A Mind to Kill

Chapter Fourteen

Until Perry’s hurried call Jeremy Hall had not intended being at the hospital for Emily’s visit. It had nothing to do with the eventual trial and although that trial, his first murder, was of great professional importance he’d already recognized, objectively, that he was spending too much time personally involved in situations with Jennifer Lomax which more properly should have been handled by the solicitor at that moment talking far too quickly to him on the telephone. Quite apart from offending the man himself, trickled into the gossip mill that filled to overflowing the Inns of Court trough it could – and, he was sure, would – be represented as his nervous inability to delegate anything through fear of failure. Which, even further apart, would be compounded by his having – apparently – willingly accepted a totally indefensible brief the outcome of which could only be failure anyway. So why was he bothering?

Perry’s call abruptly changed the intention. According to Geoffrey Johnson’s mobile phone alarm from the car bringing an excited Emily and the nanny to London, he’d been seen entering the tradesmen’s entrance to the mansion to collect them and emerged to confront at least three, maybe more, media cars. He was now heading a cavalcade towards London: one vehicle had already drawn level at a traffic light and attempted photographs, through the window.

Perry confirmed, indignant at the question, that he’d filed the Press Commission complaint at their own ambush and individually warned the editors of every journalist whose card had been thrust through their window not just of that protest but also of the intention to complain to a trial judge, once one was appointed.

‘Add this to the Commission complaint, by fax, today,’ instructed Hall, coolly. ‘Also fax all the editors you wrote to yesterday that we intend raising with a judge in chambers, today, the danger of their representatives perverting the course of justice…’

‘… How the hell…?’ Perry tried to argue.

‘… Annabelle Parkes will be called as a witness for the defence,’ said Hall, patiently. ‘She’s received letters, which we have and can produce before a judge, offering her money to talk to the press in advance of giving evidence in court. Financial inducement could influence the veracity of anything she might give. The fact that we know it wouldn’t doesn’t affect my submission, agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ conceded the solicitor, at once. ‘Don’t forget we haven’t been appointed a trial judge yet.’

‘I haven’t forgotten that,’ said Hall. ‘Make a point of it. Repeat the warning to the editors whose names and media organizations we have to the Press Association, ensuring its distribution to every media outlet. In the individual letters and the news agency release, also say we are applying for a chambers judge to extend the precincts of any court in which Mrs Lomax might eventually appear to the house in Hampshire, Emily’s kindergarten and St Thomas’s Hospital and every residence or place of work of witnesses – particularly medical and professional witnesses – likely to be called by the defence. Therefore any media intrusion would constitute contempt of court-’

Perry’s intake of breath was sufficiently loud to interrupt the instructions. ‘You’ll never get all that,’ the man insisted. ‘It’s unheard of.’

‘I don’t expect to get all of it,’ admitted Hall. ‘And I know it’s unheard of. Which is why it’ll frighten the bastards off. And I will get the house and Emily’s school and maybe St Thomas’s, which is all I really want.’ He hesitated. ‘Did Johnson tell you where he was, when he called?’

‘Guildford.’

‘Call him on another line – I’ll hold – and tell him I don’t want him to get to the hospital for at least another hour.’

Perry put down the phone unquestioningly. Hall heard a mumble of conversation but not what was said. The solicitor returned very quickly. ‘He doesn’t think he can do it under that time anyway. The traffic’s bad.’

‘Good,’ said Hall, briskly. ‘Separately fax the police station local to the hospital. Warn of a serious risk of a potential murder trial being endangered by an attempt to pervert the course of justice. Ask for a police presence to prevent that happening, to be in place at the hospital within the next hour. Make sure a copy of that request goes to every editor and to the judge in chambers.’ He paused again. ‘Anything I’ve overlooked?’

‘Hardly.’

‘Any thought?’

‘You’re going to alienate every newspaper you’ve ever heard of.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘A lot, if you’re thinking about your career.’

‘I’m not. I’m thinking of a client and her four-year-old daughter.’

There was a moment’s silence, ‘In whose name are these letters to be sent.’

Hall matched the length of the silence. ‘Mine.’ He allowed another gap. ‘You want me to tell Feltham or do you want to do it?’

