Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Day seven of the trial
Pauline was called to the witness box.
Leo gripped her arm and wished her luck as she handed him her bag for safe keeping.
She stood up, smoothed down her best navy dress, took a deep breath, and headed for the front of the court room.
Her shoes clacked loudly on the solid wood floor and she felt every pair of eyes from the jury box looking at her, examining her, judging her.
She sat down and, from this vantage point, she could see the entire court room.
All eyes were on her, waiting for her to defend her son.
She swallowed hard but her mouth was dry.
She looked into the crowd and saw DI Bishop.
As their eyes met, he turned away. She had never hated anyone as much as she hated him.
A man standing beside her handed her a Bible which she took in her left hand, and she read from a small card she had placed in her right.
‘I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.’
She looked to Leo who gave her an encouraging smile and nodded his head.
She handed back the book and the card quickly.
‘Mrs Winstanley,’ Ronald Montgomery began. He had a warm smile on his face. She knew what questions he was going to ask her as they’d been over them many times over the past couple of days. ‘Please tell the court what kind of a man your son is.’
She turned to the jury, licked her lips, and smiled. ‘He’s a good boy,’ she said. Her voice was shaking. A tear fell and she quickly wiped it away.
‘Take your time, Mrs Winstanley,’ Judge Temple said.
She nodded her thanks. She took a couple of breaths, adjusted the collar of her dress and composed herself.
‘Anthony’s dad died when he was very young.
I brought him up on my own. His birth wasn’t easy, and the labour was very long.
Anthony was starved of oxygen and it caused an irreparable brain injury.
He has low intelligence for his age. He’s not stupid.
He simply sees the world differently than the rest of us. ’
‘How does he see the world, Mrs Winstanley?’ Ronald asked.
‘He doesn’t see dangers, like we do. For example, he …
he’s fascinated by the weather. When we have heavy snow, he likes to go up on the moors, or when there’s a storm he likes to go to the coast and watch it.
He doesn’t acknowledge the danger of being stranded or swept out to sea. He thinks in the here and now.’
‘How has that affected his daily life?’
‘He didn’t do too well at school. When he left, he went to a special college, but he struggled with learning things, retaining information and taking tests. He didn’t stay there for long.’
‘He went to work in the local library,’ Ronald prompted.
‘Yes,’ Pauline smiled. ‘A voluntary role at first. He’s always enjoyed reading.
Adventure stories and comic books. He liked helping out.
It gave him a sense of purpose. When a part-time job became available, they offered it to him.
I’ve never seen him so happy than when he came home that night to tell me they’d given him a job.
’ Her smile grew and more tears came. Pauline took a tissue from up her sleeve and wiped her eyes.
‘You clearly love your son, Mrs Winstanley.’
‘I do. He’s a good boy. He’d never hurt anyone,’ she said through the tears.
Ronald cleared his throat. ‘Mrs Winstanley, does Anthony have any friends?’
‘Not … no, not many. He’s friendly with the people he works with, and he has me and Leo; a very good friend of the family.’ She looked up at Leo and smiled. He smiled back and gave her a discreet thumbs-up.
‘But nobody his own age?’
‘No. He was bullied a lot at school and college. He prefers the company of grown-ups.’
‘He liked Alice Patterson, though.’
‘He likes everyone who comes into the library and enjoys talking about books. He’s very friendly.’
‘Did he ever mention Alice Patterson to you at home?’
‘No.’
‘Did he ever mention any of the people who came into the library?’
‘Occasionally, but only if something out of the ordinary happened.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, if maybe someone knocked over some books, for example.’
‘So, he never mentioned Alice Patterson by name?’
‘Erm, no. No, he didn’t,’ she said, not making direct eye contact with any of the jury.
‘And he never said he was attracted to her?’
‘No.’
‘On the night of October the tenth, the night of the storm, what time did Anthony arrive home?’
‘It was after ten o’clock.’
‘We have it on record that the library closed early because of the storm; before five o’clock, in fact. Where was Anthony all that time?’
‘He said he was by the coast watching the storm.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘Of course.’
‘Were you worried when he didn’t come home at his usual time?’
‘No. We heard on the radio that morning that a storm was forecast. Anthony said he’d go and watch it.’
