When the court sitting resumed Mr Tweed, barrister for the defence, was on his feet at once.

‘My Lady,’ he said, ‘my client wishes to unreservedly apologise for his outburst earlier this morning. He deeply regrets the incident.’

‘I take note of the apology,’ said the judge rather sourly. ‘One would have thought Mr Tweed that your client would have been appraised of evidence being brought in his defence,’ and she gave the defence lawyer a long, shrewd look, and then looked briefly at Terence, staring at the ground in the long dock.

‘Before this trial goes any further I want to address this court. You are all, I am sure, aware of the remarks made about this trial by the Lord Chancellor and the Director of Public Prosecutions before it began. If there is a single further disturbance – and I mean a single further disturbance – I will have no hesitation in excluding the press and the public from the rest of this trial and holding the defendant in custody. I hope I make myself clear.’

Pauline was brought back to the witness stand in her cream suit.

‘Miss O’Brien,’ said Mr Tweed briskly, ‘you made an extraordinary statement in this court this morning. Would you please elucidate.’

Pauline cleared her throat slightly and pushed at her dark hair. It was clear she was nervous. She wasn’t quite sure who to address: the jury, the judge, the barrister. Finally, to the defence barrister she told the story that she and Terence and Elvira had agreed upon.

‘I have known Mr Blue since I was a drama student. We have always been good friends, our families have been friends, one of Mr Blue’s ex-wives is godmother to my son.

‘I sometimes (it’s got to be domestic Elvira had said, gardening will make it sound domestic and boring, otherwise you’ll sound like a luvvie) go and work in Mr Blue’s garden in Hampstead. Sometimes we both work in it, we both enjoy gardening. Some weeks before the reunion, we were working together in his garden, you remember how hot it was, and we stopped for a cold drink and I suddenly saw that Terence – Mr Blue – who was sitting on the steps leading up to his back door was – crying.’

‘Mr Blue was crying?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘I asked him why. After quite a long time he admitted to me that he had this problem, that he – had had it for some time, that he was –’ and she hesitated for a moment before using such an emotive word again ‘– impotent.’

Again disturbances on the press benches, but quickly self-regulated as the judge looked across. Terence Blue, sitting absolutely motionless in the centre of the long prisoner’s dock, stared down at the floor.

The prosecuting barrister ostentatiously raised his eyes to the ceiling, sighed theatrically, made some notes on a pad in front of him.