by H S Chandler
‘It’s a shame, straight after your speech. I though you did brilliantly. The jury was really listening.’ Maria braved the bench and sat down, wrapping her arms around her waist and wishing she was alone. It was easier to be brave when you didn’t have someone looking at you with so much pity. ‘There was a conversation I told you I didn’t want to have before the trial. I think it’s time now. How long will I get if I’m convicted, now that the judge has heard all the evidence?’
‘You’re sure you want to do this now? You were adamant before that we should just focus on the verdict. Why the change of heart?’ Newell asked, taking off his wig and letting it flop in his lap.
‘Probably the act of being escorted down into the cells and sitting behind a locked metal door while I waited for you,’ Maria said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to go into meltdown, but I do think now might be the time to prepare myself for the worst.’
He nodded, rubbing his hands together as if he was cold. To be fair, the cells were the coolest place Maria had been since the heatwave had started. Somehow the relief from the burning temperature wasn’t as pleasant as it should have been.
‘It depends on the view the judge takes of your evidence. If she accepted that you’d been abused over a sustained period but that you still didn’t have sufficient reason for using such extreme violence, she might be inclined to give you a reduced sentence, say between five and ten years given that you have no previous convictions.’
‘And if Judge Downey thinks I’m a lying, cold-blooded would-be murderess who wanted her husband’s money?’ As Maria asked the question, the reality hit her hard. She was a liar, and those lies had been told stone cold sober to suit her purpose. She hadn’t hesitated once.
‘Given the severity of Dr Bloxham’s injuries, you’d be looking at a sentence in the region of twenty years,’ he said, looking her straight in the eyes as he delivered the news. Credit to him, Maria thought, he didn’t flinch, but then this was just part of his job. ‘You’d serve approximately two thirds of that.’
‘That’s what I was expecting,’ Maria replied. ‘I just needed to hear you say it. I’ll be fifty-four years old when they release me. That’s a tough age to be starting a new life. Listen, I could do with some time alone. Do you mind?’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘We’ll be going back into court in half an hour. The judge will sum the case up this afternoon. I’ll tell the guards to bring you some coffee, okay? You should at least try to drink something.’
She waited until he’d left to let out the sob that had been hovering in the back of her throat. Fourteen years in prison, staring at walls like these, praying for anything to alleviate the boredom. Fourteen years without a garden to tend.
If there was any justice in the world, Edward would be painfully aware that he was trapped inside his own prison cell, hearing life beyond his reaches that he could never rejoin.
‘No regrets,’ she said aloud. ‘I chose this.’ And if her future held prison, it would also hold another blade, bought or made. Either from the prison kitchens or the medical store, perhaps fashioned herself from a piece of plastic. Maria wasn’t afraid of pain. She’d made an art form of it. Watching the blood flow from her body was preferable to spending fourteen years in a cell. Of course, it had also been preferable to spending the next fourteen years with Edward, which was how she’d ended up here in the first place. The next time she cut herself she would have to be less afraid. Prison or freedom weren’t the only two options. Death was everybody’s inescapable future. It was up to her if she chose that path earlier than nature had planned. Edward disabled, and her bleeding to death anyway. There was a certain circularity to it. What went around came around, she thought.
27
The courtroom had returned to its usual atmosphere of calm by the time the jury retook their seats. Lottie had avoided Cameron over lunch, positioning herself at a table between Agnes and Jennifer. Jack and Cameron were laughing in a corner, and Lottie was relieved to be away from them. There had been a tangible tension amongst the twelve of them, knowing the moment for which they’d been gathered was imminent, and as a result all conversation relating to the trial had ceased. Even Tabitha had been reduced to small talk rather than bossiness.
