by John Wilson
– And she no doubt told you that he died in an industrial accident in the early part of 1940?
– Indeed she did. However, when we asked her the nature of that industrial accident, when exactly it happened, what injuries he sustained, who his employer was and whether she had contemplated making a claim against that employer, whether there were any letters that had been written by her or by the employer and whether she could produce any of those letters, she was altogether vague. I am not saying, of course, that she was not a good and truthful witness. After all, it has been your consistent instruction to me that her account is an accurate one. But I took the view that the risks of her being befuddled by Tempest were too great. It would have been like putting a minnow in a pool with a shark.
Adam resisted the temptation to argue further.
– How did I do?
– It could have been worse. On the other hand, it could have been far better.
– Why?
Blytheway sighed and refilled his cup.
– More tea, while I’m holding the pot? Adam shook his head. Whilst, of course, I am not doubting your veracity, Tempest did illustrate the apparent absurdity of your defence.
– You don’t believe me, do you?
– And when he went on to lay down the possibility that you had concocted a story with Mrs Sharples and had paid her to say what she was about to tell the court, it seemed to me that the risk of her saying the wrong thing was too great. Are you sure you won’t have another cup?
With a sinking heart, Adam held up his cup and allowed Blytheway to fill it.
– So you think we’re sunk?
– I didn’t say that, sweetheart.
– I remember you saying that if I was holed below the waterline I would sink.
– I confess, I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. But we have one special card on our side.
– But we’ve closed our case! We can’t call any more evidence.
– I’m talking about the burden of proof, sweetheart. Tempest is as aware of that as I am – even if you have taken your eyes of the ball.
– How is that going to help?
– You don’t have to prove anything. Neither does Mrs Pemberton. Jeremy Pemberton KC has to prove his case. Of course, he can prove that you are – forgive me – rather disreputable. But he should not be allowed to use your bad character to bring down Mrs Pemberton. It does not assist him to show the world what an awful man you are. It doesn’t, I accept, do you many favours, particularly with your wife, but it should not be allowed to blacken Mrs Pemberton’s name on what on any view is a flimsy circumstantial case.
– Tomorrow’s going to be pretty bloody isn’t it?
– Yes.
And so it proved. If Adam’s spirits had been on a low ebb after his discussions with Roly they were not made any better by the press reports. “Barrister ‘consorted with a prostitute’”; “Barrister denies adultery with Head of Chambers’ wife – but admits to adultery with a prostitute”; “Barrister’s Defence to Adultery Petition ‘absolute nonsense’”; “Barrister’s wife walks out of court”. The articles were also supplemented by unflattering portraits of the sort of person Adam Falling was. Both his defence and the allegations against him had been placed in inverted commas. Catherine was absent from the public gallery when the court assembled for final speeches.
All of the closing addresses, even that from Roland Blytheway, concentrated on the vileness of Adam Falling. The emphasis differed, however. Alnwick was outright in his condemnation of the co-respondent; Tempest, who was of course asserting that the defence was merely a façade, concentrated on the moral degradation of a man who could stoop to the depths of inventing a liaison with a prostitute in most improbable circumstances as a way of hiding his affair with a respectable woman; and Roly took a more ambivalent stance: yes, this was something that was right for moral condemnation, but on the other hand it did little to prove that Mr Falling had an intimate relationship with Mrs Pemberton. Even taking Jeremy Pemberton’s case at its highest – that Mr Falling had been having an adulterous relationship with Mrs Pemberton and had interposed a prostitute as a way of deflecting attention from her – how could he satisfy the court, on the balance of probabilities, that the woman with whom he was unfaithful was Mrs Pemberton? Blytheway had ripped through the evidence for the Petitioner.
