Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) - By Caitlyn Robertson Page 0,25
and he’d pick up from my tone that it was upsetting me, and then he’d get angry that I was comparing her to myself and tell me off.”
The corner of Cam’s mouth curved up. “He wouldn’t tell you off.”
“Yes, he would.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He would tell you—rightly—that this case has nothing to do with you or Ian, and it’s not fair on you or the defendant for you to let your emotions become involved.”
Honey bit her lip. It was an easy thing to say, but not so easy to carry out. The afternoon had been no easier than the morning. The prosecuting lawyer had cross-questioned Sarah ruthlessly. Honey thought that maybe James had paid a lot of money for the smartly-dressed, hotshot lawyer to come up from Whangarei—the nearest city an hour away, rather than hiring one from the smaller law firms in Kerikeri, whereas Sarah’s pro bono lawyer—although he had done a good job in trying to elicit some sympathy for her—wore an old suit and didn’t seem quite so on the case.
The prosecuting lawyer had picked holes in her testimony, querying everything from why she hadn’t put the chain across the door if she was so afraid of burglars, to forcing her to admit that she must have stabbed James only six feet from the front door rather than in the kitchen as she’d previously testified, because a smear of blood had been found on the wall there. It couldn’t have been made as James walked out, said the lawyer, because the wall was on the left, and the wound was on the right side of his face and arm. Rather than pointing out that James could have turned around and leaned against the wall, Sarah had asked what difference it made, but Honey had already understood the point the lawyer was trying to make—that Sarah had come out of the kitchen and advanced to tackle the intruder, rather than waiting there for him to come to her. That was not the action of a woman terrified for her life.
“I can’t not involve my emotions,” she said in answer. “I’m an emotional person.”
Cam smiled then. “Yes, you are. You’re very like your mother.”
Honey studied the lawn again, watching the rabbits that had come out to play. A lump rose in her throat. “I wish Mum was here,” she whispered.
Cam turned the mug in his hand. “Yeah. Me too.”
“I’ll miss her on Saturday,” she said. If we make it to Saturday. She didn’t voice those words though, knowing her father would be duty bound to offer her platitudes and tell her everything would be all right. At that moment, she wasn’t so sure. It should have been exciting, but instead everything seemed to be conspiring to make her stressed and worried.
“She’ll be there,” Cam said. “In our hearts.”
Honey nodded, because it comforted him to think so. And wished she could be certain it was true.
***
On Tuesday morning, the defending lawyer called several other witnesses to back up Sarah’s testimony. They were a sorry, unconvincing bunch, thought Honey as first Sarah’s father, then her boss, were asked to take the stand and answer questions about Sarah’s love life and the way her character had changed over the time she’d lived with James Hill. Both of them declared that yes, the vibrant, giggly young girl had grown quiet and sullen as time went by, and her father confirmed that he’d gradually seen less and less of his daughter, and when she had come to visit, she was always worried about getting back to the house she shared with James in case he should find her gone and grow angry. But he had shown no emotion as he discussed the ways in which James appeared to have controlled his eldest girl, and although her boss testified that she’d obviously sunk into depression, he didn’t seem upset to have finally let her go.
How awful to be so unloved, Honey thought as she made her way out of the courtroom for lunch. She’d never had that problem. Even when things had been bad with Ian, she’d always known her family were there. True, they’d all been focused on Marama and her illness at the time, which was the main reason nobody had realised just how bad things had got at home with him. But Honey had known that one phone call to Koru or Cam—to any of them, in fact—would have sorted the situation. She just hadn’t wanted to admit her relationship had failed.