Page 42 of Cuckoo

‘That’s Rick Dodgson for the prosecution,’ Grosvenor whispers, nodding over at a short, stocky man with shiny skin. Strange blotches frame his hairline under the curled white wig, and he scratches absent-mindedly at a rash on his neck while speaking with one of his team. He has the same sharp, predatory gaze as Grosvenor.

We are standing in a sad, scuffed corridor in the Old Bailey, waiting for our assigned courtroom to empty out so the trial can begin. I keep fidgeting, unable to stand still, tugging at the hem of my dress. I’m conscious that while it was once quite flattering on me, now it hangs loose, due to my recent weight loss, leaving me looking lank and frumpy.

A thought crosses my mind. ‘Will we see Noah today?’ I ask Grosvenor, wincing at how pathetically hopeful my voice sounds.

‘No, Claire. He has been called as a witness so is unable to be present in open court until he has given his evidence. Those are the rules.’

‘Oh.’

‘Try to focus,’ she tells me gently. I read between the lines.Focus on yourself for once, not on Noah and what he is doing.

‘Remember how this all works?’ she asks me.

I make some sort of incoherent mumbling noise, my throat tight.

‘What is it?’ she asks.

‘Will… will Lilah’s family be there?’ I’m embarrassed to ask, to be so selfish, but the thought of having to face them makes me want to turn and run.

Grosvenor frowns slightly. ‘Her mother has been called as a witness, you’ll see her then, but just look ahead and keep your eyes on the judge or the witness in the box. Do not look into the public gallery, do not look for the victim’s family. It’s the last thing anyone needs and will only be upsetting to everyone involved,’ she warns.

‘Okay. What else?’

‘Slimy old Dodgson goes first. I won’t lie to you, I’ve worked with him before and he’s going to go big and he’s going to play dirty, so you just need to stay calm and remember we get our turn afterwards. Anything he says, no matter how frustrating, we will grit our teeth and counter when it’s our turn.’

‘We will counter,’ I parrot, my voice wobbling.

She nods, her lips set firm, and turns on her black heels. I follow, feeling like a lamb to the slaughter.

‘It is the prosecution’s belief, Your Honour, that Claire Arundale attended Lilah Andersson’s house with the full intention of causing her great harm, and therefore we will be pushing for a conviction of murder with a life sentence,’ Dodgson states, sitting back down.

Grosvenor rises from her seat.

She holds her own, looking firm and confident, and I stare fixedly at a split end in my hair to disguise the nervous tension that is making me tremble.

‘It is the defence’s case that Claire Arundale accidentally killed the victim, Lilah Andersson, in a moment of provocation with low culpability. Miss Arundale was previously a blameless member of society with no previous convictions. We shall therefore be pleading for a charge of manslaughter by reason of loss of control, Your Honour.’ She sits back down, patting me under the table to reassure me. We’ve gone through this several times, and she assures me that, if her plea bargaining is successful, I’ll only be sentenced to a couple of years in prison. She’s told me it’s the best I can hope for.

The judge peers at me closely and I look back down at the floor not wanting to appear confrontational in any way. After a moment, Her Honour Abigail Black nods.

‘The first witness the prosecution call is medical examiner Dianne Campbell, who carried out the autopsy on the victim,’ Dodgson bellows.

I try to swallow, but my throat refuses to function.

Chapter Forty

5 April 2025

Dear Diary,

I’ve been so busy at work recently, trying to impress everyone and avoid any stupid slip-ups, but now I can breathe a sigh of relief because Noah and I are going on holiday together today. I know I’ve been droning on about it for a while but it’s finally here and soon enough I’ll be basking in the Italian sunshine. We’ve been talking about where to go for a while and it was actually Noah who chose Venice– he said it would be romantic. I’ve never been before, but I can’t wait! He said we can think of it as a celebration of my new job, which is so nice. It feels like a great time to become even closer as we take our first trip away together.

In the morning (I’d barely slept, I was too excited) he surprised me with some prosecco and orange juice in bed. It felt like Christmas, when Mother would pop a bottle open and she’d have Buck’s fizz and I’d have just orange juice, but it would feel fancy in a champagne glass.

And then I got ready for the airport. Usually, I just travel in leggings and a jumper but I wanted to look nice for Noah, soI made more of an effort, wearing a (still comfy) cute cotton jersey day dress and some sandals. I added a slick of red lipstick last-minute, because it felt very glam and appropriate for Italy.

When we were boarding the plane, I was a bit self-conscious. There were loads of other British couples like us, but there were a few beautiful leggy Italian girls among us too and I couldn’t help but feel a bit pale and dumpy beside them. And underdressed– lipstick aside. But Noah was such a gent, he didn’t even look their way but kept his hand in mine the whole time, chatting away to me and making me feel relaxed and cared for. I hate the intrusive thoughts I get, Mother’s voice hissing her nasty words at me. They make me feel like I’m never good enough, force me to compare myself to other people when I know it will be to my detriment. Noah says that my differences are what set me apart and drew him to me in the first place, but sometimes I wish my differences were a bit more… conventionally beautiful.

Mother was always beautiful– on the outside, to make up for the poison inside. When I was little, I used to wish I looked more like her. Whenever somebody complimented me on my thick chestnut hair or said how lovely my brown eyes were, Mother would soak it in as though they were praising her. ‘Yes, that’s my Claire! A true beauty!’ But when we were on our own she’d say to me, ‘Don’t get a big head, Claire, darling. Your eyes are lovely, they’re like mine but a bit murkier. And you can thank me for your mane of hair, though the colour is a little dull in comparison to mine.’

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