One of the men in wigs, a tall, skinny man, stood up and spoke to Cheryclass="underline" ‘Please tell the court in your own words what you saw on the twentieth of June last year.’
‘I saw Danny Macateer.’ Cheryl’s tongue felt too big for her mouth, her lips were dry. The room was cool and she felt goose pimples flare on her arms. ‘I was on Abbey Street, near the shop, on the corner with Faraday Street. We said hello and that and he went on.’
‘Which way did he go?’
‘Along Abbey Street towards the main road.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I set off home, down Faraday Street.’
‘You knew Danny?’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘From around, from church and that.’ Cheryl couldn’t tell them that their nanas were best friends, nothing had been kept in her evidence that might give a clue to who she was.
‘How did he seem?’
The question floored her. His smile, the way he laughed when she mimicked Nana Rose. His quiet pride in his music. She swallowed. ‘Good. Happy, he was going to a rehearsal.’
‘Tell us what happened then.’
‘I was walking down Faraday Street, a car came past the other way; it was Carlton and Sam Millins.’ Cheryl could hear voices in the court, reactions to what she had said.
‘Derek Carlton?’
‘Yes.’ No one calls him Derek, she thought. She wanted to laugh. ‘They went the same way as Danny, turned into Abbey Street.’
‘How did you know it was Derek Carlton and Sam Millins?’
‘I saw them. And it was Sam’s car – the BMW.’
‘How do you know both these men?’
‘They live in the area. Everyone knows them, their gang runs the place, they cause a lot of trouble.’
One of the other lawyers got to her feet. She had a round, pale face and round glasses. ‘Hearsay and prejudicial,’ the woman said to the judge.
The judge told the jury to disregard the last statement. Cheryl felt her skin tighten. This was stupid; she couldn’t tell them what mattered. The whole gang stuff had killed Danny. It didn’t just hurt the people running round with drugs and guns, it made things bad for everyone.
‘Are you sure that the men you saw that day were Derek Carlton and Sam Millins?’
She spoke as firmly as she could: ‘Yes.’
‘And you were able to pick them out of video IDs when you were first interviewed by the police?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who was driving the car?’
‘Sam Millins.’ She looked straight at the screen, unblinking.
‘Please tell us what happened after that.’
‘I heard a shot.’
‘Where were you then?’
‘Further down Faraday Street.’ She imagined Vinia listening, knowing that she and Cheryl had been there that day, trying to remember who else had been about, who might have turned grass. There’d been plenty of people out and about and Faraday Street ran for several blocks, Cheryl hoped that Vinia would imagine this witness had reached a different stretch of the road. Would not put together what she was hearing with her best mate Cheryl.
‘You recognized it as a gunshot?’
‘I guessed it was. I’ve heard them before.’ Welcome to my world, Cheryl thought. ‘And then the car came across Faraday Street really fast, along Marsh Street. They’d been round the block.’
‘Did you go to see what had happened?’ the man asked.
‘Yes. I saw it was Danny, he was on the ground.’ A lump filled Cheryl’s throat. He should have been getting on the bus, going off to his rehearsal, playing his music, growing up, falling in love.
‘Were you shocked?’
‘Yes. He was a good kid; he wasn’t mixed up in any bad stuff. They should’ve left him alone.’ Her voice broke.
The lawyer thanked her and sat down.
Cheryl felt wiped out, tense, her back ached and she’d a metallic taste in her mouth.
After a moment the woman lawyer stood up, the round-faced one: she was defending Carlton. Cheryl almost blurted out a laugh when she introduced herself as Miss Mooney. ‘You say you knew Danny Macateer?’
‘Yes.’
‘You liked him?’
‘Yes.’
‘You knew Derek Carlton and you believed him to be involved in criminal activities in your neighbourhood?’ Miss Mooney spoke quickly, like she was spitting out facts, knew where she was headed. Cheryl sensed a trick, felt her belly twist.
‘So perhaps you thought blaming Derek Carlton for Danny Macateer’s death would be a convenient way to get rid of Derek Carlton?’
‘No!’ Cheryl said. ‘I only blamed him ’cos of what I saw.’
‘Really?’ Miss Mooney making her out to be a liar.
‘Yes,’ she snapped back.
‘Let’s take a look at what you saw, shall we? You claim you were on Faraday Street that day. What was the weather like?’
‘The weather?’
‘You don’t recall?’
‘Hot, really hot and sunny.’ Cheryl remembered the shimmer above the tarmac as they set out, how high the sky seemed, the big bowl of it and Nana’s roses full of perfume. Oh, Nana.
‘Which side of the road were you on?’
‘The other side from the shop.’ Vinia had come out of the shop, they’d crossed over. Milo was in his buggy. She’d turned the buggy away but that was after she saw the car.
‘And exactly where on the street were you?’
‘I don’t know.’ She had to be careful, Vinia was listening, Vinia who was now Sam’s woman.
‘You don’t know,’ Miss Mooney drawled as though this was exactly what she expected. Like one of the teachers at school, all sarky and disappointed in people. ‘What made you notice the car?’
Again she wasn’t sure what the right answer was. She hesitated. The goosebumps still prickled her arms but she was sweating too. ‘The noise, I think. It was going fast.’
‘How fast?’
‘Maybe forty?’
‘Forty miles an hour and the sun was high overhead, am I right?’
‘Yes.’
‘How far away was the car when you first noticed it?’
‘Not far.’
‘You say you don’t know whereabouts on Faraday Street you were – had you passed the hairdresser’s, were you closer to Abbey Street at the top or Marsh Street?’
Cheryl felt trapped. She had to say something. ‘Marsh Street, past the salon, I think.’ Being as vague as she dare.
‘Barely yards. I refer the jury to the map of the area.’ There was another screen in the court, a map drawn on it, streets marked. The woman moved a computer pointer to indicate Faraday Street. ‘This is reproduced in the papers you have,’ the woman told the jury. ‘A hot summer’s day, the car came out of the side road, Marsh Street, only yards away and was travelling at speed past you, the sun glaring off the windscreen, how could you possibly identify who was inside?’
‘Because I saw them! I saw Carlton. On my life!’
‘Was he wearing sunglasses?’ she asked crisply.
Cheryl’s mind scrabbled for the picture in her head. She’d been looking away most of the time, shielding Milo, eager to make herself invisible, not wanting any contact with Carlton and his mates.
‘I don’t know,’ Cheryl admitted.
‘You don’t know,’ Miss Mooney smiled. ‘And I put it to you that you don’t know because you didn’t actually see who was in that car.’
‘I did!’
‘What about when the car drove past a second time. Could you see the occupants then?’
‘There were two people still in it.’
‘Could you see them?’
Cheryl paused. She bit her tongue, reluctant to answer. She’d sworn to tell the truth. ‘Not really.’
‘Did you get the registration of the car on either occasion?’
‘No.’
‘You told the court you heard a shot, you then saw a car travelling at speed away from the direction of the gunshot and you didn’t think to get the registration number?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Cheryl said defensively.
‘You didn’t go to the police, that day, did you? You went home?’