Chapter 17
Matthew can’t be sure, but he doesn’t feel this witness likes the dead girl very much.
Something about the twist of her mouth, the way she’s turning her head away from the photograph that’s up on everyone’s screens.
A nice-looking girl, if you scrubbed off all the muck.
Daisy went through a phase like that a couple of years ago, but fortunately discovered boys and acne face wash at around the same time so started to look a bit more – what’s the word, mainstream?
Normcore? He does his best to keep up but inevitably he gets the terms that the youth use wrong.
Anyway, pretty blue eyes and the hint of a smile. He feels sad for the girl, a heaviness that she’ll never get to grow out of the eyeliner phase. It doesn’t make sense to him that this teacher is sounding so sharp about the girl’s tardiness, a faint air of revulsion emanating from the witness box.
Now she’s describing how the girl was lying on the ground, her impressions of the girl’s expression.
‘Yes, I did notice that her face looked emotional. I suppose you could call it scared. But I don’t see how you’d know.’
Interesting, she’s arguing with the advocate depute. Maybe she’s got an agenda. Matthew straightens his back, pays closer attention. The drama is picking up.
‘It could have been pain, it could have been surprise. It could have been something that just happened at the moment of death. I wouldn’t want to use the word terror.’
Matthew flicks open the brown paper file that contains the photos of the body. He tries to angle it so that none of the other jurors see it inadvertently, peering at it furtively. Terror is what it looks like to him.
‘Let’s move on,’ the advocate depute says. ‘What did you do next?’
‘Once I had seen her, I went back to school and told the headmistress. The police took a statement from me about the identification.’
‘Did they ask you any other questions about Christian?’
A pause. The witness shifts from foot to foot. Matthew doesn’t think she looks comfortable.
‘They asked me what I knew of her, who she was friends with, that kind of thing.’
‘What did you tell them?’
A longer pause. ‘That I didn’t know her very well at all. And that she didn’t really have any friends. There had been reports made about her behaviour—’
‘We won’t go into that now,’ the advocate depute interrupts.
‘Well, she used to be friends with a group of other girls in the class. Then she stopped being friends with them, by the look of it. She spent a lot of time on her own, as far as I could see. She carried a lot of library books around with her so I assume that she spent time there as well.’
‘Did you ever ask her whether everything was all right?’
‘She had made it clear she had no interest in opening up to me. I did my best. She knew where my room was. I have amazing relationships with many of my girls, they tell me everything. But not Christian. She didn’t want to know.’
The woman crosses her arms in front of her. Defensive.
‘Did you give the police the names of her former friends?’
The woman flushes. An ugly dark red that spreads up her neck, staining her cheeks. Even though she’s only in her thirties, Matthew reckons, she looks suddenly middle-aged.
‘Yes, I told them she used to be friends with Isobel. And with Eliza, too. With the co-accuseds.’
The last word is barely audible.
‘Going back a few weeks before Christian’s death, was there a time that you overheard Christian having a conversation with someone?’
The flush goes, the witness’s lips tighten. She looks like she’d punch the man if she were close enough.
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘Please just answer the question, Miss Waites.’
‘I don’t see that it’s relevant.’
‘Miss Waites . . .’ a warning in his voice.
‘All right, all right. Yes. I overheard Christian arguing with the two girls, Isobel and Eliza, though Eliza barely played a part in it. I barely heard her say anything.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘It was a few weeks before Christian died. Maybe in the February or March, I can’t remember exactly. Before the end of the spring term. Anyway, they were shouting at each other. The door of the classroom was ajar and I was about to walk in, but I didn’t want to interrupt.’
Wanted to eavesdrop, more like. Matthew knows what kind of woman she is. He’s not taken in by the cardigan, the nice blouse. The fade-away airs.
‘Christian’s voice went on and on. She was ranting, in my opinion.
The other girls were shouting too, but more to get Christian to calm down.
Though there was one point . . .’ her voice fades out, rallies again.
‘One of the other girls yelled it so clearly. You’re going to die. It was Isobel, I’m sure of it.’
‘What happened next?’
‘It quietened down – all I could hear was sobbing, I presume from Christian. There was silence for a moment, then Isobel spoke again. It was weird what she said, though I suppose it makes sense now. You can’t be angry with me. I’m just passing the message on. I can’t help it if it’s true.’
