A Twist of Fate (28 page)

‘What was going through your head when you looked down at Natalie Sunley?'

‘Horror. Shock. It's not pleasant seeing people in pain at the hands of abusers. I'd seen it before. It's not something you get used to. Not something you want to get used to. I just wanted to help her, let her know she'd be all right, that I could help her.'

‘Thank you, Mr Mason. No further questions, your honour.'

Mr Thirle, the prosecution lawyer, stood up for the cross-examination. I felt bile rise in my throat.

‘Mr Mason, can you tell me what your occupation was a year before the incident in Kensington?'

‘I were in the army.'

‘Which regiment?'

‘SAS.'

‘And is it true that you were involved in an incident which resulted in the deaths of two innocent Afghan civilians?'

Paul's barrister stood up and spoke loudly. ‘Your honour, Mr Mason was cleared of all wrongdoing in this case. It is unnecessary to bring it up now.'

The judge barely looked at him. ‘Overruled. It informs us of Mr Mason's character.'

‘Mr Mason, please answer,' pressed the prosecution.

Paul said, with the slightest sigh, ‘I was.'

‘You were court-martialled, in fact. You shot dead an Afghan man and ordered the shooting of his wife.' The barrister turned to the assembled people. ‘I'm sure the court remembers the incident. It was a controversial time for the British army, and it was you, Mr Mason, at the centre of it.'

There was a murmur as the revelation was finally aired.

‘I was cleared,' Paul said strongly. ‘My actions were put down to intense pressure and confusion under the circumstances. It was never my intention for that to happen, of course it wasn't. It's not something I'm proud of, but what happened was as far from what I'd intended as possible.'

‘But, nevertheless, in the heat of the moment, it did happen, didn't it?'

‘Yes.'

‘So you feel the pressure sometimes, Mr Mason?'

‘Like everyone.'

‘Would you say you were a passionate man, that you get riled up at times?'

‘Not unless I'm really pushed.'

‘But the military court-martial, which took place only a few months before the incident at Caton's, had been a tough one, hadn't it? You were under intense scrutiny, every move evaluated and judged. You must have felt like people were out to get you.'

‘They did what had to be done.'

The prosecuting barrister persisted. ‘How were you feeling in the months after the trial? You left the army, didn't you?'

‘Yes. It wasn't right for me anymore. But I wasn't sure what I wanted to do.'

‘Why was that? Were you feeling fragile? Uncertain?'

‘A bit.'

‘On that night, Mr Mason, why did you run when the police came into the shop?'

‘Like I said, I didn't want the hassle.'

‘The law demands your honesty and co-operation, Mr Mason, even if it is a “hassle”. Natalie Sunley certainly deserves your honesty and co-operation, doesn't she?'

‘Aye. That's why I put my life at risk to help her.'

‘And yet you ran. Why run if you have nothing to hide?'

‘I've told you many times. I'm quite happy to be tried for non-cooperation, but that is all. That is all.' His voice was firm and true. My heart started beating again. He'd been mine, this man. He'd been mine and I'd let him go.

‘Mr Mason, no significant amounts of blood were found at the scene except yours and Miss Sunley's.'

‘I told you; I didn't cut him, I just knocked him about a bit.'

‘Why did Miss Sunley scream it was you when she regained consciousness? Why did she remember you all those years later and recognise you as soon as she saw you on the television? Surely she wouldn't be so certain about it if she hadn't ingrained your face onto her mind for all that time? One she associated with fear and terror?'

‘I don't know. People do funny things when they're frightened.'

Thirle held his hands out to the side in revelation. ‘So you admit she was frightened when she saw you?'

‘After what she'd been through, of course she was. She would have been frightened of anyone.'

‘Miss Sunley describes a person wearing a dark hoodie, both before she lost consciousness and afterwards. There is CCTV footage of you on Kensington High Street in a dark item of clothing with a hood pulled up.'

‘Aye, I was there and it were raining. There were lots of people about dressed like that.'

