Part Twenty Six
Lauren's nerves were strung wire taut as she was escorted into the old bailey and took her place in the witness box.
"Don't let that bastard pull you down, man." Denny's shining, trusting eyes and wide smile proclaimed her faith in her and did her best to reassure her. "You'll be fine once you get going. You're stronger than I am." I wish I had her confidence in me, she thought to herself. She can't see how scared I really am as she's thinking of me in the same way as mum, and I'm not her. While she took her place, these words of comfort felt painfully far away and hollow. She glanced up at the friendly faces in the gallery who were more tangible support. Who was that young man with that familiar smile, dressed in his habitual leather jacket and black trousers? She knew him from somewhere, her mind made the woozy half connection…..
"But you're still my sister, and you weren't Charlie Atkins' protégé for nothing. The best shooter in the East End is my little sister." Those faint words were breathed across the empty space in those familiar tones, which she could not get out of her head. "But I don't want to be an Atkins, Ritchie," her voice answered him back. It cut through the still air and a row of bemused faces stared back at her in uncomprehending confusion. A spasm of panic ran through her like leaping fire as she fought for control.
Karen's head abruptly turned ninety degrees to look sideways through George's body. For a split second, she too believed that Ritchie was present, being sure that he sat at the end of the row of women in the gallery. A young man was smiling at her with all his charms and of those men in her past and it was very real.
"Whenever you are ready, Miss Atkins," John's sonorous voice from somewhere far above steadied her seesawing self-confidence with a sure and steady grip. At the same minute, John's very real voice unlocked her from her own mental prison cell. She ran her hand through a lock of hair to the side of her head and felt weak and clammy. Her own past had tried to briefly reclaim her before it faded and it was gone. George missed nothing of this and she squeezed Karen's hand as the real concern in her eyes failed to lock hold with Karen's distant stare. It was only after she drew breath that Karen felt slightly foolish and that next to her was her real world.
Without any preamble, Neumann Mason-Alan launched into his attack.
"Miss Atkins, how many times did your father smack you?" "Smacking? He lifted his hand to hit me but mum stepped in the way…." Lauren's sudden rush of words after her dazed first response barged her way through to partly refute Neumann Mason-Alan's crude reductionist approach. It fuelled to fury Karen, George and Roisin who, in common, knew the whole ghastly difference between Charlie Atkins' discipline and the way the average loving mother would react when driven to distraction. "No buts, Miss Atkins. So a reasonable person could conclude from that that your father, as a family man, was very sparing in his exercise of discipline and, within the narrow confines of the family setting, was no more physically aggressive to you than any other parent." "Objection, my lord," Jo stood up straight away. "The counsel for the prosecution is not so much attempting to lead the witness, as hijacking her testimony." "I agree. I direct the jury to totally disregard the last statement as so shall I in my deliberations." "I apologise, my lord. Let me put it a different way. From what you have said, would you say that from the one occasion when your father disciplined you, can you really say that he was more severe than any other parent?" "No, that's not true," Burst out Lauren. "Your direct testimony indicates otherwise. I leave it to the jury to decide." Neumann Mason-Alan smiled smugly.
Jo seethed in silent anger. She might have known that an insensitive clod like him would pursue that line of argument. She hoped to god that the jury would see matters the same way.
"We shall pass on to another matter. How old were you when you were first taught to shoot?" "Twelve," Came the sullen reply.
"And how did you feel when your father first taught you to shoot?" A glazed expression passed over Lauren's face to Nikki's horrified and heartfelt sympathy. Her mouth slightly opened but her voice refused to speak. Her mind had gone blank.
"Miss Atkins, you must answer the question." Neumann Mason-Alan was secretly overjoyed that the daughter of the notorious Eastend gangland family was starting to crack. It fuelled him on to keep pushing at her.
"Are you well, Miss Atkins?" came that lifesaving, almost paternal voice. "Do you want a glass of water or a short break?" She nodded vigorously and a grateful smile slowly spread across her face giving her a curiously childlike appearance. A glass of water was placed in her hand by an usher and she swallowed a mouthful. Her arms rested against the rail and she stared at her feet for a few moments. Her two curtains of hair fell across her face for a few moments until her strength returned to her.
"We have heard much in testimony about how you came to brutally murder James Fenner in cold blood…….." "Mr. Mason-Alan, it is incumbent upon you to prove to my satisfaction that you can sustain a line of questioning that does not transgress what I expect of a council in my court of law. Believe me, you shall most certainly see the inside of a remand cell if you continue to push your luck."
