At the Dark Hour

by John Wilson

– What was your reaction to receiving such a letter?

  – Obviously, I was surprised. And more than a little concerned at its contents.

  – Why were you concerned?

  – Well, there was no truth in what Mr Pemberton suspected but I was concerned about the implications for me in chambers. I was also worried, to be frank, that the facts and the nature of my relationship with Bet … with Mrs Sharples would come out.

  – Did you mention any of this to Mr Pemberton when you met him at that Christmas party?

  – No.

  – Why not?

  – I hoped that it was all no more than speculation. After all, I had not been having a relationship with Mrs Pemberton.

  – And I want to ask you clearly and so that there can be no doubt about the basis of your case. Have you ever been in any sort of intimate relationship with Mrs Pemberton?

  – No.

  – No further questions, my Lord.

  And to Adam’s surprise Blytheway abruptly sat down. He hadn’t asked any questions about the Middle Temple Ball in 1936, or the slow waltz or the dance card.

  Alnwick was the first to cross-examine and Adam relaxed into this. There was nothing to worry about. Alnwick was keen to deflect the fire from Julia. His questioning was predictable and pedestrian and lasted little more than forty-five minutes. By the time he had finished the fingers of the court clock were edging towards one. Mr Justice Wilkinson gave him the customary warning not to talk to anyone about his evidence and then the court rose. He watched from the witness box as the courtroom emptied. The judge had been polite but severe, but from almost everywhere else in the court he felt nothing but antipathy. Julia again avoided his glance. Catherine stared long into his eyes before turning abruptly and making her way out. Withering contempt. Jeremy Pemberton KC’s expression was one of pure hatred. He had lifted himself unsteadily from the table in front of Tempest and limped out of court. He looked ten years older than he was and his suit hung off him. Adam waited until the court was empty before descending. The area outside the court should be empty by now.

  But he was wrong. Blytheway and Jones were standing in front of Betty Sharples having an animated discussion with her. She was cowering. He walked towards them but Blytheway, seeing him approach, shooed him away. So he went down into the main hall and then left the building by the Carey Street exit at the rear. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone. He would instead walk around Lincoln’s Inn Fields in the early summer sunshine.

  ****

  Adam stood when the court was ordered to rise. When everyone else had resumed their seats Sir Patrick Tempest KC remained on his feet. There was an expectant silence. Keep it short and stick to what Betty and I have agreed, Adam thought to himself. Don’t vary off my script. His supreme test awaited him. This was what had been worrying him ever since he had learnt that Tempest was to lead for Mr Pemberton. Tempest, tall and slim, raised his silvery head and bowed gently to the court – May it please your Lordship – before turning to Adam and adjusting his spectacles. Behind him the journalists sat with pens and pencils poised, their eyes on Adam.

  – How old are you, Mr Falling?

  – Thirty-eight.

  – And how old is Mrs Pemberton?

  – Thirty-seven.

  Bugger!

  – How, pray, do you know Mrs Pemberton’s age?

  – Thirty-seven or thirty-eight, I’m not sure.

  – You were quite correct the first time. How is it that you know how old Mrs Pemberton is?

  – It was a guess.

  – A very good guess, Mr Falling. Do you know the day on which her birthday falls?

  – No.

  – I may come back to that. How old is Mr Jeremy Pemberton of Her Majesty’s Counsel?

  – I don’t know. Mid-fifties?

  – He is fifty-five, Mr Falling. So that there is an age difference of almost twenty years between him and his wife and a one year age difference between you and Mrs Pemberton. Would you accept that?

  – Well … yes. If the ages you gave to me are correct it is a matter of simple mathematics.

  – You are a married man?

  – Yes.

  – And your wife, Catherine, is in the public gallery?

  He glanced in that direction and saw Catherine attempting to shrink away from the attention.

  – Yes.

  – In what year did you marry?

  – 1924.

  – So you have been married for around sixteen years and you have one daughter, Deborah, who is now twelve years old rising thirteen?

  – Yes.

  – I believe that you and Catherine met at Cambridge, where she was also a student?

  – Yes.

  – So she is a very intelligent lady?

  – Yes.

  – A good mother?

  – Of course.

  – I’m sorry to have to ask you this but, if you were pushed to point to a deficiency in her character as a wife, what would it be?

  Adam had been dreading this question. He closed his eyes and rocked backwards in the witness box, and then took a deep breath.

  – I cannot point to any deficiencies in Catherine. She is a better, a more intelligent person than I am.

  – Again, I must apologise for my indelicacy, but were there any difficulties in your intimate relationship together?

  Adam reddened. He could not bear to look at Catherine.

  – Do I have to answer this question, my Lord?

  – Yes, Mr Falling.

  – There are … were … no difficulties in that part of our relationship.

  Tempest paused and shuffled through his papers. He looked in the direction of the press box.

  – As you are aware, Mr Falling, in 1939 the Government introduced National Registration Identity Cards. Everyone over sixteen must have one.

