God, I think, looking at him. Will can be very persuasive when he wants to be. There’s a pin-drop silence around the table now as we all digest what he’s saying.
Then a discreet cough from Barney.
‘Right then, everyone,’ he says. ‘How about we take another vote?’
KATE
Tuesday, 11.20 a.m.
‘They’re coming back,’ whispered Hilda to Kate, where she sat bolt upright in court, tight with tension.
‘Already?’
‘Looks like it.’
‘So this is it, then.’
‘This is it.’
Kate reached out her thin, white hand and gripped Hilda warmly. She turned around to the public benches to see Mo waving brightly at her and giving her the ‘fingers crossed’ sign. Kate gave her a quick wink back and a tiny wave, then turned back to Hilda.
‘Whatever happens,’ she said to her, eyes sparkling with sincerity. ‘Whatever the outcome, I just want you to know how very grateful I am to you. You’ve been amazing in every way. And no one could possibly have done more.’
‘All in a day’s work,’ Hilda smiled.
Next thing, Kate’s eyes inadvertently wandered across the courtroom to where Damien had obviously just been given the same news as her. In total contrast to her, though, he sat back calmly and confidently, legs outstretched as Oliver Daniels whispered discreetly in his ear. For a split second their eyes met.
Good luck, she tried to telegraph. And may the best man win.
But he just pretended not to see her and looked away.
TESS
Tuesday, midday
Bloody hell. If I’d thought the atmosphere in court was tense before, that was absolutely nothing compared with how it is right now. We’re all guided into the jury box, like we’ve been a dozen times before, except this time it’s like we’re the sole focus of attention, as every eye in the packed room looks to us for any kind of clue. It almost feels like our body language is being studied, the way we’re moving, taking our seats, even the way we’re whispering among ourselves. Will is sitting just two down from me, and I’m wedged in between Barney and Minnie.
You OK? He leans forward to mouth silently at me and I give a curt nod back, keenly aware that everyone is looking our way.
Then there’s dead silence as Judge Simmonds swishes in and for the last time, takes her seat at the top of the courtroom.
‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,’ she says crisply and clearly. ‘In the case of King versus King, have you reached a unanimous verdict?’
‘We have, Your Honour,’ says Barney, standing up as jury foreman and looking delighted with his moment in the sun.
‘Will both the Plaintiff and Defendant please rise?’ says Judge Simmonds, as both Kate and Damien do as they’re told. Kate looking shaky and a bit weak, Damien almost seeming to radiate that cool self-assurance that’s been his hallmark throughout the whole court case.
More silence, and out of the corner of my eye I can see the press box with their iPads poised, ready to start reporting the result the second it’s announced.
‘And who do you find for?’ asks Judge Simmonds.
Barney gives a little cough, almost like he’s determined to savour every last second in the spotlight.
‘In the case of King versus King, Your Honour,’ he announces importantly, ‘we find for the Defendant, Mrs Katherine King.’
Instant cheers from around the room as I look across to Kate. She’s white-faced, genuinely shocked and looks as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. Next thing she’s surrounded by a cohort of barristers, all clamouring to shake her hand, but she almost seems to be looking through them, as if there’s one person in particular that she’s seeking out.
And then she finds her. Her friend Mo Kennedy steps down from the public gallery and not even caring that the whole court is watching, the two women hug warmly as Kate bursts into huge, relieved, gulpy sobs.
*
The minute the jury is discharged, we’re guided back through the jury room and on down the quiet, private staircase. Mona even astonishes us by thanking us all perfectly civilly for serving and wishing us a good day. I catch a raised eyebrow from Will at that and have to resist the urge to giggle.
