A Matter for the Jury (12 page)

18

6 March

‘Mr Singer and
I are not staying long, Ben,' Barratt Davis said, as Merlin showed the two men and Jess Farrar into Ben's room in Chambers. ‘We are dropping off some paperwork for you and Jess to look through and organise before we see Martin Hardcastle on Tuesday. I've sent copies to Martin's Chambers, of course, but he's not going to read it before the consultation, knowing him. So you're going to have to explain it all to him.'

Alan, the junior clerk, in his shirt-sleeves, carried a large box into the room with obvious effort, and dumped it unceremoniously beside Ben's desk.

‘That's it,' Barratt said. ‘Should be enough to keep you busy for a while.'

‘Should be,' Ben replied, gesturing to his visitors to sit. ‘Thank you, Alan.'

‘Tea or coffee, anyone?' Merlin asked.

‘A cup of tea would go down very well,' Singer replied. ‘I had to leave St Ives rather too early this morning. Milk and one sugar, please.'

The others declined, and Merlin disappeared discreetly.

‘I do also want to bring you up to date with what we have been doing,' Barratt said. ‘John has been visiting Billy Cottage at Bedford Gaol regularly since he was remanded. But we did not want to begin the process of taking instructions until we were fairly sure we understood the prosecution's case against him. In addition, John thought he wasn't ready…'

‘He appeared to be in shock for the first week or two,' Singer said. ‘He couldn't concentrate very well. It was almost as if he didn't believe what was happening – as though he thought that any moment they would simply open the gates and let him out, so that he could go home and attend to his lock.'

‘I've seen the same reaction before, in other defendants in his position,' Barratt said quietly. ‘There's nothing you can do except wait for them to adjust to their new reality. You can't rush it. You just have to wait until they are able and ready to talk to you.'

‘Has he been able to give you further instructions?' Ben asked.

‘Yes. John let me know as soon as he thought we might make some progress. We have had two conferences with Cottage since then, within the last two weeks. You will find his signed proof of evidence among the papers. I am sure that, when you read through it, you will see a number of points at which his account of the facts seems rather…'

There was a knock and the door opened. Merlin entered, bearing a cup of tea for Singer.

‘Can Miss Fisk pop in just for a second, sir?' Merlin asked. ‘She needs a book.'

‘Of course,' Ben replied.

Harriet entered hurriedly, apologetically.

Everyone stood, and Ben raised a hand towards Harriet.

‘May I introduce Harriet Fisk? We joined Chambers together, and we share this room. Harriet has graciously allowed me to take it over to some extent today. Harriet – you know Barratt Davis, of course, his legal assistant, Jess Farrar, and John Singer, a solicitor from Huntingdonshire.'

‘Nice to meet you all. Sorry, Ben,' Harriet smiled. ‘Must have my copy of the County Court Practice. I didn't realise you'd started.'

‘No problem,' Ben replied. ‘Jess and I will be on our own, poring over papers, most of the day. It's not going to disturb us if you come and go.'

Harriet quickly selected the volume she needed from her desk.

‘Ah, the Green Book,' John Singer smiled. ‘I've spent many happy hours immersed in that tome.'

‘Mr Singer doesn't have much of a life, Miss Fisk,' Barratt said.

‘Neither do I,' Harriet smiled. ‘Especially when I have pleadings due.'

She left as quickly as she had come.

‘Does Miss Fisk ever do ecclesiastical law?' Singer asked.

Jess reached out an arm and pushed him in the shoulder.

‘You would have to ask Merlin,' Ben smiled. ‘Now, you were saying – about Cottage's proof of evidence?'

‘He puts forward an alibi,' Barratt replied. ‘But it doesn't account for all the prosecution's evidence. That is something we are going to have to talk about once you have been through all those papers. The good news is that the alibi is supported by his sister, Eve, as far as it goes. Essentially, they say, Billy was working an evening shift at a local pub. That wasn't unusual. He did it to supplement his income from the lock. He left just after closing time and made his way home. He remained at home the rest of the night and didn't go out until the next day. If the trial began tomorrow, I would say he would not make a great witness. His education is limited and he gets frustrated easily. It wouldn't surprise me if he has quite a temper. But his demeanour may improve a bit once the trial gets closer.'

‘What about the sister?'

‘Barratt asked me to interview her,' Singer replied. ‘She has the reputation locally of being a bit slow. So we thought it would be better to have someone from St Ives talk to her.'

‘Good idea,' Ben nodded.

‘I'm not at all convinced she is slow,' Singer said. ‘I spent a long time with her. I had to, just to gain her trust. She didn't understand who I was or what I was doing, to begin with. At first, she seemed concerned that I had something to do with the police. I had to explain to her that I was there to help Billy. But at least that gave me time to observe her and, based on what I saw, I think her mind is fairly normal. She hasn't had much by way of an education – neither of them did, according to local people who know the family – so she speaks in a rather simple way, almost child-like at times. But she understood my questions, and she did corroborate her brother's alibi to some extent. She says he was at home in bed when she woke up the next morning. The only thing is…'

‘Go on,' Ben encouraged.

‘Well… she does have a tendency to agree with what is being said to her at any given time. I would put things to her and she would agree, almost as if she felt she had to. I deliberately put one or two things to her to see if she would contradict herself, and once or twice she did, though she corrected herself when I pointed it out. I am not sure what may happen when she is cross-examined, to be honest.'

Ben nodded. ‘Well, that's a useful thing to know in advance,' he said. ‘We will have more questions to put to both of them when we have been through the prosecution's papers.'

