Cuckoo (aka Claire, Darling)

Chapter Forty-Seven

Chapter Forty-Seven

The next morning our start time is postponed several times until it’s fixed at 11.30. We’re told this is at the request of the prosecution. ‘Dodgson could just be trying to rattle us or to buy himself more time because he’s so concerned about the evidence,’ Grosvenor tells me conspiratorially.

The delay makes my stomach roil in nervous anticipation, and even though she remains outwardly calm I can tell by the way that Grosvenor keeps shifting pens on the desk before her in the consultation room that she, too, is concerned.

By the time the trial resumes I’m a jumpy, nervous wreck, desperate to know what prosecuting counsel’s new line of attack will be.

When I see the next witness walking down the aisle, I recognise her instantly, and know for sure that this round of questioning is not going to go in my favour.

Maggie Thurnwall

Maggie is slowly walking down the aisle in the courtroom, taking her time, as though my entire future isn’t hanging in the balance. Bloody Maggie, the receptionist who caused a rift between Noah and me. One of the very few times we quarrelled.

She is wearing a plain grey dress suit, similar to the one she used to wear when she prevented me from visiting him during working hours. She gives me a look of open disgust, wrinkling her nose in disdain, before taking her place and nodding to the prosecution to begin, as though we’re all here at her command. As though she’s the judge. It annoys me, how uptight and pretentious she is, but I’m hoping we can get this over with quickly. In and out. I’m not sure how much more I can stand to listen to before my ability to remain calm and detached is tested too far. My jaw tightens.

‘Mrs Thurnwall, please will you share with the courtroom how you came to know Claire Arundale?’ Dodgson says, one polished brogue tapping lightly on the floor as though to hurry proceedings along.

‘I worked at Pulitzer Haas as their receptionist for three years. Before I left, I came to know Claire around October of 2024. She was infatuated with one of our employees, Noah Coors.’

Oh, so I’m on trial for loving my fiancé? I refrain from rolling my eyes.

‘What do you mean by infatuated?’

‘Well, at first she didn’t actually come in, you see. But I noticed her loitering around outside the building. It’s my job to notice things like that, suspicious behaviour in and around the premises, you know. I noticed her particularly because she had this bright red peacoat she always wore and so it stood out. Anyway, the first time she was just sitting outside eating her lunch, nothing special. But then she came back every day after that. A lot of people eat in the courtyard outside the office, of course, but it was the way she sat facing the entrance every day. As though she was waiting for someone, looking for someone.’

Am I on trial for eating my lunch now? I clench my teeth.

‘How long did this go on for?’ Dodgson asks.

‘A few days. And then she started coming by at the end of the day as well, when all the bankers would clock off,’ Maggie goes on.

‘Did you think she knew someone there?’

‘At first I did, yes. I thought she must be dating one of them. They get around, those boys, you know.’

‘Was she ever bothering anybody, speaking to anyone?’

‘Well, no. That’s why I left her to it. It was strange, yes, but she didn’t seem to be doing any harm. Some people just like to have lunch in the same spot every day. I thought maybe she was one of those routine-obsessed types, you know? But then eventually one day she came into the foyer. And she had brought a plastic bag with her, a branded one from the taco place around the corner. She came right up to the desk and smiled at me and said she was dropping off lunch for Noah Coors. I thought it was strange, the wording was a bit weird, you know? Like she was a delivery driver, when she wasn’t? It wasn’t that she was having lunch with him, she was just dropping it off, like a mother would for their child who’d forgotten their lunch.’

This time I do roll my eyes. Just because this woman doesn’t deign to bring her partner lunch doesn’t mean there’s anything odd about someone who does. So what if I want to drop my hard-working fiancé off a little treat on his lunch break? What’s weird about that?

‘I call up Noah and tell him he has a visitor. He comes downstairs and she’s sitting there. She waves when he comes down as though she knows him, holding up the bag and pointing at it. She tells him she’s got him some lunch. And what’s strange was how he reacted, because he asked her why she would do such a thing. Now, I had someone else waiting to be dealt with at the desk, but I’m a nosy old bird and just had to keep one ear on their conversation. It felt like an episode of EastEnders happening in front of me.’

This draws a few chuckles from the courtroom and I find myself becoming annoyed. Why are they giving this crazy lady any airtime at all?

