by L.H. Cosway
Dad organises for a temp to fill in for me, because obviously I’m not going to be of any help in court in my current state. I don’t mind too much, though. Court is usually hours of tedium followed by a few minutes of something interesting. Jay doesn’t hear about my illness until the morning of the trial. I’m lying in bed, wrapped up in blankets and wearing my cosiest pyjamas, when the front door opens and shuts.
Dad left the house about an hour ago, so there’s only one person it could be. Jay’s footsteps sound on the staircase as he makes his way to my room. He knocks on the door first.
“Don’t come in,” I call weakly. “I’m contagious, and you can’t afford to be sick this week.”
“Fuck that, darlin’,” Jay replies, stepping right inside and coming to sit on the edge of my bed. He puts his hand to my forehead to feel my temperature, his face a picture of concern. “Shit, you’re burning up.”
“I know,” I sniffle. “You need to go. Seriously. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you caught this.”
He frowns and takes my clammy hand in his. “I really wanted you to be there today. I feel braver when you’re with me.”
“You’re the bravest person I know, Jay. You’ll do fine. Hopefully I’ll be better in a few days. That way I’ll be there for the verdict.”
Jay ploughs a hand through his hair, and I look him over. He’s wearing a fancy light grey suit, a blue tie, and a white shirt. He looks drop-dead gorgeous.
“You look amazing,” I manage, and his eyes grow warm.
“Thanks, so do you.” He leans in and places a soft kiss to my forehead.
I choke out a weak laugh. “I’ve never looked more amazing, I’m sure.”
“You always look amazing, Matilda,” he says, and then takes his leave.
I don’t have a television in my bedroom, and after spending two hours reading, I become restless. I want to know what’s happening in court. I know the news channels will be covering it, so with great effort I manage to relocate downstairs to the living room. I make a bed out of the couch and lie down. After that ordeal, it takes me another twenty minutes just lying there before I have the energy to find the remote and turn on the TV.
I flick to the main twenty-four-hour news channel and wait for the trial to come up. When it does, the reporter gives a quick rundown of the case, with some footage of Jay arriving at the High Court with Dad. Unlike most people arriving at court who try to avoid the press, Jay flashes a dazzling smile at one of the cameras.
Even his TV smiles make my heart go gaga. My anticipation builds, because after all this time, once this case is over, there’s a chance that Jay and I can finally be together.
Then there’s a clip of Una and Brian arriving, and my anger rises to the surface. If that bitch thinks she can scare me, she’s got another thing coming. I would have loved to see her face when she realised Jay had shown up, that her threatening me didn’t work.
I watch every second of the news channel that day while Michelle pops over at lunch to feed me soup. Later that evening, I go back to bed and conk out, sleeping straight through until the next morning. When I wake up, I feel more refreshed. I stretch out my limbs and glance to the side, startled to see Jay sitting there, his chin resting on his hand.
“Hey,” I whisper. “What time is it?”
“Half-past seven,” he answers. He’s wearing a different suit from yesterday, this one navy, and he looks freshly showered. The scent of his cologne hits me, and I breathe it in deep.
“How did court go yesterday?”
“Uneventful. Today will be more exciting, though.”
“Oh, yeah, why’s that?”
“Watch the news. You’ll see,” he answers mysteriously.
He doesn’t elaborate further. Instead, he helps me downstairs and makes me breakfast, though all I can manage to get down is some dry toast and a cup of sugary tea. He and Dad leave together, and I’m faced with another day on the couch, mindlessly staring at the television. Despite Jay’s instructions for me to watch the news, I don’t think I can manage more hours of repeated headlines, so I decide to pop on a box set instead.
After a couple of episodes, I check in with the news, and I only have to wait a few minutes for the case to come up. The prim blonde newsreader sits at her desk and reads out her spiel.
There has been a shocking discovery in the court case of Jay Fields and The Daily Post. Today the jury heard how journalist Una Harris used illegal research methods for her articles about the American illusionist. There was no evidence found to back up many of her claims about his background, but, most pertinently, it came to light that Miss Harris hacked into Mr Fields’ phone and email accounts in order to glean information about his private life.
Representation for Mr Fields showed evidence of Miss Harris’ activity and even provided proof that she had been trying to bug the apartment that he had been living in with his friend, a Miss Jessica Hanlan, at the time.
Jessica Hanlan was called forward as a witness to explain how she discovered the bug while cleaning her home. She stated she didn’t know what it was, but later sought out a professional to identify the object. Many are now posing questions as to the integrity of The Daily Post and whether this kind of practice is common among its employees.
A jury of six men and six women has been selected to determine a verdict, and it is predicted that the trial will end sometime next week.
Wow. I’ve only been working on Will’s caseload these past few months, since Dad’s been spending all his time preparing for the defamation trial, so a lot of this is new to me. This kind of scandal could absolutely kill the newspaper, not to mention lead to other cases being brought against them in the future.
I slump back on the couch. I wish I was there today. I can just imagine Jessie being called up to the witness stand. She was probably delighted to be the centre of attention.
