Perhaps it was like that for lawyers, she thought. Win or lose, they got their fees, it was just a game for them. She looked up at the public gallery, which, unlike the jury box, was rammed. She saw Barbara Gready and her son and daughters, who were there to see the outcome of the trial. Then she noticed a man with slightly Latino looks who was staring down at the jury box. At her?

She glanced away, towards the empty dock, then back. He was still looking, but his face gave nothing away; it was as if he was studying an exhibit in a museum.

Was it him, she wondered?

He was dressed in a smart, casual jacket over a white open-neck shirt and his dark hair was shiny. She tried to engage eye contact, but he just looked elsewhere. Then, the moment she turned away, she could feel his eyes back on her. She shot him a sudden glance and saw she was right.

She shivered. What game are you playing with me?

Looking away again, she noticed another wigged and gowned barrister in the court today, with what was presumably a solicitor or junior seated behind him. Was this Michael Starr’s legal team?

Judge Jupp entered the courtroom, turning to the dock officers. ‘You can bring the defendants up now.’

A sudden murmur went around the court, and people started turning towards the dock. Terence Gready and Michael Starr entered, with two dock officers standing behind them. Both defendants wore suits. Gready looked quite at home in his regular attire, while Starr looked like he’d put on a hand-me-down. The jacket hung loosely over his shoulders and the sleeves came halfway down his hands. His shirt, by contrast, looked too small for the top button to be done up, and the collar was held partially clamped by his tie. He looked uncomfortable and agitated.

Hardly surprising, Meg thought.

Neither man glanced at the other. They stood like two strangers who had never met, just as Gready had claimed in his defence.

106

Friday 31 May

The clerk told the defendants to sit down. The judge then entered into a lengthy discussion with both defence barristers about the sentencing guidelines.

Meg was surprised, she had thought it would all be over in minutes. Instead, the barristers and judge engaged in what sounded like a cross between a verbal sparring match and a horse trade, as each referred to past cases and judgements, citing varying lengths of sentences. Reference books were produced, with Jupp thumbing for some minutes through one before he found what Brown had asked him to read.

All the time, Meg was distracted by the Latino who still seemed to be playing games with her. Watching her, looking away, watching her.

Who the hell are you, damn you? Are you signalling to me – telling me something about Laura? Telling me I had my chance and I blew it?