‘How was Anthony when he eventually arrived home?’
‘He was soaking wet,’ she half-smiled. ‘He was wearing his waterproof coat, but his trousers were soaked. He was hungry and tired.’
‘What did he do when he came home?’
‘He took off his clothes and I put them into the washer for him. He went straight to bed.’
‘He didn’t go to work the following morning?’
‘No. He’d caught a bit of a cold from being out in the storm. I phoned the manager, Jane Wilkinson, and told her he was ill. He went into work the following day instead.’
‘I know you’re his mother, but at any point did you think Anthony had raped and murdered Alice Patterson?’
‘No—’
‘With respect, Your Honour,’ Stefan Villiers interrupted Pauline. ‘We’re not seeking the opinion of someone who has as much knowledge of the event as the rest of us and has a vested interest in the verdict.’
‘I withdraw the question,’ Ronald said before the judge could intervene. ‘I have no further questions, Your Honour.’
‘Mr Villiers,’ the Judge instructed.
Stefan Villiers picked up his pad and walked to the centre of the court room.
Pauline looked over to Leo who gave her an encouraging smile. She looked to Ronald Montgomery who nodded his head. They had no idea what questions Stefan was going to ask, but he had told her to remain calm and to look at him if she needed guidance.
‘Good morning, Mrs Winstanley,’ Stefan said with a friendly smile. ‘May I call you Pauline?’
‘Of course,’ she replied.
‘I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through right now, so I won’t keep you for long.’
‘Thank you.’ She returned his smile.
‘Firstly, Pauline, is Anthony your only child?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how old is he?’
She was taken aback by the question. ‘He’s twenty-eight.’
‘Are you sure?’
She looked to Ronald whose face was blank. She turned back to Stefan. ‘Yes.’
‘Only, in your replies to Mr Montgomery’s carefully staged questions, you refer to Anthony, your twenty-eight-year-old son, as a good boy on two occasions. Why is that?’
‘Because he is good.’
‘But he’s no longer a boy. In the eyes of the law he’s been a man for ten years, yet you still refer to him as a boy. Why is that?’
Pauline had no idea how to answer. ‘He’s my son. I’m his mum.’
‘We’re all aware of the relationship between you, Pauline. You also said in your answers to my learned colleague’s questions that he doesn’t have any friends his own age, that he prefers the company of grown-ups. Isn’t twenty-eight a grown-up age?’
‘Yes. It is, but—’
‘Do you consider your son to be a grown-up?’ Stefan interrupted.
‘In years, yes, but—’
‘Who got him the job at the library?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Pauline was confused by the sudden change of subject.
‘Who got Anthony his job at the library?’
‘Erm, well, I know the manager, Jane Wilkinson. I asked her if he could work there voluntarily, and she agreed.’
‘And when a part-time paid position became available, did you also ask her to offer it to him?’
‘I… Yes, I may have done.’
‘How does he get his wages?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘His wages, Pauline. The money he’s paid for the work he does at the library. How does he get them?’ Stefan asked, an irritated tone to his voice.
‘Jane brings them around to the house every Friday evening on her way home from work.’
‘Does she go to every staff member’s house to give them their wages?’
‘I … I’ve no idea.’
‘Does she hand the envelope to you or to Anthony?’
Pauline paused. ‘To me,’ she said, quietly.
‘A little louder, if you please, Pauline.’
‘To me.’
‘Why is that?’
‘I … I don’t know. It’s just … it’s just something she’s always done.’
‘So, Anthony doesn’t even see his own wages?’
‘He… I…’ Pauline stopped herself.
‘You give him pocket money, don’t you?’
‘No.’
‘You keep most of the money for yourself, for the shopping, bills, upkeep of the house, which is fair enough, but you give your own son, your twenty-eight-year-old son, pocket money, don’t you, Pauline?’
‘It’s not pocket money,’ she said, looking dejected.
‘Moving on. Does Anthony get on well with his colleagues?’
‘Yes.’
‘And how long has he worked at the library?’
‘About eight years.’
‘And they’re a close-knit team, are they?’
‘Yes. They all get along well.’
‘Can you point out his colleagues in the court room today?’
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘They’re not here.’
