by H S Chandler
‘That question to the psychiatrist,’ Lottie said. ‘You need to know about that, too.’
‘Ah, but you didn’t write that. I saw Mr Ellis pull it out of his pocket,’ Gregory huffed.
Lottie was ready for it. ‘You’re right. I was too embarrassed to hand it over myself, so I wrote it before we went into court and asked Cameron to hand it over for me. I suppose … I just couldn’t face you all questioning me about why I wanted to raise that particular issue. It was too personal.’
‘Go on,’ Tabitha said softly.
Lottie clenched her hands together and focused her eyes on the table. ‘When Maria Bloxham talked about her husband asking her to play dead while he … you know. I realised then that she couldn’t have made it all up. By the time you get to the stage in your relationship when you’ll pretend to be dead on command, you’ve lost control over absolutely everything. He’ll tell you you’re not allowed to move. That only he can move your arms, your legs, whatever he likes. He’ll tell you that dead people don’t cry, so you can’t either. Normal people don’t do that. If someone loves you, they want you to respond to them.’ She took a deep breath and let the tears in her eyes fall unchecked. ‘There’s no consent when you pretend to be dead. It only happened to me once, and I’ll never forget it. I’ll never get over it. But I can tell you this. Maria Bloxham was raped every time her husband asked her to play dead. She was abused and violated. I completely understand how close she was to cutting herself too deeply to survive any longer.’ Lottie looked up, and met every other juror’s eyes, one at a time slowly, not sparing herself from Cameron’s gaze. He looked away. ‘When a man does that to a woman, he takes everything from her. Power, free will, choice, and life. He takes away the idea that you are actually alive. Maria Bloxham tolerated that for years. I don’t blame her for hitting that man on the skull with the first thing that was handy. I don’t blame her, because that’s exactly what I want to do to the man who did the same thing to me.’
Jennifer put an arm around Lottie’s shoulders and hugged her. Tabitha took a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. Samuel made a dash for the men’s room. Garth Finuchin sat, head down, silent for once. Agnes Huang was biting her nails. Lottie allowed herself to be comforted, Jennifer whispering meaningless but kindly meant nothings. Ten minutes later they were all sat back around the table.
‘How can you be sure she didn’t just research all this? She seemed clever enough to me. If you’ve been through it then other people have, too. There must be plenty of books in the library on it,’ Andy Leith piped up.
‘Hey, I hadn’t thought of that. What if he’s right?’ Agnes joined in.
‘Did you not hear a single word Lottie just said?’ Jack asked, incredulous.
‘We’re not questioning Lottie’s word,’ Garth said. ‘That doesn’t make it self-defence. It still isn’t enough to make me sure Maria Bloxham couldn’t just have left her husband instead of trying to kill him.’
‘That’s a fair point,’ Samuel echoed, changing sides yet again.
‘I want to say one last thing,’ Lottie sniffed. ‘I tried to decide this trial, to the very end, on the basis of all the evidence. I kept an open mind. You’ll remember it was me who suggested watching the video of Dr Bloxham again. No one can say I prejudged. What I have to tell you all is that you can’t know the sort of man he was from how he seemed in public. That’s not how this works. Abusers can be charming. Mine was clever and he seemed completely normal at first. If they weren’t, they’d never be able to get a woman into a relationship in the first place. So forget everything you think you know about Edward Bloxham. We have to give Maria the benefit of the doubt, because for the life of me, I cannot see how she could have lied so convincingly about what she suffered. The prosecution certainly hasn’t proved to me that she didn’t act in self-defence. Not one bit.’
‘Thank you Lottie,’ Tabitha said gently. ‘Does anyone else want to add anything?’
‘Only that I think now would be a good time to have another vote,’ Pan said.
Credit to him, Lottie thought. The man knew how to use timing to his advantage, and it had saved her from having to propose it.
‘Show of hands then. Those who find the defendant guilty?’ Tabitha said, just seconds before the door opened and the usher entered, asking for them to reconvene in the courtroom.