  – I accept that.

  – And you have one?

  – Of course.

  – And when Mr Churchill came to power in May of last year it became an obligatory requirement that anyone who checked into a hotel should produce his identity card.

  – Yes.

  – And it is your case, is it not, that you first met with Mrs Sharples just after the requirement to give proof of identity was introduced?

  – Yes.

  – So, by taking Mrs Sharples back to the Stafford you were, at the same time, producing verifiable evidence of an act of adultery? An act of infidelity to your wife?

  – Yes.

  There was a long pause. Tempest looked up at the judge, who returned his gaze.

  – So, to recap, you had been married for sixteen years to a good and intelligent woman with whom you are unable to find any fault. You have a daughter of twelve and there are no problems in your private life. Yes?

  – Yes.

  – And would I be right in saying that it is your case that prior to your … dalliance … with Mrs Sharples you had never been unfaithful to your wife?

  – No.

  – So, to continue my summary with that background in mind, you chose to take a prostitute to an expensive hotel immediately after it became compulsory to provide evidence of identity?

  – Yes.

  – When she had a perfectly respectable room to go back to?

  – Yes.

  Tempest’s tone turned suddenly from comparatively polite but sceptical enquiry to the fierceness Adam had heard so much about.

  – This is absolute nonsense is it not, Mr Falling?!

  – No.

  – Because, I put it to you, there is a far simpler explanation. You had been visiting the Stafford for many months, years perhaps, with Mrs Pemberton and you signed the register under a false name.

  – I hardly know Mrs Pemberton.

  – Is Mrs Sharples here?

  – Yes. She will support what I have said.

  – Is she the young lady who has been waiting outside court?

  – Yes.

  – Just so it is on the r
ecord, would it be fair to say that she is about five foot five and has blonde hair of a similar length to Mrs Pemberton’s?

  – She’s only twenty-three.

  – But everything else I have put to you is accurate?

  – Yes.

  – And you say that the reason for going to an expensive hotel in the first place was because you did not want to acknowledge what you were doing?

  – Yes.

  – And that after that it was to ensure she spent more time with you.

  – Yes.

  – But this is more nonsense, is it not? I apologise for being direct but prostitutes are, I understand, paid according to the time and, forgive my indelicacy, for the services provided. If you wanted to stay with her longer you simply had to pay her more. To pay her more would have cost less than the cost of a prestigious hotel?

  – Now that you put it that way, I suppose so. I hadn’t thought of it in that way.

  – You say that you thought you were beginning to fall in love with her?

  – Yes.

  – Did you think that she was reciprocating your feelings?

  – I believe so, yes.

  – And yet she continued to accept payment from you for … for her services?

  – Yes.

  – That doesn’t sound like a love match to me, Mr Falling. It sounds to me like something altogether more … more mercenary.

  – I don’t know what you are talking about.

  – Have you paid her to give evidence on your behalf?

  – Of course I haven’t! That’s ridiculous!

  – Did you ever do anything other than sleep with her?

  – We went out for meals once or twice to the Lyons Corner House in Coventry Street.

  – And who paid?

  – I did.

  – And anything else?

  – As I said to Mr Blytheway, I went back to her flat once or twice.

  – And where is that?

  – In Clarges Street.

  – And what did you talk about on these occasions?

  – The things that people who like one another talk about.

  – I would like it if you could tell us something about Mrs Sharples please, Mr Falling. We know that she is blonde and five foot five (as is Mrs Pemberton) and that she is twenty three years of age. What else can you tell us?

  – Well. That she used to be a seamstress and that she had been married. Her husband was unfortunately killed in an accident at work at the beginning of last year. He was uninsured. She had no money and so she felt she had no alternative to beginning work as a prostitute. She’s a very good person really.

  – The real reason you were meeting with her in places like the Lyons Corner House – if indeed you were – was so that you could get your stories straight. That’s right isn’t it?

  – Not at all.

  Adam looked at the court clock. It was almost quarter to four. The day’s ordeal would soon be over. He was still alive.

  – I want to ask you, Mr Falling, why you didn’t join up?

  – I tried to but I failed the medical.

  – And what was the reason for your failure?

  – I failed the medical. I have problems with my chest. I was told in January that it was probably tuberculosis.

  Tempest then turned to the similarity between Adam’s books and those on Julia’s shelves. Adam kept it simple. He had his literary tastes and he had no idea about Mrs Pemberton’s. He could not be held responsible for the preferences of others. Yes, it was a surprising coincidence now that he had been made aware of it; but it was nothing to do with him. He was not cross-examined about his smoking. Finally, he was asked about Julia’s letter.

  – Prior to the receipt of Mrs Pemberton’s letter, had Mr Pemberton done anything or said anything to suggest that he suspected you of having an affair with his wife?

  – No.

  – Did you not then think it extraordinary, if what you say is true, that Mrs Pemberton wrote to you at all?

  – I was bemused, I confess.