As you can imagine, it’s only bloody mayhem on the steps of the courts outside. There’s press everywhere, all clustered around Damien King, who’s just made his grand exit through the main doors. They’ve swept down on him like vultures, just waiting to hear what kind of a spin he’s going to put on this and even from where I’m standing, over by the side entrance, I can hear the impromptu speech he makes, loud and clear.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he smiles confidently into the cameras. ‘Firstly thank you so much for your patience throughout what’s been an unnecessarily long hearing,’ he begins. ‘Naturally, my team and I are disappointed at today’s result, but some you win and some you lose. I didn’t get to where I am today without taking a few knocks and doubtless there are plenty more still to come. But for now, let me just thank you all for your time.’
Oliver Daniels whispers something discreetly to him and Damien nods along to whatever is being said.
‘We have no further comments at this time.’
‘But Mr King!’ goes up in a chorus from the press hacks gathered around him. ‘Just one more question, please!’
‘Mr King has already made his statement and I’m afraid that’s all you’ll be hearing from us today,’ says Oliver Daniels in that booming voice.
And just out of the corner of my eye, while all of this distraction was going on, I see Kate and Mo slip discreetly out another side exit and into a waiting Jeep with blacked-out windows. Two seconds later, they’ve gone, leaving Will and I along with the rest of the jurors at the top of the steps just staring after them.
‘God love poor Kate King,’ says Minnie. ‘I’d say she’s shattered after this whole case. No wonder she just wanted to make a quick getaway.’
‘Nice cup of tea and a chat with her pal will set her to rights,’ says Daphne kindly. But then Daphne, I’ve noticed, seems to think that there’s no problem at all in this world that can’t be fixed with a good heart-to-heart chat with your nearest and dearest over a pot of Lyons tea.
We’re all hugging and waving each other goodbye, swapping phone numbers and saying, ‘oh yes, we must definitely keep in touch!’
‘Good luck with the wedding, Tess,’ says Jess coming over to give me a hug. ‘Post loads of pictures on Facebook, so I can see you in your dress, won’t you?’
‘Oh yes! She’ll have to show us all the photos afterwards, won’t she, Edith?’ Ruth says.
I say nothing, just smile, give her a hug and silently thank God that Edith has kept her mouth shut too. At least, so far. Will is just behind me, but I can feel him tuning into all this, as ever, missing nothing.
And pretty soon, it’s just him and me alone as the others disperse and we stroll down the steps to go our separate ways.
‘So,’ he says.
‘So.’
‘You must be relieved, now it’s all over.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well now you can get back to all your wedding planning. You can get back to full-time bride-ing. If that’s even a verb.’
I say nothing.
‘Tess?’ he says, stopping and turning to me.
‘Yes?’
‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’ he says, that bit softer now.
I take a minute just to look around me. We’re halfway down the court steps by now and from here, I can see all the way across to the green treetops of the Phoenix Park. It’s peaceful and soothing, and just taking in a few deep gulps of fresh air is helping me think more clearly.
‘No,’ I eventually say. ‘No, I don’t think that there is. I mean, maybe sometime in the future, but just not now. If that’s OK.’
‘Sure,’ he says with just a flicker of something in his eyes. Disappointment? Hard to tell.
<
br /> We walk on a bit in silence and this time, I catch him frowning.
‘Will?’ I ask, stopping him. ‘Your turn now. Is there something on your mind? You seem preoccupied. Miles away.’
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.
‘It’s Kate King,’ he says.
‘But aren’t you pleased at the verdict?’
‘Course I am, but …’
‘But what?’
‘That late witness. Jasper Adams, the art historian. It’s still baffling me. I just can’t shake off the notion that the whole connection with Hugh Lane and the Lusitania was nothing more than a last resort tactic that the Defence used to swing things their way at the eleventh hour. It was driving me nuts all last night.’
We walk on in the vague direction of my bus stop and then from out of nowhere, something else strikes me.
‘Look, Will,’ I say. ‘I might not be able to answer any of your questions, but maybe there is something we can do.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Well you won’t believe this …’
‘Won’t believe what?’
‘And you’re not to ask any questions …’
‘Can’t guarantee that, I’m afraid …’
‘But it just so happens that I know exactly where Kate likes to go jogging first thing on a Sunday morning.’
