The Namedropper

Twenty-Six

The first day of the full divorce hearing was largely technical, dominated by the painstaking jury selection which, to the judge’s quick and obvious irritation, became protracted by Reid’s determination to follow Beckwith’s advice to pack the eventual adjudicating panel with as many female members as possible. The manoeuvre succeeded in a jury of seven women and five men, achieved largely by Reid’s persistence in objecting to anyone who admitted prior, and therefore possible biased, awareness of either the social or historical standing of the Bellamy or Appleton dynasties.

For his part, Pullinger opened his court cleared of that jury and any of its impending participants, to rule to the briefly admitted media that the hearing was to be conducted strictly in camera as allowed by every free speech caveat available to him under the First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America, including, as well as written words, any current or past television or newspaper images.

It was during their exclusion that Jordan had the first, although limited, opportunity to talk to Alyce, who’d already been in the court – and scarcely acknowledged him – when he’d arrived that morning. For Pullinger’s publicity-banning statement both sides were separated in different ante-rooms. Dr Harding, who had accompanied Alyce for the opening day, was also excluded, but instead of joining them in the anteroom, he hurried off to telephone his hospital. Beckwith and Reid huddled together at the larger of the two available tables, discussing various court documents set out upon it. Alyce went to a window, her back to the room.

‘You OK?’ Jordan asked, coming up behind her.

She half turned, smiling wanly. ‘That’s not the most intelligent question you’ve ever asked, is it?’

‘I called over the weekend, like I told you I would,’ said Jordan. He thought the lipstick was still too heavy.

‘I know. I was there.’

‘Why didn’t you pick up the phone?’

‘We talked everything out in Enrico’s.’

‘I’m not sure that we did.’

‘I wanted to talk about the money. That was all. It went on beyond that.’

‘I believe I misunderstood a lot of things in France. I don’t think I do now.’

‘Stop! Please stop! What’s happening now – going to happen now – is all I can handle.’

‘It’s going to end. You’re going to win, be rid of him, and we’ll be back where we were.’

‘We weren’t ever anywhere!’

‘I told you I misunderstood. Let’s talk about it again when this is all over.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about! I got you entrapped and I hate myself for getting you caught up in it and I want you to change your mind and take the money, however much it might be.’

‘Stop talking about the damned money! I’m not interested in that. I’m talking about us.’

‘You two OK over there?’ called Beckwith.

‘Just chatting,’ Jordan called back, not realizing that he’d raised his voice.

‘I’m not,’ said Alyce, lowering hers as well. ‘All I want to think about – get through – is this case. I can’t think – won’t think – about anything else.’

Jordan saw she was shaking, hands clenched tightly by her sides. ‘Hey! Let’s calm down. That’s what we’ll do, get through this. Then we’ll talk some more.’

‘But not now! Nothing more now! Promise me. Just promise to be here, doing what you’ve been doing,’

The shaking had worsened and Jordan reached out towards her. Alyce hesitated and then came into his arms, although keeping her own at her sides. He said, ‘I promise.’

‘You got a minute, Harvey?’ Beckwith called again, from across the room.

When Jordan reached the lawyers, leaving Alyce at the window, Reid said, ‘What was that all about?’

‘She’s wound up tighter than a spring,’ said Jordan. ‘No reason why I can’t talk to her now that the judge has ruled against my dismissal, locking me into the case, is there?’

‘I guess not,’ allowed Beckwith. ‘But let’s leave the physical support to the doctor, shall we? The huggy stuff wouldn’t look good outside this room.’

‘How did your meetings go after the adjournment?’ Jordan asked Reid directly, anxious for his inclusion to be automatically accepted.

Reid hesitated and it was Beckwith who answered. ‘Bob’s people think they might have something about what you picked up on – Appleton’s withdrawal from that Olympic selection, remember?’

‘And why he seemed to drop out of Boston’s social life,’ added Jordan, building on the reminder. ‘What was it?’

‘They haven’t fully pinned it down, not completely. But a woman, a girl, seems to have been part of it.’

