‘Thank you, Dr Okenedo,’ said Mr Polglase. ‘You attended Miss Taylor at Helston Police Station. How did you find her?’
Dr Okenedo cleared her throat. ‘Physically, she was dehydrated and needed to eat, although she was overall healthy and well-nourished. She was extremely tired and dirty, with mud on her clothes and under her fingernails.’ Now I remembered Beth digging into the earth. I examined my own clean fingernails and wondered how much of Kit was underneath them.
Polglase gave a slow nod, ostentatiously sympathetic. ‘How about emotionally, psychologically?’
‘I’d say she was in a state of post-traumatic shock. She was very withdrawn and monosyllabic, giving yes and no answers to my questions. She didn’t want me to examine her.’
‘Thank you Dr Okenedo. You’ve actually pre-empted part of my next question. The police asked you to examine the complainant for signs of recent sexual assault. Can you please report your findings?’
‘Well, my first duty of care is to treat the victim as well as examine her. She was offered painkillers, and five milligrams of Diazepam, both of which she accepted. I began with an external examination, taking DNA from an oral swab, samples from under her fingernails and so on. The victim was withdrawn but cooperative. Her only prominent injuries were one bloodied knee, tiny cuts and grazes on both knees, and on the heels of her hands.’
I searched the jury for signs of my own discomfort here; only the Sikh man shook his head. Mumsy was alert, as though watching a particularly engrossing episode of her favourite soap opera. I wondered if she could remember being young. I wondered if she had daughters. ‘One would expect, even in vigorous consensual sex, that a woman would shift her position to avoid bloodying her knees. Could these small injuries be the result of a woman held down against her will?’
‘In my experience, yes.’
‘Thank you, Dr Okenedo.’ He shuffled his papers, surely for show. Beside him, Fiona Price’s junior wrote something down with a squeaky pen, and the judge did the same. I burned to be able to read them.
‘You did not arrive until four hours after the rape took place.’
‘That’s right.’
‘We heard Miss Taylor describe how her underwear was violently yanked to one side prior to penetration. One would expect that this would leave some kind of welt on the skin in the immediate aftermath?’
‘Yes.’
‘With regards to the force used to pull at Miss Taylor’s underwear, is it possible that any surface injuries caused by the tugging of fabric against skin would have faded by then?’
‘Yes,’ said the doctor, with the tiniest of shrugs. ‘It’s possible.’
‘I’m sure. Four hours is a very long time in this context.’ He looked down at his notes with a frown to emphasise how little pleasure it gave him to ask the next question. ‘What about a genital examination?’
‘I examined the skin around the vulva and anus, although this took some time as Miss Taylor found even lying down on the couch very distressing. When she was ready, I saw that no injuries were visible to the naked eye. But when I asked if I could attempt an internal examination she became further distressed, curling into a ball and repeating the word no.’
It was an echo, a virtual corroboration, of what I had said; my heart jumped for joy, then settled respectfully at the base of my throat.
‘Is this response something you have seen before when examining someone in the hours immediately following an alleged rape?’
‘Yes I have.’ Dr Okenedo nodded gravely, and it wasn’t until Kit gave me a weird look that I realised I was nodding along with her. I forced my head still, even though no one in the jury was looking my way. ‘I’m sure you can understand that this is extremely traumatic and often physically painful for someone fresh from such an ordeal. We need a victim’s consent before we can perform any kind of examination. She did, eventually, let me take a vulval swab, after a great deal of persuasion.’
I winced and pressed my knees together.
‘Were you able to find traces of ejaculate on that swab?’
I might not have been there at the point of penetration but I’d been there at the point of panicked withdrawal; I pictured that incriminating silver thread as it snapped. Kit jerked upright and leaned forward, fully engaged now that the science was coming to the fore.
‘I was,’ said Dr Okenedo.
Polglase looked meaningfully at the jury, but even I could tell he was reaching. ‘Can you think of a comparable sexual assault that you have attended, with comparable injuries?’
Dr Okenedo thought for a minute and then said a hesitant, ‘Yes?’
‘Can you let me know how long you spent on that?’ Nathaniel Polglase was in his element now. ‘Perhaps give me a minimum time it would take to do the procedure. Assuming that the complainant is well, and strong enough not to resist the examination.’
The word resist conjured stirrups and straitjackets. I couldn’t fight the mental image of Beth, stripped to a hospital gown, knees forced apart for the second time that day. I felt my gorge rise.
‘It can be done in about ninety minutes.’
‘And how long were you with Miss Taylor, with all the additional cajoling and persuading involved in someone so traumatised?’
‘I was in the police station for eight hours, from arrival to the final signing out. I’d say that I spent seven of those hours with the victim.’
‘Thank you, Dr Okenedo. I have no further questions, Your Honour.’
Four hours for the doctor to arrive, plus an eight-hour examination; Kit and I would have been asleep in our tent while Beth was still being prodded by a stranger. I should have gone with her.
Fiona Price got to her elegant feet. ‘We understand that the complainant refused an internal examination. Did you explain to the complainant why you wanted to examine her internally?’
‘Yes.’
‘And still she refused?’