‘This court is adjourned while I confer with my legal colleagues,’ cried the judge and she stood up sweeping up her pastilles and her tissues; the clerk of the court shouted ALL RISE above the hubbub. Elvira stood quietly in the crowded public gallery while all around her people talked excitedly, foreigners asking all about them with puzzled expressions for elucidation of the word impotent.

Terence was taken out through his padded door past the grilled liftwell, down the concrete steps; the judge walked through her padded door to fawn-coloured carpets, a little lie-down and even perhaps, in the circumstances, a very early-morning gin. It was 10.47 am.

*

Anthony Bonham was again filming in Devon. The driver who had been appointed to drive him everywhere, including back to Stratford if he had a performance in the evening, was new to the business. He heard the news on his car radio, that the rape case of the famous Terence Blue had been adjourned because of sensational new developments, even mentioned the fact to Anthony who only grunted: he was sick to the teeth of hearing everybody talking about Terence Blue. But the driver didn’t know that Pauline O’Brien was Anthony’s wife, had never heard of her. Anthony was having a warming whisky in his caravan while his dresser fetched him a scone from the butty-wagon when the first assistant put his head around the door.

‘Your wife’s caused a sensation!’

‘What?’ Anthony’s glass was halfway to his lips.

The first assistant looked a little confused. ‘Well – I presumed you knew of course. The trial’s been stopped.’

‘What trial?’

‘Terence Blue’s trial. There’s been a newsflash. Your wife’s just been in the witness box saying he couldn’t have done the rape because he’s impotent.’

‘WHAT?’ Anthony lunged up towards the door, banging his knee on the corner of the caravan table. ‘JESUS CHRIST!’ at the news, at the pain in his leg.

‘Here, here, have my radio,’ said the first assistant, leaving swiftly.

Anthony turned to Radio 4 but they spoke of Bosnia.

He found a local radio station but they spoke of a Devon man who had invented a new kind of Christmas rose.

*

By 11.30 am there had been fistfights between journalists for the press desks in Court Number Ten at the Old Bailey. Elvira had, wisely, arranged for Stu’s chauffeur to queue outside the court while she also had an early gin alone and made some phone calls.

Terence Blue was in the police area downstairs where his lawyer impressed upon him in front of a policeman the importance of apologising to the judge, of never interrupting again, or he would be kept not on bail but in custody for the rest of the trial.

Pauline O’Brien had a cup of tea and seemed to be quietly reading the Independent but her heart was beating like a drum.