The Best of Friends by Alex Day (accelerated reader books .txt) 📕

her – were as saccharine and hollow as a cheap child’s Easter egg. There was nothing to them, no substance at all. And yet, whilst I hate him, I also still love him. Most of all, I don’t know what to do without him. And though I know that all the evidence points towards him dropping me entirely, there’s a part of me that clings to hope. Charlotte is on course to be convicted of attempted murder. Surely Dan won’t stand by her when he is forced to confront the fact that she tried to kill him.

When I hear that Charlotte has been let out on police bail, I’m terrified. I can’t stand to meet her again, can’t even begin to contemplate what else she might accuse me of. I know from bitter experience how long it can take for the wheels of justice to turn. Investigations drag on and prosecutions take forever to see the light of day. I remember from all those years ago how the time between being charged and going to court seems never-ending. So it does again now, as I wait with bated breath for Charlotte’s trial to begin.

But eventually, D-day arrives.

Charlotte has pleaded not guilty and I am called for questioning by her team. Though I am pure and innocent as the driven snow, it’s still mind-numbingly terrifying to be in the witness box. I force myself to keep calm, to answer clearly and concisely, to make sure my body language is that of a guiltless, though spurned, woman.

‘Ms Carr,’ intones the barrister. ‘You had an affair with Mrs Hegarty’s husband. You slept with him in Mrs Hegarty’s house, in her bedroom, in her bed. Is that correct?’

I swallow hard. This line of questioning is close to the wire. The jury will not look kindly on someone they will all too easily put into the category of brazen hussy. I survey their intent faces: seven women and five men. Women always judge other women more harshly; that’s seen time and time again in this kind of situation.

I do my best to look demure, to make them see that I was shamelessly exploited by a powerful and entitled man – which is in any case a version of the actual truth.

‘Yes,’ I say, my voice wavering with emotion, tears close to the surface. ‘I did. But only because he told me his relationship with his wife was over, that their marriage was loveless, that it was going nowhere. I thought that he and I had a future together and therefore it wasn’t, in my mind, an affair. For me, it was …’ I pause before completing the sentence, ‘it was love.’

I conclude with the most important word of all and then fold my hands in my lap and wait, eyes cast decorously downwards.

‘So you profess that you were – I put it to the court that you still are – in love with Mr Hegarty. And that you were planning a new life with him, once he had rid himself of the wife who got in your way.’

The words these lawyers use are so loaded, full of pernicious undercurrents.

The barrister continues. ‘And yet, when you hear that they are having a meeting in order to effect a reconciliation, you offer not only to make the food but also to deliver it to their door.’

His artful use of the present tense makes my actions seem immediate, on-going. He looks around the courtroom, a magician playing to the crowd. ‘A veritable one-woman Uber Eats, so to speak!’

He pauses for the ripple of laughter that drifts across rows of seating, his expression one of self-satisfied self-congratulation. It’s all about self with these people, even though they’re supposed to be working on behalf of their client. For them it’s nothing more than a show, an opportunity to demonstrate how terribly clever they are.

I struggle to maintain a suitably humble demeanour. He’s starting to annoy me, but I know I mustn’t show this. I must play this absolutely right in order to make sure Charlotte gets her just desserts, i.e. a long period behind bars.

‘Charlotte had been my friend,’ I state, clearly and simply. ‘I wanted to assuage my guilt about what had happened and help her and Dan to make the right decision. Taking round the homemade curry was a way to make amends for the wrong I’d done. It was never an affair between me and Dan. As I said, I thought it was love. Only in hindsight can I see how he exploited me, that in fact it was a misguided and misjudged one-night stand brought on by loneliness and too much alcohol, never to be repeated.’

I study the jurors again as I explain this, reading their body language. I see from their sympathetic smiles and gentle nods that they understand. Everyone makes mistakes; the better people try to atone for them.

But the barrister isn’t finished yet.

‘When you took the curry to Mrs Hegarty, how would you describe her state of mind?’

This comes from nowhere to take me by surprise; I don’t know why it’s relevant. Are they angling for a plea of mitigation, trying to establish diminished responsibility?

‘She was … distracted, I guess,’ I answer, honestly. ‘A bit all over the place, mess everywhere, no make-up on, halfway through ironing her outfit for the evening, that kind of thing. This struck me as unusual – she was always immaculately turned out and she was accustomed to hosting lunches and dinner parties for up to twenty people so she wouldn’t normally be phased by a meal for two. Though she had given the housekeeper the day off so I suppose she was having to tackle the kind of menial chores – like laying the table and ironing her own clothes – that she usually left to others.’

I see various members of the jury frown, their foreheads creased, their mouths pulled into disapproving grimaces. It’s only the absolute truth, which I vowed to tell when I swore my