– The evidence that has been presented to the court does not paint my client in a good light. That is something that I must accept. He has condemned himself out of his own mouth and that shame is something that he will have to live with for the rest of his professional career … and beyond. But he is not before this court because he has consorted with a prostitute. He is here because it is alleged that he had a relationship with the wife of a much esteemed member of the Bar. The court may well conclude that my client has consorted with prostitutes and equally may take a very dim view of his conduct. But that is nothing to the point – nihil ad rem, as some lawyers continue to say to confuse their clients; and if that is all that the court can find it is not enough to condemn Mrs Pemberton. The court has heard from her and will have formed its own impression of her as a person and as a witness. She is a mother of three children and a wife to Mr Pemberton. She has professed her love for him repeatedly in her evidence. Whilst she could have retreated to the country with her children, whom she loves dearly (that last point does not appear to be in dispute) she has stayed by her husband’s side and, in addition, engaged in vital war work in London, putting her own life at risk in so doing. She is, these abhorrent allegations being put to one side, a respectable woman. And what is being asked of this court is that her respectability should be taken away from her solely on the basis of some books she chose to buy, her decision to have her clothing dry-cleaned – she says to please her husband – and the fact that she wrote a letter to Mr Falling which, in the light of what she now knows of him, she would not have written.
And then Blytheway turned again to the evidence and to the burden of proof. The evidence, darling, always start with the evidence. The burden of proof was always on Pemberton. If Mr Pemberton could not satisfy the court that there had in fact been an intimate relationship between Julia and Adam, then the petition must fail.
– And it goes further than that, my Lord. The more unlikely an allegation is, the more cogent should be the evidence should be to prove it. If, for example, it was known to all, including the court, that my client was a man convicted of grievous bodily harm, then it would not be such a jump to be persuaded that he had gone further and committed murder. If on the other hand my client was a clergyman who had espoused a credo of non-violence in his life, then concluding that the latter client was guilty of murder would be a far larger leap. The evidence would have to be far more cogent. Leaving my client and his self-evident faults to one side for a moment and looking at Mrs Pemberton, she is, I would ask you to accept, nearer to the clergyman than to the man convicted of GBH. And, therefore, the evidence needs to be the more cogent.
And then Blytheway sat down. The press was continuing to scribble when Alnwick stood up to address the court, but, as his turgid address continued, their pens and pencils were holstered. They were unsheathed again when Tempest stood to address them. Sir Patrick Tempest had made all his points eloquently and had enlarged on the points that had been made in his opening. However, unlike Blytheway, he had been interrupted by the judge frequently. It was clear that Mr Justice Wilkinson had been concerned about the burden of proof and about Mr Pemberton’s obligation to shift it onto his wife. It was equally apparent that this was causing him considerable concern. How could he condemn a woman and ruin her reputation on such flimsy evidence? Why should the fact that Mr Falling had been shown to be a person of the blackest character be allowed to tarnish the reputation of an otherwise blameless woman? Surely, he needed to have more evidence than he had been given to take a decision to grant her husband a divorce, with all the domestic and financial consequences that this would entail, on no more than her literary inter
ests, the fact that she had all her clothing dry-cleaned, and the fact that she had written an ill-judged letter to Mr Falling? Tempest tried gamely to deal with these points, but when eventually he sat down Adam sensed something approaching defeat in the way his body sank into his seat.
From where he was he was also able to observe, unnoticed, Jeremy Pemberton’s reaction to the speeches. From appearing mildly confident before they began, he had become increasingly agitated. He was writing a lot of notes and passing them back to Tempest. Every now and again he would turn to his silk and engage him in detailed conversation, looking from time to time over Tempest’s shoulder towards Adam. That look of pure hatred. As Blytheway’s address continued, Adam noticed that, increasingly, that hatred was tinged with worry.
****
Mr Justice Wilkinson picked up a sheaf of papers containing his handwritten notes.
– This is the judgment of the court.
He began. He then went through the allegations and the counter-allegations before getting onto the evidence. Adam could see Pemberton fidgeting. Julia stared at her feet. Why can’t they tell us what their conclusion is at the beginning rather than making us wait in suspense until the end? And then, as the clock reached three, Mr Justice Wilkinson reached the end.