‘Did Christian reply?’
‘Yes.’
A long pause.
‘What did she say?’
Through gritted teeth. ‘This is what I remember. It was Christian speaking. She wasn’t shouting. She sounded very sad. She said, You keep telling me I’m going to die. Of course I’m angry.’
A ripple through the court. Matthew feels a movement, a breath on his cheek. Only fleeting, but freezing cold. When he turns, there’s no one there.
To Matthew’s surprise, Isobel’s defence advocate stands up first.
‘You pride yourself on your relationship with your pupils, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. I become very close to them.’
‘But outside of work, you don’t have many friends?’
‘I . . . well . . .’
‘To be more specific, there was a time in October 2017 that you told Isobel that you didn’t have many friends outside of work, wasn’t there?’
‘Yes.’ The woman’s voice is sullen, the words forced out of her.
‘And you said to Eliza that you’d love it if you and she could hang out one weekend, isn’t that right?’ Miss Goodly says hang out with so much disdain, Matthew can almost see inverted commas hanging in the air in front of her.
‘But Isobel laughed when you said it, didn’t she?’
‘Yes.’ The teacher’s flushed now, her chin wobbling.
‘And after that time, you never spoke to Isobel again outside of any school-related matter?’
‘I don’t think, I mean . . .’
‘And in your capacity as Isobel’s form teacher, from that point you singled her out for unfavourable treatment, didn’t you?’
‘I don’t think that’s fair.’
Miss Goodly picks up a piece of paper, hands it to the macer who takes it across to the witness.
‘This is a list of all the detentions that you gave to Isobel from November 2017 until May 2018. Do you agree with this chronology?’
‘I suppose so, I don’t really remember. I’d have to check . . .’
‘It’s a register in your handwriting from your school diary, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes.’ The teacher’s shoulders slump.
‘And what it shows is that Isobel received at least one detention a week from you from that point onwards, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’d suggest that once your advances of friendship were rejected by Isobel, you went out of your way to penalise her, didn’t you?’
‘I . . .’
‘And when you say it was Isobel shouting at Christian that she was going to die, you’re not telling the truth, are you?’
‘I know what I heard.’ Lips tight, chin jutting forward.
‘It was Eliza who said that, not Isobel, wasn’t it?’
Head shaking. ‘I know what I heard.’ But the teacher’s voice is faint. Matthew is not convinced.
Eliza’s defence advocate stands up. She clears her throat, folds her arms. Aha, jugular time. But Matthew is disappointed. The tone Miss Brodie takes is low. Conciliatory, even.
‘You’re a very caring, compassionate teacher, aren’t you?’
Total softball. The teacher laps it up.
‘I do my best.’
‘And normally you’d have a close relationship with every girl in your class?’
‘Yes.’
‘Eliza, she was in your form too?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Isobel?’
‘That’s right.’ Distinctly less warmth in the teacher’s voice.
‘Eliza confided in you regularly, didn’t she?’
‘Eliza certainly talked to me a lot. We were close. I was really worried about her around the time this all happened. She seemed very unhappy though she never said exactly what was troubling her.’
‘Returning to the morning that you identified Christian’s body – was anyone else missing from registration?’
‘No.’
‘Please just answer this question with a yes or a no. There was a time Eliza told you that she was very unhappy because of friendship difficulties that she was having?’
‘Yes.’
‘And this was a month or so before Christian’s tragic death?’
‘Yes.’
Tragic death. Not murder. Matthew wonders what she’s getting at. He’s desperate to piece together what the defence is going to be.
‘Turning now to Christian, you said that you did not have a close relationship with her, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘But there was an occasion that you had a meeting with her mother, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she raise any health concerns about her daughter?’
‘Nothing specific, no.’
‘But she did tell you that she and her husband were going through some difficulties, and asked you to keep a special eye on Christian?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you attempt to discuss the matter with Christian?’
‘Yes.’ The teacher’s gone bright red again. ‘I did ask her if she wanted to talk to me about it. I said she could talk to me at any time.’ A pregnant pause, something bursting to come out of the woman. ‘But she told me to fuck off.’