Alyce had talked of something involving a girl, Jordan at once recalled. What he couldn’t remember was when and then he did: when they’d first met in New York with neither of them sure whether or not it legally endangered them. Cautiously he said, ‘That’s not going to impress Pullinger, from what I’ve seen so far.’

‘That sort of observation is not why you’re being included in these conversations to provide,’ dismissed Reid.

Those words of Reid’s echoed in Jordan’s ear like the clearest of warning bells. Too softly for her to hear from where she stood at the window, he said, ‘Ask Alyce.’

‘I already have. She says she doesn’t know what it could mean.’

‘Ask her again,’ insisted Jordan.

The pony-tailed Beckwith let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘We going to have to beat this out of you, Harvey?’

It had to remain vague, Jordan decided. ‘Alyce told me something that sounds familiar, about Appleton and a girl, before she and Appleton got together.’ Jordan was conscious of his lawyer looking pointedly at him as Reid walked across to the window at which Alyce stood.

Beckwith said, ‘You got something more to tell me, just the two of us?’

‘No.’

‘I don’t want to be caught out again, like I was with that fucking ring.’

‘I explained that! You agreed it wasn’t important.’

‘I accepted how it might have happened. I won’t accept getting caught with my pants down a second time. You and Alyce got an agenda I don’t know about?’

‘No!’ denied Jordan, again. He was walking backwards into a cul-de-sac, he decided.

‘Where did Alyce talk about this? In France? Or here?’

‘Here.’

‘When?’

‘Before the dismissal application.’

‘A meeting you also forgot to tell me about! After I’d told you – Bob had told you, as well – to stay away from each other!’

‘It’s in the past! Over!’ said Jordan, inadequately. ‘Now it could help.’

‘You want to do me a favour, Harvey? I want you to stop thinking – behaving – like a gambler and more like a defendant in a court case that could still cost you a whole bunch of money. You’ve contributed a lot and I recognize that. Appreciate that. As Bob does. Don’t risk losing everything we’ve so far won by trying too hard.’

He had to capitulate, Jordan accepted, reluctantly. And was relieved, too, that Reid was walking back across the ante-room towards them. Jordan said to his lawyer, ‘I’ll tell you every time I piss, too,’ and wished he hadn’t the moment the words were out.

‘Make sure you do it in the pan and not all over your feet,’ scored Beckwith, easily, increasing Jordan’s regret.

‘She doesn’t know much more,’ announced Reid, getting to them.

‘How much more?’ demanded Jordan.

‘Alyce thinks the girl belonged to the same yacht club as Appleton, in Boston. And that she lived in Lexington: it’s a suburb of Boston with a lot of history,’ said Reid, continuing on. ‘I can get that enquiry underway before the court resumes.’

More than Alyce had volunteered to him, thought Jordan. But then he hadn’t pressed her very hard on it. ‘Should be a good enough lead,’ he remarked to Beckwith. He didn’t add that he’d started to discover the story of other people’s lives from much less.

Jordan, who was walking behind, was conscious of Alyce looking anxiously around for her doctor as, rejoined by Reid, they filed back into court. Jordan couldn’t see Harding either and before they passed through the gated rail he came as close as he conveniently could and said, ‘He’ll still be on the phone. Don’t worry.’

She gave no indication of having heard him. The Appleton group followed into the court directly afterwards and virtually as they sat Pullinger began addressing the recalled jury. As was in his power, the judge said, the court was to be closed to reporters and photographs, either old or new, forbidden from publication until they had reached their verdict. For that reason they were prohibited from discussing with anyone outside the court anything they heard in evidence, including members of their families or friends. If they were approached by strangers seeking information they were to obtain as best they could – a telephone number, for instance – the identity of that stranger and report it at once to a court official. Their sworn and therefore legally required function, having heard his concluding directions, was to decide which of the petitioning parties was primarily responsible for the breakdown of the marriage. Their second function, according to a law which North Carolina remained one of the few states within the Union still to observe, was to decide the financial culpability of the two co-respondents, separately cited by each of the petitioning parties. Here again, insisted Pullinger, the jury was to be guided by his very specific concluding guidance, before retiring to reach their verdicts. If there was anything whatsoever that they did not understand, or by which they were confused, they were immediately to contact a court official, for those doubts and uncertainties to be resolved.