That evening, Dad and Jay arrive back at the house with Chinese takeaway. I sit at the table and slurp on my chicken noodle soup while they discuss the day’s events. Judging from Dad’s constant smile, I’m gathering that things are going well so far. After I’m finished eating, Jay helps me up to my room so I can take a nap. He kisses my forehead and tells me to rest up. Then he and Dad shut themselves away in Dad’s office so they can prepare for tomorrow.
I doze for a while and then wake up, desperately needing to go pee. I hurry to the bathroom and do my business. When I’m leaving, I notice that the light in Dad’s office is on, and both he and Jay are still in there. In fact, it sounds like they’re having an argument. What the hell?
I shuffle to the door and listen.
“This is unacceptable, Jason. How could you keep something like this from me? We’re two days into the trial. Two days! You should have talked to me about this months ago,” says Dad, sounding distraught. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him address Jay by his full name before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so angry before, either.
“I couldn’t tell you. You know I couldn’t,” says Jay. He sounds a little calmer than Dad, but only just.
“Of course you could. You’re my client, and we’re bloody well suing a national newspaper. You were supposed to tell me everything!”
“Okay, okay, think about it this way. If I had told you everything from the very beginning, would you have agreed to take my case?”
“Of course not! For Christ’s sake, half the things you’ve just explained to me aren’t even legal. I don’t care what happened in the past. This…this is…I don’t do things like this. This is not the kind of man that I am.”
“I know that,” says Jay. “You’re not wired like me. You’re a good guy. You can let things go. I can’t.” He pauses, and there’s such emotion in his voice that I can hardly bear to listen. “I need this, Hugh. And despite what you might think, you need this, too. You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve this victory.”
What on earth are they talking about?
The
re’s a long stretch of silence, and I think I can hear Dad quietly weeping. Jesus. I’m just about to go in there and break things up when I hear him speak.
“Come here, son,” says Dad shakily.
Another silence, and then Jay speaks, his voice heavy with emotion, “I’m not just doing this for me. I’m doing this for you and your daughter, too.”
“Okay,” says Dad, still shaky, before letting out a long sigh. “I understand. I do. And I’m in too deep now to back out. We started this together, so we’ll finish it together. I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through, son. We’ll take these…these awful, awful people down, I promise.”
Um, what? I nudge the door open the tiniest bit, quietly so they don’t hear, and peek in. What I see surprises the hell out of me. Dad and Jay are embracing.
They pull apart, and my heart thuds. I scurry back to my room as quietly as I can manage and get back into bed. A few minutes later, I hear Jay leave Dad’s office. My bedroom door opens and I hold my breath, keeping my eyes shut and feigning slumber. I can practically feel him standing there, just watching me. Then I hear him let out a long, harsh breath before closing my door again and leaving the house.
I lie there for a long time, running their conversation through my head again and again.
I sleep the rest of the night through and wake up early feeling much better. My throat is clear, and my muscles are no longer sore. My head isn’t dizzy anymore, either. Today, I’m determined to go to the trial. I shower and dress in a short-sleeved cream blouse and a navy pencil skirt, blow drying my hair straight. I put on a little more makeup than normal, my natural complexion looking a bit washed out after my bout of illness.
When I go downstairs, I find Dad sitting in his usual chair, reading the paper and drinking coffee. There are bags under his eyes, and it looks like he didn’t get a wink of sleep. His conversation with Jay comes back to me. Whatever it was about, it obviously kept him up all night.
I’ve had my suspicions for a while that Jay’s been doing some things that aren’t entirely legal. I’m not sure why, but I trusted him with it. Making myself believe that he knew what he was doing. He must have confessed to Dad, confessed everything, all of the things he refuses to tell me until some unknown date in the future.
But I promised him I wouldn’t ask questions, and I like to think I stick by my promises.
“Morning,” I say, stepping into the room and popping some bread in the toaster.
“Matilda,” Dad replies, mustering up a smile. “You look great. How are you feeling?”
“Much better. I already called the temp and told her we wouldn’t be needing her anymore. I’m raring to go.”
Dad frowns. “Are you sure? This case has become very…complicated. I wouldn’t mind at all if you wanted to sit it out. A lot of unseemly things have come to light.”
“You mean about Una Harris and hacking into Jay’s phone? I heard it on the news.”
Dad’s lips draw into a thin line and his expression turns frosty, though it isn’t directed at me. “That is not all that woman has done, honey. It seems she has been relentless in her ambition over the years, and Jay has proof of all of it.”
I stare at him. “How?”
“He’s been a very busy man, did his homework,” is Dad’s only answer. There’s something sad in his tone, something sad and…affectionate. Like he feels for Jay for some reason.
My bread pops up out of the toaster, startling me. I turn away from Dad and go to find the butter. After breakfast, Will shows up and drives us all to the courthouse, parking along the quays when we get there. The press is everywhere, like ants over a lump of sugar. Jay is waiting for us just inside, alone. His eyes light up with happiness and relief when he sees me. Unfortunately, after eavesdropping on him and Dad last night, I can’t say I feel the same way.
I need to know the truth. And right now I might as well be wearing a blindfold. I just hope that when it comes off, I can accept whatever is revealed to me.
