Golding: You are Mrs. Ecclestone? (She assents.) What are your first names, please?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Barbara Helen.
Golding: And you live at The Elms, No. 1 Sherwood Grove, Fulchester?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes.
Golding: Thank you. Mrs. Ecclestone, I want you to tell his Lordship and the jury something of the relationship between you and the accused. Going back, if you will, to the time when you first came to live in your present house.
Mrs. Ecclestone: We used to see her quite often in her garden and—and—
Golding: Yes?
Mrs. Ecclestone: And in her house.
Golding: You visited her there?
Mrs. Ecclestone: We could see her at the windows. Looking out.
Golding: Did you exchange visits?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Not social visits. She came in not long after we arrived to—to—
Golding: Yes?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Well, to complain about Bang.
Golding: The Alsatian?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes. He’d found some way of getting into her garden.
Golding: Was that the only time she complained?
Mrs. Ecclestone: No, it wasn’t. She—well, really, she was always doing it. I mean—well, hardly a week went by. It was about then, I think, that she first complained to the police. They came to see us. After that we took every possible care. We put a muzzle on Bang when he wasn’t tied up and made sure he never went near Miss Freebody’s place. It made no difference to her behavior.
Golding: Would you say that the complaints remained at much the same level or that they increased in intensity?
Mrs. Ecclestone: They became much more frequent. And vindictive. And threatening.
Golding: In what way threatening?
Mrs. Ecclestone (to Judge, a nervous smile): Oh—notes in our letter box—waylaying us in the street—saying she would go to the police. That sort of thing. And when we were in the garden she would go close to her hedge and say things we could hear. Meaning us to hear them. Threats and abuse. (The Judge is nodding.)
Golding: What sort of threats?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Well—actually to do my husband an injury. She said he wasn’t fit to live and she said in so many words she’d see to it that he didn’t. It was very frightening. We thought she must be—well, not quite right in the head.
Golding: Coming to Friday 28th March (She looks uncertain) — was there any further incident?
(Miss Freebody sits forward.)
Mrs. Ecclestone: Oh — you mean the cat. I didn’t remember the exact date.
Golding: But you remember the event?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Oh yes, I do. It was dreadful. I was horrified. (She puts her head in her hands) I was—I was so deeply sorry and terribly upset. I wanted to go in and tell her so.
Golding: And did you do so?
Mrs. Ecclestone: No. Basil — my husband — thought it better not.
Golding: And after this incident, what happened between you and the accused?
Mrs. Ecclestone: It was worse than ever, of course. She complained again; she telephoned several times a day and wrote threatening letters. My husband burnt them but I remember one said something like vengeance being done not only on the dog but on himself.
Golding: Yes. And now, Mrs. Ecclestone, we come to the 4th April. The day when the dog was poisoned. (Gestures to her)
Mrs. Ecclestone: I heard it happening—I was in my bedroom—and I got up and looked through the window. And saw. My husband shouted for me to come down. I went down and by then Bang was—dead. My husband told me to ring up Jim Swale — Dr. Swale — and ask him to come at once. And he did.
Golding: What happened then?
Mrs. Ecclestone: They looked in the safe and Dr. Swale said we should destroy the rest of the meat in case it was contaminated. So we did. In the incinerator.
Golding: How was the other meat wrapped? In what sort of paper?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Like the other — in newspaper.
Golding: You are sure? Not in brown paper?
Mrs. Ecclestone: No — I’m sure I remember noticing when we burnt it. It was the front page of the Telegraph.
Golding: Thank you. And then?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Dr. Swale suggested getting the vet, but my husband wanted him to cope and he very kindly said he would. I was feeling pretty ghastly by then (smiles at Judge), so he asked me to go back to my room and I did. And he had a look at me before he left and gave me one of my pills. I didn’t go downstairs again that evening. (She hesitates.) I think perhaps I ought to say that there was never any doubt in our minds—any of us—about who had put the poisoned meat in the safe.
O’Connor: My lord, I must object.
Mrs. Ecclestone: After all, it was what had been threatened, wasn’t it?
Judge: Yes, Mr. O’Connor. (To Mrs. Ecclestone) You may not talk about what you think was in the minds of other persons, madam.
Mrs. Ecclestone: I’m sorry.
Golding: When do you think the meat was poisoned?
Mrs. Ecclestone: It must have been after the butcher delivered the order, of course.
Golding: Have you any idea of the time of the delivery?
Mrs. Ecclestone: As it happens, I have. The church clock struck three just as he left.
Golding: Did you hear any sounds of later arrivals?
Mrs. Ecclestone (hesitating): I — no — no, I didn’t. (Rapidly) But of course it would be perfectly easy for somebody to watch their chance, slip across the right-of-way. Nobody would see. My bedroom curtains were closed because I darken my room when I have a migraine.
(Grin from Tidwell to Swale)
Golding: Yes. Had you seen anything of the accused during the day?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes, indeed I had. That morning the paper boy delivered her Telegraph with our Times. I didn’t want to see her; I slipped out by our front gate and up to her front door. I was going to put her Telegraph through the flap when the door opened and there she was. Stock still and sort of glaring over my head.
Golding: That must have been disconcerting.
Mrs. Ecclestone: It was awful. It seemed to last for ages, and then I held out her paper and she snatched it.
Golding: Did she speak?
Mrs. Ecclestone: She whispered.
Golding: What did she whisper?
Mrs. Ecclestone: That I needn’t imagine this would stop justice from taking its course. And then the door was slammed in my face.
Miss Freebody: Quite right.
Golding: And then?
Mrs. Ecclestone: I went back. And my migraine started.
Golding: Mrs. Ecclestone, do you know what happened to the wrapping paper round the dog’s liver?
Mrs. Ecclestone: Yes. My husband had dropped it on the ground and Jim — Dr. Swale — said it shouldn’t be left lying about and he put it into the incinerator.
Golding: Did you notice what paper it was?
Mrs. Ecclestone: It was the same as the other parcel — the Daily Telegraph.
Golding: Thank you.
(He sits. Defense Counsel rises.)