‘Miss Sunley could not have been out for more than a few seconds. Are you really saying that was enough time for you to have entered the shop, battled with her true assailant, had him run off, and for you to go over and help her?'

The defence lawyer stood up. ‘Objection, your honour. We do not know how long Miss Sunley was unconscious. The doctors have said it could have been anywhere from a few seconds to ten minutes or more.'

The judge nodded. ‘Accepted. Mr Thirle, do not make assumptions.'

Paul continued. ‘It wasn't a few seconds. It was minutes. She was out cold when I came in and didn't come to for at least three minutes.'

‘Mr Mason, how do you explain that only your fingerprints were on the gun and no one else's?'

‘He was wearing gloves, we know that.'

‘Latex gloves, Miss Sunley says. They blend in with the skin. It's likely she isn't sure.'

‘He was. He had them on when he was fighting me.'

‘A man like you, Mr Mason, a soldier, I'm surprised you didn't draw blood from this man.'

‘I don't want to hurt anyone more than I have to. I use my fists and my feet. Go for the soft tissue. I was trying to incapacitate him.'

‘You say you got bloodied when you hit your head on glass. Miss Sunley says she was using everything she could to fend off her assailant. I suggest to you that she did the damage when she was defending herself against you.'

The muscle in Paul's jaw was working hard. His voice had an edge of strain. ‘No, because she didn't have to defend herself against me. I was trying to help her. That's what I do. I help people.'

At this point he glanced up at me. I loved him. I still loved him.

‘Mr Mason, the fact of the matter remains, your blood was there, your fingerprints were there, and you have been positively identified by Miss Sunley. I have no further questions, your honour.'

Paul took a moment before he got up. He sat looking at the barrister, no discernible expression on his face, but I could feel his despair like I could feel my own.

Thirty-three

Soon enough, it was my turn.

I hadn't looked at the court summons since the day it had arrived, not daring to dwell on it more than I had to. It was like a mirror of my own shame, and I daren't look at it for fear I saw my own mistakes. They'd given me a day's notice but even then I hadn't thought about it until the night before.

As much as I wanted to, I barely slept a wink. I drifted off at five a.m. only to be woken an hour later by the alarm drilling its way into my brain like a torpedo-driven wasp.

I turned onto my back and forced my grainy eyes to open. By the time I'd showered and left the house, I still didn't know what I was going to say.

I passed through the corridors of the court in a fog. My movements seemed sluggish and heavy, and the air around me was thick. Even sound seemed distorted.

I could not predict how the trial was going. Both sides had done well. How the jury would make up their minds objectively, I did not know. And, to my dismay, I realised I couldn't either. I wanted him to be innocent. I craved it, yet at the same time, I wanted some perverted justification for my stubborn refusal to accept him.

But I still wanted him. I still loved him. Hours of staring down at his calm, focused face during the trial had made me realise that. Why couldn't things just be sorted? My world was spinning so fast I thought it would fling me off forever.

I was shown through to a small room where I would wait until summoned. In a strange way it reminded me of the green room on the
Jack Northam Show
.

I was shaking. I had to hold down my right hand with my left. I drank water instead of coffee, and steadied myself as well as I could by walking up and down the room. After what seemed like hours, a kindly faced woman at last came in.

‘Miss Frobisher? They're ready for you now. This way.'

I walked through. The court was deadly silent as I entered. I felt as if the stares of everyone would eat into me like little burrowing worms intent on seeking out my heart.

I was led to the witness stand and a Bible was placed before me. I spoke the words; ‘I swear by Almighty God that the evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'

Paul's barrister, Aston, stepped up to me with a smile. ‘Miss Frobisher, how long have you known Mr Mason?'

‘About nine months.'

‘I'm sure the court is familiar with how you met, but could you please remind us all.'

‘We were on Flight BF635 from the Maldives.'

‘The flight that crashed?'

‘Yes.'

‘Could you tell us about the very first moment you saw Mr Mason?'