34
Maria stood up in the dock as she’d been directed. She looked around for something to steady herself on, but there was nothing. The jury foreperson stood too. Taking her time, Maria studied the tension on the faces of the journalists, assuming they wanted a guilty verdict. That would make for a better story, of course. James Newell and Imogen Pascal had their backs to her, but DI Anton had turned around to gloat, keen to witness her defeat. He smiled at her. She gazed blankly back. Finally she looked at the jury. Only the young woman was staring at her. Maria could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. Sorrow perhaps, about either what they’d decided she had done to her husband, or perhaps for the sentence she was about to serve.
‘Have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?’ the court clerk asked the foreperson.
‘No,’ the lady replied.
Maria’s stomach lurched.
‘Have you reached a verdict on which at least ten of you are agreed?’ the clerk went on.
‘Yes,’ was the reply. Maria looked at Ruth in the public seating, already in floods, the back of one hand pressed firmly against her mouth.
‘Do you find the defendant, Maria Bloxham, guilty or not guilty on the charge of attempted murder?’
There was silence. The jury foreperson looked along the lines of other jurors before addressing the judge.
‘Not guilty,’ she said, ‘by a majority of ten to two.’
At that point the judge took over, although Maria couldn’t hear a word of it. Ruth was openly sobbing in the public gallery. James Newell turned back towards the dock and beamed at her. The jurors were being thanked for their service. Maria smiled her thanks to those who looked her way, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘Ms Bloxham,’ the judge said. ‘You have been found not guilty of the charge. I’m pleased to say, you are now free to go. Officer, please release her.’
‘Thank you, Your Honour,’ Maria muttered. ‘Thank you.’
Suddenly the door to the dock was being opened, and a gentle hand on her arm guided her out of her glass prison. Maria remained at the back of the court as the proceedings concluded, blood pulsing violently, the top of her scalp tingling as she struggled to breathe normally.
Imogen Pascal was whispering furiously to the police officers behind her, all hands on hips and squared shoulders. Detective Inspector Anton was shaking his head, and banging the end of a pointed finger on the desk. Maria looked away. She’d had enough confrontation to last her a lifetime. Journalists were already leaving the court, ready to run to cameras and make calls. The world was about to be told that she had been acquitted. Then James Newell was at her side, leading her out of the courtroom and into the public area beyond, finding a consultation room where they could talk in peace.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her as he shut the door.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ she smiled. ‘It hasn’t sunk in. But thank you, really. You’ve been so kind.’
‘That’s what we’re here for. You’re free to go, and also to leave the bail hostel. No more curfew, no more rules. I should stay away from your husband, though. Visiting him in hospital would be inadvisable.’
Maria laughed, only it turned into tears. Newell offered her a crumpled but clean handkerchief.
‘You should also see a solicitor as soon as possible about a divorce and the matrimonial finances. I guess you won’t want to go back to live in the house,’ he continued
‘Never,’ she said. ‘Can I ask … did you believe me? You said you did, only I wondered why.’
‘I don’t get paid to believe people,’ he laughed gently. ‘Let me put it
like this. I hated that video of your husband with the hedgehog. I couldn’t really explain why. Just my gut reaction. Do I think you told me the whole truth? Did I believe you never once used that mobile phone they found in your shoe? Those are more complicated issues, best left.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Maria said, and she meant it. Lying to James Newell had been so much worse than repeating those lies to the jury. He had trusted her. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but she regretted it nonetheless.
‘We’re not going back through it now,’ he reassured her. ‘The point is this. If you were to ask me, do I believe justice was done today, I could put my hand on my heart and say yes. I think that’s all that matters. Is that what you wanted?’
‘It is,’ she said. ‘Being believed is important. It might sound silly, but that legal test thing … the prosecution has to prove its case, the defendant doesn’t have to prove their innocence … that’s all well and good. But what I understand now, is that you actually want someone to look you in the eye and say, yes, we believe you. Not that it wasn’t proved, but that we think you’re innocent. Otherwise, it’s as if maybe you just got away with it. Maybe it was just that niggling doubt that made them return a not guilty verdict.’