The Chronicle
Tuesday 24th May, 5 p.m.
WE’RE FOR KATE!
Jubilation in court number seven earlier today as the jury found for Kate King, nee Lee, in the King criminal theft case. It’s reported that Kate became emotional in court as the verdict was read out and was seen hugging not only Hilda Cassidy, her Senior Counsel, but also her best friend Mrs Mo Kennedy. Throughout the court case, Mrs Kennedy was frequently to be seen in the public benches, lending loyal support to her friend.
The verdict is seen as a huge vindication for Kate and the judge even added as she dismissed the case that it was one ‘which should never really have come to court in the first place.’
This, however, leaves a lot of unanswered questions for the Plaintiff, Mr Damien King. Chief amongst them why he ever put Kate, from whom he’s legally separated, through such an ordeal in the first place. A further court hearing is due to take place in a month’s time, in which the issue of costs will be awarded. After today’s ruling though, it’s a virtual certainty that costs will be awarded against Damien King and could, as one highly placed source tells us, ‘run into seven figures’.
‘Well, it’s not like he can’t afford it,’ one observer on the public benches was heard to quip.
‘And it serves him right if you ask me,’ came her companion’s reply.
Here at The Chronicle, we find this a hard sentiment to disagree with.
TESS
Sunday, 6.45 a.m.
So it’s stupid o’clock on Sunday morning and I’m at home, lacing myself into my trainers and gearing up for an early-morning rendezvous with Will. Not that we’ve got the slightest guarantee that we’ll be successful or anything. After all, only once did I ever bump into Kate King having a Sunday morning dawn run on the pier, so like it or not, this really is in the lap of the gods.
And then with a groan, I realise something else. I loaned Gracie my car last night and she’s still not home. Which means I’ve no other way of getting to the pier in time, other than to run. No harm though, I think laterally, to arrive sweaty and stinking and without even a scrap of make-up on. Mainly because Will doesn’t know that the wedding is off. So for the sake of pride if nothing else, the last thing I’d ever want is for him to think I’m getting all dolled up to impress.
I check myself in the hall mirror before tiptoeing out of the house, so as not to wake the folks. Manky Lycra leggings? Check. Scraped back hair? Check. And will I be in a lather of sweat by the time I get there? Stupid question.
Nah. There’s no way in hell this girl looks like she’s out to impress anyone.
*
‘Well, good morning,’ says Will, when we do eventually find each other at the base of the pier, as pre-arranged since the other day.
‘You made it,’ I say, out of breath and panting.
‘So how did you find your first few days without having to turn up for jury service, then?’ He smiles at me with the dark eyes dancing. And he looks great in his workout gear too, I can’t help noticing, in between big gulps of the fresh sea air. Nice tight arse, muscly arms in black Lycra, the whole package.
‘Oh, you know, just back to business as usual for me really,’ I say, as soon as I get my breath back. ‘Work. Seeing family and friends. Catching up with everything I’ve been missing out on. How about you?’
‘Back to the coalface for me too, I’m afraid,’ he says, as we both fall into step and start walking down the pier. ‘I’m editing a new book right now, so it’s a case of no rest for the wicked, really.’
He doesn’t ask about the wedding, which is frankly a big relief. Saves me all the bother of having to come up with a good, stout lie. And seeing as how it’s peaceful here this morning, clear, bright and sunny, with not another sinner in sight, the two of us automatically start to jog at a nice gentle pace.
‘Bet if felt strange though,’ he says, as we head off.
‘What?’
‘Not listening to the Granny Brigade complaining about their IBS every day and how long the wait is to get knee replacements.’ He grins as we start to stride that little bit faster, him slightly ahead, me panting to keep up.
‘It’s the Ebola Arms I really miss,’ I say teasingly.