Her Honour Judge Downey waited until they were all comfortable before starting to speak. She turned her body to address them directly, crinkling her eyes at the corners as if to set them at ease, keeping her voice level and low. ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, at this point it is my job to sum up the evidence you’ve heard, and to tell you about the law,’ she began. What followed was a detailed review of what each witness had said and of the exhibits they’d been shown, from the video of Dr Bloxham, to the medical and forensic evidence, and finishing with the defendant’s version of events. Lottie made the odd note, but she’d written most of it down as the trial had progressed. Instead she watched Maria Bloxham through the slightly misted glass at the back, wondering how she felt now. Lottie was no lawyer, but it was pretty obvious that a guilty verdict meant the defendant was going to prison and probably for a long time. She tried to imagine it. How often would you get visits? If she ended up in a cell, would Zain be allowed to bring Daniyal to see her? How many partners actually stood by their spouses during a prison sentence? Not that she could conceive of doing anything bad enough to justify getting locked up, but until a couple of weeks ago she’d thought she would never be capable of having an affair either. It was amazing how life took you by surprise.
The court door opened quietly, and three men entered. The judge paused, obviously wary after the protest before lunch, but the males simply sought seats in the public gallery and sat down, doing their best to look unobtrusive. That wasn’t easy given the size of them. All three were easily over six feet tall, and two of them had the sorts of physiques more commonly seen in wrestling arenas. Imogen Pascal and James Newell exchanged a querying look, shrugging at each other. Newell turned back towards the dock and caught Maria Bloxham’s eye, but she too shook her head blankly. Lottie glanced sideways at Cameron waiting for him to meet her eyes and make some sort of sarcastic comment, but his attention was fixed rigidly on the judge as if he hadn’t noticed the incomers at all.
‘That brings me to the law,’ the judge continued. ‘It is the prosecution’s task to make you sure beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant attempted to kill Dr Bloxham, and that the force she used was not used in reasonable self-defence. You should decide what her state of mind was when she dealt the blow. Did she honestly believe that her life was in danger? Do you believe she felt she had no alternative? Could Maria Bloxham have taken a less serious course of action? In considering that, we do not expect people who act in self-defence to carefully weigh the minutiae of the force they use, but the amount of force cannot be out of all proportion to the risk that they perceive. The defendant does not have to prove anything. If there is any doubt in your mind as to whether or not the defendant is guilty, that doubt must be exercised in Mrs Bloxham’s favour, and it will be your duty to find her not guilty. The prosecution must prove to you that the defendant did not act in self-defence. I would like you to reach a unanimous verdict, which means you should all agree. You may send notes with questions to me via the usher, or notify the usher when you have reached a verdict.’
Imogen Pascal stood up and slid quietly along the barristers’ bench to whisper in James Newell’s ear. He nodded quickly and turned round to whisper to the people seated behind him.
‘Your Honour, Mr Newell and I have agreed, in consultation with the police, that the jury ought to be sequestered in a hotel until a verdict is reached. Given the seriousness of the incident with the protestors in the courtroom today and the continuing public interest in this trial, it seems possible that there might be intimidation attempts or improper advances.’
The judge directed her attention back to the three larger-than-life men who were still watching the proceedings.
‘What does sequestered mean?’ Lottie l
eaned to her right and whispered to Jennifer, hand covering her mouth.
‘It means we all get locked up in a hotel together until this is over. No going home, no going out.’
‘Oh my God! Can they really do that to us? I mean, can’t we object?’
‘You can try,’ Jennifer replied. ‘I’m not sure I’d be brave enough.’
‘All right. Members of the jury. Given the high profile nature of this trial and the earlier protest, I am ordering you to be kept in a safe place that will not be publicly named. All arrangements will be made for you. Once you are told the name of the hotel, you may notify your partner or a friend who will be able to bring you an overnight bag. The remainder of this afternoon will be spent organising this so you should remain in the jury room until then. The usual rules apply however. You may only deliberate to reach a verdict when all twelve of you are together in the court building, and I should warn you that there are penalties for breaking these rules. Usher, you may take the jury back to their room.’
They stood up and began to move towards the door, the business of the court resuming before the door had even closed.
‘Miss Pascal,’ Lottie heard the judge say. ‘Given the nature of this case, can you confirm whether or not the prosecution will seek a second trial if a verdict cannot be reached?’
