Declared Dead

'Do you know the disused chalk pit near Melksham?'

'Yes.'

'How often have you been there?'

That was a difficult one. I didn't want to mention the picnic with Tom; on the other hand, if they had intercepted and read that letter he sent me from prison, there was no point being caught out in a lie. I decided to tell the truth.

'Twice. Once with my husband and son, and once with Tom.'

'When did you visit it with the accused?'

'In, I think, May of last year.'

'And whose idea was that?'

'Mine. He'd never heard about it before.'

'How often did you see the accused during your relationship?'

'Not regularly, it just wasn't possible. I'd just turned professional and was trying to establish myself and then of course I had to do my best for my son.'

'But you still found time to sleep with this young man?' boomed a voice from the bench. It was clear that I could trust Snipe to know when and how to put the boot in. I didn't know how, or even whether, I was meant to answer that kind of judicial comment and decided reluctantly to hold my tongue. No doubt Lord Pryde's lawyers were in court taking all this down for the custody proceedings. The uncaring selfish adulteress was not a very flattering image.

'And during this time did the accused write to you?'

'Yes, at least once a week.'

'How did these letters reach you?'

'I used to collect them from a hiding place in the woods above his stables.' However I had answered that one I was on a loser. If they had been sent to my house I would have been called brazen and by telling the truth I appeared duplicitous and secretive.

'Would you look at this bundle please, Mrs Pryde?' He handed the bundle of letters to the usher who marched ceremoniously and self-importantly across the court towards me as if he was carrying the crown jewels. 'Can they be numbered exhibit seven, My Lord?' asked" counsel. A grunt from the bench presumably meant they could.

'Are these the letters you received from the accused?' There was a slight change in inflection in his voice, a quickening of the pace.

'May I look at them?' I asked. In fact there was no need for identification, but I wanted a few seconds to compose myself.

'Finished? Would you please take the first letter in the bundle? Do you have it?'

'Yes.' My hands were shaking as I put the others down on the ledge in front of me.

'Is that dated 16th November and does it begin "My precious darling"?'

'Yes.' It might sound like sentimental bilge in the cold and heartless atmosphere of a court room but at the time I used to live for Tom's letters, and the warm show of genuine affection they contained.

'Would you turn to the third page and read out loud the second paragraph?'

In my anxiety, I dropped one of the pages and only after a good deal of reshuffling did I find the passage.

'Do get on with it, Mrs Pryde,' barked Snipe, looking at his watch and tut-tutting. I began reading in a faltering voice:

'"Why won't you give him up? You say you're afraid of what he might do, but why should you go on indefinitely allowing that bully to stand in the way of our love and your own happiness?"'

The counsel stopped me there. 'By the word "he", does the accused mean your husband Edward?'

'Of course,' I snapped back, and immediately regretted doing so.

'And do the sentiments expressed in that passage fairly represent the accused's attitude at the time?'

'Yes, but you must understand that Tom would never hurt a fly. I don't deny he wanted me to leave Edward but…'

'Would you please take the next letter in the bundle, I think it's dated 22nd December.'

'Just before Christmas Day,' remarked Snipe, pointing out the unchristian timing of my adultery.

Grange continued. 'Do you remember receiving that letter from the accused?'

I nodded.

'Please answer, Mrs Pryde, as otherwise your response will not be recorded.'

'Yes, I remember.'

'Was that left at your usual point of collection?'

I had prayed he wouldn't ask that question. 'No, he left it inside a magazine in the women jockeys' changing room at Fontwell race course.'

'What magazine?'

'Playgirl, but it was just a joke,' I muttered weakly. A titter of moral reprobation went round the court.

'Would you kindly turn to the last paragraph at the foot of the second page and read it out to My Lord and the jury. And a little louder this time, please.'

I found it straight away and tried to throw my voice so the whole court could hear me. Neither Tom nor I had anything to be ashamed of and now was the time to stop being so defensive.

'"I cannot go on like this much longer. I love you, Victoria, and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Unless you are prepared to leave Edward…"' I stopped at the foot of the page. 'Shall I continue on to the next page?'

'Please do, Mrs Pryde.'

I read on, '"… I will see to it that he gets the end he deserves."' I stopped reading. 'But this isn't the next page, there's a page missing, My Lord.' I turned imploringly towards Snipe but My Lord was not impressed.

'Are you suggesting,' he growled, 'that this letter has been tampered with?'

'Yes, I am. I know these letters almost off by heart. Tom never threatened to harm, let alone kill, Edward. It's absurd. What he's referring to here is an old steeplechaser he once used to train. The horse was being neglected by his present owners and Tom was planning to buy him and give him a decent retirement in one of the paddocks behind his yard. I tell you, there's a page missing. ' I could see Tom nodding vigorously in the dock. My raised voice resounded ominously round the court room and I had the awful feeling that my explanations were being met by a silence of disbelief and contempt.

The counsel for the prosecution simply ignored my outburst and continued with his questioning: 'Did there come a time when your relationship with the accused ceased?'

'Yes. At the beginning of this year we talked it over many times and finally agreed that it had to end. I had no intention of leaving Edward if it meant giving up custody of my son. Tom accepted that.'

'So when was the last occasion you saw the accused before your husband's death?'

'The day after the Gold Cup, 18th March, a Friday. I went over in the morning to his yard to school some horses.'

'Did you discuss your husband on that occasion?'

I had wondered when this would come up. No doubt Jamie Brown had already given evidence about it that morning.

'Yes, but only briefly. Tom was upset because he knew Edward had attacked me the night before. He made some remark about giving him a thrashing, he didn't mean it.'

'Thank you, Mrs Pryde, I've no more questions. Will you just stay there, please?'

Immediately another counsel, sitting at the other end of the row, rose to his feet. I assumed he must be acting for Tom.

'Mrs Pryde, it is true, is it not, that Mr Radcliffe readily accepted that your relationship had to end?'

'Yes, I think we both realised it couldn't go on, and he took the initiative in bringing it to an end.'

'And Mr Radcliffe recognised and accepted that out of love for your son you were determined to stay with your husband?'

'That's right. We often discussed it and Tom never suggested that I was wrong in putting Freddie, my son, first.'

'Shortly before your husband's death, did you discover something unpleasant about him?'

'Yes. He was a blackmailer.' That took the court by surprise and I could see the heads of the public in the gallery and the press corps jolt forwards in anticipation of what was to come. Counsel for the prosecution however had other ideas. He was on his feet quicker than a greyhound out of the trap.