Faith - Lesley Pearse [29]
Yet somehow she managed to keep her sanity. She told herself that any day the police would find the real killer and she’d be released. There were also the distractions of weekly visits from Goldsmith, Angie, her assistant in the shop, who was being a rock in keeping the place going, and a few other friends. She really believed that even it she did end up in court, once she’d told her side of the story she would be acquitted.
She remembered during the last couple of weeks before the trial how she used to plan what she’d do when she got home to her flat in Morningside Road. It was on the second floor, above an electrical shop, and only some hundred yards from her own shop.
For the first two years at Imelda’s she lived in a scruffy bedsitter some distance from genteel Morningside because that was all she could afford. She spent her days encouraging rich women to bring in their obsolete beautiful clothes, and then had to persuade less comfortably off women that it was better to have a gorgeous second-hand dress or jacket than a less stylish, inferior-quality new one. But the hard ground-breaking work paid off eventually, and once she had built up a large customer base, with new clothes arriving each day, and often being sold on immediately, she felt able to find herself a decent place to live.
Of all the places she’d ever lived in, that flat at number 42 was the one which gave her the most joy. It was spacious and bright, warm and comfortable, and she’d kept the decor to simple pale blue and cream, and trawled all the second-hand shops until she found the right kind of shabby-chic furniture which had what Jackie called ‘A nod to French Farmhouse’.
In her little prison daydream she imagined arriving home with an armful of scented lilies, pulling up the blinds and opening the windows wide to hear the bustle of the busy street below. Then she would run a bath, pouring in a huge quantity of scented bath oil, and lie there soaking until the smell of prison was finally gone. Later, wearing her favourite cream linen dress she’d bought in Rome, with her hair and makeup perfect, she’d go out to Marks and Spencer and buy salad, tiger prawns and a bottle of the best Italian wine. She would spend her first evening alone, looking at her clothes, paintings and ornaments while listening to music, revelling in the delight of being home again, with the freedom to do what she liked, when she liked.
She knew of course that even if she were acquitted she would probably have to sell the shop and give up the flat, for gossip about her was bound to continue. Angie had already hinted that she’d like to buy her out, and Laura thought that would probably be the best plan.
Going south again seemed a good idea, maybe to start up the same kind of shop again in Bath, Cheltenham or Cardiff. She even thought at that time that it would be good to have a complete change. She would of course want to visit Barney’s grave in Crail churchyard, so she’d need to come back once or twice a year.
∗
Almost from the outset of the trial Laura sensed that there was going to be no new start for her. The prosecution had dug deeply and widely into her past, and as the more unsavoury aspects of it stacked up against her, she knew she was doomed.
Even the tragedy of her son’s death did not gain her any sympathy with the jury, for there were several witnesses called who testified she had been a neglectful mother. Questions were asked as to why Barney was in Jackie’s car when he died, and that brought forth answers that Jackie had shown him more care and attention than his own mother did.
Laura’s instability after Barney’s death was laboured over. There was even a police report of her being picked up wandering the streets at night wearing only a nightdress.
Roger Davies, Jackie’s estranged husband, claimed Laura had always