A few folk sat in the public gallery – mostly women. Betsy wondered why they hadn’t brought their knitting with them.

Mr Roford’s lawyer stood, and the room came to a hush after the initial bustle of everyone seating themselves, once the judge had done so.

Dressed in a gown and wearing a short-curled wig, his voice demanded attention and stopped Betsy’s mind wandering.

As he read out the charge, Betsy felt herself giving way, but knew she must not do so. Most of it was lies – wicked lies.

‘We want the court to consider the destruction brought about by this woman’s actions. Whilst we think it admirable that she wanted the money that she tried to extort for the purpose of freeing her husband of pain, her vile method has caused more pain than one family should have to bear. As a result of her false cry of rape, my client’s wife had a nervous breakdown and is now a patient in Brockhall Institution, where the diagnosis is bleak; and the prognosis is that she may never recover. Especially as she has now been dealt a second blow, which can be considered to be caused directly by this woman’s actions – the death of Mrs Roford’s beloved father. The late Mr Witherbrook was an upstanding member of the Blackburn cotton industry, who collapsed immediately following the incident we are referring to and never recovered.’

There was an audible gasp that rippled around the courtroom. Betsy kept her head down.

‘And so what Mrs Bainwright did on that night was not only injurious to my client’s good name, but has subsequently robbed him of his new-found happiness with his young wife and has killed his father-in-law. In the light of this, my client is not only suing for defamation of his character, but for the loss of his life as he knew it. My client’s claim is for restoration of his good name, and monetary compensation for lost revenue, due to his inability to work because of the huge stress placed upon him, m’lord, as well as for the mistrust of him by business associates. To my mind, what the defendant has done amounts to criminal extortion and should be referred to the Crown Prosecution for sentencing, and no less than a prison term should be served on her, given the outcome of her action.’

There was a hush as the lawyer sat down. Betsy stared in horror. Oh God, naw . . . naw.

After a moment the duty solicitor stood up. Assigned to her only minutes before the court sat in session, he knew nothing about Betsy, and very little about her side of the story.

Walking on wobbly legs that didn’t feel as though they would hold her up, but with her head held high, Betsy reached the witness stand and took the oath. In doing so, she wondered if she could still lie. But one glance at her Bill and she knew that she must.