‘Are you making a point with that question?’ asked Perry, frigid-voiced.

‘Just ensuring that everything is conducted in the proper manner,’ said Hall, easily.

‘Officially, it’s my function.’

‘Then let’s do everything officially, shall we?’

‘Are you going to the hospital?’

‘I am now.’

‘Do you want me to come?’

‘You’ll hardly have time, if you’re to do all this. I can manage.’

‘I’m sure you can,’ said Perry, attempting a small point of his own.

Jeremy Hall didn’t hurry, knowing there was no need. The traffic was already almost completely blocked over Westminster Bridge and along both directions of the Embankment by the time he got there. He paid the taxi off and walked the last three hundred yards to the hospital. There were at least six uniformed officers controlling the exit and entrance, commanded by a superintendent inside the perimeter. The traffic jam caused by their checking every entering vehicle and person was compounded by two police vans, in which other officers were visible, and three motor-cycles. A constable immediately announced his arrival over a radio when Hall identified himself and the superintendent hurried from a plainclothes group with whom he had been talking.

‘You Jeremy Hall?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure this is necessary?’ He was a large man, imposing in his uniform. He was perspiring, despite the wind off the river.

‘I didn’t catch your name?’

The man faltered. ‘Hopkins. I asked you if this is necessary.’

Hall extended his hand. There was more uncertainty before the policeman took it. Hall said, ‘If I hadn’t thought it necessary, superintendent, I wouldn’t have asked for it to be done.’

Hopkins gestured back towards the group. ‘There are lawyers from four newspapers there. One from television. And executives. They say it’s ridiculous.’

Hall looked towards the group. He didn’t recognize any of them. Those he guessed to be lawyers were older than he was. ‘It’ll be discussed before a judge in chambers. I’m content for him to decide if it’s ridiculous or not, aren’t you?’

The policeman coloured slightly. ‘Have you a time of arrival?’

Hall looked at his watch. ‘Maybe in the next fifteen minutes. Apparently the traffic’s bad. It’s an old Bentley. Green.’

‘If you know the route we could intercept, with a police escort.’

The attitude appeared to have changed abruptly, thought Hall. ‘I don’t. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a good idea: I don’t want to frighten the child any more than she has been, already.’

As he continued on towards the hospital he saw Lloyd and Mason hovering just inside the glassed entrance. He went to go by the group outside but five detached themselves, blocking his path.

‘You Hall?’ demanded a bulge-bellied man.

‘Yes.’

‘What on earth’s this all about?’

‘Press intrusion sums it up, I think.’

‘Not a crime,’ insisted another of the group.

‘Perverting the course of justice is. So’s contempt of court.’

‘Let’s be reasonable,’ smiled the first man. ‘This is absurd. Way over the top.’

‘I agree that pursuing a four-year-old child and a potential witness to whom a bribe has already been offered is way over the top,’ said Hall. ‘I’m confident a judge will agree with me this afternoon.’

‘Overenthusiasm,’ dismissed a third lawyer. ‘A mistake. But it doesn’t need to be handled like this. We’ll cool our people down and that will be the end of it. Judges get irritated if their time is wasted: chamber hearings are for emergencies, don’t you know.’

Hall surveyed the men ranged in front of him, wondering if the physical barrier they formed was prearranged or accidental. ‘I do know, very well. And I’m quite prepared to confront a judge’s irritation. I hope you all are, too.’ As he shouldered his way through he heard a voice say, ‘Arrogant young bastard!’

Another voice sneered, ‘Out to make a name for himself.’

The two doctors were waiting for him, directly beyond the door. Mason said, ‘What the hell’s going on?’

Hall told them, very briefly. Mason’s face cleared by the time Hall finished speaking. The psychiatrist said, ‘Very forceful!’

‘Very necessary,’ said Hall. He was aware of Lloyd’s attention shifting over his shoulder and turned to see the arrival of Geoffrey Johnson, with Emily and the nanny. More police had come out of the waiting vans and were lined along the entrance, listing the numbers and taking driver details of the cars indicating their intention to turn into the hospital behind the solicitor’s Bentley. All the lawyers and the other men with whom they’d earlier been standing were there too. There was a lot of arm waving, particularly from the sweating superintendent. A solid police line formed across the entrance immediately after Johnson passed through. Abruptly the indicators of the following cars were cancelled.