Turning to Appleton’s attorney, the judge said, ‘At last, Mr Bartle!’

Jordan was reminded, within minutes of Bartle opening, of his own lawyer’s remark that Bartle had a lot of court ground to recover. Jordan’s biggest surprise was that there was no attempt to apportion or admit blame to either Alyce or Appleton. Marriage was a solemn but often difficult undertaking, intoned Bartle, its failure always regrettable and too often acrimonious. They would hear of such acrimony. They would hear of adultery, to which the judge had already referred. From the care of its selection, Bartle acknowledged each member of the jury to be men or women of the world and as such, on behalf of his client, he accepted that theirs, after his honour’s guidance, would be a properly considered and well founded verdict.

‘Clever opening,’ insisted Beckwith, unasked, bending sideways to Jordan. ‘Not talking down to them but to them, as equals not to be frightened of a court or what they’ve got to do in it.’

Coming sideways to meet the lawyer, Jordan was briefly aware of Walter Harding resuming his seat just behind the separating rail and of Alyce’s brief, snatched look of relief.

Returning to what was happening in front of him, Jordon decided Alfred Appleton appeared even more overpoweringly large when he took the stand, trying – but failing – to refuse his earlier thought of the incongruity of such a gross man being in bed, making love, to someone as fragile as Alyce. There was a studied politeness, though, in the way Appleton responded, even voiced, to his attorney’s lead, talking not to Bartle but always between the jury and the judge. He was proud, declared Appleton, to be a descendent of one of America’s oldest and most respected families. And had been even prouder when, by his marriage to Alyce, there had been created the link to another similarly respected, country-founding family. He had never – nor ever would – take lightly the privileges and responsibilities of his birth. He worked – worked hard – for his living, hoping in a small way to give back something of the benefits that he’d inherited from his forefathers’ building and development of the great country that was the United States of America. He’d hoped his marriage to Alyce Bellamy would be a contribution towards that ambition. So hard had he followed the American ethos of working to build up his Wall Street practise that, stupidly and now regretfully, he’d neglected Alyce in the early years of their marriage. But he’d hoped to have realized that neglect in time, trying to balance the demands of business with the responsibilities of his marriage.

His fervent hope had been that they could start a family, to seal the joining together of their dynasties with children. But they did not materialize. Knowing that his wife preferred a country to a city life he’d suggested she live in a family house on Long Island, from which he’d commuted every day of the week to Manhattan. Commodity dealers worked to a twenty-four-hour clock, meaning that he needed to be in the city around six in the morning and felt rarely able to leave before seven at night and after a few months he was warned by his doctor that he was risking a nervous breakdown. He changed his routine, splitting his week evenly between their two homes. His wife became unresponsive to him and he, in turn, became convinced that she was having an affair. Stupidly, rejected by a wife he loved, lonely in Manhattan, he became involved in two quickly terminated affairs, one of which, to his great and abiding regret, had resulted in Leanne Jefferies appearing with him in court as a defendant in a damages claim brought against her by his wife.

He believed his conviction that his wife was having an affair was confirmed when he discovered he was suffering a venereal disease. Despite which, after treatment, he made a determined effort to save his marriage by attempting a reconciliation with his wife after she demanded a divorce. Shortly afterwards, his wife announced that she was suffering a venereal infection and blamed him for giving it to her, which he categorically denied then and still did now, believing it was she who had given it to him, for him, in turn, unwittingly, to give it to Leanne Jefferies.

