‘I believe so, yes.’
‘And was it not only after DS Jarvis interviewed Mrs Marion Anderson and was told of Rob Anderton’s double life, and all that entailed, that the car was re-examined?’
‘Yes, that was the case.’
‘So surely the fact that these strands had been cut and not just broken due to wear and tear could not have been that obvious?’
‘Pretty obvious, in my opinion.’
‘But not, it would appear, in the opinion of the forensics experts who examined the car the first time round?’
‘Apparently not. No.’
‘And surely the fact that the accelerator function of these particular cars has been so suspect must still give rise to some doubt?’
‘Not in my opinion, no.’
‘Mr Brown, could I ask you when you actually inspected this vehicle yourself?’
‘When I was asked to do so by the police, a few days after Mrs Anderton’s death, because of concerns relating to the initial examination of the car.’
‘So, not until after you had actually been given cause to doubt that the mechanical damage had been caused accidentally?’
‘Well, no, but—’
‘So it would seem reasonable to refer to the opinion of those who first examined the car, and who did not already have a hidden agenda, would it not?’
‘I had no hidden agenda,’ blustered Maxwell Brown. ‘I was asked to examine the car in order to give a second opinion. I am now relating my findings to this court to the best of my ability, and I do object—’
‘Yes, indeed, Mr Brown,’ the barrister interrupted thunderously. ‘I am quite sure you do object. But it is the duty of this court to explore all aspects of this case, and as far as I can see you at least were never in a position to conduct your investigation into the condition of Mrs Anderton’s car in as independent a manner as might have been desired. No further questions, My Lord.’
Robert was the first witness to be called by the defence. I suppose Mr Small QC was relying on his apparent plausibility, but I may have already partially scuppered that with the jury. Even so, Robert seemed to be his usual calm and credible self, to start with at least. It seemed hard to believe he could be capable of murder.
Unlike me, far from having lost weight, Robert looked considerably heavier than when I had last seen him. He had the beginnings of a double chin and his belly strained against the confines of his light-grey double-breasted suit, a suit I had never seen before. I was vaguely aware that a prison diet was supposed to be high in both stodge and fat, and I assumed this was the cause of his weight gain. After all, Robert had been remanded in custody for almost four months. His hair, cut shorter than usual, was still coal-black, though.
Mr Small began by establishing that Robert had been away on a North Sea oil platform at the time of his wife’s death.
‘I’d gone back to work two days before,’ said Robert. ‘Then I returned to Exeter after learning that Brenda had been killed.’
‘When you were in Exeter with your wife Brenda would you normally also have driven the car in which she died?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Robert.
‘And so, had that car been tampered with in any way you too could have been at risk, as well as your wife?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Robert again.
Pam Cotton was on her feet as he spoke.
‘Objection, My Lord. Counsel is grossly leading the witness.’
The judge half smiled at Joshua Small. ‘Come along now, Mr Small,’ he interjected mildly.
‘I apologize, My Lord,’ said the defence barrister, pausing briefly before asking his next question.
‘Would anyone else have also been at risk, Mr Anderton?’ he asked.
‘Well, yes, of course. My younger daughter Janey. And I would never do anything that might harm Janey.’
Joshua Small then asked Robert about the double life he had led, which Robert admitted with humility.
‘I am ashamed now of what I did and the way I lived,’ he said. ‘I believe that I was responsible for the chain of events that have led to all the terrible things which have happened to...’ He paused, perhaps searching for words. ‘To both my families,’ he concluded.
Mr Small asked him if he could explain to the court why he had embarked on his extraordinary double life in the first place. And Robert began to relate the same story that he had told me, concerning the legacy of Huntington’s and his inability to cope with its inevitable effect on his wife and daughters.
‘I just wanted to escape from it all,’ he said. ‘I know it was weak of me, but I am not a strong man. Yet I could not bring myself to leave my wife and the poor sick child we had together brought into the world. When I learned that Brenda was expecting another child I felt betrayed by her, and yet all the more bound to her side. And even less able to reveal the truth about my double life to either Brenda or to Marion.’
Pam Cotton began her cross-examination by addressing the question of logistics, which she had already set up in her questioning of Maxwell Brown.
‘Would you agree, as already indicated by one of the country’s leading experts in motor forensics, that your whereabouts at the time of the incident which claimed your wife Brenda’s life is irrelevant, Mr Anderton?’ she enquired.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Robert replied.
‘But I think you do, Mr Anderton. As an accomplished mechanic you would be perfectly able to cut through a cable in such a way that it would continue to function for some miles after receiving your attentions, would you not?’
Mr Small began to rise to his feet, but Robert answered so quickly and forcefully that he lowered himself back in his chair without raising the objection he had seemed to be preparing for.
‘I didn’t touch the car,’ said Robert.
‘That’s as may be, Mr Anderton, but you must then at least accept that the cable could have been cut in such a way by a person or persons unknown.’
‘I suppose so,’ Robert muttered grudgingly.
‘Yes. And, of course, if you knew that damage had been done you would then presumably have been able to avoid driving the vehicle again before going back to work in the North Sea, would you not?’
‘But I didn’t know—’
‘All right, Mr Anderton,’ Pam Cotton interrupted. ‘Can we just agree that, with your prolonged absences, your wife Brenda would have been the principal driver of the Toyota?’
‘I suppose so, yes. But my daughter, Janey, was often with her. I have said already, I’d never do anything to put Janey in danger.’
‘I was coming to that, Mr Anderton,’ said Pam easily. ‘You have already told the court about the dreadful illness which your eleven-year-old daughter will ultimately develop and how difficult you found it to cope with that, have you not?’
Robert agreed that he had.
‘So, might it not be possible, Mr Anderton, that you may have been prepared to leave to chance the possibility of your daughter being in the motor car with her mother when the accelerator cable finally split, and indeed her survival, rather more than you would have done were she a well child?’
Pam spoke slowly and deliberately, clearly selecting her words with great care.
Robert, who must surely have been extremely disturbed if not infuriated by this line of questioning, kept his voice level and his manner respectful.
‘I would never do, and have never done anything that might harm Janey,’ he repeated. ‘Nor any of my children.’
In spite of everything I could feel a certain pervading sympathy for him in the court. But then, Robert had always been good at manipulating emotion.
Pam Cotton, however, moved on swiftly to deal with that too.
‘Mr Anderton, you have painted a picture of your actions which seems to me to have little relation to the bitter truth, which is that you maintained a cruel charade for sixteen years regardless of the feelings of either of the women in your life. Is that not the case?’