Letters To My Daughter's Killer - [47]

I go and rub her back. I miss Lizzie. The physical hunger shows no sign of diminishing. Those brief embraces we had of late, one hand pressed on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, the tickle of her hair as we separated. The vibration of her laughter in the air.

Ruth

CHAPTER SIX

17 Brinks Avenue

Manchester

M19 6FX

Your first defence witness is another actor; there’s a ripple of interest in court as people recognize him. Joshua Corridge. He’s done better than you: a stint in Emmerdale, a regular guest actor on prime-time shows like Spooks and Midsomer Murders (how apt). He’s prettier, into the bargain. He’s worked on adverts, which you once told me was where the serious money was. If word gets out, there will be fans besieging the building, begging for autographs, clutching pens, baring their arms or stomachs. There’s a fashion nowadays for people to get a tattoo where a name’s been scrawled on their skin. Celebrity gone mad. I’ve never met Joshua.

‘Please tell us how you know Mr Tennyson,’ Miss Dixon says.

‘We met at drama school, LAMDA; we became friends and ended up sharing a flat together.’ His voice has a rich, syrupy tone which is perfect for selling cars and perfume.

‘You’ve kept in touch?’

‘Oh yes. We get together if I’m working here or if Jack’s in London.’ He looks across at you, frank, open-faced, a brief smile. Demonstrating his trust and regard.

‘How would you describe Mr Tennyson?’

‘A regular guy, straightforward, hard-working, a good mate.’

‘Have you ever known him to be violent?’

‘No.’ Joshua laughs at the question. ‘Never,’ he adds more steadily.

‘You knew Mrs Tennyson?’ says Miss Dixon.

‘Yes, through Jack.’

‘Did you ever spend time with Lizzie and Jack Tennyson?’ says Miss Dixon.

‘Oh yes. Me and my fiancée. We’d make up a foursome. Not so much since Florence came along.’

‘And how would you describe the relationship between Jack and Lizzie Tennyson?’

‘A perfect fit,’ he says. ‘They loved each other, anyone could see that.’

‘Did Mr Tennyson ever talk to you about any worries or concerns he had?’

‘About work,’ Joshua says. ‘It’s a tough business; most of us are out of work ninety per cent of the time. It can get you down.’

‘When did Mr Tennyson discuss this with you?’ Miss Dixon says.

‘The last time we met, Easter last year.’

‘Was Mr Tennyson depressed?’

‘No, nothing like that; just a bit frustrated, but no more than anyone else would be,’ Joshua says.

‘Did he ever express any concerns about his marriage, or his relationship with his wife?’

‘No. They were fine. She was a keeper,’ he says. The phrase rings false given what happened. He hears it. ‘I mean, they seemed so right for each other, they were very happy.’

The press people are busy with their phones, sending messages no doubt about the star in the witness box.

‘When you heard that Mrs Tennyson had been killed, what did you do?’ says Miss Dixon.

‘I tried to get in touch with Jack, to tell him how sorry I was, to see if I could help in any way, but the police had his phone and it took me a while to contact him.’

‘And what was your reaction when you learned he had been charged with the crime?’ says Miss Dixon.

‘Gobsmacked, really. It’s just totally unbelievable. So far out of character. It didn’t add up. Anyone who knows him will say the same.’

Then it is Mr Cromer’s turn.

‘You’ve been successful in your line of work?’ Mr Cromer says.

‘Yes, I’ve been lucky.’

‘Is it just a question of luck?’

‘Not just luck; you have to be good at the job, but there is an element of right place right time,’ Joshua says.

‘Would you say Mr Tennyson had the same talent, the same level of skill as you?’

‘Yes,’ Joshua says.

‘What does that involve, being good at the job?’

‘You have to inhabit the role, make it plausible for the audience; you have to be honest to the part, to the piece.’

‘You’ve done theatre, like Mr Tennyson?’ says Mr Cromer.

‘Yes.’

‘Doesn’t it get wearing, night after night, repeating the lines, sustaining the role?’

‘No. It’s hard work, but that’s what we’re trained for,’ says Joshua.

Miss Dixon intervenes. ‘Your honour, does this have a bearing on the case?’

‘Please get to the point, Mr Cromer,’ the judge says.

‘Your training, Mr Tennyson’s training, means you would be able to repeat a performance over and over if the job required you to? Keep it convincing?’

‘Yes,’ Joshua says.

‘Inhabit the role?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mr Tennyson is good at what he does?’ says Mr Cromer, cleaning his glasses on a corner of his robe.

‘Yes, he’s very good.’

‘A good actor?’

Joshua has walked straight into the trap.

There’s a pause. Too long, as Joshua tries to work out a way back from this. A twitch in his jaw. Unable to think of an alternative, defeated, he says, ‘Yes.’

A point scored. I’d like to clap with delight.

We get more of the same staunch sanctification from the next witness, Andy Wallington. Your best man. Unlike Joshua, he lives locally, in Bolton, so you have more regular contact.

‘He was very happy,’ Andy says. ‘Lizzie and Florence, that was everything he wanted.’ Andy is a father too; their boy is a year younger than Florence, and they have a little girl about a year old now.