Early in the morning, Alice looked over tenderly and protectively at George, who lay flat on her back curled up alongside her. She understood very well how George threw herself into every trial. With eager determination George stayed up till late, bent over the dining room table, surrounded by a sheaf of papers and muttering to herself.
Alice could relate to it as she had similar decisions to make in supporting families and judging risks. Everything was in each of their hands to make or mar. She knew that there was nothing George appreciated than the reassuring hand laid over her shoulder, the tangible proof that there was someone close who cared. Right then, she stared at that delicately curved nose, carved cheekbones and loved the feel of her hand resting on her lover's stomach. She knew that, right in the middle of the case, there was some snatched moment in her lunch break when the blond haired woman's spirit went out to her and she returned that visitation. Alice looked at the wardrobe where her lover's crisp blue suit was hung up, ready for her to climb into her barrister mode of existence. Their lives were complete.
In a curious instance of life's near parallels, it took till now for Karen to fully realize how tenuous her tangible support had been, regardless of those dear friends who she knew were unselfishly batting for her. In court, the only friendly souls around had been George and Claire but they were subject to the constraints of courtroom etiquette and couldn't spring to her defence when she was defamed by the series of witnesses who trooped through the witness box and directly attacked by that dangerously sharp-witted barrister. She had coped as best as she could the way she had ultimately coped, depending on herself. Wednesday morning was a totally different experience for Karen as Nikki and Helen accompanied her. Last night had been a revelation to her as she relaxed back in a soft armchair that embraced her and took her weight off her. Everything about the flat was homelike and unpretentious, full of warm and vibrant colours. It made her old flat feel cold and clinical by contrast. Her immediate impression was of bookcases, full of well-thumbed paperbacks, a collection of very well chosen DVDs and of decorative pictures. Karen fell in love with it at once and was soon chattering happily to the other two women. By unspoken consent, they avoided talking about the trial. Helen had a vague idea that she shouldn't know about what had been said in court on the previous days. Everything felt quite natural and it came home to Karen what an empty and solitary life she had been leading. She knew she had to get back home for a change of clothes for the next day, but she wasn't hurrying for the taxi nor was she in a rush to go outside into the cold and dark.Automatically, Karen gave each woman a quick hug and peck on the cheek when they came into view the next day, in the echoing hurly burly of the foyer. Karen found a side room for them all to chat, which filled up the time before Karen and Helen would set forth into the theatre of the court of law. Presently, the usher gave them the nod that their presence was required, while Nikki remained, a paperback in hand with a doubtful power of detachment to read it.
******
As Helen followed Karen into the courtroom, she started to become a little nervous. It struck her for the first time how she had always had authority on her side, whether as a fast stream prison officer, wing governor, home office employee, acting governing governor or her present executive job. Her two brief spells without a job hadn't removed her long enough from institutional life to really make a mark. Of course, this hadn't stopped her identifying herself passionately and kind-heartedly with those over whom she had power. This was the first time she would be actively engaged in an institution as some form of supplicant as opposed to being an observer. What worried her was that there was a lot that she knew but might not necessarily be able to substantiate. She had an overriding duty not to stumble.The courtroom started to fill up as Karen returned to the dock once again, while Helen nervously let herself be led to the witness stand. She glanced over to George and Claire and reached for the bible and card, containing the oath to be sworn. It reminded her in a peculiar fashion of the chill formality of her father's church except that John Deed, far above her, gave the proceedings both colour and resonance. Dry mouthed, she readied herself to be in question answering mode of thinking.
George wasted no time in establishing Helen's name, present and past occupations and that she lived with her partner Nikki Wade before coming to the crux of the matter. Suddenly, everything adjusted itself to sharp focus.
"Miss Stewart, can you explain for the benefit of the court, the nature of your relationships with the defendant and James Fenner."
"Objection," called out Brian Cantwell in peremptory tones." I can understand that the witness may be called as character witness for the defendant but surely not in relation to Mr. Fenner, another witness. This is the case of my learned council trying to have her cake and eat it."
"Isn't it just," murmured George to herself in a self-satisfied aside under her breath before launching into her argument. "May it please, my lord, I am seeking to establish that Mr. Fenner is intimately involved in the run up to the crime in question as an integral part of the defence case. My witness has the advantage of knowing both him and my client."