– And, so, I have come to the conclusion, not without some doubts and some uncertainty as I considered the evidence and the submissions of counsel, that Mr Pemberton has failed to prove his case. Whilst in the course of my deliberations, as I have said, I had anxious doubts, I am now absolutely sure that there has been no adultery between Mr Falling and Mrs Pemberton. I accept the submissions of Mr Blytheway, who, as usual, in his characteristically frank way, has not tried to underplay the deplorable moral faults in his client, and yet, whatever those faults may be, it would be quite wrong of me, on the evidence I have heard, to taint the character of Mrs Pemberton. I therefore dismiss this petition.
Pemberton was on his feet. His face was red and his white hair was standing on end. His spectacles were less than straight. He looked dishevelled.
– No!!! This outrageous! This is not justice! I cannot accept this judgment!
– Sir Patrick, I must insist that you control your client. His behaviour in my court is completely unacceptable!
Tempest was out of his row and was doing his best to calm his client down and make him sit.
– I apologise, my Lord. As you can see, my client is distraught at the outcome.
– I’m afraid that is absolutely no excuse!
Tempest succeeded in wrestling his client back into his seat and then Alnwick stood up to ask that Mr Pemberton pay his wife’s costs. That application succeeded. Then Blytheway stood up to make the same request.
– I have granted Mr Alnwick’s application for costs but I am not convinced that Mr Falling, who comes out of this matter with no merit whatsoever, should receive his. Enlighten me.
– My Lord, my client has said all along that he had been seeing a prostitute. Equally, he had denied all along that he had been having a relationship with Mrs Pemberton. This court has now accepted his evidence on that latter point. That was the only point before the court. He has been vindicated. He must, therefore, be entitled to his costs. I should also say that, in view of Mr Falling’s straitened circumstances, I have been acting on a pro bono basis. All that a costs order will mean is that Mr Jones will be paid for his services. I myself will gain no benefit from it. So, a costs order in favour of Mr Falling will be a considerably smaller sum than that which Mr Pemberton will have to pay for the inestimable services of Mr Purefoy and Mr Alnwick.
There was some toing and froing but eventually Mr Wilkinson agreed that Jeremy Pemberton KC should pay Mr Jones’s costs. And then the court rose. The petition had failed. Adam’s ordeal was over.
Chapter One Hundred and Four
(Thursday 8th May 1941)
Pemberton was shouting and screaming as the court dispersed. He cursed Julia. He cursed Adam. But most of all he cursed Blytheway. Tempest tried in vain to calm him down but the task was beyond him. He was still yelling abuse in the corridor, surrounded by the lawyers for all three sides and by Julia and Adam. Blytheway said nothing and simply watched. Picking out Adam in the circle around him, Pemberton advanced on him. His limp was more pronounced, and, as he began bellowing in Adam’s face, Adam smelt the vestiges of whisky.
– This isn’t over, Falling. I’ll take it to the Court of Appeal! Your name will be dirt for ever more. Don’t you worry. I’ll …
Then Jeremy Pemberton KC staggered and, with a cry, holding his hand to his chest, he collapsed unconscious. Almost all the lawyers, Purefoy and Jones included, rushed over to assist him. Only Julia, Adam and Blytheway stood back. The journalists had their notepads open and continued to scribble.
– Time to make ourselves scarce, sweetheart.
The two men headed quickly down the stairs and started walking over the marble tiles to the exit onto the Strand. Behind him Adam heard the clattering of high heels.
– Adam! Adam!
He turned, and to his surprise he saw Julia running towards them. She ran into his arms and hugged him closely before kissing him on the lips. There were tears in her eyes.
– I’m so very, very sorry. I will explain everything. Seven o’clock on Saturday.
And then she ran back the way that she had come. With the drama that was unfolding upstairs, the whole thirty-second incident appeared to have been missed. Adam turned to Blytheway bemused.
– What was all that about?
– I’m sorry, Adam. I feel that I have completely let you down.
– What are you talking about?
– I also feel that I have done a disservice to Alnwick in what I have been saying to you about his abilities.
– He was hopeless.
