A Special Relationship (51 page)

‘Because I feared that she might fall into one of her dangerous moods again and, this time, actually carry out her threat to kill him.’

I gripped my hands tightly together, trying to force myself to stay silent. I had to admire Lucinda Fforde’s supremely clever tactical logic: after all the palaver of a cross-examination, return to just one central point and undermine all the other points scored earlier against her client by one reiteration of an absolute fucking lie.

When Tony was told he could step down, he returned to his seat next to the Dexter woman. She gave him a little hug and whispered something into his ear. Then her name was called to enter the witness box.

She looked very impressive, standing up there. Poised, assured, just a little regal. I could understand what Tony saw in her. She possessed a certain glamour quotient which I knew he always craved. Just as I also knew that he probably took one look at her property portfolio – and her taste in interior decor – and realized that she was a great catch. Just as she – a woman who had recently edged into fifty – would have admired his professional accomplishments, his worldliness, his sardonic wit, and his need to flee the entrapments of home and office. And then there was the little fact that he came accompanied by a child…

But as Lucinda Fforde took her through a review of her witness statement, it was clear how she was playing this game: the great friend who found herself falling in love with her great friend, but knew she couldn’t break up his marriage (especially right after he-and-his had just had a baby). But then, his wife had her ‘mental crisis’, Tony was desperately worried about little Jack’s safety, she offered a room in her house, one thing led to another, and…

‘I must emphasize,’ she said, ‘that this wasn’t a
coup de
foudre.
I think I can speak for Tony when I say that we both had these feelings for each other for quite a number of years. Only we never had the opportunity for involvement before now.’

Then Lucinda Fforde took her through these newfound maternal feelings: how she felt completely committed to Jack, how she only wanted the best for him, and how she was taking a considerable amount of time off work to be with him.

‘This is possibly the central reason why I decided to relocate to Sydney for several years. My company is opening a new office there. I could have farmed out the job of getting it up-and-running to one of several colleagues. But I felt that it would be good to take myself out of the London rat race for a few years, and also give Jack the opportunity of being raised in Sydney.’

She would also be working her schedule to make sure that she would have ample time with him. And she went on to describe the house she had rented in Point Piper – right on the water and near excellent schools (when that time came). As she went on in this estate agent vein, I found myself clutching my hands together again in an attempt to keep myself under control. Because I wanted to tell her just what a lying bitch I thought she was.

But then, finally, she came around to the subject of me.

‘I’ve never met Sally Goodchild. I certainly hold nothing against her. On the contrary, I feel so desperately sorry for her, and can only imagine what the horror of the past few months must have been like. I’m certain that she regrets her actions. And God knows, I do believe in rehabilitation and forgiveness. Which is why I would never bar her from Jack, and would welcome an open visiting arrangement in the future.’

As soon as she said that, I had a picture of myself, jet-lagged out of my brains after a twenty-six-hour flight to the bottom of the world, staying in some flea-bag motel, then taking a bus out to her palatial harbourside house, to be greeted by a little boy with a thick Aussie accent, turning to the Dexter woman and saying, ‘But mum, I don’t want to go off with her for the day.’

Diane Dexter finished off her testimony for Lucinda Fforde with the statement: ‘I do hope that Ms Goodchild will make a full recovery – and that, one day in the future, perhaps we can be friends.’

Absolutely. In fact I’ll tell you exactly when we can be friends. On the twelfth of never.

Maeve Doherty stood up and smiled evenly at the woman in the witness stand.

‘You’ve been married twice in the past, haven’t you, Ms Dexter?’

She didn’t like that question and it showed.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said.

‘And did you try to have children during these marriages?’

‘Yes, of course I tried to have children during these marriages.’

‘And you did have a miscarriage around 1990?’

‘Yes – I did. And I know what your next question will be and I’d like to answer it…’

The Judge came in here. ‘But you must first let Ms Doherty
pose
the question.’

‘I’m sorry, My Lord.’

‘But yes, I would be very pleased to know what you thought my next question would be?’ Maeve said.

Dexter looked at her with calm, steely anger: ‘“Did you, Ms Dexter, miscarry the baby because of drug abuse?” To which my answer would be: Yes. I was seriously abusing cocaine at the time, and it provoked a miscarriage. I sought professional help after this tragedy. I spent two months at the Priory Clinic. I have not used or abused drugs since then. If I now drink a glass of wine in the course of an evening, it’s an event. And my charitable work on drug education in schools is well-known.’

‘And you also attempted several IVF treatments in 1992 and 1993, both of which failed?’

Again, Dexter was taken aback by the revelation of this information. ‘I don’t know how you found out those facts, but they are correct.’

‘Just as it’s also correct that the Harley Street specialist you were seeing at the time then told you there was no chance of you conceiving again?’

She looked downwards. ‘Yes, he did tell me that.’

‘And since then, you did try to adopt in … when was it? … 1996, but were turned down because of your age and your single status?’

‘Yes,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.

‘And then Tony Hobbs appeared in your life again, now back in London, now a new father with an infant child, and a wife who was suffering from profound clinical depression…’

Dexter looked at Maeve with barely contained rage.

‘As I made clear earlier…’

‘Now let me ask you this, Ms Dexter: if an acquaintance was to run into you on the street where you live, and saw you pushing Jack along in his pram, and ask: “Is he your child?” how would you respond?’

‘I’d say: yes, I’m his mother.’

Maeve folded her hands across her chest, and said nothing, letting that comment fill the silence in the courtroom. A silence that the judge broke.

‘But you are
not
his mother, Ms Dexter,’ he said.

