Cuckoo (aka Claire, Darling)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Chapter Fifty-Seven

‘Claire, this next part is going to be the hardest for you, okay?’ Grosvenor is speaking to me in a soothing tone of voice. I look at her and notice that the dark purple rings beneath my eyes are reflected on her face, and her hair is sticking out at the sides. She looks like she hasn’t slept. I wonder if this trial has been keeping her awake at night like it has me. The thought touches me briefly, the idea that someone would care about me so much that my possible fate keeps them awake. But I remind myself it’s her job, and the real thing that’s keeping her awake is concern for her own reputation. The CCTV footage from yesterday rattled her, I know it did. I must accept that I am, largely, alone. I was alone before I met Noah, and now I find myself alone again, deceived by the man I’m in love with.

‘Noah is going to testify, and it’s going to be incredibly difficult for you to listen to. It’s going to be emotional and altogether shit. I can’t sugar-coat this for you,’ Grosvenor tells me .

My eyes are welling with tears already. I’m so afraid of what I will hear my fiancé say about me, about us and our relationship. ‘He’ll be talking about you, and he’ll be talking about Lilah, and it’s not going to be fun for any of us. You have to remain composed, okay, Claire? Can you do that?’

I nod because what else can I do?

‘At least this is the end for Dodgson’s team. Noah is the last witness, and Dodgson will make his closing statement and try to paint you as a murderer, but we’re going to ignore everything he says because it’s all bullshit, okay?’

‘Bullshit,’ I agree feebly, with a nod.

‘And then we are called in by the clerk and I close off and that’s it, it’s out of our hands. We’ll have done all we can, and it’s down to the jury.’

I’m so scared I think I might genuinely wet myself, my stomach unbearably twisty-turny, my breath coming out short and sharp.

‘You’re not a murderer, and you are not going to be convicted as one. Not if I can help it,’ Grosvenor tells me.

I nod, but it’s because I want to believe her, rather than that because I do believe her.

‘Claire? I have to ask you… why did you not tell me you were working in Morrisons when you met Noah in the wine aisle?’ She’s watching me carefully.

I swallow. ‘I didn’t really think it was relevant, I suppose. It happened how I told you, aside from the fact I was an employee.’

She says nothing, and I can’t read her expression. Her eyes are watching me so intently, I feel like she’s reading my soul. I stare back, entranced, until she blinks, and the moment is over, and she’s barking orders to her junior.

I resist the urge to vomit and get ready to go back into that courtroom, knowing that, perhaps as soon as tomorrow, I will either walk free or be sent behind bars for at least the next decade of my life.