George nodded approvingly of John's strong, masterful manner in court which, for once, wasn't directed at her. Only a cheap blundering fool like Neumann Mason-Alan could come out with such a crass, unfeeling outrageous line of questioning and expect to get away with it. Nikki judicially appraised the firmness of John's grip on the court and hand it to the guy. His very real compassion which fuelled his blistering anger spoke of someone after her own heart. On the other hand, Mr. Neumann Mason-Alan could hear the clanging cell door slam and he swallowed and sweated as John's eyes burnt with anger and contempt as much as his stinging words had done. "I am sorry, my lord, if I have offended you……Miss Atkins, I shall turn to a different matter. Can you tell me the name of the dog that Detective Inspector Sullivan referred to in evidence previously submitted when he came to arrest you." "His name is Trigger." "Ah, and might I ask you where the name came from? It strikes me as a very unusual name for a dog." "It was Charlie's choice. He got it from watching 'Only Fools and Horses' on TV. Where else did you think it came from." A ripple of laughter ran round the gallery as the absurdity of the scene before their eyes took away from the repressed anger that had been building up inside them. Most of them marvelled at Lauren's quick wittedness and smiled at the way that the truth was rather stretched. John's eyes and slightly amused smile glanced up at them as it appealed to his own impish sense of humour. If she had been crudely disrespectful, he would have taken her to task. He always had a weakness for style. "A dangerous name for a dangerous dog as DI Sullivan testified. Your explanation sounds rather implausible, does it not?" "Trigger? That dog's as stupid as the average policeman, and he's totally soft and harmless and that's why I miss him." Helen's full throated laugh led the chorus which cracked through the air for a few seconds before she fell into a coughing fit as she tried to restrain herself as did the others. It was ironical that the more disreputable part of the gallery comprised one wing governor, a one time acting governing governor, a club owner, a queen's council, a vicar's wife and a mother, all long used to setting a good example. Down in the court, Jo Mills grinned as Lauren Atkins was making a bigger fool of Neumann Mason-Alan than nature made him and Lauren Atkins was starting to hold her own.
"The court has heard a variety of testimony, all telling the same story, about the way you approached the taking ……of James Fenner's life…" It was something that needed to be done."… "Lauren Atkins does not, in my professional opinion, feel a single ounce of guilt for what she has done", your brother's testimony that "you weren't Charlie Atkins' protégé for nothing. The best shooter in the East End is my little sister." DI Sullivan testifying that you "told him that you couldn't guarantee my safety with your Alsatian dog." the ample evidence that you single-mindedly stalked James Fenner over a prolonged period of time before taking his life. And finally, in your own words, you told the court how you deliberately set out single-handedly to abduct an experienced prison officer and deliberately set out to kill him. It all tells the same story. Can you deny this?" Lauren seemed to shrink inside herself as the barrister, with practiced theatrics, gradually wound himself up with synthetic anger.
"Only, I wasn't myself when I did it." "Well, let the court see how you did do it, My lord, have I your permission to remove exhibit 1B, the gun that killed James Fenner, from its plastic bag?" At the nod of assent from John, the usher placed the gun in Lauren's hand, which wanted to shrink away from the slightest touch of a weapon, which she was all too familiar with. This lump of metal was something that, since then, had formed no part of her life. It caused a really chill feeling of fear to run round the gallery. Nikki was frozen with horror as a nightmare vision seared its way through her mind as if she were in the witness box and the broken glass bottle with which she had killed DS Gossard was to be placed into her own hand. George looked sideways and felt inexpressible sympathy for the way that Helen comforted Nikki with all the strength of her heart as she had comforted Karen. "Now, Miss Atkins, I assure you that the gun is not loaded, but can you demonstrate for the court, exactly what you did with the gun at the moment that you shot James Fenner." Lauren hesitated as her fingers tentatively touched the gun and seemed to extend themselves round it. The audience was expecting the gun to shake in the grip of such a nervous highly-strung woman but, curiously, her arm was steady and her eyes cold and hard. The aura emanating from her could be felt of cold rage. She lifted it and pointed the gun in a perfect line from her shoulder, down the length of her arm and the line of her gun pointed, not at Fenner's stomach, but directly at the head of the man who was facing her. She turned automatically sideways on and anyone with the slightest idea of body language could see that an assassin was in the witness box.
"Now, Miss Atkins, aim the gun at my stomach, not my head. That wasn't how James Fenner was killed." The barrister spoke with a slightly shaking voice. He had long dealt with the circumstances of murder but this was the first time he had been on the receiving end, even in pretence.
Lauren was stock still and her arm stayed utterly rigid. She made no outward response, even when the question was repeated. Roisin was utterly horrified that within that many-sided woman that she and Cassie knew and loved, this side of Lauren had come to the surface. She longed to rush over and fold her in her arms but the majesty of the law forbade her. Someone help her please, the massed thoughts screamed out.
"Miss Atkins, can you describe just exactly who you are looking at?" John's melodious voice spoke at his gentlest.
