A Mind to Kill

QC.

‘Indeed,’ said Jarvis. ‘Perhaps you can help us with that, Mr Hall?’

‘My instructions are to enter a plea of not guilty, my Lord,’ said Hall. The point and purpose of the meeting, he knew, aware of the concentration not just from the judge but from Keflin-Brown as well.

‘Not guilty?’ pressed Jarvis, ominously.

‘Those are my instructions,’ repeated Hall.

‘I have had certain advice, in advance of this hearing,’ said Jarvis. ‘As you know, Mr Keflin-Brown…’ the tight-lipped smile flickered and died. ‘… and as I am taking some pains to advise you, Mr Hall, I expect the correct propriety to be shown in my court, at all times…’

‘I am obliged, my Lord,’ said Hall, realizing too late that he had spoken prematurely, interrupting the old man before he’d finished.

There was a moment of glacial, eternity-stretched silence before Jarvis said, ‘As I was intending to make clear I do not like the time in my court to be wasted. Nor do I like – indeed, I will not in any way tolerate – my court to be abused.’

This time Hall said nothing. Keflin-Brown said, ‘Quite so, my Lord. I’m obliged.’

‘Mr Hall?’ prompted Jarvis.

‘I’m obliged, my Lord.’

‘It is important that your client is given every protection under the law available to her.’

‘Which I shall do my best to provide, my Lord.’

‘Were I for a moment to believe that wasn’t being done, I would take steps to ensure any failure or omission be immediately rectified.’

Hall waited, to ensure the man had finished. ‘Quite so, my Lord.’

‘I understand certain medical evidence will feature strongly in this case?’

‘That is so, my Lord.’

‘With the benefit of evidence exchange, is the prosecution in a position to suggest a certain course of events, Mr Keflin-Brown?’

‘If it is your Lordship’s wish I could discuss certain matters with my learned friend,’ accepted the QC, dancing to the judge’s lead.

‘Mr Hall?’

‘My instructions are to enter a plea of not guilty to murder,’ said Hall.

‘I am not deaf, Mr Hall: I heard you the first time. And several times after that. Surely you are aware we are talking of a lesser charge to which a different plea could be considered in which the mercy of the court could be exercised!’

Hall felt the perspiration wet across his back and hoped it wouldn’t show on his face. ‘I regret to inform my Lord that my client resists in the strongest possible terms that course of action.’

There was another long pause, as glacial as the first.

‘Mr Hall, there is a period of two weeks before the scheduled trial date,’ said Jarvis. ‘I would suggest that in that time you discuss with your client in the clearest possible manner the offer that has been intimated by Mr Keflin-Brown here today…’ He looked enquiringly at his clerk. ‘Is there a diary convenience, say, two days before trial?’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ said the man, not needing to look.

‘Here,’ declared the judge, patting his hand impatiently against the desk. ‘Ten o’clock on the fourteenth. Is that acceptable to you both?’

‘As my Lord wishes,’ said the QC.

‘Thank you, my Lord,’ said Hall.

As they began to gather up their papers, Jarvis said, ‘Mr Hall, I would have you remain, if you so please.’

For the first time the equanimity of Keflin-Brown faltered. He filed out after his junior with his pinkly bland face creased with curiosity. Perry was frowning, too.

Hall wondered if Jarvis intended the reminder of a headmaster’s punishment in the way the man kept him standing, appearing suddenly engrossed in one of the files. Finally he looked up and said, ‘Since our last meeting certain matters have come to my attention. I do not intend to dwell upon them, Mr Hall. But I want you to understand, without the remotest possibility of any misunderstanding between us, that I will not tolerate any future nonsense. I will not have the authority of my court put into question, nor will I have it humiliated by being turned into a music-hall. There will be no tricks. Have I made myself clear, Mr Hall?’

‘Completely so, my Lord.’

‘As I will, from now on, if there is any transgression.’

‘I am obliged, my Lord.’

‘I will see you before me, as arranged.’

‘Thank you, my Lord.’

‘You will be careful, won’t you, Mr Hall?’

‘Yes, my Lord.’

Keflin-Brown was poised directly beyond the entrance. He hurried forward, smiling, and said, ‘Anything I should know about, Jeremy?’

‘If it had been I’m sure Sir Ivan would have asked you to stay.’

The smile went. ‘Do you think you can afford attitudes on your first murder?’

‘No,’ replied Hall, honestly. ‘I’m not trying to create one.’

Disarmed, the other barrister said, ‘He’s a miserable old bugger. We’ll have to be careful.’

‘So everyone keeps telling me.’ Hall hadn’t intended the reply to sound as testy as it had.

‘You’ll let me know in advance, before we see the old bastard again?’