‘Ahh, did you have to? Just the thought of their cabbage soup with bits of congealed fat off a cow’s bum floating on top of it is enough to start my stomach rumbling. I’ll cry off this run in a minute and head straight back there. And it’ll all be your fault.’
I grin and we run on for a bit, but there’s absolutely no sign of her. Nothing. Not a soul about in fact, bar one early-morning dog walker who nodded briefly at us as he passed by, with a pooper scooper in one hand and a very scary-looking Alsatian in the other.
‘This could turn out to be a bit of a wild goose chase, you know,’ I say a bit worriedly through mouthfuls of air, as we eventually both slow down a bit.
‘Do you think?’
‘Well,’ I say doubtfully, ‘she did tell me she came here every Sunday at dawn, but you couldn’t rely on that. After all, how do we know that she hasn’t gone away since the court case?’
‘Tess Taylor,’ Will says, shaking his head in mock anger. ‘The things you’ll do to get me out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning.’
And that’s when we see her. It’s her, unmistakably. Coming towards us. Tall and lean, dressed in pale-blue workout gear, with a baseball cap pulled down low over her eyes and an iPod strapped to her arm. It’s definitely Kate King – sorry, Lee – obviously just finishing up her run and slowing down her pace as she strides towards us.
She looks miles away, utterly focused on her own thoughts and I hate interrupting her early-morning peace and quiet, but in the end I don’t have to. She spots us too and before we know it, has slowed down to a walking pace and is tentatively making her way over.
‘It’s you,’ she says to me. ‘Again.’
‘I’m so sorry if we startled you,’ I begin to say, but then she spots Will.
‘I recognise your face too,’ she says, as Will stretches out his arm to shake hands.
‘I’m Will Kearns,’ he says, ‘and I know that this must look unorthodox to say the least—’
‘Put it this way,’ says Kate wryly, ‘I can’t help feeling that your both being here, right now, at this very time, is hardly a coincidence.’
‘It’s not,’ I tell her as gently as I can, so as not to alarm the poor woman. ‘And we give you our word, no one will ever know about this. That’s a faithful promise.’
She looks at me and it’s unspoken between us, but the thought is there all the same. I kept it to myself last time I met he
r too. So maybe, just maybe, she’ll trust me one last time.
‘Besides, just think of it this way,’ I add. ‘If it were ever to come out that we’d come to speak to you after the case, we’d be in as much trouble as you. So you can trust us. Genuinely.’
She looks at me for a moment, thinks about it, then gives a tiny nod.
‘It’s just there were one or two loose ends that we’d love to ask you about, if possible,’ says Will. ‘Strictly off the record, of course. And as Tess says, it goes without saying that absolutely none of this will ever go any further. Just put it down to me being a nosy bastard and nothing more.’
Kate smiles a bit at that, then spots a low stone bench running alongside the pier and goes to sit down, with Will and I automatically following behind her.
‘Do you know, I think I knew,’ she says, taking a seat and looking thoughtfully out over the calm, blue sea. ‘I knew when the jury took so long to come to a verdict that you must have had some concerns. And frankly, I was stunned when you decided in my favour, I really was.’
‘I was voting for you all along,’ I say loyally, sitting down beside her.
‘Me and all,’ says Will, sitting on her other side. ‘But there’s just something that we’d love you to clear up for us. And of course, you’re under absolutely no obligation to answer.’
‘Go ahead,’ Kate says calmly, still looking out to sea.
‘That last-minute witness, Jasper Adams,’ says Will.
‘Yes, the art historian,’ says Kate. ‘The guy that you indirectly knew,’ she adds, turning to me as I nod. ‘Yes. I thought it might be something to do with him alright.’
‘It’s just that he introduced the whole notion of the painting having survived – and probably been looted from – the Lusitania.’
‘So he did,’ says Kate.
There’s a moment while Will and I both look at her beautiful sculpted profile, while she still gazes calmly out over the water’s edge.
‘And I’ll bet that now you’re both wondering why we even bothered introducing that information at all,’ she says.
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