Free Skinner's Rules by Quintin Jardine Page B

Jameson rose to begin her cross-examination.
    As usual, the tight wig sat awkwardly on her head. She bowed to the Bench, pulled her gown further up her shoulders and walked towards the woman. The witness was stout, with dyed red hair. She was wearing an imitation fur jacket over a tight sweater and skirt. She had teetered into the witness box on pink high-heeled shoes. Rachel thought that she had never seen an alleged rape victim dressed less appropriately. But she knew that the vivid red scar running down the left side of the woman’s face was likely to command all of the jury’s attention.
    ‘Miss X, you are twenty-four; is that correct?’
    ‘Aye, that’s right.’ There was a new, aggressive edge to the witness’s tone. She sounds stronger today, thought Rachel. Must have popped an extra Valium.
    ‘Were you a virgin before the alleged attack?’
    Miss X reddened. ‘Naw. Were you when you were twenty-four?’
    It was Rachel’s turn to flush. Christ, she thought, that’ll have done her no good with the jury.
    Severity stirred in the kindly Lord Orlach. ‘The witness will answer questions, not ask them. Madam, you must accept that counsel is entitled to examine whether your sexual history has a bearing on this trial. Hers most certainly does not.’
    ‘Thank you, my Lord.’ Rachel turned back to face Miss X. ‘When did you have your first sexual experience?’
    ‘Ye mean the full thing?’ Rachel nodded. ‘When ah was thirteen, with a boy at the school.’
    ‘And since that time, how many lovers have you had?’
    ‘God knows! Naw, wait a minute. Ah’ve had...’ she thought for several econds ‘... eight steady boyfriends, and maybe twenty or so one-offs. Ah cannae remember.’
    ‘So you like sex?’
    ‘No’ that much, tae tell you the truth, but the fellas expect it.’
    ‘Have you ever taken money for it?’
    ‘No way!’ The woman shouted her answer.
    Rachel rebuked herself mentally.
    ‘Right, let’s accept that. Do you ever make the running, make the first sexual advances?’
    ‘In Barlanark, are you kiddin’?’ One or two spectators laughed. Lord Orlach threw the witness a frown.
    ‘So you didn’t give Mr McCann the come-on?’
    ‘That pig! No way.’
    ‘You knew him by sight, did you not?’
    Miss X nodded.
    ‘Isn’t it the case that you once told him you fancied him?’
    ‘Never. I knew him by sight, but I knew about him an’ all, that he was dangerous.’
    Rachel’s tone hardened as she moved quickly on to wipe that last remark from the memory of the jury. ‘Did you not invite him into your mother’s home while she was out?’
    ‘No ah did not. Ah telt that other fella, ah went across tae the Paki’s for a video, and when ah got back he was in the hoose!’
    ‘Miss X, we have heard your account of the alleged sexual attack. I won’t ask you to repeat it. However you did give a remarkably detailed description of the part of my client’s anatomy on which this case hinges. Do you always notice things like that?’
    Miss X looked at her grimly, and said without humour: ‘Only when they’re forced on me.’
    And so it went on, Rachel pressing, hammering away at the witness, weakening her resolve, going over and over the account of the attack. Finally she turned to the wounding.
    ‘Miss X, I put it to you that your injuries were self-inflicted.’
    ‘No.’ The woman was quieter now, her voice smaller.
    ‘Is it not the case that McCann made fun of your sexual offerings?’
    ‘No, that’s no’ true.’
    ‘... and that when he did, you attempted to stab him with a kitchen knife...’ She picked up the weapon, and held it up for the jury to see. ‘This knife, which, it has been admitted, belonged to your household?’
    Miss X shook her head. Rachel’s voice was firm, but she did not shout.
    ‘Is it not the case that McCann disarmed you, that your face was cut in the struggle, and that he threw the knife away as he panicked and ran from your house?’
    The woman was