“Watson! You’re better,” he says, gathering me into his arms and giving me a warm, thankfully friendly hug, given Dad and Will’s presence. When we go inside the courtroom, I sort through the files for the day, muttering my annoyance at the crappy job the temp did. Nothing is where it’s supposed to be, and it’s going to take forever for me to fix her mistakes. We have to wait for the judge to arrive, which could take God knows how long.
My eyes wander to Brian and Una as they come in, flanked by their legal team. Unlike Jay, who specifically requested for Dad to represent him in court, Brian is using a barrister, a middle-aged guy I actually recognise. Thomas Jenkins. Most people in the law profession in this city know him because he’s one of the most talented men in the business.
I study Brian, my gaze narrowed. There must be something about him, something beneath the ordinary exterior that would cause Jay to hate him so much.
“You okay, darlin’?” Jay asks, breaking through my thoughts. He obviously saw me staring at Brian.
I glance at him and then down at the papers in front of me. “Yeah, it’s just — there’s something off about that guy, you know. I can’t figure it out because he just seems so normal.”
Jay strokes at his chin, a contemplative expression on his face. “Have you ever read any Hannah Arendt?” I must look lost, because he explains further. “She’s a political theorist.”
I shake my head at him. “No, I never went to college, Jay. People who haven’t been to college don’t generally read political theorists.”
I’m not sure why I snipe at him. It’s probably because I know that he knows exactly what it is that’s “off” about Brian, but he won’t tell me.
“Neither did I. But yeah, I get what you mean. Anyway, she wrote this book about the trial of a Nazi lieutenant named Adolf Eichmann in the 1960s. Arendt was a Jew who left Germany during Hitler’s reign, and during the trial this guy had to face up to all the atrocities he committed. Things only a monster could conceive of. However, he was examined by psychologists, and it was determined that he wasn’t a psychopath, that in fact he was entirely normal. This left Arendt to determine that perfectly ordinary, everyday people were capable of crimes normally associated with only the most depraved, wicked members of society. She called it the banality of evil. That’s what you see when you look at Brian Scott, Matilda. He is mundane, run of the mill, humdrum, looks like a carbon copy of every other professional man his age, and yet….”
He trails off and looks away. I feel like I’m holding my breath. “And yet what, Jay?” I ask eagerly.
“The judge is here,” he says, turning back and rubbing his hands together. “Looks like this party is about to get started.”
Dad swoops in then, talking hurriedly to Jay, so I don’t get the chance to question him further. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Jessie sitting in the gallery, and she gives me a cheerful smile and a wave. I wave back and settle into my seat.
I’m not sure why, but I have a feeling this is going to be a long and interesting day.
Twenty-Seven
Dad’s going to call a witness to the stand, a woman named Emma Feelan who works as Una Harris’ P.A. I’m actually stunned that they convinced her to be a witness. And really, I’m not sure if Una was aware of this, because when Mrs Feelan is called forward, her mouth falls open in surprise
I watch her expression of shock turn to one of fury as she levels her catty green eyes on her employee. Or should I say, “former employee”? At least, I’m sure she will be before the day is out. I watch the woman as she takes the stand and the registrar has her swear the oath. It takes me a discombobulated minute to realise that I know this woman. It’s the cougar. The one Jay and I had to rescue Jessie from when she’d tried to get her to have a threesome that included her husband.
What. The. Eff. Is. Going. On?
Gone is the jewellery and semi-slutty outfit she’d been wearing the first time I saw her at the casino. Now her hair is slicked back into a neat bun,
and she’s wearing a very respectable pantsuit. Immediately, my head whips back to Jessie where she’s sitting in the gallery. She gives me a mischievous wink as I mouth, What the fuck?
Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, because seriously, I don’t believe for one second that this is a simple coincidence. I try to catch Jay’s attention, but he’s staring stoically forward.
Dad stands up for the examination in chief. He holds his head high, even though his limp is evident and his suit is worn and inexpensive. For a second, I forget about my suspicions. In this moment, I’m simply proud to see my dad, a man who’s been through so much and spent so long working crappy small-claims cases, step forward to represent the plaintiff in one of the most high-profile lawsuits this country has seen in years.
I’m so incredibly proud of him.
“Where do you work, Mrs Feelan?” asks Dad.
“I’ve been personal assistant to Una Harris for the past six years,” Emma replies, holding her hands firmly in her lap.
“Would you call yourself a content employee?”
She furrows her brow. “Excuse me?”
“Are you happy in your work?” Dad elaborates.
Emma glances at Una for the briefest of seconds. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.” When I look at Una, I see her mouth draw into a severely tight line. Someone is definitely not pleased.
“Are you unhappy in your work?”
“In a sense, yes.”
“Why are you unhappy?”
It takes a long time for Emma to answer. She leans forward into the mic, the word on the tip of her tongue before it finally comes out. “Because of how my boss treats me.”
There are murmurings among the jury, and then Dad goes on, “What kind of treatment are you referring to?”
“Well, she can be harsh at times. Sometimes she’s threatening and verbally abusive. She also makes me carry out tasks I’m uncomfortable with.”
“Can you explain what these tasks are and why they made you uncomfortable?”