Despite the difficulties they had experienced – the venereal infection being the greatest – he still loved his wife and was willing once more to try yet another reconciliation. He had made that clear to her but she had said she wanted to go away to France to consider it. But from France, where he later learned she had formed an association with an Englishman, Harvey Jordan, she had instructed her attorney to initiate the threatened divorce that had brought them to court that day.

Beckwith began scribbling a series of notes to Alyce’s attorney as Appleton’s evidence-in-chief drew to its close, with Reid hunched in what appeared to be virtually permanent conversation with a head-shaking, red-faced Alyce.

‘How would you describe your being here in court today, confronted with the end of a marriage in which you held so much hope and expectation?’ asked Bartle, finally.

‘A tragedy I shall regret for the rest of my life,’ replied Appleton.

Reid appeared in no hurry to get to his feet, to begin his cross-examination, and even when he stood he fumbled, without apparent success, through his disordered papers. And then he needed to use an asthma inhaler before he could speak. Finally he said, ‘I apologize, your honour. And to you, Mr Appleton.’

‘Do you need a short recess?’ asked the judge.

Jordan, concentrating upon Appleton, caught the briefest exchange of satisfied looks between the man and his lawyer.

‘No, your honour. But thank you for your consideration,’ said the attorney, no indication of difficulty in his voice. ‘But I would seek your understanding in an application, even before beginning my examination, to recall this witness at a future time.’

Jordan was aware of Appleton’s face tightening. Bartle’s, too.

‘Do you wish to approach the bench?’ invited Pullinger.

‘No, your honour. The jury has heard of the plaintiff’s admission of two adulterous relationships, but been introduced to only one, that with Ms Leanne Jefferies, a defendant in the secondary action of criminal conversation?’

‘Your honour!’ interrupted Bartle, coming to his feet. ‘Perhaps it was remiss of me not to have brought to the jury’s attention the death of the second woman to whom my colleague is referring. And if you find it to be so, I apologize. But -’ he turned, to include the jury – ‘the person concerned, Ms Sharon Borowski, was the victim of a fatal automobile accident. As such she cannot feature in any way in this hearing. This surprise intercession therefore has no purpose or part in these proceedings.’

Reid took his inhaler from his pocket, considered its use, but then replaced it. ‘Your honour, in the required exchange of material before the commencement of this case -’ he moved his hand through the papers on the table before him, coming up with a single sheet – ‘numbered thirty-five in your bundle, your honour, I advised the other side that I required the medical records of Ms Borowski?’

‘To which I replied that none were available, the unfortunate woman being dead,’ came in the opposing lawyer, again.

‘Indeed Mr Bartle did,’ agreed Reid. ‘It’s numbered thirty-six in your bundle, your honour. Two other people died, in the accident involving Ms Borowski, a mother and her son. The fatality is the subject of a civil action, against Ms Borowski’s estate by the husband of the other woman who died. From enquiries I have made, after Mr Bartle’s dismissal of my request, I believe there was a toxicology analysis carried out upon Ms Borowski. That would have included blood samples. I have applied to the coroner for a copy of that analysis, relevant as certain medical matters would appear to be in this case and to which the plaintiff, Mr Appleton, has already given some evidence…’ Turning very slightly towards the jury, Reid went on: ‘And I would stress some evidence, to the matter of transmitted infection. It is for that reason, in the hopeful expectation of a reply from the coroner during the course of this hearing, that I am making my recall application.’

‘I find no problem with this,’ said Pullinger. ‘Mr Bartle?’

‘I know of no precedent for such a course to be admissible,’ argued Bartle. ‘The dead cannot provide evidence from the grave.’

‘It would not be Ms Borowski providing evidence from the grave,’ disputed Pullinger. ‘It would be a coroner or medical examiner, both of whom could be called to give evidence before this court, on oath, of their findings…’ He paused. ‘A course, a provision of evidence, that Mr Reid opened to you by his original request.’

‘I am at your honour’s discretion and disposal,’ capitulated Bartle, with no alternative.

‘Which is that I shall allow Mr Reid’s application, as I now invite Mr Reid’s initial examination.’