‘Of course I’m not his biological mother. But I have become his surrogate mother.’

The judge peered at her over his half-moon spectacles, and spoke in that half-weary voice he so preferred.

‘No, you haven’t. Because it has yet to be legally determined whether or not you will be assuming the role of surrogate mother. The child in question has a mother and a father. You happen to live with the father. But that does not give you the right to state that you are the child’s mother, surrogate or otherwise.’

‘Any further questions, Ms Doherty?’

‘No, My Lord.’

‘Re-examination, Ms Fforde?’

She looked seriously disconcerted. ‘No, My Lord.’

‘Then we’ll reconvene after a ten-minute adjournment.’

Once he was out of the court, Maeve sat down next to Nigel and myself and said, ‘Well, that wasn’t bad at all.’

‘Why did the judge so jump on her comment about considering herself his mother?’ I asked.

‘Because if there’s one thing Charles Traynor hates more than barristers who try to attack a CAFCASS report, it’s the new partner of someone in a divorce dispute, going on as if she’s the new-found parent. It goes completely against his sense of propriety or familial fair play, and he always jumps on anyone who tries to play that card.’

‘Which is why you walked her into it?’

‘Precisely.’

Sandy came down and joined us.

‘You were brilliant,’ she said to Maeve. ‘You really shoved it in the face of that nasty little—’

‘That’s fine, Sandy’ I said, cutting her off.

‘Sorry, sorry’ she said. ‘I think I’m suffering from Tourette’s today.’

‘Otherwise known as jet-lag,’ I said.

Maeve turned to Nigel and said, ‘Hobbs did score one off me, didn’t he?’

‘I think you actually … uhm … did rather well there, considering…’

‘That he won the point with that “I’ve never threatened a child’s life” comment.’

‘I don’t think it was a hugely damaging blow,’ he said. ‘Especially after what you did to Ms Dexter.’

‘What now?’ I asked.

‘I … uhm … think that’s it for the witnesses. So I presume the judge will reconvene just to formally end the proceedings and tell us all to be here at nine tomorrow morning.’

But when the judge returned, Lucinda Fforde had a little surprise for us.

‘My Lord, we have a last-minute witness we would like to call.’

Traynor didn’t looked pleased – as he probably pictured himself at home an hour from now. Instead…

‘And why has this witness been called at the last minute?’

‘Because he’s resident in the United States – in Boston, to be specific about it—’

I turned around and looked at Sandy, wondering if she had any idea whom they were planning to call. She shook her head, looking as nervous as I now felt.

’—and we were only able to obtain his statement the day before yesterday and fly him in last night. We apologize to the court for the lateness of his arrival. But he is crucial to our case and—’

‘May I see his statement, please?’ the judge asked, cutting her off. ‘And please give a copy as well to Ms Doherty.’

She handed the statement to Traynor and to Maeve. My barrister scanned the document and didn’t look pleased. In fact, she noticeably stiffened. The Judge looked up from his copy of the statement and asked, ‘And is Mr…’ He peered down at the document again. ‘ … Mr Grant Ogilvy here now?’

Grant Ogilvy. The name rang a distant bell somewhere.

‘Yes, My Lord,’ Lucinda Fforde said. ‘He can testify immediately.’

‘Well, what say you, Ms Doherty? You can raise all sorts of objections to this, should you wish to … and I would be obliged to back you up.’

I watched Maeve – and could see her thinking fast. She said, ‘My Lord, with your permission, I’d like a five-minute consultation with my client before I make a decision.’

‘Five minutes is fine, Ms Doherty. Court will stand in recess.’

Maeve motioned for me and Nigel to follow her outside. She found a bench. We grouped around it. She spoke in a low voice.

‘Did you ever see a therapist named Grant Ogilvy?’ she asked.

I put my hand to my mouth.
Hint?
They found
him?

I suddenly felt ill. Now I was certain to lose Jack.

‘Ms Goodchild,’ Nigel said, his voice filled with anxious concern, ‘are you all right?’

I shook my head and sat down on the bench.

‘Can I read what he told them?’ I asked.

‘Read it fast,’ Maeve said, ‘because we need to make a decision in about four minutes.’

I read the statement. It was what I expected. Then I handed it to Nigel. He lifted his glasses and glanced right through it.

‘Uhm … isn’t there some sort of patient/doctor confidentiality agreement about this sort of thing?’ he asked.

‘Yes, there is,’ Maeve said, ‘except when – as in this case – there is a child protection issue. Then the cloak of confidentiality can be breached. But I’m sure we could challenge it, and hold things up for weeks, and incite Traynor’s ire in the process. And the other thing is: from what I’ve read here, this all happened so damn long ago that I can’t imagine Traynor will consider it substantive evidence against your character. You look sceptical, Nigel.’

‘In … uhm … all honesty, it is a risk. And I’m sorry to say this, Ms Goodchild, but it could call into question aspects about your character. Even though, personally speaking, I don’t find that it changes my perception of you whatsoever.’

‘The problem here,’ Maeve said, ‘is that tomorrow, we want to spring two surprise witnesses on them – which I always thought was going to be a tricky manoeuvre, but which Traynor will more readily allow if we’ve already accepted their surprise witness. It is a gamble – but one which I think is worth taking, as our witnesses will have far more bearing on the case than theirs will have. But, ultimately, it has to be your decision, Sally. And, I’m afraid, you need to make it right now.’

I took a deep breath. I exhaled. I said, ‘All right. Let him testify…’

‘Good decision,’ Maeve said. ‘Now you have exactly three minutes to tell me everything I need to know about what happened back then.’