A Matter for the Jury (31 page)

42

24 June

When the repeated
knocks on the door and the sound of Jess Farrar's anxious voice eventually broke into his uneasy sleep, Martin Hardcastle looked at his alarm clock and saw that the time was almost 10.15. He suddenly felt very cold. He pushed himself up off the bed and into a standing position at the second attempt and tried to speak. No words came. He cleared his throat roughly and tried again.

‘Just a minute.' The words were painful to speak, raspy, barely audible.

He began to walk towards the door, but abruptly diverted to the bathroom, where he threw up violently into the toilet. After wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his dressing gown, he sat down on the floor as the reality of what had happened swept over him. He closed his eyes. No. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't fair. All he had done was to stay up and plan his cross-examination of Jennifer Doyce. He was always so careful. He didn't deserve this. Not in a capital murder case. Not on the day when such an important witness was to be called. How could he have allowed this to happen? Summoning all his strength he hauled himself to his feet and made his way to the door.

‘Jess, I'm sorry. I was taken ill during the night. Food poisoning, I think. I overslept. I will be with you in a couple of minutes.'

But there was no reply. Jess was no longer there. And in any case, Martin Hardcastle would not be with anyone in a couple of minutes. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he had to rush back to the bathroom, and by that time he was quite aware of his situation. He knew from experience that he was not going to recover before the next day. This was another day when he would not appear at court. The last such day, of course, the last time ever. He would never do it again. But today, he was going to have to deal with it.

* * *

‘I can't get any reply,' Jess reported, the frustration in her voice obvious. ‘He's either dead or out for the count. Either way, we may have to get the hotel staff to open the door.'

Ben and Barratt had been ready to leave for court for almost an hour. Martin Hardcastle should have been with them long before. But calls to his room had gone unanswered, and eventually Barratt had dispatched Jess to his room with instructions to wake him. They were standing in the small foyer of the George, near the door, getting in the way of other guests and pacing impatiently.

‘All right,' Barratt replied. ‘I'll handle it. Ben, why don't you and Jess go on ahead? You might want to sound the judge out about sitting late, and let Jess have a word with Cottage so that he doesn't think we have abandoned him.'

Ben nodded.

‘Yes, all right, but for God's sake get a message to us as soon as you know what's going on. It's already twenty past. If I ask for a late start, the judge is going to ask why, and for how long.'

But Barratt was already half way up the stairs.

‘Jess, come straight back and find me once you have seen Cottage, and I will give you an update to pass on to Ben. I will either be in Martin's room or down in the foyer.'

Throwing on his wig as he fought his way past a group of spectators into the courtroom, Ben managed to scramble into counsel's row just as Mr Justice Lancaster entered court. Jess had had a matter of a couple of minutes in which to try, unsuccessfully, to reassure Billy Cottage that he was still legally represented, after which she took off running to the George. Now Billy Cottage was in the dock, the jury was seated, Andrew Pilkington was looking at him inquiringly from his right, and Ben was facing a High Court judge in a capital murder case without a leader. For several seconds, no one spoke. Then Ben rose cautiously to his feet.

‘My Lord, I'm sure your Lordship has noticed that my learned friend Mr Hardcastle is not yet here.'

‘I had noticed that, Mr Schroeder,' the judge replied, not unpleasantly. ‘No doubt you are about to explain why.'

Ben swallowed hard.

‘My Lord, I regret that I am not in a position to do so at this precise moment. He did not come down from his room this morning, and those instructing me are trying to ascertain why. It may be that he is unwell though, as I say, I cannot confirm that. In the circumstances, may I ask your Lordship to rise for a few minutes so that I can find out one way or the other, and make any further application I may have to make to your Lordship?'

Andrew Pilkington stood.

‘I rise simply to remind your Lordship that we have an extremely vulnerable witness here today, who is being kept waiting.'

‘Yes, I am obliged to my learned friend,' Ben said pointedly. ‘That is why I invited your Lordship to rise for a short time so that I can take instructions and inform the court about what is happening. I am quite sure that Mr Hardcastle does not wish to keep Miss Doyce waiting, any more than I do, or my learned friend does.'