Beside him Jordan saw that Beckwith had created a virtual army of exclamation marks upon his legal pad. Aware of Jordan’s attention, his lawyer scribbled, ‘Absolutely Brilliant!!!’ and immediately blacked out the words to make them unreadable. Jordan saw that Alyce was sitting with her head sunk so low upon her chest that she could have been asleep.

‘Mr Appleton,’ began Reid, still with no catch in his voice. ‘You are giving evidence to this court under oath?’

Appleton looked for guidance to his lawyer, who did not respond. The man said, ‘Yes.’

‘Which requires you to tell the truth?’

There was still no protest from Bartle. Appleton again said, ‘Yes.’

‘Do you intend telling the truth, Mr Appleton?’

Bartle at last rose in protest. ‘Your honour! Isn’t this risking your court being brought into disrepute?’

‘A question I am still considering from the hearing that preceded this one,’ replied Pullinger, at once. ‘I will allow it but would recommend restraint, Mr Reid.’

‘Are you telling the truth, Mr Appleton?’ repeated Reid.

‘Yes.’

‘You admit two affairs, one with Sharon Borowski, the other with the defendant, Leanne Jefferies?’ demanded Reid.

‘Yes.’

‘Which was the first, that involving Ms Borowski or Ms Jefferies?’

‘Ms Borowski,’ replied Appleton.

Appleton was trying to protect himself with clipped, one-word answers whenever possible, Jordan recognized.

‘When did the affair with Ms Borowski begin?’

‘I’m not sure of a precise date,’ said Appleton.

‘You can surely remember the month!’

‘I think it was March.’

‘March last year?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which part of March, the beginning or the end?’

‘I said I’m not sure. More towards the end than the beginning.’

Reid again made the pretence of consulting his disordered papers. ‘Ms Jefferies is a commodity trader, like yourself?’

Appleton was shifting uncomfortably on the stand, gripping and ungripping its bordering rail as if needing physical support. ‘Yes.’

‘What was Ms Borowski’s occupation?’

‘I don’t believe she had an occupation.’

‘You don’t believe she had an occupation? You had an affair with her! Surely you knew whether she had a job or not?’

‘It was a very brief affair.’

‘How brief?’

‘A matter of weeks.’

‘How many weeks?’

‘Four. Five.’

‘How did you meet?’

‘At a party, in Manhattan.’

‘I asked you how?’

‘Your honour!’ interjected Bartle, once more. ‘What possible relevance has this to do with the current case?’

‘Mr Reid?’ invited Pullinger.

‘If I am allowed to continue, with the expectation of receiving the toxicology and blood analysis findings upon the deceased Ms Borowski, I hope to show that it is of crucial importance to the outcome of this matter, particularly the transmission of disease,’ insisted Reid.

‘Then it will continue,’ decided Pullinger.

‘I asked you how you met Ms Borowski,’ repeated Reid.

‘I told you, at a party.’

‘That was where you met her. How?

‘I was introduced to her, by a mutual friend.’

‘Towards the end of March, last year?’

‘Yes,’ replied Appleton, too quickly.

‘Was that when your affair began, that night?’

Appleton re-gripped the edge of the witness stand. ‘It might have been.’

‘ Might have been! Was it or wasn’t it, Mr Appleton?’

‘I think it was.’

‘You think it was,’ echoed Reid. ‘You did know Ms Borowski before you were formally introduced to her at the end of March last year, didn’t you?’

‘I didn’t know her,’ insisted Appleton.

‘But you’d seen her before? Been to parties where she was?’

‘I may have done.’

‘May have done,’ echoed Reid again, going unerringly into his tumbled papers to bring out a neatly prepared, individually separated batch of papers, beckoning the usher to give him the majority to distribute, but personally delivering their packages to Beckwith, Bartle and Wolfson. ‘I would ask that these be placed before the jury and yourself, your honour.’

‘These are copies of newspaper cuttings!’ objected Bartle. ‘These can’t be admissible!’

