Page 116 of The Giver of Stars
‘No, sir.’
‘You … weren’t troubled? When he didn’t come home for Christmas?’
‘It was not … unusual behaviour for our daddy. I think it may be no secret that he liked a drink. I believe he is – was – known to the sheriff.’ The sheriff nodded, almost reluctantly.
‘Sir, would it be possible for me to sit down? I’m feeling a little faint.’
The judge motioned to the clerk to bring her a chair and the court waited while it was positioned and she was able to sit. Someone brought her a glass of water. Her face was only just visible above the witness box and most in the public gallery leaned forward to try to see her better.
‘So when he didn’t come home on the … twentieth of December, Miss McCullough, you didn’t see anything particularly untoward in that behaviour?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And when he left, did he tell you where he was going? To a bar?’
For the first time, Verna hesitated a good while before she spoke. She glanced at Margery, who was looking at the floor.
‘No, sir. He said …’ She swallowed, and then turned towards the judge. ‘He said he was going to return his library book.’
There was an outburst from the public gallery, a sound that might have been shock or a burst of laughter, or a mixture of both; it was hard to tell. Margery, in the dock, lifted her head for the first time. Alice looked down to find that Izzy was gripping her hand, her knuckles white.
The defence lawyer turned to face the jury. ‘Can I checkthat I heard that correctly, Miss McCullough? You said your father set out to return alibrary book?’
‘Yes, sir. He had recently been receiving books from the WPA Packhorse Library and he believed it was a great thing. He had just read a fine book and said it was his civic duty to return it as soon as possible so that some other person could have the benefit of reading it.’
The heads of Mr Howard, the state prosecutor and his second were pressed together in urgent conversation. He raised his hand but the judge dismissed him with a wave. ‘Go on, Miss McCullough.’
‘Me and my sister, well, we did warn him in the strongest terms not to set out because the conditions were bad, what with the snow and ice and all, and that he might slip and fall, but he had taken a fair bit to drink and he would not be told. He was insistent that he didn’t want to be late back with his library book.’
Her gaze flickered around the courtroom as she spoke, her voice now level and certain.
‘So Mr McCullough set out by himself, on foot, into the snow.’
‘He did, sir. Taking the library book.’
‘To walk to Baileyville.’
‘Yes, sir. We warned him it was a foolish enterprise.’
‘And you never saw or heard from him again?’
‘No, sir.’
‘And … you didn’t think to look for him?’
‘Me and my sister, we don’t leave our home, sir. After our mama went our daddy never liked for us to come to town, and we didn’t like to disobey him, what with his temper and all. We went around the yard before nightfall and shouted for him, just in case he had taken a fall, but most times he would just come back when it pleased him.’
‘So you just waited for him to return.’
‘Yes, sir. He had threatened to leave us before now, so I guess when he didn’t return some part of us thought maybe he had finally done so. And then back in April the sheriff came up to tell us he was … dead.’
‘And … Miss McCullough. May I ask one more question? You have been most courageous making this trip down the mountain and completing this difficult testimony, and I am much obliged to you. One final question: do you remember what book it was that your father enjoyed so much, and felt such an obligation to return?’
‘Why, yes, I do, sir. Most clearly.’
And here Verna McCullough turned her pale blue eyes on those of Margery O’Hare, and to those nearest it was possible that the faintest smile played around her lips. ‘It was a book by the name ofLittle Women.’
The court exploded into a wall of noise, so that the judge was forced to bang his gavel six, eight times before enough people noticed – or could hear enough – to quiet it. There was laughter, disbelief, and shouted fury from different parts of the court, and the judge, his brows an overhanging ledge, grew puce with anger.
