‘Not,’ said Pauline O’Brien firmly, ‘as damaging as being convicted for a rape he didn’t commit. I don’t know what happened to Simone, who was also in our class at the Academy. She was –’ Pauline chose her words carefully, remembering how the Scottish comic had somehow lost sympathy for Terence by making the court laugh at Simone Taylor ‘– very fond of Terence I think.’ And Pauline looked across to the place in the court where Simone, dark glasses and fur coat, was sitting palely, staring at Pauline. ‘I don’t believe she would – put herself through this if she hadn’t been raped and I am very sorry. But I not only don’t believe Terence would have raped her, I don’t believe he could have raped her because of the information I have just given you, and I felt that it was my duty in the circumstances to tell the court what I know.’

‘Thank you Miss O’Brien, no further questions,’ said Mr Tweed.

Elvira had warned Pauline over and over that now the hard part would begin. Pauline O’Brien Bonham licked her red lips nervously.

The prosecuting barrister Mr Lee did not leap to his feet to begin the cross examination; lumbered upright rather, again sighing loudly. He had had time, when the court had briefly adjourned, to do his homework. He blew his nose, took a long time putting his handkerchief in his pocket.

‘Miss O’Brien, or perhaps I should call you Mrs Bonham, you surely do not expect the court to believe this farrago of lies.’

Pauline looked at him. ‘A farrago is – a medley I believe,’ she said.

Mr Lee stared at a point on the wall above the judge’s bench, did not look at his witness. ‘A medley, yes, in this case a cheap, ugly mixture.’

‘I have only said that Mr Blue is impotent. I do not believe that is a medley.’