And Is There Honey Still For Tea?

by Peter Murphy

  ‘I appreciate your mentioning it, Miles,’ he replied eventually. ‘As you say, that is all over with now. I have no reason to be prejudiced against Mr Smart. He was only representing his client, wasn’t he? Let’s see if we can put an end to this nonsense for Ben and Virginia.’

  30

  ‘I have had the opportunity to look at the evidence, Mr Wesley,’ Mr Justice Melrose said. ‘Not in the kind of detail I would have to if the case goes to trial, but just enough to understand the basic thrust of it. May I make it clear that, having done so, I have returned the evidence to the officer.’

  ‘I am obliged to your Lordship,’ Wesley replied. ‘But your Lordship has the advantage of me.’

  The judge nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘My impression, Mr Wesley, is that there is a great deal of force in Mr Roberts’s submissions. If I understand the evidence correctly, there are compelling reasons to do everything possible to ensure that the information contained in the documents does not become publicly known.’

  Wesley inclined his head.

  ‘I am not sure there is anything I can say about that, my Lord,’ Wesley replied. ‘Your Lordship has seen the evidence and I have not. In those circumstances, may I invite your Lordship to agree to hear me on another occasion, when I have had the opportunity to see the evidence, if I wish to re-open the matter?’

  ‘Certainly, Mr Wesley,’ the judge replied at once. ‘That would only be fair.’

  ‘I am much obliged. And perhaps I may be permitted a few moments now to outline the concerns I have?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Again, I am obliged. First, my Lord, I would be grateful if your Lordship would make it clear to the Home Secretary that, if he is going to intervene in the public interest, he has a duty to remain neutral between the parties.’

  Roberts was on his feet immediately.

  ‘I am not sure what that is supposed to mean,’ he said.

  ‘My learned friend knows exactly what that means,’ Wesley replied. ‘If he has evidence with which he is concerned, the proper course is to inform both parties at the same time, rather than take one side into his confidence but not the other, as happened here. It creates a suspicion about the Home Secretary’s impartiality.’

  ‘That is an outrageous suggestion,’ Roberts protested.

  ‘No, Mr Roberts,’ the judge replied evenly, ‘it is not. I will tell you candidly that in my view, the Home Secretary would be well advised to avoid the appearance of taking sides. I am sure that the Home Secretary is quite impartial with respect to this case. But he would be well advised to make that abundantly clear, and one way of doing that, if he decides to communicate with the parties, would be to communicate with both of them in the same manner.’

  ‘I will convey your Lordship’s advice to the Home Secretary,’ Roberts replied icily.

  ‘The second matter, my Lord, is this,’ Wesley continued. ‘If the Home Secretary has evidence relevant to the case, he has a duty to produce it to the parties. It is not for the Home Secretary to withhold evidence from the court, or to dictate to the court the terms on which he agrees to produce it.’

  Roberts leapt to his feet again.

  ‘That is quite wrong, my Lord,’ he insisted. His habitual air of calm seemed to be wearing rather thin. ‘My learned friend knows perfectly well that the minister has, not only a right, but a duty to protect evidence which might compromise national security. The House of Lords said so in so many words in Duncan v Cammell Laird.’

  ‘Duncan v Cammell Laird had to do with the plans for a submarine,’ Wesley replied immediately. ‘I have not seen the evidence, but I doubt it falls into that category.’

  ‘That’s not the point …’

  ‘And in any case,’ Wesley continued, ‘the proper procedure is for the minister to put the evidence before the court so that the court can decide whether it is protected by Crown Privilege, not simply to bargain with the parties about the terms on which it is to be disclosed.’

  For a moment Roberts seemed poised to come out for the next round. But then he suddenly resumed his seat. Ben Schroeder told Bernard Wesley later that he was sure he had seen Roberts exchange a look with Julia Cathermole.

  Wesley paused deliberately to allow calm to be restored.

  ‘My final point, my Lord,’ he said, ‘is that my learned friend Mr Overton’s application is overbroad. Perhaps there may be occasions during the trial when the court would need to sit in camera to discuss some of the evidence. But to say that the entire trial must be in camera, and that we can have no jury, is going too far.’

  The judge nodded.

  ‘I will keep all those points under review, Mr Wesley,’ the judge said. ‘I take it you have no objection to the Home Secretary intervening, as such.’

  ‘My Lord,’ Wesley replied, ‘if the Home Secretary chooses to afford himself the advantage of Mr Roberts’s presence each day, how could I possibly object?’

  Looking across to his right, Wesley saw Miles Overton hastily take the red and black spotted handkerchief he wore in the top pocket of his jacket and hold it to his mouth, turning his head away.

  The judge was also smiling. ‘Then I will grant the Home Secretary’s application to intervene, subject to the filing of a proper pleading within twenty-four hours. I will direct that any future proceedings be held in camera until further order.’