The door swung shut. They never stopped, Lottie realised. All the hours that she and the other jurors had spent tucked away in their room waiting, the barristers had been arguing points of law. It made you wonder just how much the jury hadn’t been told, and why information was kept from them.
‘So you’re going to get Zain to come to the hotel and bring you a toothbrush then?’ Cameron whispered in her ear. He’d waited for her in the corridor and walked behind her as they made their way back to the jury room.
‘I don’t have any choice, do I? What about you? Is there anyone who can bring you a bag?’
‘My neighbour has a key. I’m sure he’ll help. Seems like a good opportunity for us to really talk things through, don’t you think? I’m just hoping Tabitha and Gregory are on a different floor or I swear they’ll be holding a glass to the wall.’ He smiled, but it was half-hearted.
‘You’re not yourself,’ Lottie said.
‘You’re avoiding me,’ he whispered, putting a hand on her arm to stall her in the corridor before she could enter the jury room. ‘Tell me you feel the same way about me as I feel about you and I’ll be fine.’
‘This isn’t the time or place. We should get into the jury room with the others before they start gossiping.’
‘Promise we’ll find a way to be alone tonight,’ Cameron said. ‘We still need to talk.’
Lottie sighed. It wasn’t the way she’d wanted to do it, but if she had to put her foot down, at least there would be privacy. ‘I’ll text you my room number. Best leave it until midnight to make sure everyone else is asleep though.’
The court usher entered the jury room behind them, waiting until everyone was silent before announcing their next destination.
‘Rooms have been organised for you at the Marriott Royal Hotel. You may drive there if you have cars in the city already, alternatively taxis are waiting to transport you. Please use the next ten minutes to contact whoever needs to know where you’ll be staying.’
Lottie made the call to Zain she’d been dreading.
Hi,’ she said. ‘Tell me you’re nearly home.’
‘I am,’ he said. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘You could say that. The judge has decided the whole jury has to stay in a hotel until we’ve reached a verdict. I can’t come home so I need you to collect Daniyal from the childminder then pack a bag for me and bring it to the hotel. I’ll text you the details.’ He sighed. Lottie could imagine him in his car, some current affairs programme on the radio as he drove, tapping his fingers on the wheel in frustration as she broke the news. ‘Sorry,’ she added.
‘Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault. Daniyal will be upset you’re not going to say goodnight to him.’
‘I’ll phone him instead. They can’t stop us from talking to our children. I’m hoping this will all be over tomorrow. There’s plenty of food in the fridge.’
‘We’ll cope. It’s a shame though,’ he paused. ‘I’ll miss you.’
Lottie felt the lies she’d been telling rise in her throat, threatening to choke her. She couldn’t speak. Facing the wall, she dashed away tears, wondering how she could have risked so much for so little in return.
‘Anyway, do what you have to. I’ll sort everything else out.’
‘Zain,’ she blurted before he could hang up. ‘Me too. I know I’ve been a bit distracted with the trial. I’ll make it up to you when this is over.’
‘Just come home soon,’ he said. ‘That’ll be enough for me and Danny.’
Lottie rang off, her hands shaking. Her marriage could be saved if she didn’t mess up again. As long as Zain didn’t find out what had happened with Cameron and she got her priorities straight, her world didn’t have to collapse. Perhaps this was the wake-up call she’d needed to help her see how lucky she was. Not only that, but Daniyal had coped fine without her. Maybe she should look for a job, or even do a college course. It was time. There was no reason she couldn’t salvage something positive from the near wreckage she’d created.
The hotel, a grand old Victorian building near the Cathedral and a couple of minutes walk from Harbourside, provided a private room for the jurors to eat in away from other guests. Lottie’s bedroom was extremely comfortable, and the bathroom was the largest she’d ever seen. There were worse places to get stuck for the night, she thought, even if it didn’t exactly feel like a holiday with police officers stationed at various points around the place.