Ben thought he caught a look exchanged between Mr Justice Lancaster and Andrew Pilkington. For some time the judge seemed to stare into space.

‘I will rise for fifteen minutes,' he announced. ‘At the end of that time, Mr Schroeder, I expect to be told precisely what the situation is.'

Ben nodded. ‘I am much obliged, my Lord.'

As soon as the judge had risen, he ran from the courtroom. There was no one in the foyer. He left the building and ran towards the George.

* * *

Barratt Davis stood, leaning against the door of the bathroom in Martin Hardcastle's room, while Martin sat on the floor beside the toilet. The vomiting had become more spasmodic now, but Martin still looked deathly pale and he had a severe headache. It had taken Barratt several minutes of banging on the door to induce Martin to open it. When he eventually stepped into the room and sized up the situation, he asked Jess to find Ben and tell him that they would need an adjournment, at least until 2 o'clock, rather than a late start.

‘It was that bloody steak and kidney pie,' Martin complained, making every effort to sound suitably outraged. ‘I thought it didn't taste quite right. I shouldn't have eaten it, but I was starving and I was working on my notes for the cross of Doyce. I convinced myself it would be all right. I'm going to make a complaint, and I may sue them in the county court. That will bloody teach them to do this to a Silk.'

Barratt left the door and walked slowly to the table by the window, where he noted an empty whisky bottle, an empty wine bottle, and a blue barrister's notebook open at a page which bore a heading suggesting notes for the cross-examination of Jennifer Doyce – but with no notes below it. He turned and walked back to the bathroom.

‘We can talk about that later, Martin,' he said. ‘At the moment I have Ben asking the judge for a late start, and I don't know how that is going. So I need to go over to court. I need to know whether you will be able to come to court today, and if so, how long you will need. Can you tell me that?'

Martin looked up miserably and contemplated getting dressed for court. The thought of a tight stiff collar brought his nausea flowing back.

‘Possibly 2 o'clock,' he replied, after some time. ‘But I would prefer the whole day. The judge should be understanding about it. He knows how important it is to have the leader present in a case like this. Tell Schroeder to hammer that home to the judge. I am sure it will be all right.'

Barratt made for the door.

‘Please call down and leave a message at the desk before lunch,' he said. ‘I am sure the judge will want to be updated.'

He met Ben and Jess in the lobby. Ben had just arrived.

‘The judge has given me fifteen minutes,' he said, ‘which is just about up. What can I tell him?'

Barratt bit his lip. ‘He says it's a case of food poisoning,' he said. ‘He is blaming it on the steak and kidney pie. He says possibly 2 o'clock, but he would prefer tomorrow.'

Ben swore under his breath.

‘What do you think, Barratt?' he asked. ‘
Is
it food poisoning?'

‘If you think of whisky as food, then yes.' Barratt replied. He paused. ‘All right, I suppose I should give him the benefit of the doubt. In any case, I assume we will give the judge the official version as related to me by Martin himself.'

Jess was shaking her head.

‘There was nothing wrong with the steak and kidney pie,' she muttered, ‘apart from it being a bit tasteless. We all had it.'

‘There is no time to worry about that now,' Ben said. ‘We can hold an inquest later. Let's get back to court and tell the judge he has to keep Jennifer Doyce waiting for a day because Martin had a bad helping of steak and kidney pie.'

‘I'm sure he's going to like that,' Barratt replied.

* * *

‘My Lord, I am very grateful for the time you have given me,' Ben began.

The judge did not react.

‘I can now tell your Lordship that Mr Hardcastle is unwell, quite ill. I am instructed that he may have eaten something for dinner yesterday evening which has brought on a bout of food poisoning. I understand that he may be well enough to attend court this afternoon, but those instructing me doubt that he would be well enough to conduct an important part of this very serious case by then. In the circumstances, I am reluctantly compelled to seek an adjournment until tomorrow morning.'

Andrew Pilkington leapt to his feet.

‘Oh, really, my Lord…'

Mr Justice Lancaster cut him off with a wave of his hand.

