Spilsbury had been unable to book a berth on the night train due to returning hordes of holidaymakers previously stranded by the strike. She calmly paid the telegraph boy, but when he had remounted his bicycle and headed back down the road, she screwed the paper tight in her fist, digging her nails painfully into her palms before throwing it into the garden. She would be facing the court alone. Until now, she had not realised how much she had been counting on Spilsbury’s presence. She forced herself to take some deep breaths and dashed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. It was imperative that she stop this, that she did not present to the court as a hysterical female. Even to her sister, she resolved, she must remain cool and levelheaded. Composed once more, she retrieved the paper ball from where it had landed on the box hedge and returned calmly into the house to break the news to Florence. “Well, if Spilsbury can’t be here,”