‘So what happened after Mr Coors asked why she had brought him lunch?’ Dodgson tries to bring the atmosphere in the room down a notch.

‘Well, he looked awfully confused but thanked her, and she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which he looked a little surprised about, and then left. He took his lunch up with him, so I assumed maybe he did know her after all, that perhaps she was a client.’

‘I see. And do you believe that he was in a relationship with her or that it was some other sort of connection?’

‘Well, to be honest, it’s never been clear to me whether he did know her or not. All I know is that she came again a couple of days later, the exact same scenario: a lunch bag with her and asking to leave it for Noah. But this time when I called him, he told me to get rid of her, that he didn’t want lunch and to make up an excuse. In fact, he told me specifically not to let her into the building to see him again. He sounded quite annoyed, as though it was my fault! I told Claire I was very sorry, Noah was in a meeting and could not come down, and that it was best that, unless she had prearranged it with him, she did not come again.’

‘And how did Miss Arundale take this news?’

‘Well, not very well at all. She got quite enraged with me, called me an old cow and said that she could see her fiancé any time she damn well pleased. She slammed her hands down on the desk and caused quite a scene.’

I remember this interaction differently. I admit I did call her an old cow, and I don’t regret that. But I didn’t slam my hands down on the desk. I believe I called her an interfering old cow and told her I would be speaking to Noah about it when I got home, but I was still wary of causing a scene and embarrassing him at work so kept it relatively low-key. Of course, when he got home that night we argued about it, I even raised my voice slightly, but he darted around the topic of me dropping off lunch and somehow convinced me to agree not to visit him at the office without checking with him first. He said it distracted him from his work. In hindsight, perhaps that should have been a red flag that he was hiding something from me.

‘Were you afraid of Miss Arundale at any point? What was her behaviour like?’ Dodgson asks Maggie.

‘Well, I was intimidated, yes. She was very upset, her voice was raised and she made a scene. Pulitzer Haas is not the type of place where that sort of behaviour is often seen, and people waiting in the reception area were all looking over. So I pressed the security button and waited for them to escort her out. She was getting really up close and personal, kept trying to grab the phone out of my hand, demanding to speak to Mr Coors, and then she was saying that he would be getting me fired. Threats being thrown about left, right and centre! It was very upsetting. I’d been in that job for years and never had any sort of confrontation like that before. So then security came and hauled her off!’

She’s exaggerating!!! I write on a piece of notepaper, sliding it across to Grosvenor. She glances down momentarily but does not react otherwise.

‘Hauled physically?’ Dodgson is saying.

‘Yes. They picked her up under her arms and marched her out of there.’

‘Why did they pick her up?’

‘Because she was resisting… She was screaming and kicking and demanding to see her fiancé.’

I tap the note on the table, but Grosvenor still refuses to engage with me.

‘And after all of this had occurred and she was out of the building, then what happened?’

‘Well, I had to file an incident report. I told security to keep an eye out for her, not to let her in if they saw her again. And then I spoke to Noah and he confirmed that he did not want her coming in to see him without an appointment. He said he thought she was someone trying to get a job. I couldn’t get my head around it, to be honest, the idea that this woman was so adamant he was her fiancé and he was so adamant he didn’t know her. It was bizarre.’

‘It’s fair to say that Miss Arundale came across as quite unstable, then?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Maggie replies. I stop myself from narrowing my eyes at her.

‘Objection! Leading question,’ Grosvenor counters, standing. The judge nods at her.

‘Do you think, from what you experienced on that day, that Miss Arundale is the type of woman to lose her judgement when it comes to Mr Coors?’

‘Yes, she came across as obsessive and clingy, very controlling if she was the girlfriend, I’d say. Couldn’t blame him for trying to hide from her at work!’

I let out a hiss between my gritted teeth and try to count to ten in my head, Grosvenor patting my knee beneath the desk.

‘Thank you, Mrs Thurnwall,’ Dodgson tells her, his voice slimy as a slug trail.

Grosvenor blows out a long breath and closes her eyes for a moment before standing up and striding purposefully towards Maggie, who blinks at her.

‘Mrs Thurnwall, when Mr Coors told you that he did not know my client, despite the fact he had accepted lunch from her merely days earlier, did you believe him?’ she asks, straight to the point as usual.