"Miss Atkins, who is in front of you? Please, I want to help you." He again spoke with all the power of his voice, shortening his sentences. Other times, his voice was a musical instrument, which he used consciously to entice a young and attractive woman into bed. On this occasion, only his voice and his alone could seep through the nightmare walls of Lauren's mind that had locked her in. He knew instinctively that he had to talk her down and the trial came second.
"Charlie," came the slurred response.
"You mean your father?" "You can call him that if you want," Came the icy response. "Where are you right now, Lauren?" "I'm in my mum's back garden." "How old are you?" John asked to Neumann Mason-Alan's bemusement. It was obvious where she was and how old she was. The women in the gallery were on emotional tenterhooks as thank God, the one man with the power had all the wisdom in the world that they respected.
"I'm thirteen. Mum's out. I wish she would come home as it's my birthday treat today." A curiously childlike voice, higher in the register, spoke through the body of the slim woman. "Is there anyone with you, Lauren?" "Dad. He's teaching me something all Atkins kids have to learn," Intoned the words of Charlie in her childlike pitch of voice while her gun was trained on Neumann Mason-Alan's head. He was visibly sweating even though he knew that there was no bullet in the gun as he felt himself taken hostage.
"What is your father telling you to do next?" John's melodious voice asked. Inwardly, he was horrified as, there but for fortune, his own Charlie might be that tortured woman.
"He want's me to shoot Fenner." There was a loud click as she pressed the trigger. In an instant horrified moment, she could hear Fenner scream as she shot him in the stomach. She dropped the gun as if it were red hot and slumped sideways in the witness stand.
"For God's sake, someone get help," John shouted in a state of real horrified compassion. "Court is adjourned." There was a total melee as Gina and Dominic rushed to help Lauren while the women in the gallery looked on helplessly in anguish. John put his head in his hands while tears ran down Jo's face.
Lauren's nerves were strung wire taut as she was escorted into the old bailey and took her place in the witness box.
"Don't let that bastard pull you down, man." Denny's shining, trusting eyes and wide smile proclaimed her faith in her and did her best to reassure her. "You'll be fine once you get going. You're stronger than I am." I wish I had her confidence in me, she thought to herself. She can't see how scared I really am as she's thinking of me in the same way as mum, and I'm not her. While she took her place, these words of comfort felt painfully far away and hollow. She glanced up at the friendly faces in the gallery who were more tangible support. Who was that young man with that familiar smile, dressed in his habitual leather jacket and black trousers? She knew him from somewhere, her mind made the woozy half connection…..
"But you're still my sister, and you weren't Charlie Atkins' protégé for nothing. The best shooter in the East End is my little sister." Those faint words were breathed across the empty space in those familiar tones, which she could not get out of her head. "But I don't want to be an Atkins, Ritchie," her voice answered him back. It cut through the still air and a row of bemused faces stared back at her in uncomprehending confusion. A spasm of panic ran through her like leaping fire as she fought for control.
Karen's head abruptly turned ninety degrees to look sideways through George's body. For a split second, she too believed that Ritchie was present, being sure that he sat at the end of the row of women in the gallery. A young man was smiling at her with all his charms and of those men in her past and it was very real.
"Whenever you are ready, Miss Atkins," John's sonorous voice from somewhere far above steadied her seesawing self-confidence with a sure and steady grip. At the same minute, John's very real voice unlocked her from her own mental prison cell. She ran her hand through a lock of hair to the side of her head and felt weak and clammy. Her own past had tried to briefly reclaim her before it faded and it was gone. George missed nothing of this and she squeezed Karen's hand as the real concern in her eyes failed to lock hold with Karen's distant stare. It was only after she drew breath that Karen felt slightly foolish and that next to her was her real world.
Without any preamble, Neumann Mason-Alan launched into his attack.
"Miss Atkins, how many times did your father smack you?" "Smacking? He lifted his hand to hit me but mum stepped in the way…." Lauren's sudden rush of words after her dazed first response barged her way through to partly refute Neumann Mason-Alan's crude reductionist approach. It fuelled to fury Karen, George and Roisin who, in common, knew the whole ghastly difference between Charlie Atkins' discipline and the way the average loving mother would react when driven to distraction. "No buts, Miss Atkins. So a reasonable person could conclude from that that your father, as a family man, was very sparing in his exercise of discipline and, within the narrow confines of the family setting, was no more physically aggressive to you than any other parent." "Objection, my lord," Jo stood up straight away. "The counsel for the prosecution is not so much attempting to lead the witness, as hijacking her testimony." "I agree. I direct the jury to totally disregard the last statement as so shall I in my deliberations." "I apologise, my lord. Let me put it a different way. From what you have said, would you say that from the one occasion when your father disciplined you, can you really say that he was more severe than any other parent?" "No, that's not true," Burst out Lauren. "Your direct testimony indicates otherwise. I leave it to the jury to decide." Neumann Mason-Alan smiled smugly.
