from the office door behind her. She
walked to her desk, giving Jenny a nod as if to say an arrangement had been
made.

Jenny addressed
herself to Turnbull with a renewed sense of purpose. 'How would you describe
her state of mind the last time you saw her?'

'It would have
been at a briefing session on the Friday afternoon. She seemed in very good
spirits.'

'Was she ever
prone to mood swings?'

'I think I have
already stressed her levels of professionalism.' He spoke to the jury: 'I can
only emphasize that.'

Jenny turned to
the tab in her pad marked 'Turnbull', and brought up her notes of his previous
evidence. 'Perhaps if we can just revisit the night of her death, briefly. I
know that you and your wife were at the church when you received the message
that she was too tired to speak that evening.'

'That's
correct.'

'Are you aware
of any additional strain that she might have been under which caused her not to
come to the service?'

Turnbull
appeared to think hard for a moment, then shook his head. 'No.'

'Did she talk to
you about her mounting financial problems?'

'Not in any
detail. I was aware there was an issue, but as I think Lennox tried to explain,
she was considering her whole future. She clearly couldn't live as she once had
while working for an organization such as ours.'

'Quite. But did
you know, for example, that apart from mortgage arrears and other debts she had
outstanding legal bills of nearly £15,000?'

There was a
collective flinch from the Decency legal team. Annabelle Stern shot Ed Prince a
frigid sideways look to which he didn't respond.

'No, I didn't,'
Turnbull said with admirable calm.

He was good,
Jenny thought. She could imagine him going as far in politics as he had in
business.

Jenny continued,
'Mr Cassidy said that in his experience of living with Miss Donaldson it was
very out of character for her to miss a professional engagement. Would you
agree with that?'

'It was out of
character, but not inconceivable. Her work for Decency affected her deeply. I
would imagine she had become subject to all sorts of emotions she had simply
shut down in her previous career.'

'You only
imagine, or you know that to be the case?'

'I saw her
looking tired and drained on occasions. People expected much of her and she
gave it.'

'That's
something I wanted to ask you about. She was the leader of a study group, two
members of which have, it seems, committed suicide within days of each other.
One was a young man of sixteen with a history of psychiatric problems, the
other was a man in his thirties who worked as a senior psychiatric nurse.'

'It's very sad,'
Turnbull said. He struck a homely tone. 'Look, churches like ours attract
desperate and unhappy people, it's only to be expected. It's our Christian duty
to do our best to help. It saddens me very deeply that these two were lost to
us.'

'Did Eva ever
speak to you about either of them?' 'No.'

'But she would
have been on relatively intimate terms with them.'

'Prayer
counselling has to be confidential. I'm sure if Eva thought either of them
needed help she couldn't give she would have urged them to get it elsewhere.'

'You're not
aware of any unhealthy aspect to her relationship with these two, and I mean
that in the broadest sense?'

'The church has
strict protocols. If there was any problem she would have gone straight to
Lennox Strong.'

His delivery was
flawless: distanced but compassionate, rational yet spoken with warmth. He was
a hard man not to trust. Jenny's every instinct was to tear the facade down: to
make him explain the coincidence of the three deaths following so swiftly after
one another; to ask him why Freddy's psychosis had returned just as Eva was
struggling with debts and crippling legal battles; to press him on the identity
of the people with whom Jacobs had regretted becoming involved.

But outright
confrontation wasn't an option. It wasn't just a small army of lawyers ranged
against her, it was the entire Establishment. The one thing in her favour was
that it played mostly by the rules. Hard as it was, she would have to try to
stick to them. Keep composed and pretend that the questions she was about to
ask were nothing but a regrettable necessity.

Jenny pulled the
crime desk call log from amongst her papers and motioned to Alison, who, as she
took it from her, whispered that Mr Justice Laithwaite could see her at two
p.m. in the Royal Courts. Not a minute later. Jenny checked her watch. It was
nearly eleven. She had only a few minutes left to deal with Turnbull if she was
to catch a train that would deliver her to London in time. Bringing him back
yet again would make her look chaotic.