‘Maria,’ Newell said. ‘You know in your heart whether you’re guilty or not. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or says. Please take care of yourself. It was a pleasure meeting you.’
He gave her a brief, hard hug before tilting his head in farewell and leaving. That was it for him, Maria realised. Another case over. On to the next. No big drama. She wandered back out into the public area, looking for Ruth, expecting her friend to be ready to leap into her arms. Fifteen minutes later, when she was nowhere to be found, Maria decided it was time to clear her things out from the bail hostel. Perhaps Ruth had to rush off to collect her mother or the twins, she thought, perplexed and a little hurt. She picked up her bag and left Bristol Crown Court to fight through the protestors and the press for the very last time.
Lottie followed Cameron, hoping he wasn’t headed anywhere dangerous. She really didn’t want to run into the men he owed money to, but she had to make sure Cam understood it was over. He had to stay away from her for good. It wasn’t hard to stay concealed amidst the tourists and worker lunch trade, but she still had to resist the impulse to walk crouched down. Cameron sauntered through the city back towards the hotel, presumably to pick up his bag, but at the last moment entered the Cathedral instead. Lottie couldn’t remember going inside as an adult. It was as intimidating as it was beautiful, and the very last place in the city she’d expected her blackmailer to go. For a moment she was tempted to give up and run away. The thought of talking to him, of being near him for another second, was sickening. Her family was what mattered, though. Their peace and well-being. Lottie would endure any amount of discomfort to make that happen. She entered as quietly as she could.
Cameron was taking a seat in a side chapel as Lottie watched, mobile in hand, from behind a pillar. He’d done his bit, now he wanted payment. She’d known he wouldn’t be prepared to wait. No doubt less pleasant people would be arranging to meet him later. The woman who turned up and took the seat next to his was tall and well built. Lottie recognised her as having been in the public seating in court, kicking herself mentally. Without a doubt, she was also the woman from the Cabot Centre café. At the time, Cameron had persuaded her that she was being paranoid, but there were few women so tall. Sunglasses had prevented her from taking in the details of her face then, but now it was clear. Cameron had set the whole thing up to prove he was getting results. And he had, Lottie thought. Probably more than he’d ever thought possible.
The woman put a supermarket bag on the floor, nodded at Cameron, then stood up to leave. Lottie walked forward, as if to go past her, putting one hand on her arm.
‘Stay right there,’ she whispered. ‘I just took a photo of the two of you together, so don’t suddenly decide to bolt or I’ll have the police on you in minutes, and your friend Maria Bloxham will be straight back in that courtroom.’
The woman was shaken but she stood her ground. Cameron was still flicking through the contents of the bag, counting quietly when Lottie refilled the space next to him.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Making sure you can never play that recording to anyone. Also, ensuring I can give the police every single detail I need to if you come anywhere near my family, should you happen to get into debt in the future and decide I’m your next cash machine.’
Cameron swung around, grabbing her face in one hand and squeezing hard. She grinned at him in response. He let go abruptly, pushing her away.
‘I said I wouldn’t use that recording once it was over,’ he muttered.
‘And I’m supposed to believe a blackmailing bastard who used me the way you did?’
‘It helped you do what I needed,’ he said.
‘You made me implicate my husband in the worst kind of abuse. It doesn’t matter that what I said stays in the jury room. The lies I told were despicable.’
‘It’s over. We all walked away,’ Cameron growled.
‘Is that what you think, you piece of shit? That I can just walk away from what you did? You want to know what I learned doing jury duty? I learned that you don’t have to get someone’s dick shoved inside you to be raped. I hope you get in trouble again, and I hope someone else makes you feel as helpless as I did. I hope they hurt you until you wish you were dead. Now listen to me. I will tell the police everything that happened if I ever see you again. You’ll go to prison for a very long time. Say you understand.’
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Once my debts are paid, I’m leaving the area.’