Pan was on his laptop throughout the meal, with Gregory making pointed comments about how rude it was to use technology whilst dining. Agnes spent an hour moaning about what everyone else considered excellent service and wonderful food. Lottie tried not to stare at her watch throughout, desperate to be able to retreat to her room and get away from the others. Garth Finuchin had decided to park himself next to her at the table, and had spent most of the time regaling her with tales of how Bristol used to be and how much he disliked it now.
‘Too many students,’ he said. ‘You can’t drive through the city on a Friday night without some drunk pillock falling onto the bonnet of your car.’
‘We have a similar problem in the countryside,’ dog-obsessed Samuel joined in. ‘Our local pub is on a regular cycling pub-crawl route. The number of people we’ve had throwing up cider onto our front garden. I’ve notified the police on several occasions.’
‘Could I just say something?’ Tabitha waited for quiet. ‘While we can’t discuss the evidence, I thought we should agree a timeline for tomorrow. My suggestion is that we compare notes on each witness, including the judge’s review of the evidence. After that, we can decide on the relevant issues. Also, there are some exhibits I’d like to see again, so we could send a list of those to the judge. We can probably get through all that by lunch time.’
‘This is getting ridiculous,’ Pan cut in. ‘We’ve heard the evidence multiple times and I don’t need reminding about any of it. I’m expected in Edinburgh the day after tomorrow, so as far as I’m concerned, we should take a vote on the verdict first thing tomorrow. Let’s see what the majority of the group thinks and then debate. If we’re sensible, we can be out of court for good by 1 p.m.’
‘I’m in no rush. It’s a nice hotel. We’ve been stuck in that court for ages. I say we review all the evidence. I want to make sure I get my decision right,’ Agnes said, tucking into a third helping of the dessert she’d recently complained about.
‘You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t feel the need to review the evidence simply to get an additional night in a hotel. Some of us have jobs to get back to,’ Pan snapped, finally closing his laptop and glaring at Agnes.
‘So you’re worth more than those of us wit
hout posh jobs, is that it?’ Garth asked.
Lottie dropped her head into her hands. ‘Let’s not have another row. What we’re doing here is too important for that. There’s a lot at stake. For what it’s worth, I think we can just review the evidence when aspects of it come up that we don’t all agree on.’ She looked at Cameron, waiting for him to let Tabitha have it, but he sat with his arm crossed and his mouth shut.
‘Surely we only need to focus on the prosecution’s case,’ Jack said. Everyone at the table turned to stare at him. He spoke so infrequently that Lottie suspected most of them had forgotten he was even there. ‘The judge said Maria Bloxham didn’t need to prove anything. The way I understood it, the prosecution has to prove its case, including the fact that it definitely wasn’t self-defence.’
‘Now hold on a moment. The judge didn’t use the word definitely. Beyond a reasonable doubt is not the same thing as being definite. One can apply common sense to fill in the gaps,’ Gregory said, raising his voice above the various mutterings.
‘We’re not supposed to be doing this now,’ Pan said, standing up. ‘I have more work to do, so we’ll start fresh in the morning.’
‘Shouldn’t we listen to Tabitha?’ Jennifer asked. ‘That’s why we elected her, right?’
‘I don’t have to listen to anyone at 9 p.m.,’ Pan said.
‘Neither do I,’ Jack grinned, getting to his feet and grabbing his jacket. ‘See you at breakfast.’
‘Hold on,’ Lottie said, raising a hand to keep everyone there a moment longer. She was sick of the backbiting. More than that, she wanted to get back to her family and ongoing chaos wasn’t going to help. ‘We’re deciding someone’s future, and it’s got to be done right. Even if Dr Bloxham won’t understand the outcome, he deserves a fair trial too. I’m as fed up with being at court as the rest of you, but Tabitha’s right that we need some sort of plan. It’ll save time tomorrow, Pan. This isn’t going to be a quick, easy decision. I haven’t even started to make my mind up about how I feel about the case. Every time one witness makes sense, the next one comes along and changes my mind. We’re need to be logical, avoid repetition, not be drawn into arguments, and I agree that I’d like to see the exhibits again.’ She glanced around at the faces. No one was arguing with her yet. She had no idea where the sudden decision to take control had come from, but it felt good.