Page 65 of Cuckoo

‘From Morrisons, sir,’ he replies.

Ah, yes. He works at my local Morrisons. That’s where I recognise him from, although seeing him in a badly fitting suit in this setting has thrown me. Usually when I see him he is in his store uniform.

‘I’m the manager there,’ he explains. ‘And Miss Arundale worked for us for a while.’

Immediately, I frown.

I look towards Grosvenor but she shows not a flicker of emotion or reaction, as though none of this is fazing her. As though she knew it was coming. So I stay calm on the outside. On the inside, I’m wondering what the hell is going on, why this man is here speaking for the prosecution.

‘And when did Miss Arundale stop working for you?’

‘September the eighteenth 2024, sir.’

I freeze. That’s not right.

‘You seem sure of that date?’ Dodgson asks.

‘I am, sir.’

‘Why?’

‘I had to fill in a lot of paperwork about it, sir. With HR,’ Joseph clarifies.

‘And why was that?’

‘Well, because there was no notice period or anything. She just left halfway through her shift and didn’t come back,’ he explains.

I’m frowning so hard that it feels as if my forehead may split at any moment, because I do not have a single clue what this man is talking about. He works at Morrisons, yes. But I certainly didn’t, not in 2024.

I lean over to Grosvenor.

‘Shhh!’ she hisses at me before I even open my mouth, and I recoil like a scolded puppy.

‘Is that unusual?’ Dodgson asks, turning to raise his brows at the jury knowingly.

‘Well, yes,’ Joseph replies. ‘Usually you would hand in written notice to say you’re resigning, and work for another couple of weeks while we found a replacement. Claire’s contract had a one-month notice period she should have fulfilled. And I’ve never before had a staff member leave mid-shift without giving any sort of reason.’

That’s because it’sweird. Who would leave mid-shift at work without saying anything? I certainly would not do something like that. None of this makes any sense… My head is starting to ache, a dull pain deep in the back of my skull, and I imagine little bugs crawling out of the crevices of my brain as I try to compute what is happening.

‘What was Miss Arundale like to work with in general?’

‘Well, she was a very good employee – she worked with us for years,’ Joseph admits, glancing at the jury. ‘She arrived on time, she was polite, helpful with customers. Didn’t require much training, she picked things up quickly. Covered people when sick, always up for a bit of small talk in the aisles between tasks when things were quiet…’ He trails off, as though unsure if he’s saying the right things.

‘So you would say it was out of character, for her to leave randomly mid-shift?’ Dodgson asks.

‘Absolutely.’ Joseph nods vigorously, as though pleased to have been asked a question he can answer wholeheartedly.

‘And no member of your staff knew why she left? There was no obvious incident? No family emergency of any sort?’

‘Not that I heard of,’ Joseph replies carefully. ‘I asked everyone, obviously, who was on that shift with her, but nobody knew of anything at all. She seemed fine when shecame in. But I know that her mother had died just a week before. Miss Arundale hadn’t wanted any time off, said that they weren’t close, that she wanted to keep working… to stay busy.’ He chews his lip.

‘We have some CCTV footage of her final shift that we’d like to play for the court. After viewing it, will you please confirm that the footage is authentic and is from your place of work?’

‘Yes.’ Joseph nods.

A tape is produced, pulled from a clear, creased, evidence bag. And on a screen that has been set up for the jury flashes up CCTV of Morrisons. The wine aisle. And there is Noah, and there am I, on the day that we met.

‘Objection! This is new, last-minute evidence,’ Grosvenor begins, but the judge quickly cuts her off.

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