‘Good. Don’t come back,’ Lottie told him, standing up. ‘And let Jack down easy. He’s got my mobile number so I know he’ll call me. Tell him you’re not ready, tell him you’re not good enough for him, I really don’t care. Just don’t hurt him any more than you have to, you fucking loser.’
She walked as slowly as she could manage back to the waiting woman as Cameron slunk past them, head down.
‘So it was you who paid him to get the not guilty verdict. I was wondering how he had so much information,’ Lottie said. ‘There were twelve of us. How did you know who to pick?’
‘Cameron tried to avoid jury service from the start. Online profiles make it easy. It only took me ten minutes to find out he’d recently been declared bankrupt. There were photos of him with a variety of women. A couple of the girls were wearing matching tops. The logo was from a casino. Once I knew he needed money it was simple. I guess I’m not bad at reading people,’ the woman replied quietly, head down. Lottie saw the tears on her cheeks and wondered if she was scared of discovery, or something else. It didn’t really matter. Lottie was all out of sympathy.
‘No, you’re very good at it. You picked a man who had no scruples about flirting with a student who was already having problems admitting his sexuality publicly, and who blackmailed me to get me to do your dirty work.’
‘I’m so very, very sorry. I didn’t tell him to do that. If I’d known …’ the woman whispered. ‘But you did the right thing. Maria Bloxham was innocent. She didn’t deserve to go to prison.’
‘I didn’t deserve to be abused for it either,’ Lottie said, letting every emotion show on her face. ‘You think you’re good at reading people? Read me. I’ve been through hell. I deserved some of it but not as much as I got. Did he tell you what he made me do?’ The woman shook her head, eyes on the ground. ‘He made me lie on my bed naked, legs apart, and play dead. Is that why you don’t think Maria Bloxham deserved to go to prison? For what it’s worth, I agree, but now you get to live your life knowing you inflicted the same horror on someone else. So next time you decide to play the good Samaritan, think about the collateral damage. You have no idea how much pain you’ve caused. Not a fucking clue.’
The woman sank onto a chair, head in her hands, crying. Lotti
e watched her for a minute, satisfied to have had her say, then made her way towards the exit. Her hands were trembling and her stomach was a knot of pain, but she’d done it. Cameron was sorted. The woman who’d paid him had been taught a small lesson in consequences. And Lottie had taken control. She’d finally stood up for herself. She’d been brought as low as she could imagine, to utter desperation, but somewhere in the mud and muck of the previous twenty-four hours she’d found a strength she hadn’t known she possessed. Pushing her hair back from her face, she walked back out into the sunshine and fresh air. It was time to go home.
35
Maria stood in the back garden kindling a bonfire to burn the few clothes she still had left from the duration of her marriage. As sentimental as it was, she’d also come to wish farewell to her plants. There was nothing she wanted from inside the house, but cuttings from her favourite flowers would be a good start to her new garden, wherever that might be.
Staring through the windows into the kitchen, she marvelled that her new life had been so violently born. She could still see Ruth standing in her kitchen, having turned up uninvited. That was Maria’s fault. It should have been obvious that Ruth would be unable to hear the desperation in her voice without taking action. Part of Maria had willed her friend and counsellor to come, not that she could have foreseen how it would end. She wondered if she would do anything differently, if she could have that day all over again.
Careful, sensible Ruth had parked a road away so no neighbour would notice her vehicle and make a passing comment to Edward. She had buzzed from the gate. Maria remembered thinking one of the neighbours must have failed to stay in to take delivery of a package. It happened once or twice a year. On opening the front door to look down the driveway, she’d recognised Ruth immediately even though they’d never met. Six foot tall, with the broadest shoulders she’d seen on a woman, a wide nose, straight set eyebrows, and the kindest eyes, smiling at her. Maria had opened the iron gates and let her in, knowing it was foolish. Having Ruth in her house, feeling a sense of companionship, was the worst thing she could possibly do. How could she hide it from Edward when he got home? Those few minutes of human contact, of having someone walk into her life who cared about her, would be both defining and soul destroying, the second they were over.