‘Oh. Having a day off from proceedings? I can understand that. Were they here yesterday?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Have they been here at all?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I … I don’t know.’
‘Since his arrest, Anthony has been sacked by the library, hasn’t he?’
Pauline looked to her son whose mouth fell open in shock. She mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ Stefan turned to look at Anthony.
‘You hadn’t told him, had you, Pauline?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I didn’t think he’d want to hear any more bad news while all this was going on.’
‘A mother protecting her good boy once more,’ he said, addressing the jury. ‘You’d do anything for your son, wouldn’t you, Pauline?’
‘Of course, I would.’
‘So, if he came home one night soaked to the skin from the rain and told you he’d raped and murdered a vulnerable woman, you’d lie for him, wouldn’t you?’
‘No. I wouldn’t!’ she exclaimed.
Ronald stood up. ‘Your Honour, Mr Villiers is edging dangerously close to bullying my client’s mother.’
‘You’re right. Mr Villiers, I must ask you to keep your tone in check and stop attacking Mrs Winstanley.’
Stefan held up his hands in submission. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He turned to Pauline. ‘I apologise, Pauline. I hope I didn’t upset you.’
She pursed her lips as Stefan made a play of going back to his bench and flicking through some paperwork. Pauline looked to Ronald for advice. He mimed for her to relax and take a few deep breaths, which she did.
‘Pauline,’ Stefan began. ‘Please tell the court about Susan Livesy.’
Pauline’s heart sank. She wanted to be sick. She didn’t answer.
‘You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Please tell the jury who she is, Pauline.’
Pauline cleared her throat. ‘Susan was a girl who was at the college at the same time as Anthony.’
‘They were friends, weren’t they?’
‘Yes.’
‘What kind of friends?’
‘Just … friends.’
‘They started dating, didn’t they?’
‘They went for a burger once and to the pictures. It was hardly dating.’
‘I’ve been to see Susan. She lives in Nottingham now. She left Whitby after you attacked her in front of her friends at the college.’
‘I didn’t attack her.’
‘Not physically. But you did scream at her, didn’t you?’
‘Not like that. I just… Look, Susan had a reputation. I didn’t want her hurting Anthony.’
‘But she liked Anthony. Anthony liked her. They were both eighteen years old. Surely at that age you go out with people you’re attracted to and get your heart broken. It’s part of life. It’s part of growing up.’
‘She was … laughing at Anthony. She was no good for him.’
‘She wasn’t laughing at Anthony, though. She genuinely liked him. She wanted their relationship to progress, but you wouldn’t allow it.’
‘She was too old for him.’
‘They were the same age.’
‘She was too mature. They weren’t the same age mentally. She was … she was … she had a reputation as a tart,’ Pauline spat.
‘And you didn’t want your son going out with someone like that?’
‘No.’
‘So you went to the college, you tracked her down and you said, and I quote,’ Stefan looked down at his pad. ‘“Keep your dirty hands off my boy, you dirty slapper.”’ There was an audible gasp from around the court room. ‘Those were your exact words, weren’t they, Pauline?’
‘I don’t recall my exact words,’ Pauline said, looking down.
‘Susan does. Her cousin was with her at the time. She remembers the words, too. You shouted those words to her in a college canteen full of students. In that vitriolic sentence, I notice the word “boy” is used again. In your eyes, Anthony is just a boy, and you’ve never allowed him to grow up, have you?
You’ve never allowed him to have a life of his own, a girlfriend, a relationship.
You’ve repressed him his whole life and on the night of October the tenth, he finally snapped.
Poor Alice Patterson bore the brunt, and it cost her her life.
I have no further questions, Your Honour. ’
Stefan sat down at his bench.
Pauline remained in the witness box. She was looking at the floor. She knew everyone in the court room was looking at her, judging her, hating her, blaming her for what her son had done to poor Alice Patterson. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her.
It took the judge three attempts at calling her name for her to look up.
‘You can step down now, Mrs Winstanley.’
As she walked back to her seat, she didn’t dare look up at her son.
She didn’t want to see the look of disappointment she knew would be etched on his face.
All she had wanted, her whole life, was to protect Anthony from the horrors of the world, the bullying, the name-calling, but instead, she had as good as sentenced him to a lifetime in prison.