‘When I arrested you, Diana, you said it was almost a relief after all these years. What did you mean by that?’
‘What d’you think I meant?’ Sharp, and more of a retort than a question.
The answer was stating the obvious, perhaps, but that was exactly what he wanted her to do.
He waited.
‘I meant it’s a relief that the secret is finally out.’ She shook her head. ‘That I don’t have to hide it any more, always looking over my shoulder.’
‘What secret is that?’
‘My husband was working overseas at the time and I had an affair that resulted in a pregnancy. I told no one, least of all my husband, feigned illness so that none of my friends or family became suspicious when they didn’t see me for a few months. I gave birth at home – didn’t register it, before you ask – and then just as I was about to put him up for adoption I found him dead in the bed next to me one morning. I panicked, and buried him on the waste ground behind the house.’
She’d even managed to force some tears. It was an impressive performance.
Some of it was true, of course; the bit about burying him on the waste ground, but the rest . . .
‘I know I should have said something at the time, but my husband would’ve found out about the affair, and, like I said, I panicked.’
‘When was this?’
‘About twenty-five years ago.’
Right at the limit of the pathologist’s estimate for how long the baby’s body had been in the ground. A nice touch.
‘Tell me about Jos, then.’
A deep breath, busy picking the varnish off her fingernails and dropping it on the floor. ‘Jos came along a couple of years later. Something must’ve gone wrong during my home birth and I couldn’t conceive, so he was the result of an unwanted pregnancy; a friend of a friend. It was an informal thing, we never adopted him or anything, but that explains why the DNA didn’t match when he did the test.’
So many holes, it was difficult to know where to begin. Even her solicitor was shaking his head.
‘Let’s start at the beginning then,’ said Dixon, trying to stay patient. ‘Who did you have the affair with?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘Not really an option, I’m afraid, Diana.’ Dixon had turned on his chair to face her.
‘His name was Giles Hancock. He was the tennis coach at the Palace leisure centre.’
‘And how long did this affair last?’
‘About a year, until I found out he was at it with several other women at the same time.’ She sneered. ‘I suppose he thought it was part of his job description.’
‘Where was your husband at the time?’
‘Robert was in Jeddah. He was in the oil business, working for Shell, and spent a lot of time in Saudi. Then his father died and he came back to take over the cider farm.’
‘How often did he come back when he was in Saudi Arabia?’
‘Every six months usually.’
‘So, how were you able to hide the pregnancy from him when he came home?’
Silence.
‘The best estimate is that the child was between two and four months old, and you’d have been pregnant for nine months. How is it that he didn’t notice?’
Picking at the skin now, tiny flecks of blood appearing at the base of her nails. ‘He didn’t always come home, maybe he didn’t at all that year. I don’t remember.’
I’d be telling a client of mine to go ‘no comment’ right about now, thought Dixon.
‘Let’s say he came home when you were three months pregnant, he could be forgiven for missing that perhaps, but on his next visit, six months later . . . ?’ Dixon let that hang in the air.
Even Diana’s solicitor was starting to fidget. Time to end the charade, before her solicitor stepped in.
‘You see, there’s no record of you giving birth twenty-five years ago, but as you say, you kept that secret and told no one.’
‘I did.’
‘But there is a record of you giving birth to a healthy 6lb 13oz baby boy twenty-one years ago.’
Louise placed a file in Dixon’s outstretched hand.
‘These are your hospital records,’ he said. ‘Robert wasn’t there, by all accounts.’
No reply.
‘Still in Saudi? We can check the dates easily enough.’