‘He was taking a seat just across from me. His bag was too big for the overhead locker, although he was trying very hard to squeeze it in.'

‘What was his mood like?'

‘Relaxed, pleasant, good-humoured.'

‘And as the flight progressed?'

‘Much the same. He was reading and he seemed very content.'

Aston frowned slightly as his tone became more serious. ‘I'm sorry to go back over this with you, but how did he react when it was clear that there was something seriously wrong with the plane?'

‘He was remarkable, really. He stayed completely calm and sensible. He even told me the best brace position to adopt.'

‘No panic?'

‘No.'

‘Did he get angry or stressed?'

‘Not at all.'

‘In fact, Mr Mason saved your life, didn't he?'

‘Yes. He undid my seat belt and pulled me to the surface when we'd crashed into the ocean.'

‘I understand you lost consciousness at that point. When you came to, what do you remember about him?'

‘I was just … I was just so happy to see anything, really, but he was …'

‘What?'

I inhaled deeply then looked straight towards Aston and said, knowing it would sound silly but only able to speak the truth, ‘I thought he was my angel. He was leaning over me, looking down with real concern. I thought I'd died and was in heaven.'

There was the faintest sympathetic murmuring.

‘He was looking over you with real concern?' Aston asked.

‘Yes.'

‘And did he continue to demonstrate real concern for you after this?'

‘Yes. He tended my wounds and made sure we had food and shelter. He dealt with the bodies … the bodies on the beach, and …'

‘That's all right, you don't have to dwell on painful details. Miss Frobisher, did Mr Mason at any point behave in a way that you considered inappropriate?'

The idea of him behaving inappropriately, I realised, was ludicrous.

‘No.'

‘Was he ever aggressive?'

‘Not in the slightest. He was incredibly calm and reliable throughout the whole time on the island. It made a huge difference to me. I don't know what I would have done without him.'

‘Miss Frobisher, how do you feel about the allegations made against Mr Mason?'

I fell quiet. At length I was prompted to answer.

‘I find them incomprehensible. The Paul I knew on the island would never do it.' It was my truth at that moment.

‘No further questions, your honour.'

Thirle, the prosecuting barrister, stood up. He had a habit of pushing his hands under his robe and bringing them behind his back so that the black material billowed out rather ominously.

‘Miss Frobisher, you say you got on well with Mr Mason on the island?'

‘I did.'

‘And subsequently you have appeared on television chat shows together.'

‘Yes.'

‘In fact, there has been much speculation in the press about the true nature of your relationship.'

I thought I was going to be sick. He knew. I could see it coming, like the approaching horror of a tsunami.

Once he had waited for my silence to sink in, Thirle continued. ‘But it's not just speculation, is it?'

I couldn't speak.

‘Miss Frobisher, we have witnesses who have seen you coming out of each other's houses, witnesses who saw you on the Embankment in an embrace. Miss Frobisher, isn't it true you have been involved in a sexual relationship with Mr Mason?'

The people's silence broke and a soft humming of sound started. The judge asked them for silence.

The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

‘… Yes.'

‘But you told the media, and indeed we know that you were involved with, or at least intending to return to your ex-boyfriend, Mr Rupert Twiston-Davies.'

‘I had thought I would.'

‘So what changed?'

I gave him a glare, I couldn't help it. ‘I was in a plane crash.'

‘And you found yourself on an island with Mr Mason, alone.'

‘Yes.'

‘But if you were so determined to be with Mr Twiston-Davies, why enter into a relationship with Mr Mason? Did he coerce you into it?'

‘What?' I couldn't believe what he was suggesting.

‘On the island? If you were not thinking about a new relationship, surely there was coercion, pressure from Mr Mason?'

‘No. Not at all. He's not like that. He's never been like that.' He hadn't, had he? What about those moments of intense sexual discovery? Would I have done the same thing with another man? Did that amount to coercion? My doubts taunted me, but for once I gave them a swift right hook and sent them packing.