‘If there’s anything to let you know about.’

‘Either way,’ insisted Keflin-Brown. ‘And if you’ll take my advice you’ll do your best to fix it the way he wants.’

Perry, who’d waited patiently and politely out of hearing, fell into step as Hall continued along the corridor, listening without interruption as they made their way from the building. Just before the exit he said, ‘You’re not going to be let off lightly.’

‘I know,’ said Hall.

‘She’s got to accept diminished responsibility.’

‘She won’t.’

‘Then we’re in serious trouble.’

‘So’s Jennifer Lomax.’

‘That’s what I mean.’

‘Of course,’ accepted Hall, knowing that wasn’t what the solicitor had meant at all.

‘It’s called a temporary interruption,’ announced the matron. She lounged back expansively in her chair, in control. ‘I got a heavy hint, from the governor: it’s time to ease off.’

‘Who gives a fuck about the governor?’ said Emma.

‘We’re going to.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ demanded Fran, even more aggressively.

‘We’re going to leave her alone,’ insisted the ward supervisor.

‘Who says?’ The voice was strident, that of a woman accustomed to hitting before she was hit.

‘I did.’

‘We got a problem here, Beryl?’ demanded Fran, threateningly.

‘Not unless you make it into one. Which you’d be stupid to do.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Harriet. ‘We’ve got a brand new toy and I like playing with it. I haven’t had enough yet.’

‘We’re leaving her alone, until after the trial,’ insisted the matron. She was glad of her position of command, behind the desk: it made her appear more confident than she felt.

‘Beryl, don’t tell us what we’re going to do. We tell you what we’re going to do,’ said the tattooed woman. ‘We want to play.’

‘While we’ve got the chance,’ picked up Fran. ‘She won’t come back here, after the trial. She’s off her head, full of voices. She’ll be sent to some secure mental institution for other people to play with

…’ She puckered her lips, for the amusement of the others. ‘It’s not fair!’

The huge woman shook her head, smiling dismissively. ‘You just can’t think, can you?’

‘What are you talking about now?’ demanded Fran.

‘She’s got more than tits and a cunt for you to play with. She’s got money.’ Triumphantly the matron produced a sheaf of notes. ‘I promised to keep you away if she paid me. And she did. Authorized me to withdraw her cheque-book from admissions…’ The smile expanded. ‘So now it’s ours!’

All three women smiled back. ‘How much?’ demanded Emma.

‘Hundred for you, hundred for me.’

‘Ours gets split three ways, you get the lot,’ challenged Harriet, at once.

‘Because I’m officially in charge and I’m taking the risk giving her to you.’

‘For which we paid you,’ reminded Emma.

‘And here there’s lots more, more money than you’ve ever thought of. And we’ll get it providing we’re not greedy.’

‘I want to fuck her again before she goes,’ insisted Harriet, in reluctant agreement. ‘Cut her a little. I like seeing blood run.’

‘She might not be going after the trial,’ lured the matron. ‘Don’t forget I’ve looked after her at the remand hearings here: seen the papers. The police think she’s faking the voice. If the court agrees she’s sane she’ll come back here, for a time anyway. How’s that sound?’

‘Wonderful,’ said Emma.

‘Perfect,’ agreed Fran.

‘All right,’ accepted the still reluctant Harriet. Then: ‘If she comes back here permanently we could sell her on when we’ve finished and get even more money couldn’t we? This could work out very well.’

‘See!’ exclaimed the matron, when she entered Jennifer’s ward an hour later. ‘They didn’t come, did they?’

‘Thank you.’

‘ Now she’s got you all to herself.’

‘Nursey’s brought her cream.’

‘I don’t want you to do it, either.’

‘Nursey likes doing it.’

‘No.’

‘ Open your stupid legs. Tell her you want it.’

It was a personal test for Jennifer to stop herself and she succeeded.

‘Don’t make nursey angry.’

‘ Open your legs! ’

‘Would nursey like another sort of present?’

‘What?’

Jennifer felt a sensation in her legs, a pressure to part them but she managed to resist it. ‘Give me my cheque-book.’

‘A girl at school said she saw Mummy’s picture in the papers.’

‘She must have been mistaken,’ insisted Annabelle.

‘She’s going to bring it tomorrow to show me.’

‘Which girl?’ asked Annabelle, as casually as she felt able.

‘Margaret Roberts.’

That night Margaret Robert’s mother said she quite understood the telephone call and of course she’d destroy the newspaper. ‘What’s going to happen to poor little Emily?’

‘I don’t know,’ admitted Annabelle.

‘Such a lovely child.’

‘Yes.’

‘An absolute tragedy.’

‘Yes.’