  – Here is the wife of your Head of Chambers writing to you, out of the blue, and apologising for the completely misguided allegation that you and she were having an affair when in the first place you were not, and secondly he had made no mention of such suspicions to you?

  – No.

  It was five past four. Betty would not have to give evidence until tomorrow.

  – You see. I must put to you, as I will put to the learned Judge at the conclusion of this hearing, that you have been telling a pack of lies.

  – I have not.

  – That for whatever reason, you are trying to protect Mrs Pemberton from the fact of your adultery with her.

  – No.

  – That you had been going with Mrs Pemberton to that hotel for months or years before it was necessary to provide proof of identity.

  – No.

  – That she and you continued to go there after Mr Churchill came to power but it was only at that time that you gave the hotel your true identity.

  – No.

  – And that in order to protect Mrs Pemberton, when it became apparent that Mr Pemberton had worked out what was going on, you took Mrs Sharples there as a subterfuge to try and put Mr Pemberton off the scent.

  – No.

  – And you say Mrs Sharples will support your version of events?

  – Yes.

  – I will look forward to asking her some questions. One final question. The last time you went to the Stafford was on Monday 23rd December 1940, is that right?

  – Yes.

  – And the penultimate time you visited was on the 21st October 1940?

  – Yes.

  – So there was a gap of over two months when prior to that you had been going there once or twice a week.

  – If you say so.

  – And we know that, by Friday 13th December 1940, you were aware of Mr Pemberton’s suspicions?

  – I was.

  – And you knew, did you not, that Mr Pemberton tended to employ a private detective, Mr Jackson, a man with whom you are familiar?

  – I suppose so.

  – You knew that there was a likelihood that Mr Jackson would be following you that day?

  – I really didn’t think my Head of Chambers would do such a thing.

  – You said in answer to Mr Blytheway that one of your concerns was that Mr Pemberton’s suspicions might bring into the open the fact that you were consorting with a prostitute?

  – I was obviously worried about my reputation.

  – And yet, in the full knowledge that you may well have been followed, you went to the Stafford Hotel with Miss Sharples on the evening of 23rd December 1940?

  – I wasn’t thinking straight.

  Tempest turned towards the judge and then across at the press box.

  – I must put it to you, Mr Falling, that you were in a long-standing and intimate relationship with Mrs Pemberton.

  Adam looked in Julia’s direction. She had been watching him anxiously but immediately looked away.

  – I had a dream about you last night, Adam.

  – What did you dream?

  – I dreamt I was lying naked on your bed and you began kissing my neck, and then my breasts, and then my tummy.

  – And how did the dream end?

  – With you fucking me senseless.

  He turned to face the judge.

  – It is not true, my Lord.

  – No further questions, my Lord.

  Blytheway rose to re-examine.

  – You say you were diagnosed with tuberculosis in January of this year?

  – Yes.

  – Have you told your wife?

  – No.

  – Why not?

  – My behaviour towards her has been dreadful. I cannot say how deeply sorry I am about what I have done. I want her to know how much remorse I feel for this terrible series of events. She certainly did not deserve it. I am so sorry.

  He looked up into the p
ublic gallery but Catherine had gone. Blytheway turned to the judge.

  – That is Mr Falling’s case.

  And then he sat down. The judge leaned towards him.

  – Mr Blytheway, I understood from your client’s evidence that Mrs Betty Sharples was waiting outside and was to be called as a witness on his behalf.

  Blytheway uncoiled.

  – She is, my Lord, but that won’t be necessary. I think Mr Falling’s case, albeit that it does him little credit, is sufficiently clear without any further evidence.

  – Very well. It is twenty past four now and I will rise. Speeches tomorrow.

  Chapter One Hundred and Three

  (Thursday 8th May 1941)

  – Court rise!

  It was five past two. Mr Justice Wilkinson strode into court and sat down to give his judgment. Twenty-four hours ago Sir Patrick Tempest had been about to begin his cross-examination. It had not exactly been the most pleasant day of Adam’s life. When he and Blytheway got back to Lamb Building and took their leave of Mr Jones he could hardly contain his anger.

  – You didn’t call Betty!

  – I took an executive decision, sweetheart.

  – But you didn’t ask me before you did it!

  – How could I? You were on oath.

  – She was ready and willing to give her evidence to the court! We would have been home and dry if you had done.

  – I think we should go upstairs for a cup of tea.

  The tea had been poured and they were sitting on either side of Roly’s desk. The peacock feathers still stood in their vases and one of the Tiffany lamps was alight. It was too early for the blackout. Blytheway raised his cup to his lips and took a sip.

  – You will recall that during the short adjournment today Jones and I were speaking with Miss Sharples? Actually, that is not quite accurate. Apart from a few pleasantries on my part all the important questions were asked by Mr Jones, although, I confess, I did tell him what questions I wanted asking.

  – And what was the nature of those questions?

  – I wanted to find out more about her poor husband.