‘What’s the purpose of this introduction, Mr Reid?’ demanded the judge, stopping the usher before he reached the jury box.

‘They feature photographs of Ms Borowski, in the diaries and social columns of certain New York newspapers, some with caption references to her which might give some indication of the occupation of which Mr Appleton appears unsure,’ said Reid.

‘I object to their introduction,’ insisted Bartle. ‘This court was given no indication or warning of their being presented.’

‘We’ve already touched upon your dismissal of Mr Reid’s enquiries concerning this lady,’ reminded Pullinger. ‘I will not recess the court but read them here at the bench. Attorneys will read them, too, but not yet the clients they represent or the jury.’

There were shuffles throughout the court, mostly from the jury. Alyce remained head bent. Behind her, Dr Harding was leaning solicitously forward.

The three lawyers were still reading when Pullinger finished. He said, ‘Mr Beckwith?’

‘I have no objection to their introduction,’ replied Jordan’s attorney.

‘Mr Wolfson?’

‘I have no objection,’ said the man.

‘I will allow them, Mr Bartle, but warn you, Mr Reid, to be extremely careful in whatever it is you have to say,’ ruled the judge. ‘The usher will deliver the copies to the jury and to the plantiff.’

‘From the photographs Ms Borowski was obviously an extremely attractive girl, Mr Appleton?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Appleton. The copies fluttered slightly from the tremor in the man’s hand.

‘In the copy number one, in the New York Daily News, Ms Borowski’s age is given as twenty-three. Was that how old she was?’

‘I did not know her age.’

‘Or her occupation,’ reminded Reid. ‘If she was twenty-three that would make her younger than you by almost twenty years?’

‘Your honour!’ protested Bartle.

‘Quite so,’ agreed the judge. ‘Careful, Mr Reid.’

‘My apologies, your honour,’ said Reid, with no obvious apology in his voice.

‘The Daily News suggests an occupation for Ms Borowski, does it not? On the marked line it describes her as “a party girl”, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘And there is something similar in the New York Observer, isn’t there? On the marked line of the cutting, numbered two, she is described as “a regular party person”, isn’t she?’

‘Yes.’

‘What do you take “party girl” and “regular party person” to mean, Mr Appleton?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think it means anything.’

‘That is you in the background of the cutting from the New York Observer, isn’t it, Mr Appleton?’

‘Yes.’

‘The date of that cutting is February eighth last year, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you were already aware of Ms Borowski before you formally met in March?’

‘Yes.’

‘And that affair with party girl Sharon Borowski began the first time you met her in late March, presumably at yet another party?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you agree with me that “an affair” is a consensual relationship – a sexual attraction – between two people?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘You suppose so,’ mocked Reid. ‘You had sex with Ms Borowski on the first night of your meeting, that’s right, isn’t it?’

‘I’ve already told you that I did,’ said Appleton, his temper flaring for the first time.

‘Did you envisage a long-term relationship?’

‘I do not intend letting this continue much longer, Mr Reid,’ warned the judge.

‘I…’ started Appleton, but stopped. Then he said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘But you do know – remember – that you continued to sleep with Ms Borowski – and have sex with her – over the course of four or five weeks?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you pay to sleep with Sharon Borowsk, the regular party girl?’

Bartle rose to protest yet again but before he could Appleton said, loudly, ‘No, I did not pay her! She was not a hooker!’

As Bartle sat, Pullinger said, ‘Have we laboured this point sufficiently, Mr Reid?’

‘I have just one further question on this particular matter, your honour. Tell the court, sworn under oath as you are to tell the truth, Mr Appleton, did you give Sharon Borowski any gifts? Jewellery, for instance? A bangle, perhaps?’

‘I think…’ stumbled Appleton. ‘I gave her a bracelet, that’s all.’

‘Let me move on to another part of your evidence-in-chief,’ said Reid. ‘You were working hard to establish your new business – despite apparently having time to party – your wife was living in the country, which she preferred but you were trying for a baby, were you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘But without success?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were you saddened, disappointed, that your wife did not conceive?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your wife suggested adoption, did she not?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you argued against that. Why?’