Turnbull studied
the log which Alison had handed him with an expression more of interest than
alarm.

Sullivan rose in
objection. 'Ma'am, will counsel be provided with copies of this document?'

'In due course,
Mr Sullivan,' Jenny said. 'I'm afraid our resources aren't as great as those in
the courts you are used to.'

There was a
ripple of weary laughter from the journalists crowded on their uncomfortable
seats. Sullivan sat down with a scowl.

Jenny said,
'Lord Turnbull, the document is an extract from the log of calls received by
the crime desk on the night of 15 March this year. There is an entry recording
a call from a Miss Eva Donaldson complaining that she was being harassed by an
unnamed male. The official noted that she appeared intoxicated and incoherent.'

'That's
certainly what's written here,' Turnbull said.

'And the
follow-up entry next to it shows that when she was telephoned a week later she
denied all knowledge of having made the complaint.'

'Yes.'

'Can you confirm
that the telephone number written down there is her home number?'

'Yes, I
recognize it.'

Jenny became
aware that the room had fallen into unnatural silence.

'Do you have any
idea as to who this man was?'

'I don't.'

'Had you ever
seen Eva intoxicated or incoherent?'

'Never.'

Jenny glanced at
the lawyers and could tell she had landed them in uncharted territory. Fraser
Knight QC, counsel for the police, was conferring with his instructing
solicitor, no doubt demanding that the original log be brought to him
immediately. Annabelle Stern was whispering instructions to an underling, Ed
Prince marginalized for the moment.

Jenny said, 'Had
you ever seen her drink alcohol?'

Turnbull hesitated,
but it was a calculating hiatus and the jury sensed it. Sullivan caught his eye
and pulled him back from the brink of offering a dangerous hostage to fortune.

'I can't say I
did.'

'It was unusual
then, or a side of herself she kept hidden from you?'

'Unusual,
certainly.'

'Except that she
was also drinking alone, at home, on the night she was killed, or so the
evidence suggests.'

Turnbull said,
'I can't see that I can make any useful comment.'

Jenny reached
into the box at her side and brought out the letter from Reed Falkirk & Co.

'We do have some
evidence for what may have been weighing on her mind on the March occasion, at
least,' Jenny said. She handed the letter to Alison. 'Miss Donaldson's lawyers
wrote to her on the 13th of that month. Could you please read it aloud, Mrs
Trent?'

Jenny stared at
her legal pad while Alison, reddening with embarrassment, struggled through the
contents of the letter.

Waves of
impotent fury emanated from Turnbull's legal team and crashed across her desk
with almost physical force.

St Eva had been
dethroned.

'Did you know
that she was suing for royalties owed for her work in pornography?' Jenny
asked.

Turnbull could
no longer hide his disquiet. 'No, I didn't.'

'Do you find it
surprising?'

'I can see that
if she was struggling ... I didn't know what was going on in her private life.
I wish I had. I'm sure I could have done more to help.' His shoulders sank and
the unassailable figure that had entered the witness box seemed now cut down to
human size. He looked up as if about say more, but the words failed him. His
lawyers watched him in horror: their man was starting to crack open.

Jenny said, 'Is
there anything more you wish to say, Lord Turnbull?'

'Yes,' he said,
after a pause. 'I know Eva was complex - how could she not have been? What she
had lived through would have broken most people. But that's what drew others to
her, her vulnerability, and her spirit. Only she knew the true depth of her
faith, but I'd stake my reputation . . . No, I'd stake all I possess on Eva having
been as righteously opposed to pornography on the day she died as she ever was.
None of what I have heard today will change the way I feel about her in the
slightest. All of us in the Decency campaign have nothing but the profoundest
respect for her memory.'

But she scared
the hell out of you
, Jenny thought.
And she still does.