Down in his pit far below Hall turned unexpectedly, catching her eye. He smiled and nodded to her. She was unsure whether to respond but in the end nodded back, although she didn’t smile. With the barrister facing in his direction, Perry leaned forward for a huddled conversation. Hall’s smile died, his face at once serious. There were more jerky nods of agreement before he turned back to the still empty bench.
There was a cough inside Jennifer’s head.
‘The court will rise,’ demanded the court clerk, loudly.
It did, in straggled unison. Jennifer had been ready, aware of the clerk preparing to make the announcement, but the unintended movement surged through her as she rose. It would have brought her forward in a jump that might have spread-eagled her over the bar of the dock if she hadn’t been ready for that, too. As it was she staggered forward and clutched out for the rail, needing to cling to it in the effort to suppress the uncoordinated vibrations that racked through her body, violent enough to have thrown her off her feet if she hadn’t been holding on. She felt the wardresses at either arm, holding her, and saw the entering judge stop and stare red-faced towards her. His attention directed that of the lawyers, most of whom turned. The jury and media were already gazing at her in astonishment, several of the journalists scribbling hurriedly.
‘Mr Hall!’ demanded Jarvis, still standing. ‘Is your client unwell?’
Beside her the chatty wardress from the prison van whispered, ‘Come on love, don’t bugger about. It won’t help.’
Perry was already scurrying around to the edge of the dock, just able to get his chin over the edge. Having done so there was nothing for him to say. Lamely he said to the escorts, ‘Is she going to be all right?’
The two women had prised Jennifer’s hands free themselves to support her, still shaking, back to her chair. Having got her there they remained holding her up because Jarvis was still standing.
‘It’s all right,’ hissed Jennifer, as the sensation subsided. ‘Sorry.’
At a nod from the returning Perry, Hall said, ‘I crave the court’s indulgence, my Lord. A momentary incapacitation.’
‘Which I hope does not recur,’ said Jarvis, finally sitting.
As Jennifer was lowered on to the rock-hard seat the laughing started in her head, hysterical, and Jane said, ‘ How’s that for openers! And they ain’t seen nuthin yet! ’
‘Beat you. Stopped it happening,’ mumbled Jennifer, softly, her head lowered to conceal the lip movement as she’d tried to conceal it in hospital from the guarding policewomen. She ached, painfully, from the effort of holding herself against the unintended movement.
‘ Not enough. Everyone saw. Are still looking. ’
A lot still were, from the jury and the media, although the lawyers had turned to look in Jarvis’s direction. Small though the court appeared to Jennifer, the judge was still dwarfed by his surroundings.
‘The prisoner will stand,’ declared the clerk and Jennifer was unable to prevent herself wincing.
Getting unsteadily to her feet again, Jennifer muttered, ‘Help me,’ to the wardresses, who closed in tightly. It was fortunate they did and that Jennifer additionally snatched out for the rail again. All feeling vanished instantly from her left leg. She swayed into the escort on that side, who grabbed her arm, taking her weight. It hurt where she’d been cut. As the clerk read out the formal murder charge, Jennifer felt the support disappearing from her other leg and knew the two women could not hold her entire weight. Suddenly the feeling came back. Then seeped away again. Then returned, causing Jennifer to bob up and down, despite the effort of the other two women to keep her stable. Through misted eyes Jennifer saw Hall on his feet, only vaguely aware of his returning a plea of not guilty on her behalf. The women virtually carried her back to the chair again. As they sat her down, one said, ‘You sure you don’t need a doctor?’
As quickly as it had gone, all the feeling – although still with the numbness of Jane’s presence – rushed back and the voice said, ‘ Don’t want any doctors, taking you back to hospital and spoiling things! Maybe I’ll take a little rest. But then again, maybe I won’t. ’
‘I’m all right,’ Jennifer said, to the enquiring woman. She felt physically drained, the ache in her arms and legs and body worse than after the first attack. Now the tension had gone her legs were shaking, although sufficiently below the wall of the dock for it not to be visible to anyone except the women now seated beside and slightly behind her.
As the older barrister rose ponderously to his feet and like the actor he was paused to get the attention of his audience, Jennifer forced herself to concentrate, knowing that her future, her everything, depended upon every word and every nuance that was going to be uttered or conveyed in the coming days.
There was a lot of what Jennifer supposed Hall had meant by ritual, the judge always addressed as my Lord and Keflin-Brown describing Hall as his learned friend and phrases like ‘may it please the court’ used as verbal commas and parentheses before Keflin-Brown turned to face the jury to outline the case he assured them he would prove beyond any reasonable doubt.
‘Indeed,’ he intoned, ‘I will submit to you there have been few murders in the last hundred years – even longer – when the preponderance of guilt can be more strongly proved.’
‘ You listening? ’
Jennifer jumped, startled, angry at herself for allowing one concentration to become greater than the other.
‘ Yes, you did relax, didn’t you? Got to stay on your toes, Jennifer. I’m going to destroy you: everything about you. The game is for you to try to stop me. Shall we do that? Winner takes all, you or me. Fight to the death.’
Jennifer stiffened against any response. And succeeded.
‘… You may feel, after having heard certain evidence that will be produced before you, that there is a clinical explanation for this horrendous crime,’ Keflin-Brown was saying. ‘Upon that, upon the law, you must at all times be guided by my Lord. But from the outset, you must know the prosecution’s case. It is that Jennifer Lomax, before you in the dock…’ The man performed his first obvious trick, turning to extend an unwavering, accusing finger in Jennifer’s direction. ‘… is a calculating, premeditating murderess who killed her husband most horribly having discovered that he was having an affair with another woman, a woman, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, whom Jennifer Lomax once regarded as a friend… just as she believed her marriage and future with Gerald Lomax was untouchably secure…’
‘ Don’t worry, Jennifer. No-one will think you’re that. A month from now we’ll have you safely tucked up with all the Jesus Christs and Franklin D. Roosevelts and Napoleons and Catherine the Greats, just one big happy, crazy party.’
Jennifer sat upright, arms straight by her side, anchoring herself by gripping the underside of the uncomfortable chair, thinking again how much the prosecutor was making her sound like the sign-here package that had been delivered that morning. Me! she thought, agonized. It’s me! Me sitting here, holding on here: a person, a body. Jennifer Lomax. Me. Flesh and blood. A person with feelings. Not ‘her’. Or ‘the accused’. Or ‘this woman’. Or ‘a calculating, abandoned wife who decided upon the ultimate punishment for a deceiving husband’. Not true: hadn’t known.
‘ Tell them it’s not fucking true, you lying bastard! ’
‘Not fucking true, you lying bastard!’ Jennifer was on her feet before she could stop herself, the unpreventable shout reverberating around the court to the discernible echo of sharply indrawn breath. She said, ‘No… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…’ but her control was gone and the voice said, ‘ Don’t let the short-assed judge stop you: tell him to stay under his fucking mushroom where the pixies belong,’ and as Jarvis opened his mouth to speak Jennifer stopped him by saying, ‘Stay under your fucking…’ before she managed to halt. Silence embalmed the courtroom, every eye upon her. Hall was swivelled, horrified. Perry was coming half bent, crablike, towards her. The interrupted Keflin-Brown struck a pose, head to one side, bewilderment sculpted into his face.