‘I wanted our child to be biologically ours. To carry the bloodline of our two families. It was important.’

‘Your wife also underwent medical examinations and tests to discover if there were some medical or physical reason why she was incapable of bearing children, did she not?’

Appleton had precariously lodged the newspaper cuttings on the corner of the witness stand and in reaching out yet again to grip its edge he knocked them off. Some fell inside, others outside, of the box. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, stooping to recover those inside as the usher collected those beyond. Having retrieved what he could Appleton stood uncertainly with them in his hand until the usher reached out to take them.

‘Mr Appleton?’ urged Reid.

‘Yes,’ agreed Appleton, rigidly maintaining his minimal script.

‘But you refused to undergo any medical examination, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ demanded Reid, matchingly short.

‘There is no biological or physical impediment in my becoming a father!’ insisted Appleton.

Reid strained the maximum silence from the remark before saying, ‘Without undergoing any medical examination you know there is no biological or physical impediment to you becoming a father?’

Bartle was sitting with his head bowed, although not as deeply as Alyce and Appleton stood flushed on the witness stand, washed away by a tide he couldn’t fight against. Eventually he said, ‘That is what I believe.’

‘Believe because of some internal conviction?’ pounced Reid. ‘Something of which this court is unaware? Or because you have already been the father of a child?’

‘Your honour!’ exploded Bartle, coming finally to his feet.

Before Pullinger could respond, Reid said, ‘I am finished for the moment, your honour.’

‘What in the name of fuck was that?’ demanded Jordan, as they settled in Reid’s office. There were glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels on the desk. Once more Alyce had insisted she couldn’t withstand a review.

‘I’ll tell you what that was,’ offered Beckwith. ‘You remember me telling you that courts were theatres, in which people performed? You’ve just witnessed a performance deserving more Oscars than there are Academy Award categories. You were brilliant, Bob. Absolutely fucking brilliant.’

And I never believed the man capable of opposing a speeding ticket, thought Jordan, still needing time to properly assimilate it all. ‘We never discussed any of this! I never knew you had so much to throw at him!’

‘I don’t remember our agreeing to talk about – to discuss – everything,’ said the resistant Reid, pointedly.

Looking between the two of them Beckwith sniggered and said, ‘You play a lot of poker, Harvey, as a professional gambler?’

‘Some,’ allowed Jordan, further confused.

‘Then you know about bluff.’

Jordan looked from one lawyer to the other. ‘Will someone – either of you – tell me what the hell you’re talking about?’

‘All Bob had were the newspaper cuttings,’ explained Beckwith. ‘We don’t expect there to be any surviving toxicology evidence from Sharon Borowski. Which was why Bob delayed until the last minute asking the coroner for it, because we didn’t want to be told there isn’t any. It gives Bob the chance to recall Appleton, with whatever might arise during the hearing. Appleton and Bartle will be shitting rocks that we know more – have something – which was what I meant by Bob’s Academy Award performance.’

‘What about Appleton already having fathered a child?’ persisted Jordan.

‘Who knows whether he has or he hasn’t,’ shrugged Reid. ‘He’s admitted to not undergoing a fertility test. What more did I need?’

‘But you knew about a bracelet?’ persisted Jordan.

‘No I didn’t,’ denied Reid. ‘I just tossed it into the pond to see if I could make ripples. And I did.’

‘You mean there wasn’t any evidence for any of the inferences and innuendoes you spread around in there today?’ demanded Jordan.

‘Every question was justified from the evidence available before the court,’ insisted Reid. ‘We can’t be caught out, like the other side was caught out with chlamydia. And the opposition don’t know where we’re coming from next.’

Jordan wasn’t sure where he was coming from next, either. He’d been too confident of being dismissed from the case and had even more grossly misconceived how fully he’d thought he was being included by the two lawyers. He wasn’t the driving force any longer, he accepted. And then he further accepted that perhaps he never had been.