– Then again, in my defence, I was acting for a member of the Bar and so I could have been forgiven for assuming that you would understand the implications of today’s verdict.
– Roly. I’m lost. What on earth are you talking about?
– Res judicata, sweetheart.
– Res judicata?
– It refers to a matter already judged. The case against you and Mrs Pemberton has now been judged upon and, subject to any appeal – and any appeal would be absolutely hopeless in the current circumstances – the matter, the allegations cannot be reopened. As far as the courts in this country are concerned, wherever the truth may lie, you have never had a relationship with Mrs Pemberton, you have never been intimate with her and any suggestion that you have can be met with the plea of res judicata. Of course this is academic because you have made it entirely clear to me, throughout your instructions, that you did not have a relationship with Mrs Pemberton; but in the hypothetical circumstance that you had, the verdict of the court is that as a matter of law you have never been close to Mrs Pemberton, you have never made love to her and you have certainly not committed adultery with her. You certainly never loved her. And she never loved you.
PART FOUR
Chapter One Hundred and Five
(Saturday 10th May 1941)
It was almost five in the evening when Adam rang the bell at Blytheway’s home in Bedford Square. He had gone to the first half of the cup final at Wembley with Jones, Bateman, Victoria McKechnie, and sixty thousand others, but had made it clear that he would have to leave at half time. Caldwell opened the door.
– Good afternoon, sir. How can I assist?
– Is Mr Blytheway in?
– I’m sorry sir, he and Mr Storman have gone to the Queen’s Hall to see the Elgar concert.
– Oh, I’d forgotten about that. Listen, would there be any problem if I took a bath here?
– Not at all, sir. Why don’t you come into the Salon and I’ll make you a pot of tea. Your bath should be ready within fifteen minutes.
Adam had finished his tea in the bath. Naturally he had supported Preston North End. The score had been one all when he made his apologies and left. Surro
unded by so many people and what with the dirt, sweat and excitement, he felt unclean afterwards. He needed a bath and a good suit. He was going to meet Julia on terms that might possibly be as they had been before everything went wrong. Jeremy had suffered a heart attack but was apparently recovering well at St Bart’s. Adam knew that he still loved Julia but, for his peace of mind if not for anything else, he needed her explanation of what had happened to them over the last six months. He climbed out of the bath and rubbed his newly washed hair with a rough towel before combing it down and brushing his teeth. It was quarter to six. This could be the most important moment of his life.
****
In Mecklenburg Square Julia climbed out of her bath, pulled on her towelling robe and dried herself. She had laid out the clothing she had chosen across her bed. Saturday was her night off from the Water Board so she didn’t need to be dowdy: a pervenche-blue frock pulled in at the waist to emphasise her figure, and silk brassiere, panties and stockings. The sun was streaming into the room and she opened the window to allow in a slight breeze. She dressed quickly and glanced at her watch. It was 6 p.m. Going over to her little dressing table, she sat down and opened a drawer. There was a limited choice and so she picked a pale blue eye shadow which would be set off by her dress, and applied it. Then her mascara, and finally some pale pink lipstick. There was an antique perfume atomiser on her table and she picked it up and directed a gentle spray onto her neck.
Turning around in her seat, she looked at the room and the limited collection of possessions she had been able to bring with her. It had always been a temporary home and now its time was almost done. Jeremy had no entitlement to keep her out of their home in Eaton Square and in a few days she would be back in her old environment. He could no longer threaten to interfere with her relationship with her children. After dashing down to speak with Adam she had returned immediately to his side and accompanied him to St Bartholomew’s. Bart’s was the nearest hospital and he had been placed on an open ward. All the way she told him how much she loved him and how sorry she was that they had gone through this awful ordeal. She could tell, just by looking into his vague and faded eyes, that he no longer knew what to believe. The fight had gone out of him. The doctors said that it was likely to be a long convalescence. She was able to arrange, for a little money, for him to have a private room. When she visited him on Friday and on Saturday morning he was asleep and she was advised not to wake him.