  ‘My Lord, as far as the question of the mode of trial is concerned,’ Wesley continued, ‘I will say no more for now except to remind your Lordship that the Plaintiff has a statutory right to trial by jury in a libel case, under section 6 of the Administration of Justice (Miscellaneous Provisions) Act 1933. The mode of trial in cases such as this is not a simple matter of practice. Your Lordship is bound by that provision, and is not entitled simply to ignore it, as my learned friends apparently suggest he may.’

  ‘There are exceptions to that rule,’ Roberts pointed out.

  ‘There are,’ Wesley replied, ‘but they do not apply to this case.’

  The judge interrupted.

  ‘I am not going to decide that point today,’ he said. ‘We have time before trial. I will decide rather nearer the time.’

  ‘As your Lordship pleases,’ Wesley replied. ‘May I ask, however, that your Lordship does not delay the decision for too long. We are provisionally set for trial in early October, when term will just have begun. I am sure your Lordship will understand that I intend no disrespect when I say that, if your Lordship were to be against me on this matter, I would wish time to take the matter further.’

  The judge nodded.

  ‘Duly noted, Mr Wesley. I think that is all for today.’

  * * *

  As the judge rose, Evan Roberts rushed out of court without a word, closely followed by the Home Secretary’s dark-suited representatives. Ben’s party followed them out at a more leisurely pace, by which time they were nowhere to be seen. Ben, Wesley, Harper, and Sir James Digby stood together in the corridor outside court. Miles Overton and his entourage had not yet emerged from the courtroom.

  ‘Well, that’s rather rude of Roberts, isn’t it,’ Wesley smiled, ‘to rush off like that without wishing us good morning?’

  ‘Treasury Counsel are not used to being spoken to like that, Bernard,’ Harper said. ‘I sense that you may have ruffled a few feathers.’

  ‘The judge ruffled a few for me,’ Wesley replied. ‘That’s probably what upset Roberts more than anything else. Now he has to tell the Home Secretary that he may have won his point for today, but he is going to have to behave himself in the future. There will have to be at least the appearance of neutrality.’

  ‘Yes,’ Harper agreed. ‘But that’s all it is – the appearance – isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s all it is,’ Wesley replied.

  He turned to face Digby, then shepherded the group away from the
court to the far wall of the corridor, where they huddled behind a gothic pillar.

  ‘James, I have some concerns,’ he said. ‘It’s all very well for us to get indignant at Evan Roberts, and the rather crass way the Home Secretary has handled the matter has bought us some limited sympathy from the judge. But that only goes so far. We have to face the fact that the Home Secretary has, or at least thinks he has, some evidence which hurts your case. Not only that, that evidence is significant enough to cause him to take sides against you. Now, I can deal with that in the courtroom, but that is not where the real battleground is. What are we dealing with? What evidence are we going to be confronted with in one or two days’ time?’

  Digby was silent for some time.

  ‘I can’t think what it could be,’ he said. ‘Whatever it is, it can’t implicate me directly, can it? If it did, I would have heard about it before now.’

  ‘That was the point Barratt made at our first conference,’ Ben reminded him. ‘But now we know that they are afraid of making the evidence public for reasons of national security. That could be the reason why you haven’t heard about it yet. Is there anything at all you can think of?’

  Digby shrugged in apparent frustration.

  ‘I don’t know. I worked with some pretty shady characters during the War,’ he said, ‘when I was working with the Security Services doing interrogations.’

  ‘What do you mean by “shady characters”?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Informants, people whose names came up during interrogations,’ Digby replied. ‘I must have met a few Soviet agents during that time. Towards the end of the War, there were lots of Russians in London, most of them doing their best not to be sent back to face whatever fate awaited them at home. They were trying to expose all kinds of people to us as German spies. They were peddling all kinds of information, which they hoped to exchange for the right to stay in this country. Rubbish, mostly, though once in a while we got something useful. We knew the Soviet Embassy was doing its best to infiltrate any groups it saw as a threat. Some of the people I dealt with must have been Soviet agents.’

  ‘I don’t see why that would turn the Home Secretary against you,’ Wesley said. ‘I am sure everyone knew what was going on then.’

  Digby looked down and took a deep breath.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I was occasionally asked to pass information to suspected agents.’

  Ben and Wesley exchanged looks. Digby noticed.

  ‘No, no, it’s not what you are thinking,’ he protested. ‘It was nothing of any real value – at least, that’s what I was told. It was either to make the agent think we were interested in him, or it was material MI6 wanted to find its way to Moscow. It was all so chaotic then – so many people running in different directions – and the right hand never knew what the left hand was doing. I doubt anyone kept records of it all. Perhaps they have some record of my passing information to those people, and they have put two and two together and made five.’

