Jamie takes over.
‘Kit!’ he says brightly, as if it’s his house and I an expected visitor. His demeanour is exactly as it was in Cornwall, in the moments after Laura interrupted him. For a second I see him as he was then; I picture the jeans he was wearing, his shoes, the spikes in his hair. The remembered image is so vivid it threatens to overwrite the scene in front of me.
My phone is in my rucksack, which is just inside the front door. I turn to retrieve it. ‘I need to call the police.’
‘No you don’t.’ Jamie’s tone is dismissive even as he inches the blade closer to Laura’s belly. It’s broken skin, that’s all; the stain isn’t spreading. I’d need the reflexes of a spider and the strength of a bear to wrestle it from his hand before he could do any damage. I’m too far away and I’m too weak. ‘What I mean is,’ continues Jamie, ‘there’s really no rush. The police will get involved with this sooner or later, don’t worry about that. Once my lawyers have been over this. We’re halfway through already.’
The girls won’t look at me, or at each other. Occasionally, Laura lifts her eyes halfway to Beth, then casts them down again, like her pupils are lead weights. Clueless and only now understanding what fear feels like, I have no choice but to play along. ‘What are you doing, Jamie?’ I hope I’ve matched his genial tone.
‘Just getting the girls to set the record straight, say what they should’ve done back in Cornwall. Admit their collusion. Admit that the whole fucking mess was a little story they cooked up, some weird female idea of a practical joke.’
Fifteen years, he’s been holding on to this. Behind the campaigning and the talks and the website, this has remained his Plan A. Even in terror, there’s room to be impressed by this mineral patience. He jerks his head towards Beth. ‘This one’s been pouring poison in my wife’s ear for months. They were a bit reluctant, didn’t want to take the rap for what they’ve done, scared of the consequences. Perjury in a rape trial, it’s a biggie. And not just any old rape trial. They’ll want to make an example of you, Laura.’ She flinches at the nonsensical accusation, but even blunt words hit home at knifepoint.
The blade in Jamie’s hand starts to quiver, as does his voice. His mask is slipping in slow motion. ‘So you can see why they’re worried. But it’ll be ok for you. It’s not like you’ll be banged up on a sex offender’s wing like I was.’
Laura gives a full-body shudder that I feel through my skin.
‘But Jamie, there’s no way this will be admissible in any court. These –’ I have to stop myself throwing air quotes around the words – ‘statements won’t be worth the paper they’re written on. You must understand that.’
‘This is just the first step,’ he says. ‘You’d be amazed at what a good lawyer can do.’ His lawyers were of limited good back in the day, I remember. I might not have full grasp of the situation, but I know better than to challenge him. ‘Look,’ he continues, ‘I don’t want to hurt the girls. I’d never hurt a woman. But I do need them both to finish their statements retracting what was said in court. This is my life we’re talking about, here. This is my reputation!’
He’s close to losing it. ‘Ok.’ I don’t know what I’m doing apart from buying Laura and my children time. ‘Why don’t you put the knife down and let the girls go. I’m sure we can sort something out without them.’
‘Actually no, I’ve been waiting fifteen fucking years to clear my name.’ The swearword throws Jamie’s voice an octave up the scale, making him sound both terrifying and ridiculous. He pauses for a second to breathe and gather himself. ‘So you’ll forgive me if I just see this through to the end. Come on, Beth, keep going. Sooner you finish your statement, the sooner we can all get back to normal. Or rather, I can.’ Beth picks up the pen again, then poises it mid-air as Jamie holds up his hand to continue speaking. ‘Actually, Kit, I’m wondering if I need you to redo yours. Although, to be honest, theirs will cast yours in all the new light we need. You were never really in on it, were you? All you did was back up what your missus had to say. You never saw us at it.’ At the table, Laura flinches. ‘Although I wish you had, I’m sure you would’ve seen what was what in seconds.’ At last, Laura looks my way. Her eyes fix on mine, but she’s crying properly now and the look could mean, please save me, or we’ll get through this, or I hate you. All the power in the room is concentrated in a length of sharp steel. With Jamie so much closer to Laura than I am, there might as well be a barbed-wire fence holding me back.
‘Beth. If we could just finish up, please,’ he says. Is it my imagination or is his voice losing its previous conviction? ‘If you could just remind me of the last sentence you wrote and we can carry on from there.’
The pen skips in her hand but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look up from the page.
‘Fine, I’ll dictate it, then.’ He clears his throat. ‘I am profoundly sorry that I took something perfectly natural and enjoyable and twisted it around. I apologise to Jamie and Antonia Balcombe and their extended family for the distress caused by my false allegation. I am willing to make a statement in court, and –’ the tip of the knife traces tiny patterns, as though Jamie were carving his words in the air – ‘face up to any criminal or civil actions that come my way as a result of this retraction of my original statement.’ He turns his head to me. ‘To be honest, we can end Laura’s statement the same way.’
Beth’s hand has stopped moving.
‘Write it down,’ says Jamie. The knife in his hand trembles dangerously. Laura’s tears glisten in the notch at the base of her neck as Beth sets down the pen.