Chapter 50
They’re sent home after this. Miss Goodly has thrown her hands up in the air and sat back in her seat, saying only that no cross-examination will be necessary.
Then Mr Alexander said that this concluded the case for the prosecution.
Even though it’s not yet quite time for court to finish, that’s the end of matters for the day as far the jury are concerned.
Matthew doesn’t hang around the jury room. Everyone is pretty much in agreement that Isobel must be a terrible person for her own mum to be saying this about her. No one else seems to share his misgivings about the woman in the frilled collar who is just too good to be true.
He’s finding it all very depressing. Too much exposure to misery, too much sadness.
The mothers. Marianne, her grief palpable; Isobel’s mother, unable to muster the slightest sympathy for her daughter, even though the girl is her own flesh and blood.
When this case is over, Matthew’s going to make much more of an effort with his own daughter.
Daisy deserves more from him. At least she’s moving on with her life, hopefully living it up on campus rather than sitting at home wondering when he’s going to get back from work.
In future, though, he’s going to do a better job.
Halfway down the Playfair Steps, he suddenly catches sight of a couple walking slowly ahead of him, past the National Gallery. A slight woman in a coat that’s too large for her; a man who would be more comfortable in tweeds. It’s Christian’s parents.
Matthew glances around him. There’s no one else from court in his vicinity. Nothing to stop him following them. His suspicions of Marianne are nebulous, but present. Even if she has exaggerated Christian’s symptoms over the years, does that make any difference?
On balance, he thinks it does.
They cross Princes Street, keep walking down Hanover Street, across George Street and Queen Street.
At Heriot Row they take a left. By now Matthew is only a few dozen feet behind them, his head bent.
They won’t recognise him, he’s sure of it, Edinburgh so full of middle-aged white men as it is.
But no need to draw attention to himself.
He stops on the corner of Heriot Row by the railings surrounding the Queen Street Gardens, pulling out his phone so that he can appear to be consulting it while he peers after his prey.
They aren’t going into a house. They’re letting themselves through a gate into the private gardens. It shuts behind them with a resounding clang.
So that’s it then. Nothing more to be done.
Matthew jams his phone back in his pocket, ready to give up, when he remembers Sasha’s evidence.
The girls would sneak into the allotments through a gap in the railings.
The least he could do is search the perimeter to see if he can find a space through which he can fit. He shouldn’t give up so easily.
Two thirds of the way along he’s rewarded by a missing railing.
He looks at the gap for a moment, working out his chances of getting through it.
Would it be better to climb over? The spikes are off-putting.
He doesn’t want to end up impaled on them like those unfortunate people after the New Year’s party that went so disastrously wrong. If he breathes in, he can do it.
It’s a tight squeeze, but he’s through. No one sees him, either.
He’s lucky that it’s starting to get dark so he can keep himself hidden, but after a few minutes, he starts to worry that he won’t find Christian’s parents, however much he keeps out of sight.
It’s quiet, the only sound the rustling of leaves beyond the rumble of cars over the setts, down the hill.
Finally, a sound of sobs. Matthew is in the middle of the gardens and he stops, trying to orient the direction of the sound. More sobs, now a splashing sound.
‘Marianne, for fuck’s sake. Get out of there. You’ll catch your death.’
Through the gloaming, Matthew can make out the pond with the island in the middle of it, the main feature of the garden.
But there isn’t just an island in it. There’s the figure of a woman standing in the water up to her thighs, fully dressed.
He shivers at the sight – it’s cold tonight. Her husband’s right.
‘It’s what I deserve,’ she says. ‘You know it’s all my fault.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Peter says. Christian’s father is standing on the edge, his hand held out to his wife.
‘I made it happen, Peter. I brought it on Christian.’
‘We’ve been through this. Many times. It was those girls. Both of them. I don’t care which one of them had the knife in the end. They both threatened her as far as I’m concerned. They’re both to blame for it. Now please, stop being silly. Get out of there.’
‘No. It was me. If I hadn’t told all those lies about her health, it wouldn’t have come true. I cursed her, Peter. I took a perfectly healthy girl and said she was an invalid. Of course she became one.’
Matthew’s frozen in place. Dominic was right.
‘Marianne. You didn’t tell lies. You were a concerned mum, that was all. I shouldn’t have kept pushing for boarding school.’
Between sobs, ‘You don’t understand. You’ll never understand. I know you think I’m stupid, standing in here. But it’s the only place in Edinburgh I feel close to her. I remember playing with her – she was such a happy little girl.’ She starts crying in earnest.
Eventually, Peter coaxes her out. Matthew gets the sense that this is a scene that’s happened more than once. The couple trail back towards the gate through which they entered but this time Matthew doesn’t follow them.
He’s heard enough. Peter might not understand what Marianne is confessing, but Matthew does. Dominic was right. Now Matthew needs to work out what this means.