‘I need not trouble you, Mr Pilkington. Mr Schroeder, it is unfortunate that Mr Hardcastle is unwell, of course. But it is of the highest importance that the jury should hear Miss Doyce's evidence today, and that she should not have to come back tomorrow. We will proceed with the evidence, and if Mr Hardcastle recovers sufficiently to join us, then so much the better. But Mr Cottage has two counsel, and one of the reasons for that is so that, if one of them has to be absent for some sufficient reason, the other can continue without loss of time to the court.'

‘My Lord…'

‘No,' the judge said. ‘We have lost enough time already. Let us proceed. We will take a short break after examination in chief, Mr Schroeder. I am sure the witness would welcome it, and you can have a few minutes to pull your thoughts together for cross-examination – if Mr Hardcastle has not appeared by then.'

Ben bowed to the judge and resumed his seat. He turned behind him to look at Barratt, who was rolling his eyes.

‘I swear to God, I'm going to bloody kill him for this,' he whispered.

‘Tomorrow,' Ben replied. ‘Today I need you to take notes for me.'

43

‘My name is
Jennifer Doyce.'

Dr Walker had steered Jennifer Doyce into court in her wheelchair, bringing it to rest in front of the bench, so that she could be seen by judge, jury and counsel, as well as by the crowd of reporters and onlookers in the public gallery. The trial had been building momentum in the media. All the daily newspapers were giving it extensive coverage, and a BBC television crew had been spotted outside the Town Hall just as she was arriving. She was dressed in a beige sweater and brown slacks, a blue scarf around her neck, and clutching a white handkerchief. Jennifer was still only twenty-one years old but she looked at least twice that age. She was pale, gaunt and haggard, and the very last thing on earth that she needed was to re-live the events on board the
Rosemary D
in front of an audience – any audience, let alone an audience of journalists. Dr Walker had offered to tell the judge that the pressure would be too much, that it was not advisable for her to give evidence, but she would not hear of it. What Jennifer was about to do was not about her. She was giving evidence for Frank. It was a trial for his murder, and it was the last and the only act of love she could now perform for him. She could have turned her gaze on Billy Cottage with a slight movement of her head, but she did not once acknowledge his existence.

‘I believe you have written your address down for his Lordship, and you need not give it to us. But is your home in St Ives?'

Her voice was quiet, but steady and determined. Ben had taken Martin Hardcastle's seat in the front row, pushing aside Hardcastle's unopened brief, so that he could sit alongside Andrew Pilkington. Unobtrusively, he ran his eyes over the jury. They were tight-lipped, obviously moved by Jennifer's appearance, and hanging on her every word.

‘Yes.'

‘How old are you?'

‘I am twenty-one.'

‘Do you have a job?'

‘Yes, I am a trainee librarian. I work in Huntingdon.'

Suddenly, Ben looked at the jury again. They looked like men who might use a public library, or at least have children who would use one. Was there any chance that…? But he caught no glimpse of recognition.

‘When did you first meet Frank Gilliam?'

The question prompted the first use of the handkerchief. Ben gazed fixedly at the note he was making. It was going to be a long morning. Andrew Pilkington was giving her whatever time she needed. Dr Walker had taken his seat behind Andrew and would tell him if Jennifer needed a break; otherwise, he would continue at whatever pace Jennifer wanted. That was all right, Ben thought, initially; the longer the examination in chief lasted, the more chance there was that Martin Hardcastle would put in an appearance. But the thought did not last long. The problem was that Barratt Davis had been absolutely specific about Martin's condition, and Ben quickly concluded that his appearance now might not be in anyone's interests. Unlike Martin Hardcastle, Ben did have some notes for a cross-examination of Jennifer Doyce. Like any junior, part of his role was to understudy his leader, and to be ready with his suggestions when his leader consulted him. He had not been consulted. Ben was no longer surprised by that. But it meant that he would probably be responsible for the cross-examination on his own. It was a disturbing thought and he had to fight to subdue his nerves. Still, he was confident that he knew the points he would have to make, and he had anticipated correctly that he would have to tread gently. He could now see exactly how gently.