A strained-faced Annabelle Parkes hesitated momentarily when she came through the doors, the relief palpable when she saw Hall, the only man she knew. Beside her Emily looked very frightened, not just clutching the girl’s hand but pressing close to her leg as she had in the mansion. Her hair wasn’t in plaits today but frothed around her head. She wore a red tartan dress with white bows. Her free hand clutched a much-held pink-eared white rabbit that wasn’t white any more and a card already slightly bent.

It was Mason who went forward, ahead of Hall. The psychiatrist scooped down, ignoring Annabelle, and said to the child, ‘Was that fun?’

Annabelle went to reply but stopped at the head shake from Hall.

‘Not really,’ said Emily, uncertainly.

‘Grown up games aren’t.’

‘Was it a game?’

‘A silly one.’

‘I thought they were going to hurt us. They were shouting and taking pictures.’

‘You remember Mr Hall?’ asked the psychiatrist, nodding behind him.

Emily looked at the lawyer, a smile hovering. ‘Yes.’

‘He’s told them to stop playing like that. They won’t any more.’

‘Won’t they?’ Annabelle asked.

‘No,’ said Hall.

‘Thank God for that.’

Geoffrey Johnson entered from parking the car in time to hear the last part of the exchange. ‘I’ve just spoken to Humphrey. The hearing’s fixed for three. It’s Jarvis.’

Sir Ivan Jarvis was the most cantakerously irascible judge on the Inner London circuit who deeply resented the mandatory retirement age and whose place upon that circuit, according to the rumour mill, was to be filled by Sir Richard Proudfoot. Jeremy Hall said, ‘It should make for an interesting hearing.’

‘You’ll want me?’ anticipated Johnson.

Hall nodded, looking at the nanny. ‘You too, possibly. To swear the financial offer letters and what went on before.’

‘What about Emily?’

At the mention of her name the alarmed child looked up and said, ‘Where are you going?’

‘Nowhere,’ promised Annabelle. ‘Nowhere without you.’

‘I don’t want you to go away!’ Emily’s lip quivered and her voice broke.

‘No-one’s going to leave you,’ said Mason, quickly. ‘You’re not going to cry, are you?’

‘Yes,’ said the trembling child, truculently.

‘What are you here for?’ asked the psychiatrist, gently.

Emily looked up questioningly to Annabelle and then said, ‘To see Mummy.’

‘You don’t want to cry when you see Mummy, do you?’

‘No.’

‘Let’s not then.’

‘Who are you?’ demanded Emily, with abrupt child logic.

‘I’m a doctor, trying to make your mummy better.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘She’s not well.’

Hall was glad it was the psychiatrist and not him confronting the not-to-be-lied-to inquisition.

‘Is she going to die?’ demanded the child, with an equally bizarre lack of emotion.

‘No,’ said Mason. ‘It’s not an illness you can die from.’

‘Is she coming home today?’

‘Not today.’

‘When?’

Mason straightened, no longer able to remain with his legs buckled at Emily’s height. ‘As soon as she’s better.’

‘I want her to come home again. And Daddy.’

‘She has to get better first.’

‘I’ve brought her a present,’ declared Emily, proudly.

‘What?’

‘It’s a secret.’

‘Shall we go and give it to her?’

‘With Annabelle?’

‘Of course with Annabelle.’

‘All right.’ As she began to walk, Emily handed the comfort toy and the card up to Annabelle, who took both.

Hall wished the attention from a lot of people hadn’t been so obvious as they made their way to the elevators but Emily did not appear aware of it. He led with Lloyd. ‘How is she?’

‘Excited. She’s been ready a long time.’

‘Any difficulties?’

Lloyd shook his head. ‘Nothing at all since she woke up.’

‘I wish Mummy could come home,’ said Emily, as they got into the lift.

‘She’s missed you, too,’ said Mason.

