Slowly, agonizingly slowly, seemingly inches at a time, Cassie was cranked back towards them. Laura suddenly realized she was still filming. She shoved her phone in her pocket, anxiously holding her breath.

Please don’t break.

The three men were shouting at each other again. Arguing about something. But, mercifully, sweating heavily, they were still working the handle. Cassie was coming closer.

Closer.

Now she was just a few feet from the launch platform.

‘You’re going to be OK, C!’ Laura yelled.

To her astonishment, her friend was laughing.

‘Nearly there!’ Laura called out.

And a minute later, to Laura’s desperate relief, Cassie was back over the platform and out of danger.

Laura ran towards her as the two younger men were freeing Cassie from the harness and apologizing profusely to her. All the time, she was giggling and laughing.

Laura looked down at her friend, who was now lying on the ground, alternating between crying and laughing.

‘You OK, C?’

But her friend was unaware of her presence. She was in the throes of a total fit of hysterics.

57

Wednesday 15 May

Meg was struggling to concentrate this morning because she was so worried about her daughter.

All night she had been fretting about Laura doing the zip wire today. How many other dangerous sports were she and Cassie engaging in on this trip that they weren’t telling her about? All the time with someone watching them? Laura had promised to text her after she’d done it, to let her know she was safe.

It was 10.45 a.m. when Stephen Cork called the final witness who worked for Terence Gready’s firm, an intelligent-looking woman in her late twenties, with long, layered brown hair. Her name was Sophie Butt.

Watching her closely, Meg could see, from her body language, that she was both a determined character and a loyal employee.

‘Mrs Butt,’ Cork said, ‘could you tell us the capacity in which you were employed by the defendant?’

She spoke with clear diction and had quite a posh accent, Meg thought.

‘I was Mr Gready’s secretary and the receptionist at TG Law.’

‘And how long had you been employed in this capacity?’

‘Over eight years.’

‘To what extent were you aware of Mr Gready’s day-to-day activities?’

‘Well, very aware, I kept his diary,’ she answered stiffly.

‘And in keeping his diary, you were aware of his daily appointments and meetings?’ Cork asked.

‘I was, yes.’

‘All of them?’

‘All of them,’ she said, resolutely.

‘On the morning of Wednesday November 21st last year, do you recall Mr Gready meeting at any time with a gentleman by the name of Michael Starr? Quite a distinctive-looking man, it would seem, with a prosthetic right arm.’

‘No, I don’t,’ she said.

‘Does the office have a visitors’ book where guests sign in and out?’

‘No,’ she answered.

‘Is it possible Mr Gready could have met with him without your knowledge?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’