‘I met him about three months before this happened, some time in October.'

‘How did you meet?'

‘Through friends. I would go out with my friends on a Saturday night and someone introduced us.'

‘And how did your relationship develop?'

She smiled thinly.

‘He asked me out. We started going out together. We would go to see a film, go out for coffee, go dancing sometimes.'

‘Yes, I see,' Andrew said. ‘I believe that Frank was training in management at Lloyds Bank in St Ives, is that right?'

‘Yes.'

‘How old was he?'

The handkerchief came up to her eyes again. There was a pause.

‘He was twenty-three.'

‘Did you love him?'

‘Yes.'

Pilkington paused again, this time for a prolonged period. He glanced over his shoulder at Dr Walker, but the doctor shook his head, and he waited. At length the handkerchief moved down again from the eyes to the lap.

‘Miss Doyce, I don't mean to embarrass you, but I must ask, for the jury, about the events leading up to the 25 of January.'

‘I'm not in any way embarrassed,' she replied.

Ben looked up again. She was angry now, but controlling it. Well, she had every right to be angry. He followed her eyes. They were strong, and fixed on Andrew Pilkington.

‘Thank you. During the early part of January, did you have a conversation with Frank about sexual matters?'

‘Yes.'

‘Had you had a sexual relationship of any kind before that?'

‘Not really. We had kissed and cuddled, that kind of thing.'

‘I see. During January, what did you discuss?'

She sat up in her chair.

‘We agreed to exchange our virginities.'

‘To exchange…' Andrew smiled, momentarily thrown off balance. ‘I'm sorry, I haven't heard it put that way before.'

Some of the tension was broken. The judge and jury permitted themselves a chuckle. Jennifer smiled also.

‘That's the way we thought of it. People usually say that the woman surrenders herself to the man, but it wasn't like that for us. It wasn't just me surrendering myself to him. It was something we both wanted.'

‘Yes. Was there some discussion between you about where the… exchange… would take place?'

She smiled again. ‘Yes. Frank told me he had heard about this boat which was moored up at Holywell Fen.'

‘
The Rosemary D
?'

‘Yes. The word had spread that it was used by couples who wanted somewhere to make love. A girl who worked with Frank had been there with her boyfriend. We thought there wouldn't be many people who wanted to go there during the cold weather. We didn't have anywhere to go, you see. We were both living with our parents.'

‘Yes, I see,' Andrew said.

She continued as if she had not heard him.

‘Of course, now, I wish I had just asked someone, one of my friends. I'm sure I could have arranged…' She seemed to come back from a distance. ‘I'm sorry. What were you asking?'

‘No, that's all right. Did you make plans to go to the
Rosemary D
on the night of the 25 January?'

‘Yes. It had to be a Saturday night, because that's when we always went out. We didn't have much chance during the week.'

‘How did you plan to get to the boat?'

‘We planned to walk from St Ives. It's the only way, really.'

‘All right. Please tell the jury about the earlier part of the evening, before you got to the
Rosemary D
.'

‘Frank picked me up from my house at about… I think it was about 8 or 8.30, and I seem to remember that we went to Jack's Café and had something to eat.'

Ben paused in his writing and looked up.

‘You
seem
to remember…?' Andrew was asking.

She shook her head in frustration. ‘There are some parts of the evening I am still blank about,' she replied. ‘It's been coming back to me in patches. I remember getting dressed before leaving home, choosing what I was going to wear and so on. I remember leaving the house with Frank. I think the police checked with Jack's… but anyway, I think that is what happened.'

Pilkington nodded. ‘What do you remember after leaving your house?' he asked.

‘I remember being with Frank in the Oliver Cromwell,' she replied. ‘I remember that because it was something we had talked about when we were planning the evening. We had to walk past the Oliver Cromwell to get to the meadows, and we thought we might need a couple of drinks before we set out, just to steady our nerves, so we planned to call in there on the way.'

‘Do you have any memory of what time you arrived at the Oliver Cromwell?'

She shook her head.

