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top bench to get as far away from him as I could. Nobody on the top bench except me.’
    ‘So where were the wee girls located at this point? Below you? Along the row from you? Where , please?’
    Gail took a breath to control herself, then spoke with deliberation:
    ‘The wee girls were sitting on the second tier, with Elspeth. The older one turned round and looked up at me, then she spoke to Elspeth. And no, I didn’t hear what she said. Elspeth turned and looked at me, and nodded yes to the older girl. The two girls had a consultation, stood up, and came walking up the steps. Slowly.’
    ‘Don’t push her around,’ said Perry.
    *
    Gail’s testimony has become evasive. Or so it sounds to her lawyer’s ear, and no doubt to Yvonne’s also. Yes, the girls arrived in front of her. The elder girl dropped a bob that she must have learned at dancing lessons, and asked in very serious English with only a slight foreign accent: ‘May we sit with you, please, miss? ’ So Gail laughed and said, ‘You may indeed, miss,’ and they sat down either side of her, still without smiling.
    ‘I asked the elder girl her name. I whispered, because everybody was being so quiet. She said, “Katya,” and I said, “What’s your sister’s name?” and she said, “Irina.” And Irina turned and stared at me as if I was – well, intruding really – I just couldn’t understand the hostility. I said, “Are your mummy and daddy here?” To both of them. Katya gave a really vehement shake of her head. Irina didn’t say anything at all. We sat still for a while. A long while, for children. And I was thinking: maybe they’ve been told they mustn’t speak at tennis matches. Or they mustn’t talk to strangers. Or maybe that’s all the English they know, or maybe they’re autistic, or handicapped in some way.’
    She pauses, hoping for encouragement or a question, but sees only four waiting eyes and Perry at her side with his head tipped towards the brick walls that smell of her late father’s drinking habits. She takes a mental deep breath and plunges:
    ‘There was a game change. So I tried again: where do you go to school, Katya? Katya shakes her head, Irina shakes hers. No school? Or just none at the moment? None at the moment, apparently. They’d been going to a British International School in Rome, but they don’t go there any more. No reason given, none asked for. I didn’t want to be pushy, but I had a bad feeling I couldn’t pin down. So do they live in Rome? Not any more. Katya again. So Rome’s where you learned your excellent English? Yes. At International School they could choose English or Italian. English was better. I point to Dima’s two boys. Are those your brothers? More shakes. Cousins? Yes, sort of cousins. Only sort of? Yes. Do they go to International School too? Yes, but in Switzerland, not Rome. And the beautiful girl who lives inside a book, I say, is she a cousin? Answer from Katya, squeezed out of her like a confession: Natasha is our cousin but only sort of – again. Andstill no smile from either of them. But Katya is stroking my silk outfit. As if she’s never felt silk before.’
    Gail takes a breath. This is nothing, she is telling herself. This is the hors d’oeuvre. Wait till next day for the full five-course horror story. Wait till I’m allowed to be wise after the event.
    ‘And when she’s stroked the silk enough, she puts her head against my arm and leaves it there and shuts her eyes. And that’s the end of our social exchange for maybe five minutes, except that Irina on the other side of me has taken her cue from Katya and commandeered my hand. She’s got these sharp, crabby little claws, and she’s really fastening on to me. Then she presses my hand against her forehead and rolls her face round it as if she wants me to know she’s got a temperature, except that her cheeks are wet and I realize she’s been crying. Then she gives me my hand back, and Katya says, “She cries