"I'll allow that but do not stray too far from the point, Ms Channing," John pronounced confidently enough. His earlier worries about appearing in front of George had been laid to rest. Besides, he was intensely curious to hear Fenner as described through Helen's eyes.
"I distrusted and disliked Jim Fenner from the word go and the feeling was mutual. He resented the fact that I was young, female and his boss. I was a stickler for doing things by the book and I cared about the prisoners. He consistently conspired behind my back to undermine my position. I have clear knowledge of one prisoner in his care who he physically assaulted."
"Objection, My Lord," Brian Cantwell intervened in his most languid, self- assured tone of voice. "The witness is clearly introducing hearsay prejudicial evidence which she can have no personal knowledge of. I demand that this be stricken from the record.""I think that I need to investigate just what is firsthand and what isn't," John pronounced firmly, knowing just how astute Helen was. "Miss Stewart, it is incumbent on you that you substantiate these allegations with direct observations."
"Okay," Helen said as she collected her wits. "I was in my office when Karen Betts brought in Shell Dockley whose face was bruised and bloodstained. She told me that Jim Fenner had beaten her up. Together with Mr. Stubberfield, I interviewed him about his side of the story and he said that she'd gone berserk and started knocking her head against the floor….."A burst of laughter briefly broke out from the jury till John called out for silence."I'll admit this evidence," said John firmly. "Pray continue, Miss Stewart."
"I pushed for his suspension over the assault and resigned from my job when the governing governor wanted to do a whitewash job, in temporarily suspending him until 'some sort of enquiry' resulted in Mr. Fenner being reinstated in his job. When I came back to Larkhall, first as home office employee and then acting governing governor, there was constant verbal warfare between us, ending up in one incident when he sexually assaulted me. I finally saw the back of him when I resigned from my job."
Helen's steely tone of voice and the bombshell she dropped grabbed the attention of the entire court. John's eyes closed briefly in shock and horror. Karen thought ruefully if only she had stuck to her original perceptions, so much trouble would have been avoided.
"You are frank indeed, Miss Stewart. Using my privilege as judge to play devil's advocate, couldn't it be argued that you have let your personal feelings get in the way of being objective about him?" John pursued.
George rolled her eyes skywards, but wasn't greatly surprised at John's inquisitiveness.
"That's a good question, judge," Helen answered in slow, considered tones, momentarily taken aback by the one question she had never put to herself. "I can't ever accuse him of being incompetent. My problem was that I had good reason to fundamentally distrust him. He always had a personal agenda behind any reasonable sounding suggestion. He was the sort of person who'd try to get into your head and take it over if he could. Above all else, I learnt the hard way not to underestimate his deviousness."
Helen felt as if electric energy was coursing through her. Especially at the end of her time at Larkhall, she had been denied her version of reality except for odd isolated moments. She now realized that she was giving public evidence for herself as much as for Karen and that energized her. It boosted Karen's spirits that thank God someone who knew her was speaking up for her. While Brian Cantwell saw her as a dangerous adversary, John Deed smiled benignly down on the court in general.
"So where does the defendant fit into the picture? Did you know Mr. Fenner first or the defendant?" asked George, very quickly.
"I worked with Jim Fenner for some months before taking sick leave. I met Karen when I came back to work."
"So how did you get on with the defendant while you worked at Larkhall prison?"
"I only knew her briefly before I resigned from my job but she struck me immediately as a caring, conscientious intelligent officer with the interests of both prison officers and prisoners alike at her heart."
"How can you be so certain, Miss Stewart?"
"She brought in Shell Dockley to see me after being assaulted as I described earlier on. When I returned to Larkhall, she had taken over my old job and I was doing a research project with the Home office and, a little later, started up a self-improvement course for 'lifers' and assumed responsibility for them. We had to work closely together and our relationship was harmonious but gradually deteriorated over time."
"Why was that, Miss Stewart?"
"As I was more involved with the running of Larkhall Prison, my conflicts with officer Fenner started up again, Karen got emotionally involved with him. It's difficult to trace any specific events but Karen started to accuse me of persecuting him and becoming less willing to believe what I had to say. I tried to tell her that she was too close to the situation and couldn't see what he was doing. She seemed to think he had the prisoners' interest at heart, when his own interest came first and foremost. Finally I lost patience with her and told her I was sick and tired of trying to get through to her. I gave her one last chance on the way out and left her a file detailing Jim Fenner's sexual assault on me."
