‘It’s not how I saw it,’ muttered Robert so quietly that he was asked by the judge to repeat his reply and to speak up.
‘I’m sure it isn’t,’ responded the prosecution barrister. ‘But wouldn’t you accept that many men and women have to deal with serious illness within their families? Do you really feel that justifies the course of action you chose to take?’
Robert’s aura of humble self-confidence began to desert him. He looked up at the high ceiling of the courtroom as if seeking inspiration. In the end his reply was just one word.
‘No,’ he said.
‘No,’ repeated Pam. ‘You admit that you have been responsible for unleashing a terrible and tragic sequence of events. Can the illness within your family be regarded as justification for any of that?’
‘No,’ replied Robert again.
‘No,’ repeated Pam again.
‘And yet you went to quite extraordinary lengths over an astonishing period of time, for sixteen years, in order to keep the existence of your two families secret from each other, did you not?’
‘Yes.’ Robert seemed to have more or less run out of words. And even at that moment I could not stop myself reflecting that that, at least, made a change.
‘So when this double life of yours started to unravel following the death of your son, were you not afraid that your first wife would eventually expose your activities, which were, of course, criminal, and all that remained of your fragile house of cards would collapse, probably leading to legal action against you?’
‘Well, yes, I was afraid of that, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ interrupted Pam Cotton. ‘And just how far were you prepared to go to protect your unusual lifestyle, Mr Anderton?’
‘Well, I don’t know really...’ stumbled Robert.
‘Surely you went at least as far as to threaten your wife Brenda if she exposed your activities to Marion? Surely you did that?’
‘Well, yes. I suppose so. But I only threatened that I would leave her. That’s all.’
‘Are you quite sure of that, Mr Anderton?’
‘Yes. Absolutely. I am not a violent man. I wouldn’t make any other kind of threat.’
‘So, there is no question that you would even have considered murdering your wife in order to protect your double life?’
‘No. Of course not. I didn’t consider it and I didn’t do it.’
‘But just how far would you go to wreak revenge against someone you may hold responsible for the death of your beloved son?’
Robert looked startled, shaken even, by this new approach.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said.
‘I think you do, Mr Anderton. I think you do—’
‘No.’ Robert interrupted the barrister this time. ‘I told you. I blame myself for Robbie’s death. I blame myself because of the crazy lifestyles I imposed on both my families.’
‘You blame yourself,’ Pam repeated. It seemed to be a habit with her, if not all barristers, to emphasize almost every significant point by repeating it.
‘Yes, I blame myself,’ said Robert again.
Pam stared at him hard.
‘No, Mr Anderton,’ she barked. ‘That is not the truth, is it? Isn’t the truth that you had reason to strongly suspect that your wife Brenda had in some way been responsible for Robbie’s death. Very good reason indeed.’
Another of those gasps went round the courtroom.
Robert seemed not to know what to say.
‘I don’t know, I–I just didn’t know, I couldn’t believe that...’ he stumbled.
‘But I think you did believe it, Mr Anderton,’ Pam Cotton continued. ‘Certainly your second wife, Marion, the woman you married bigamously, the woman you said was the love of your life, she believed that Brenda was responsible for Robbie’s death, didn’t she?’
‘Well, yes. She was quite sure of it, from the moment she recognized Brenda’s photograph in the paper after — after the accident. But I c-could never believe that Brenda would have done such a thing, not even when she told me...’
Robert stopped abruptly in mid-sentence, as if he had only just realized exactly what he was saying. But it was too late. Pam Cotton pounced.
‘When she told you what, Mr Anderton?’
‘Nothing, nothing.’
‘C’mon, Mr Anderton. I am sure the jury is already guessing what you were about to say. The entire court is ahead of you now. Would you please tell us what your wife said? What she told you about Robbie’s death?’
‘I uh, I can’t. It was too awful,’ Robert said.
‘Oh yes, you can, Mr Anderton. Oh yes, you can. You were about to say “when she told me that she had induced Robbie to kill himself”, or words to that effect, were you not, Mr Anderton?’
‘Objection, My Lord,’ cried Joshua Small.
The judge leaned forward.
‘You will not put words in the defendant’s mouth, Mrs Cotton,’ he commanded.
‘I’m so sorry, My Lord,’ said the prosecution barrister, looking anything but.
‘You do not have to answer that question if you do not wish to, Mr Anderton,’ the judge continued.
Robert didn’t seem to hear him. But neither did he speak. His shoulders drooped. I could see from his body language that he was close to tears.
Pam Cotton had no mercy.
‘Just tell the court what your wife said, Mr Anderton,’ she repeated loudly.
The judge cleared his throat and looked as if he might interject again. But he didn’t. Perhaps he wanted to know what Brenda Anderton had said to Robbie as much as the rest of the court. And maybe he also thought the court should be told.
Robert looked as if he might fall over.
‘Yes,’ he said. It was almost inaudible.
‘Would you please speak up, Mr Anderton,’ instructed the barrister.
Robert nodded.
‘She told me she had been to see Robbie on the d-day he died,’ he began falteringly. ‘She said she knew the day of the week Marion taught at Okehampton College, she knew he would be alone studying for his mocks. He invited her into the house. After all, he knew her, knew her as Bella Clooney. She told him who she really was, and that his father had lived a double life full of lies and duplicity. She said it was easy to convince Robbie that his life wasn’t worth living, that he might as well end it, that she would help him, make it easy for him...’
Robert stopped abruptly. He looked grey and drawn, as if he were about to break down.
I hadn’t expected that. Robert, even at his most vulnerable, had proven himself over many years to be so controlled.
I just stared at him. My worst fears were being realized. But it didn’t seem quite right somehow. Pieces of the jigsaw were still missing, I felt sure. There had to be something more. After all, Robbie was an intelligent and well-adjusted boy. He would have realized that nothing Brenda had said actually meant he didn’t have a father, however crazy, who loved him. And he still had me. He still had his mother. Surely that would have counted for something.
Pam Cotton waited a few seconds, for Robert to continue perhaps. But when he did not she piled on the pressure.
‘Your son was fit and healthy, just fifteen years old with his whole life in front of him. He was clever and talented, that rare mix of an academic and a sportsman, was he not?’
‘Yes,’ muttered Robert.
‘So come on, Mr Anderton. Come on. What else did your wife say to him? What on earth did she say to him, to make him want to take his own life, to take his own life straight away, without even confronting you, or speaking to his mother? What did Brenda say to your son, Mr Anderton?’
Robert’s eyes seemed focused on some unseen point in the middle distance. It was almost as if he were somewhere else, perhaps back with Brenda listening to the terrible revelations she’d made concerning the death of our beloved Robbie. Never mind a pin, it was as if you could have heard a piece of thread drop in that courtroom.