“They’ll read them, believe me,” said Giles. “Especially after the judge refused to let Trelford tell them what my mother had to say about Virginia in her will. Pour yourself a coffee and I’ll read it to you.” Giles picked up the Daily Mail and waited for Seb to return to the breakfast table before he put his glasses back on and began to read. “‘The remainder of my estate is to be left to my beloved daughters Emma and Grace to dispose of as they see fit, with the exception of my Siamese cat, Cleopatra, who I leave to Lady Virginia Fenwick, because they have so much in common. They are both beautiful, well-groomed, vain, cunning, manipulative predators, who assume that everyone else was put on earth to serve them, including my besotted son, who I can only pray will break from the spell she has cast on him before it is too late.’”

“Bravo,” said Seb when his uncle had put the paper down. “What a formidable lady. We could have done with her in the witness box. But what about the broadsheets, how are they reporting it?”

“The Telegraph is hedging its bets, although it does praise Makepeace for his forensic and analytical cross-examination of Emma. The Times speculates about why the defense rather than the prosecution is calling Fisher. You’ll see it under the headline ‘Hostile Witness,’” said Giles, sliding the Times across the table.

“I have a feeling Fisher won’t get mixed reviews.”

“Just be sure to keep staring at him while he’s in the witness box. He won’t like that.”

“Funnily enough,” said Seb, “one female member of the jury keeps staring at me.”

“That’s good,” said Giles. “Be sure to smile at her occasionally, but not too often in case the judge notices,” he added as Emma walked into the room.

“How are they?” she asked, looking down at the papers.

“About as good as we could have expected,” said Giles. “The Mail has turned Mother’s will into folklore, and the serious journalists want to know why Fisher is being called by us and not them.”

“They’ll find out soon enough,” said Emma, taking a seat at the table. “So which one should I start with?”

“Perhaps the Times,” said Giles, “but don’t bother with the Telegraph.”

“Not for the first time,” said Emma, picking up the Telegraph, “I wish I could read tomorrow’s papers today.”

*   *   *