Could Jane have gone: not be there any more? It seemed impossible to imagine but then what had happened was impossible to imagine. Totally, utterly and completely beyond imagination or understanding. But it wasn’t happening any more. Today Jane wasn’t there. Hadn’t been during the night, either, shouting and calling through the drugged fog to stop her sleeping. For the first time for days – nights – she’d slept without interruption and woken late but quite normally, without any chant in her head. Now she felt rested, fully recovered. Fully recovered and fully in control of herself, not sharing her mind or her reasoning with anyone else. Better: well again.

Jennifer was standing, waiting, when Emily came uncertainly into the room, holding tightly to Annabelle. Jennifer was glad because her throat filled and her eyes blurred and she couldn’t think of the words that had been there, ready to say, just seconds before.

‘Hello, darling.’ It was a croak, like the funny voices they used when they played after school. She coughed and said, ‘Hello darling’ again, normally this time, and held out her arms.

Emily didn’t move at first. Then her face opened into a smile and she cried out, ‘Mummy!’ and ran forward into Jennifer’s arms.

Beside him Hall was conscious of Julian Mason tensing and looked at the man, who didn’t respond. Instead he remained fixed upon mother and child, head actually craned forward. Hall thought the transformation in Jennifer Lomax was remarkable. She’d obviously washed her hair and the perfection of the cut showed in the way it looped in a shining coil just short of her shoulders. The dress was too formal for the morning but he guessed she’d chosen it for its long sleeves, which only allowed a fraction of the bandages to show. She’d compensated with the make-up, just lip and eye line: probably, he thought, all she’d worn on the school runs. She wasn’t actually crying but her eyes were wet, which he understood, and unclouded, which he thought was encouraging. She appeared, in fact, absolutely normal.

They clung together for a long time before Jennifer eased herself away but only far enough to be able to kiss the child. It wasn’t until she looked over Emily’s shoulder, towards Annabelle, that she became conscious how many people there were.

She said, ‘Hello Annabelle. Thank you for bringing Emily,’ and then, to Hall as a focus, ‘I thought this was for me to see Emily!’

At once Johnson said, ‘There’s no reason for me to be here,’ and retreated back out into the corridor. Peter Lloyd followed.

‘I think I should stay,’ said Hall, impromptu, his mind completely changed from the beginning of the day and Mason said he wanted to remain, too.

Jennifer sighed and for a moment Hall thought she was going to argue. Instead she shrugged, turning back to Annabelle, pulling Emily on to her lap in the chair as she did so. The conversation with Annabelle was stilted and self-conscious, Emily’s presence a bar to any proper answer to Jennifer’s litany of questions, ambiguously phrased again because of Emily.

Both were relieved when the child broke in, refusing to be ignored. Plucking at the bandage protruding from Jennifer’s left sleeve and then feeling the dressing on her hand Emily said in sudden alarm, ‘Did you have an accident?’

‘Yes,’ said Jennifer.

‘Is that why you’re here?’

‘Yes.’

‘And then you’re coming home?’

Jennifer hesitated. ‘When I’m quite better.’

‘When will Daddy come home?’

Jennifer had to swallow, very hard. ‘I don’t know. He might have to be away for a long time.’

‘Why?’

‘Because.’

Mason remained tensed forward, oblivious to everything but the woman. Hall was just as intent, a doubt growing within him. Jennifer Lomax was entirely normal, a loving mother hugging a child from whom she’d been separated. So the hunched-forward man beside him had to be wrong. Jennifer Lomax had to be a clever enough woman – and they knew she was clever – to defeat hypnosis and fool an experienced psychiatrist she hadn’t faked a voice in her head. I’ve got a Paper that’s going to turn psychiatry on its head, worldwide, he remembered. Did Julian Mason want to believe it, to achieve some sort of academic notoriety?

‘I love you, Mummy,’ Emily was saying.

‘I love you too, my darling.’

‘I want you to come home.’

‘I will, as soon as I can.’ Jennifer had to cough, to clear her throat.

‘I brought you a present,’ announced Emily, proudly, slithering from Jennifer’s lap to scurry across the room. Unasked, Annabelle offered the card. Emily returned with it behind her back until she reached the chair. With a conjuror’s panache the child produced it and announced, ‘I know M, for Mummy!’