‘No. It wasn't all that long before it closed, I do remember that. We didn't stay very long, and I remember Frank saying it was getting on towards closing time and we should be on our way.'

‘Please describe where you went when you left the Oliver Cromwell.'

‘We turned left outside the pub and walked to the end of Wellington Street, then we were about to turn right into Priory Road, when we realised that we had both run out of cigarettes. We must have smoked our last ones in the Oliver Cromwell.'

‘What did you decide to do?'

‘We were about to go back to the pub because they had a vending machine, but I noticed there was a light on at the corner shop in Priory Road, and there was a girl who seemed to be working. The door was locked, but we knocked on the window, and she heard us and she let us come in to buy cigarettes.'

‘What kind of cigarettes did you buy? How many?'

‘Woodbines. We each bought a packet of ten.'

Andrew Pilkington nodded.

‘Thank you. Now, before we come on to your walk to the
Rosemary D
, there is one other matter. May the witness please be shown Exhibit Five?'

Jennifer was lost in a torrent of tears before Paul had even reached the witness box. Dr Walker reached forward and tapped Andrew on the arm. He instantly nodded his agreement, and turned towards the bench.

‘My Lord, I wonder whether we might have a short adjournment?'

‘Certainly, Mr Pilkington,' Mr Justice Lancaster replied. ‘Fifteen minutes, members of the jury, please.'

* * *

‘I don't envy you this one, Ben,' Barratt observed, as they left Court 1 and found a haven in the Square away from the prying eyes of the press and public. ‘And it will be you, by the way, won't it, Jess? She has just come back from the George.'

‘He's stopped throwing up, at least for now,' Jess replied matter-of-factly. ‘But he is still in a bad way, and I don't see that changing significantly in the near future.'

‘I'm sorry, Ben,' Barratt said quietly. ‘I didn't realise how bad things had got. I shouldn't be doing this to you.'

‘Don't worry about it,' Ben replied. ‘Oddly enough, if this had to happen on one day of the trial, today was probably the right day. We don't need very much from Jennifer, and we can do it all wearing kid gloves. I have my notes. I am ready.'

‘I know that, Ben,' Barratt said. ‘But it is still not something that should have happened. I was too loyal to Martin. I can't say I wasn't warned. You mentioned it, Merlin told me. God knows, there has been enough gossip going around about him for the last year or two. I didn't pay enough attention. I was too loyal. It is a weakness we solicitors have.'

Ben grinned. ‘I'm not sure that's necessarily a weakness, Barratt,' he said. ‘I'm all in favour of loyalty in the right circumstances.' He paused. ‘And actually, I have to say, Martin was handling this case pretty well until today.'

‘That's all very well,' Barratt replied. ‘But when I retain a Silk, I prefer him to do the whole case pretty well.'

Ben took a deep breath.

‘I suppose what I'm trying to say is that we need to postpone the inquest on this situation until after the trial. I know you are going to have a few things to say to Martin, and to his clerk, no doubt. But we need to have him with us for the rest of the trial, Barratt – if only for the sake of appearances. It wouldn't look good if leading counsel suddenly disappeared half way through. We have to present a united front to the jury.'

Barratt smiled. ‘It's all right,' he said. ‘I'm not going to cause a scene. I can wait. But I'm not going to take any more of that “I'm-a-Silk-and-you're-not” nonsense any more, and I hope you won't either.'

‘I am officially emancipated, as from today,' Ben grinned. He turned to Jess. ‘How is Billy today?'

‘Very quiet,' she replied. ‘I only had a minute with him, but I couldn't get a word out of him. He seemed to be lost in some little world of his own.'

Barratt nodded. ‘Wonderful. Just what we need when he's about to give evidence. Well, I suppose we ought to get back. We are not going to get to cross before lunch, are we?'

Ben shook his head. ‘Not at this rate. And I don't think there's any need for Jess to keep running back and forth to the George. Let's just leave him alone until this evening.'

‘Thank you, Ben,' Jess said gratefully.

* * *

‘It's my gold cross and chain, which was given to me by my grandmother,' Jennifer said, handing the piece back to Paul.