‘Well, to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure, because you know what men are like– I had seen Mr Coors meeting a few different ladies at the end of the working day outside the office. Some of them he did look pretty cosy with… But it wasn’t my business. He worked in the building and my job was to see he wasn’t disturbed unnecessarily. End of.’

‘So what you’re saying is: it’s possible my client truly was just a girlfriend being treated poorly by an unfaithful partner who was, to use your words, “trying to hide from her at work”?’

Maggie hesitates, eyes flicking quickly towards Dodgson before she answers Grosvenor.

‘Yes, it’s possible.’

‘And is it also fair to say that many people eat in the courtyard outside Pulitzer Haas’s office building, and that to sit there and do so every day is not so very unusual?’

‘I suppose not,’ Maggie says now, her voice wavering.

‘So really, the only evidence that you are bringing to the table is that Miss Arundale had lunch a few times in a courtyard, dropped off lunch once to Mr Coors who accepted it, but then later told you he did not know her and not to receive any more food packages from her?’

‘Well, yes, that is what happened.’

‘And at any point when Miss Arundale was becoming upset and had to be removed by security, did she waver from saying that she was engaged to Mr Coors and within her rights to visit him?’ Here I have to bite my cheek to stop myself from smiling at how quickly Grosvenor has turned this around for me.

‘Yes, the girl seemed so sure, so confident in what she was saying, and so I did suspect there was more to it than met the eye… but as I said, I had to do what I was told. If he didn’t want her there during the day, it was my job to go along with it. I didn’t care what happened outside of working hours and the building, that was his problem.’

‘And did you see Mr Coors with any other women after these incidents?’

‘Yes, I did. At the office Christmas party he turned up with a blonde on his arm, very leggy and young-looking, said they’d been together for years. Again, I thought it strange, but it wasn’t my place to get involved. To be honest, I avoided them for the evening because I knew for a fact he had been on a date with a different woman right before that.’

I draw in breath, a sudden sharp oxygen surge that feels as though it’s cutting through my airways. Another date? I rack my brains to remember if he took me out just before his Christmas party, but I can’t be sure.

‘How did you know this?’ Grosvenor asks, sounding unsurprised by the information that is overturning my world.

‘I have access to their calendars, you see, for arranging meetings if necessary. And I had clocked that Mr Coors had a few dates with someone called Mads logged in for evening hours. One date was days before the Christmas party, and then on that night he turned up with this blonde woman. Now, of course, I know it was Lilah Andersson, but at the time all I could think was, You’re not Mads from the calendar .’

‘And how did you know that?’

‘Well, I admit, I was guessing and stereotyping, but the name accepting the calendar invites was Mads Choi.’

‘A Korean name,’ Grosvenor states.

‘Yes.’

‘And when Lilah Andersson turned up on Mr Coors’s arm that night for the Christmas party, you put two and two together: that Lilah was not of Korean descent and ergo most likely not the woman he’d been meeting recently in the evenings?’

‘Yes,’ Maggie confirms.

‘And would it be fair to say that your perception of Miss Arundale was that she was perhaps one of many girlfriends Mr Coors was seeing?’ Grosvenor asks.

‘Yes, I believed that she definitely knew him in one way or another, but as I said, Mr Coors had several women hanging around. The three most prominent in my experience were Claire, Mads– who I never met but saw in all the calendar invites– and Lilah,’ Maggie confirms.

‘So to counter your previous statement, if we look at all the facts together, Miss Arundale actually did not come across as unstable? Nor was her behaviour particularly controlling?’

Maggie thinks for a moment. ‘I suppose I may have been a bit harsh on her, if it turns out he was stringing her along,’ she admits.

‘Thank you. No further questions.’ Grosvenor turns on her heel and strides away from Maggie, who shoots me a side-glare.

I feel my face heat up. I imagine myself through this woman’s eyes. A sad, pathetic loser on trial for murdering my boyfriend’s other lover. For the millionth time, I wonder how my life has panned out this way. And then the painful realisation hits me: Maggie will leave court today and forget about me, perhaps occasionally bringing me up as a piece of dinner-party entertainment, an anecdote to laugh at. The thought that I am worth nothing more than that makes me feel hollow inside.