Hall had a fleeting, sideways image of the letter and of a stick figure with crossed-eyes and spikey, sun-ray hair before Jennifer yelled, ‘NO!’

Emily started back, crying out in immediate terror, as Jane roared, ‘ Brat! Filthy little brat. Kill little brats.’ Jennifer grabbed out, getting one hand around Emily’s throat but not managing to link it with the other because of the dressing and because Emily tripped and actually fell backwards to get away from her mother. Jennifer started to rise from the chair, bellowing, strangling hands outstretched towards the cowering child but Annabelle got to her first, scooping her up and turning at the same time. Jennifer clenched her clawed hands into fists and began pummelling the nanny, trying to force her to the floor.

‘ I want her! Give her back! ’

Hall was aware of Mason moving and of Lloyd bursting through the door, followed by the policewomen, but was unable to move himself, paralysed by what was happening. Lloyd got between Jennifer and the staggering nanny, taking the blows. Blood burst almost at once from his nose but he managed to grab one of her arms. It off-balanced Jennifer, who stumbled, giving the police sergeant time to grab the other arm. The constable wrapped her own arms around Jennifer’s body, half lifting her from the floor. The bull-like bellowing continued and as soon as her feet came back on to the ground Jennifer began hauling the three clinging to her around the room, rocking to dislodge them. The side table overturned, spewing its contents, and the bed slewed across the room, scattering chairs.

Hall moved at last, seizing Annabelle, still shielding the child, and bustled them out of the room into the waiting arms of a white-faced Geoffrey Johnson. Hall turned back into the room but remained in front of the door, barring it. He at once realized that Jennifer was about to throw off the police sergeant so he grabbed that arm as well, conscious that the wounds had opened and that both Jennifer’s arms were sticky with blood.

‘Hold her! Just keep her steady!’ demanded Mason, dancing around the struggling group to get in front of the woman.

With four people holding her Jennifer came briefly to a breathless pause. At once the psychiatrist was before her, hands out to hold her head. Jennifer reared away, trying to bite him, but missed.

‘Eleven to one, one to eleven, eleven to one,’ Mason chanted. ‘Back and forth, back and forth, eleven to one, one to eleven.’

Jennifer was bulging eyed, nostrils flared, breath rasping into her. There was one desperate heave, which almost dislodged them, but then the panting eased and the sightless eyes receded.

‘Can you hear me, Jennifer?’ asked Mason, monotone.

‘Yes.’

‘Who was it who did that?’

‘Jane. I tried to stop her, I said “No”, but she came too quickly. She was waiting.’

‘ Always waiting. Always here.’

They were all shocked, Mason less than the others. Annabelle wasn’t with them in the ward sister’s office, because the trembling, breath-caught Emily refused to let go her hand from beside the bed that had been made available and Lloyd was delayed, re-stitching the burst open wounds before sedating Jennifer.

‘I’ve had to tell the hospital management: we can’t risk the danger to other patients,’ announced Lloyd, when he finally entered. His white coat was blood splattered and he had cotton wool plugs in both nostrils. His nose was beginning to swell.

‘There won’t be any danger,’ declared Mason.

‘You can’t still maintain that she’s sane, after that,’ demanded Hall. He was totally confused about the psychiatrist’s professional opinion: at that moment he felt confused about everything.

‘I’m prepared to argue it. And I’m prepared to bet others will be, too.’

‘How much damage has been done to Emily?’

Mason made an uncertain gesture. ‘Kids are resilient but that was pretty bad.’

‘Pretty bad!’ exclaimed Hall. ‘It was bloody terrifying! She tried to strangle her own daughter: would have done, if she hadn’t been stopped.’

‘I’ve already asked for a child psychiatrist,’ said Mason.

‘And a paediatrician, too,’ added Lloyd. He spoke adenoidally because of the plugs.

‘It was a mistake as far as Emily was concerned, letting her come to the hospital,’ admitted Mason.

‘One that won’t be repeated,’ insisted Hall. ‘I think it was a mistake for all of us.’

‘Not for me it wasn’t,’ said Mason, honestly, and Hall thought again of the man’s remark of having a sensational psychiatric Paper.