  Wesley removed his wig, and ran his hand through his hair several times before replacing it.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘but if it was information of no real value, why would they go to such lengths to keep it out of the public domain all these years later?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Digby replied.

  ‘Perhaps it is because you knew Burgess and Maclean, and Philby,’ Ben suggested. ‘It would hardly be surprising if they have been rummaging through the archives for anyone with a connection to those men since Philby disappeared.’

  ‘That would make sense,’ Digby agreed.

  Wesley nodded.

  ‘Well, there it is,’ he said. ‘We will know in a day or two. Herbert, I imagine Miles will contact me to make the necessary arrangements for the disclosure of the evidence. I will let you know as soon as that happens.’

  They all shook hands. Harper and Digby walked away. Ben and Wesley looked after them for some time.

  ‘Do you believe that?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Unfortunately, I’m not at all sure I do,’ Wesley replied. ‘Come on, let’s go back to chambers. There is another matter I want to talk to you about – the Middle Temple committee against touting, and its nefarious activities.’

  31

  Saturday, 8 May

  ‘Ben, that’s the door,’ Jess called from the kitchen.

  ‘I will get it,’ he replied.

  He had heard the knock. They had both been waiting for it anxiously. It was their first formal dinner for friends as a couple, and although it had been arranged in some haste, planning it had consumed a lot of time and energy. The cooking was Jess’s responsibility. She had spent a great deal of time poring over recipe books and conferring on the phone with her mother. Ben had been in charge of drinks and music. An array of pre- and post-dinner drinks stood on the sideboard and one bottle of red wine stood slightly apart, its cork removed, breathing. The voice of Ella Fitzgerald, smooth and assured, was wafting through the flat from the record-player, a soft, sad melody accompanied by haunting muted trumpets and an elegant walking bass line. His part was done. Now, he wanted to do what he could to help Jess with her last-minute preparations. But he found himself getting in her way more than helping and, with her encouragement, he re-assigned himself to finish the table setting.

  On hearing the knock, he had hastily arranged the last of the knives and forks he had just placed on the dining table and, on his way to the front door, took in hand the tea towel he had been carrying on his right shoulder in the hope of finding somewhere to discard it where it would not be noticed. There was no such place unless he diverted into the kitchen. No time. He bowed to the inevitable and resigned himself to greeting their guests with the tea towel in place. He swung it jauntily back over his shoulder and opened the front door.

  ‘Hello, Ben’, Ginny said. ‘This is Michael.’

  ‘A pleasure,’ Ben replied, taking Michael Smart’s hand. ‘Do come in. I hope you are not too out of breath. We are used to it, but it is a bit of a climb.’

  Jess appeared from the kitchen.

  ‘Jess, this is Ginny Castle, and this is Michael Smart,’ Ben said. ‘Ginny, Michael, this is Jess.’

  They shook hands. Ginny was holding a bouquet of mixed flowers, which she gave to Jess. Michael presented Ben with a bottle of red wine.

  ‘I hope this will come in useful,’ he said. ‘Best Parisian vin ordinaire acquired during our latest trip, fresh from the cellars of the nearest fine wine merchant to the Gare du Nord.’

  ‘Michael is one of the last of the big spenders,’ Ginny laughed.

  ‘He has excellent taste,’ Ben smiled. ‘The Gare du Nord is far superior to the Gare St Lazare region.’

  Jess laughed. ‘The flowers are beautiful too, Ginny. Thank you. Come on in, make yourselves at home.’

  ‘It’s really nice of you to invite us,’ Ginny said. ‘Until Miles told us, we didn’t know that anyone else was under threat from the committee.’

  ‘We had no idea either until Bernard told us,’ Ben said.

  They had walked the few steps along the short corridor between the front door and the large room which served as living and dining room combined. At the far end of the room, the dining table was elegantly set with a lace table cloth, and crystal wine glasses, donated by Ben’s mother when he had first set up home away from the East End, some three years before. Jess had contributed two pewter candle holders, surplus to requirements at the house of an aunt. The living room area, nearer to the front door, had two large, light brown, comfortable sofas, each covered by a beige throw.

  ‘Sit wherever you like,’ Ben said. ‘We are now in the East Wing, added by the Third Earl in 1772.’

  ‘In which many of the house’s most famous works of art are on display,’ Jess added, ‘though we regret that the fine 1964 West Ham Cup Final poster is currently on loan to the National Gallery.’

 
‘I would be happy to make a loan of an equally fine Manchester City poster,’ Michael grinned, ‘circa 1956.’

  ‘Sadly,’ Ben replied, ‘we have no room for other exhibits at present.’

  ‘Don’t let him get started on football,’ Ginny begged. ‘We won’t talk about anything else all night.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Jess agreed. ‘What can Ben get you to drink?’