Barratt stood.

‘Ben, John has indicated that he does not wish to be involved in this case indefinitely. I quite understand that. He is busy with diocesan matters, and…'

‘And I don't have the stomach for it, to be quite honest, Mr Schroeder. Mr Little is about the limit for me as far as criminal work is concerned,' Singer said. ‘So Barratt will be Mr Cottage's solicitor of record from Monday.'

Ben stood also.

‘Quite all right,' he said. ‘Thank you for everything you have done. But I am going to ask one thing. If we need to interview Eve again, it would be best for you to do that. You have her trust, and it sounds as though that is important. It wouldn't help if someone else had to start again from the beginning.'

‘I'd be glad to do that,' Singer said, as they shook hands.

‘Call the office if you have any questions,' Barratt said, on his way out. ‘And let's talk before we go to see Martin on Tuesday.'

When they had gone, Ben and Jess looked at each other.

‘Where do you want to start?' she asked.

Ben took off his jacket, put it on a heavy wooden hanger, and hung it on the coat rack which stood behind the door. He undid his tie and threw it deftly on to his desk. He pointed in the direction of the bottom shelf of the huge bookcase which occupied most of the wall to the left of his desk.

‘There are files and assorted office supplies over there. First, I want to find out what is in that box. Then I want to get all the paperwork organised, filed and labelled. Then we can actually start reading it and finding out what this case is really about.'

‘I'm good at cross-referencing,' Jess volunteered. ‘I helped the librarian re-arrange every book the school had when I was in the sixth form.'

‘All right. We will put that talent to good use. Let's drag the box into the middle of the room. We will probably have to sit on the floor, I'm afraid.'

‘My natural habitat,' she smiled.

‘Would you like some coffee? I can have Alan make some.'

‘Yes, actually that would be good. No milk, just a little sugar.'

Together, they dragged the box from the side of Ben's desk.

‘Not too far,' she suggested. ‘So we can lean against the back of your desk and still reach it.'

Ben left to make arrangements for the coffee. When he and Alan returned a few minutes later with coffee for both of them and a plate of ginger biscuits, Jess had removed her shoes and was sitting, cross-legged, between the box and his desk, a pencil between her lips and a sheaf of papers on her lap. Two large empty files and a pile of labels and dividers were within easy reach of her left hand. Ben sat down beside her.

‘Why don't I glance at each document we come to?' he suggested. ‘I will start to build up a picture of the case, and we can devise a filing system for them according to subject matter.'

‘And according to date,' Jess added. ‘Chronology matters too, yes?'

‘Yes, indeed,' Ben replied. He reached up and seized a blue notebook from his desk.
‘I will start making some notes as we go along.'

The time was 10.15.

* * *

By 3.30 that same afternoon the box Barratt Davis had brought had been emptied and an impressive array of files, labelled, indexed and cross-referenced, was spread across the room. Two plates, which had held sandwiches, supplied by Alan from a café on Fleet Street and consumed hastily during a short lunch break, lay pushed up against the bookcase. Jess was leaning back wearily against Ben's desk. She slowly untangled her legs from their crossed position, and stretched them out in front of her.

‘I'm not sure I can get up,' she said. ‘I may have to stay here until my legs start working again. I don't think they have any blood going through them.'

‘My legs are all right,' he said. ‘But my back is aching.' He sat up, straightening his back as much as it would allow. ‘Well, at least we have something to show for it, don't we? It all looks very different from that pile of paper we were handed this morning.'

‘I think we should both get medals.'

‘We should. And we have definitely earned our weekends.'

Her head dropped. ‘Don't remind me,' she said.

‘What?'

‘The weekend. Don't remind me.'

‘Not looking forward to it?'

She sighed, tentatively rotating her ankles and flexing her toes to see if they were working.

‘Oh, it's just that it's nothing special – again. Having nothing else to do, I will take the train down to darkest Sussex and while away the hours with my parents, as usual. I really need to spend more time arranging things to do in London – or anywhere. It's not as though I don't have friends. But since I've been working for Barratt, the working week is such a whirlwind that I never seem to get around to planning anything. If I keep it up much longer, my friends are going to forget who I am.'

Ben twisted round to face her.

‘Would you like to do something different – really?'

‘Yes.'

‘Have you ever been to a football match?'

She smiled at him in surprise.

‘Well, I used to watch my brothers play for their school.'

Ben returned the smile. ‘That's not what I mean,' he said. ‘I mean a
real
football match, in the First Division.'

‘What, in a big ground, with thousands of people shouting at each other?'

‘Exactly.'

‘No. Never.'

Ben took a deep breath.

‘Well, why don't you give it a try tomorrow afternoon. My family is from the East End, and we are all West Ham supporters. My father can usually get tickets. Sometimes I take a young friend with me. His name is Simon Dougherty; he has just turned eleven, and he is the step-son of a member of Chambers, Kenneth Gaskell. Simon grew up in Walthamstow and has supported the Hammers all his life. I often take him to a match if his father can't take him for some reason. We've arranged to go tomorrow. We are playing Manchester United at home, Upton Park. You would be very welcome to join us.'

Ben's stomach tightened into a knot as he spoke. He suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable. He had been stupid, he had spoken without thinking. He had offended her. He began to search his mind for any graceful way to withdraw. He had been presumptuous. He was…

‘That sounds like fun,' she was saying. ‘That gives me the perfect reason to stay in London for the night, and I will have a new experience tomorrow.' She experimented with pushing herself up. ‘Oh, thank God, I think my legs have started responding. I might even be able to stand up.'