"Is this going to be a habit of defence witnesses to tell their life story at great length and take up valuable court time?" Brian Cantwell intervened, making an elaborate pretense at a yawn. By contrast, John was personally fascinated to hear Helen's history unfold before his eyes, having only heard snippets before. He had to have regard for the court hearing as a whole, however, and Brian Cantwell had a point.
"Perhaps. Ms Channing, you could turn to the events of the night in question," John advised quietly.
George suppressed her annoyance at being cut short, as she was aware that her examination was in danger of losing pace and also losing the jury's attention. She decided that what was left out would have to be picked up at the end.
"Can you turn to the events of the night and describe what you saw of the accident?" George asked.
"Nikki and I had gone out for a meal that night to a restaurant where we hadn't been before. A workmate of Nikki's had suggested it. When we set off for home, we got off the beaten track and found ourselves in the back of beyond. I was driving the car and when we came up to a T-junction, I was about to pull out in front of a car on the main road, as there was time to spare. The other could have clearly seen me getting ready to move out, but it deliberately accelerated and cut right in front of me. I had to jam on the brakes. I turned the corner and headed off in pursuit."
"Why did you follow the car, Miss Stewart? I mean why bother?" cut in George quietly.
"Good point. I could hear the car making a dickens of a racket and I was mad as hell. I was in 'citizen's arrest' mode of thinking. A few seconds later, I recognized the car as Karen Betts. It was a very distinctive green MG sports car and I recognized the number plates as well."
"Just backtrack one moment, Miss Stewart. Did you catch a glimpse of the driver as it passed across you?" George interjected.
"To be honest, I didn't. I was more preoccupied in stopping my car in time. Anyway, I had an additional reason for chasing after the car. The reckless way it was driven was so alien to the owner, the careful, responsible woman I had known. It disturbed me and I wanted to get to the bottom of this. We headed off in pursuit and the driver behaved like a maniac, swerving all over the place, tyres screeching. It was as if the driver wanted to get noticed."
"Have you any experience of Karen's driving, Miss Stewart?"
"I've only had the limited experience of her driving into the back of my car in a line of traffic. That was a 'one off' case of a lapse of concentration. She told me as a kind of explanation that she'd just been demoted to make place for Jim Fenner and she really wasn't at her best. This was a different league stuff…..anyway; we finally followed the car several miles into the main street and finally got close to the car. It had the chance of swinging clear past the pedestrian but it chose to drift over to the left straight at the poor man who was killed. We pulled up and did our best to assist while waiting for the police. I think that says everything."
"This is most important, what visual impressions did you get of the driver? Take your time and think carefully," said George quietly.
Helen ran her tongue along the width of her lower lip, paused for breath as her throat was dry and finally spoke her mental deliberation.
"I could see a long, slightly curly mop of long fair hair and a overcoat of some dark colour. My problem was that I never saw her, either head on or sideways on."
"One final question, and that is why have you wanted to give evidence on Karen Betts' behalf when your relationship with her has been so fraught?"
"Mainly to see justice done. She used to infuriate me because of her preferential attitude of Jim Fenner and seeming to willfully not see what was under her very nose. As time passed after leaving Larkhall, I decided I'd been lucky in seeing the nasty side of the man. I burnt out the last of my anger at her when we talked shortly after the accident and realized that she was just another one of Fenner's victims. I never really lost my respect for her and realized that I could like her now she was clear of him."
As her last words died away, Karen was fighting to keep the tears out of her eyes. Everything that this feisty Scot had said was so true and fair. It also painted a picture that was the unvarnished, unembellished truth, warts and all. It was what Helen did with the truth, her capacity for forgiveness that moved Karen deeply. The smaller woman was seen through misted vision as she reached for a glass of water at her side.
Helen's pulse started racing as she realized that, up till know, she had been asked sympathetic questions designed to draw out her side of the story. She would now face the full blast of hostile cross-examination and this hard man with a shiny suit wouldn't give her an inch. She would need her wits about her. She just hoped she wasn't too out of practice.