Noughts and Crosses by Malorie Blackman (historical books to read TXT) 📕

‘I was late and I was afraid her mum would appear at any second and . . . and I wanted to show her something.’

‘What?’ Pingule prompted.

‘I can’t remember.’

More murmurs from the public gallery.

‘With everything that’s happened, I can’t remember. It was something silly – a car or a plane or something.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes.’ I was sweating so much, I was going to have to swim away from the witness box.

‘No further questions,’ Pingule said, his voice ringing with contempt before he sat down.

I hung my head.

Forgive me, Dad.

I couldn’t even look at him. I started to walk down the steps of the witness box.

‘Just a moment, Callum.’ Kelani’s voice brought me back to the present. I looked up. She waved me back into the witness box. I did as directed.

‘Could you describe your relationship with Mrs Hadley, Persephone Hadley’s mother?’ Kelani asked gently.

‘Mrs Hadley doesn’t like me . . . much.’

‘Why d’you say that?’

‘She told her secretary not to let me into her house.’

‘I see. D’you know why?’

I coughed nervously. ‘Sephy . . . Persephone was beaten up at school. Mrs Hadley blamed me.’

‘Why? Did you do it?’

‘No, of course not,’ I said, appalled. ‘Some girls from the year above her did it.’

Pingule rose to his feet. ‘Your Honour, I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning . . .’

‘Ms Adams?’ Judge Andersen prompted.

‘I’ll come directly to the point, Your Honour,’ Kelani smiled. ‘Callum, what would you have done if Persephone had been in the café with her mother?’

How should I answer that? Think! Think!

‘I . . . would’ve waited until Sephy was alone before trying to speak to her.’

‘But that might’ve taken a while.’

I faked a nonchalant shrug. ‘I wanted to show Sephy what was outside but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world if I hadn’t. I would’ve waited until she was alone. I wasn’t in a hurry.’

‘Thank you, Callum,’ Kelani smiled at me. ‘That will be all.’

sixty-nine. Sephy

‘Miss Hadley, could you tell us what happened when you were in the Cuckoo’s Egg café on the day of the bombing?’ Mr Pingule, the prosecutor, smiled at me encouragingly, which helped a little. A very little. I hadn’t expected to be quite so nervous. I didn’t want to be here. The courtroom was too warm and too big. They should’ve just painted huge eyes all over the floor and the walls and the ceiling and had done with it. And even that would’ve been far less intimidating than the judge, the lawyers and the jury.

‘Take your time, Miss Hadley,’ the judge smiled.

I smiled back at him, gratefully. Maybe I could do this. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

‘I was having a drink in the café. Mother . . . my mother had gone back to our car to put away our shopping.’

‘Go on,’ Mr Pingule prompted gently.

‘Well, Callum came in and said we should leave …’

‘Why?’

I swallowed hard. I’d sworn on the Good Book not to lie. But the judge and the jury wouldn’t understand the truth. The truth was more than just a spoken sentence. It was a combination of the thoughts and feelings and the history behind them. Was I making excuses? Dressing them up in reasons and justifications and deliberate evasions? Seven people died. No reasoning in the world would ever change that fact, or excuse it.

‘Miss Hadley, did Callum give you a reason why you should leave the café?’

‘He . . . he wanted to show me something . . . outside . . . I assumed he wanted to show me something outside. I mean . . .’ Did I assume it? I must’ve done. Until the bomb went off.

‘What?’

‘Pardon?’

‘What did he want to show you?’ Mr Pingule’s smile was wearing a little thin.

‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. I don’t think he said.’

‘Come now, Miss Hadley . . .’

‘He didn’t say,’ I insisted. ‘It was going to be a surprise but . . . but the bomb went off before he could tell me.’

‘And that’s the truth?’

‘Yes.’ The truth. But not the whole truth and nothing but. I remembered a saying of my mother’s. A wise person tells what she knows, but not all she knows. Did that apply in a court of law? Somehow I didn’t think so. I watched as Mr Pingule regarded me, a strange look on his face. At last he spoke.

‘Miss Hadley, Callum’s your friend, isn’t he?’

I nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘And you wouldn’t want anything or anyone to hurt him and his family, would you?’

‘No.’

‘D’you understand that the only way you will hurt him today is if you don’t tell the truth?’

‘I know that,’ I replied.

‘Good. So I’ll ask you again,’ An edge was beginning to creep into Mr Pingule’s voice now. ‘Why did Callum want you to leave the Dundale Shopping Centre so urgently?’

‘He wanted to show me something outside.’ My voice was stronger now.

‘I see. Tell me something, Miss Hadley, how would you describe Callum McGregor?’

‘Objection, Your Honour. What has Miss Hadley’s opinion of her friend Callum have to do with my client, Ryan McGregor?’ asked Kelani.

‘I’m wondering that myself, Ms Adams,’ Judge Anderson nodded. ‘Objection sustained.’

‘What is your relationship with Callum McGregor?’

‘We’re friends. Good friends.’

‘Perhaps, more than . . . good friends?’

‘He’s my friend, that’s all.’

‘Your honour . . .’ Kelani got no further

‘Very well then,’ Mr Pingule was well and truly annoyed now. ‘Miss Hadley, do you know who is responsible for the bomb at the Dundale Shopping Centre. Yes or no?’

‘Of course not. How could I?’ I said, shocked that he’d even asked me.

‘Indeed. No further questions.’ Mr Pingule sat down.

I didn’t know who’d planted that bomb. I didn’t want to know. And that, more than anything else I’d said or even thought so far in court, was the truth.

seventy. Callum

Now that my evidence was out of the way, I was allowed to watch from the public gallery. I didn’t sit with Mum, even though she wanted