would accept that Danny was innocent.
On Monday morning, Mr. Wilson drove his daughter to the Old Bailey and dropped her outside the main entrance to the courts. He only uttered three words as she stepped out of the car: "Tell the truth."
CHAPTER NINE
H E FELT SICK when their eyes met. Spencer Craig glared down at him from the public gallery. Danny returned the stare as if he was standing in the middle of the ring waiting for the bell to sound for the first round.
When Beth entered the courtroom, it was the first time he'd seen her for two weeks. He was relieved that she would have her back to Craig while she was in the witness box. Beth gave Danny a warm smile before taking the oath.
"Is your name Elizabeth Wilson?" inquired Alex Redmayne.
"Yes," she replied, resting her hands on her stomach, "but I'm known as Beth."
"And you live at number twenty-seven Bacon Road in Bow, East London."
"Yes, I do."
"And Bernie Wilson, the deceased, was your brother?"
"Yes, he was," said Beth.
"And are you currently the personal assistant to the chairman of Drake's Marine Insurance Company in the City of London?"
"Yes, I am."
"When is the baby due?" asked Redmayne. Pearson frowned, but he knew he dare not intervene.
"In six weeks," Beth said, bowing her head.
Mr. Justice Sackville leaned forward and, smiling down at Beth, said, "Would you please speak up, Miss Wilson. The jury will need to hear every word you have to say." She raised her head and nodded. "And perhaps you'd prefer to be seated," the judge added helpfully. "Being in a strange place can sometimes be a little disconcerting."
"Thank you," said Beth. She sank onto the wooden chair in the witness box, and almost disappeared out of sight.
"Damn," muttered Alex Redmayne under his breath. The jury could now barely see her shoulders, and would no longer be continually reminded that she was seven months pregnant, a vision he wanted implanted in the minds of the only twelve people who mattered. He should have anticipated the gallant Mr. Justice Sackville and advised Beth to decline the offer of a seat. If she'd collapsed, the image would have lingered in the jury's minds.
"Miss Wilson," continued Redmayne, "would you tell the court what your relationship is with the accused."
"Danny and I are going to be married next week," she replied. A gasp could be heard around the courtroom.
"Next week?" repeated Redmayne, trying to sound surprised.
"Yes, the final banns were read yesterday by Father Michael, our parish priest at St. Mary's."
"But if your fiancé were to be convicted—"
"You can't be convicted for a crime you didn't commit," responded Beth sharply.
Alex Redmayne smiled. Word-perfect, and she had even turned to face the jury.
"How long have you known the defendant?"
"As long as I can remember," replied Beth. "His family have always lived across the road from us. We went to the same school."
"Clement Attlee Comprehensive?" said Redmayne, looking down at his open file.
"That's right," confirmed Beth.
"So you were childhood sweethearts?"
"If we were," said Beth, "Danny wasn't aware of it, because he hardly ever spoke to me while we were at school."
Danny smiled for the first time that day, remembering the little girl with pigtails who was always hanging around her brother.
"But did you try to speak to him?"
"No, I wouldn't have dared. But I always stood on the touchline and watched whenever he played football."
"Were your brother and Danny in the same team?"
"Right through school," replied Beth. "Danny was captain and my brother was the goalkeeper."
"Was Danny always captain?"
"Oh, yes. His mates used to call him Captain Cartwright. He captained all the school teams—football, cricket, even boxing."
Alex noticed that one or two of the jury were smiling. "And did your brother get on well with Danny?"
"Danny was his best friend," said Beth.
"Did they regularly quarrel, as my learned friend has suggested?" asked Redmayne, glancing in the
On Monday morning, Mr. Wilson drove his daughter to the Old Bailey and dropped her outside the main entrance to the courts. He only uttered three words as she stepped out of the car: "Tell the truth."
CHAPTER NINE
H E FELT SICK when their eyes met. Spencer Craig glared down at him from the public gallery. Danny returned the stare as if he was standing in the middle of the ring waiting for the bell to sound for the first round.
When Beth entered the courtroom, it was the first time he'd seen her for two weeks. He was relieved that she would have her back to Craig while she was in the witness box. Beth gave Danny a warm smile before taking the oath.
"Is your name Elizabeth Wilson?" inquired Alex Redmayne.
"Yes," she replied, resting her hands on her stomach, "but I'm known as Beth."
"And you live at number twenty-seven Bacon Road in Bow, East London."
"Yes, I do."
"And Bernie Wilson, the deceased, was your brother?"
"Yes, he was," said Beth.
"And are you currently the personal assistant to the chairman of Drake's Marine Insurance Company in the City of London?"
"Yes, I am."
"When is the baby due?" asked Redmayne. Pearson frowned, but he knew he dare not intervene.
"In six weeks," Beth said, bowing her head.
Mr. Justice Sackville leaned forward and, smiling down at Beth, said, "Would you please speak up, Miss Wilson. The jury will need to hear every word you have to say." She raised her head and nodded. "And perhaps you'd prefer to be seated," the judge added helpfully. "Being in a strange place can sometimes be a little disconcerting."
"Thank you," said Beth. She sank onto the wooden chair in the witness box, and almost disappeared out of sight.
"Damn," muttered Alex Redmayne under his breath. The jury could now barely see her shoulders, and would no longer be continually reminded that she was seven months pregnant, a vision he wanted implanted in the minds of the only twelve people who mattered. He should have anticipated the gallant Mr. Justice Sackville and advised Beth to decline the offer of a seat. If she'd collapsed, the image would have lingered in the jury's minds.
"Miss Wilson," continued Redmayne, "would you tell the court what your relationship is with the accused."
"Danny and I are going to be married next week," she replied. A gasp could be heard around the courtroom.
"Next week?" repeated Redmayne, trying to sound surprised.
"Yes, the final banns were read yesterday by Father Michael, our parish priest at St. Mary's."
"But if your fiancé were to be convicted—"
"You can't be convicted for a crime you didn't commit," responded Beth sharply.
Alex Redmayne smiled. Word-perfect, and she had even turned to face the jury.
"How long have you known the defendant?"
"As long as I can remember," replied Beth. "His family have always lived across the road from us. We went to the same school."
"Clement Attlee Comprehensive?" said Redmayne, looking down at his open file.
"That's right," confirmed Beth.
"So you were childhood sweethearts?"
"If we were," said Beth, "Danny wasn't aware of it, because he hardly ever spoke to me while we were at school."
Danny smiled for the first time that day, remembering the little girl with pigtails who was always hanging around her brother.
"But did you try to speak to him?"
"No, I wouldn't have dared. But I always stood on the touchline and watched whenever he played football."
"Were your brother and Danny in the same team?"
"Right through school," replied Beth. "Danny was captain and my brother was the goalkeeper."
"Was Danny always captain?"
"Oh, yes. His mates used to call him Captain Cartwright. He captained all the school teams—football, cricket, even boxing."
Alex noticed that one or two of the jury were smiling. "And did your brother get on well with Danny?"
"Danny was his best friend," said Beth.
"Did they regularly quarrel, as my learned friend has suggested?" asked Redmayne, glancing in the
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