Jo seethed in silent anger. She might have known that an insensitive clod like him would pursue that line of argument. She hoped to god that the jury would see matters the same way.
"We shall pass on to another matter. How old were you when you were first taught to shoot?" "Twelve," Came the sullen reply.
"And how did you feel when your father first taught you to shoot?" A glazed expression passed over Lauren's face to Nikki's horrified and heartfelt sympathy. Her mouth slightly opened but her voice refused to speak. Her mind had gone blank.
"Miss Atkins, you must answer the question." Neumann Mason-Alan was secretly overjoyed that the daughter of the notorious Eastend gangland family was starting to crack. It fuelled him on to keep pushing at her.
"Are you well, Miss Atkins?" came that lifesaving, almost paternal voice. "Do you want a glass of water or a short break?" She nodded vigorously and a grateful smile slowly spread across her face giving her a curiously childlike appearance. A glass of water was placed in her hand by an usher and she swallowed a mouthful. Her arms rested against the rail and she stared at her feet for a few moments. Her two curtains of hair fell across her face for a few moments until her strength returned to her.
"We have heard much in testimony about how you came to brutally murder James Fenner in cold blood…….." "Mr. Mason-Alan, it is incumbent upon you to prove to my satisfaction that you can sustain a line of questioning that does not transgress what I expect of a council in my court of law. Believe me, you shall most certainly see the inside of a remand cell if you continue to push your luck."
George nodded approvingly of John's strong, masterful manner in court which, for once, wasn't directed at her. Only a cheap blundering fool like Neumann Mason-Alan could come out with such a crass, unfeeling outrageous line of questioning and expect to get away with it. Nikki judicially appraised the firmness of John's grip on the court and hand it to the guy. His very real compassion which fuelled his blistering anger spoke of someone after her own heart. On the other hand, Mr. Neumann Mason-Alan could hear the clanging cell door slam and he swallowed and sweated as John's eyes burnt with anger and contempt as much as his stinging words had done. "I am sorry, my lord, if I have offended you……Miss Atkins, I shall turn to a different matter. Can you tell me the name of the dog that Detective Inspector Sullivan referred to in evidence previously submitted when he came to arrest you." "His name is Trigger." "Ah, and might I ask you where the name came from? It strikes me as a very unusual name for a dog." "It was Charlie's choice. He got it from watching 'Only Fools and Horses' on TV. Where else did you think it came from." A ripple of laughter ran round the gallery as the absurdity of the scene before their eyes took away from the repressed anger that had been building up inside them. Most of them marvelled at Lauren's quick wittedness and smiled at the way that the truth was rather stretched. John's eyes and slightly amused smile glanced up at them as it appealed to his own impish sense of humour. If she had been crudely disrespectful, he would have taken her to task. He always had a weakness for style. "A dangerous name for a dangerous dog as DI Sullivan testified. Your explanation sounds rather implausible, does it not?" "Trigger? That dog's as stupid as the average policeman, and he's totally soft and harmless and that's why I miss him." Helen's full throated laugh led the chorus which cracked through the air for a few seconds before she fell into a coughing fit as she tried to restrain herself as did the others. It was ironical that the more disreputable part of the gallery comprised one wing governor, a one time acting governing governor, a club owner, a queen's council, a vicar's wife and a mother, all long used to setting a good example. Down in the court, Jo Mills grinned as Lauren Atkins was making a bigger fool of Neumann Mason-Alan than nature made him and Lauren Atkins was starting to hold her own.
"The court has heard a variety of testimony, all telling the same story, about the way you approached the taking ……of James Fenner's life…" It was something that needed to be done."… "Lauren Atkins does not, in my professional opinion, feel a single ounce of guilt for what she has done", your brother's testimony that "you weren't Charlie Atkins' protégé for nothing. The best shooter in the East End is my little sister." DI Sullivan testifying that you "told him that you couldn't guarantee my safety with your Alsatian dog." the ample evidence that you single-mindedly stalked James Fenner over a prolonged period of time before taking his life. And finally, in your own words, you told the court how you deliberately set out single-handedly to abduct an experienced prison officer and deliberately set out to kill him. It all tells the same story. Can you deny this?" Lauren seemed to shrink inside herself as the barrister, with practiced theatrics, gradually wound himself up with synthetic anger.
"Only, I wasn't myself when I did it." "Well, let the court see how you did do it, My lord, have I your permission to remove exhibit 1B, the gun that killed James Fenner, from its plastic bag?" At the nod of assent from John, the usher placed the gun in Lauren's hand, which wanted to shrink away from the slightest touch of a weapon, which she was all too familiar with. This lump of metal was something that, since then, had formed no part of her life. It caused a really chill feeling of fear to run round the gallery. Nikki was frozen with horror as a nightmare vision seared its way through her mind as if she were in the witness box and the broken glass bottle with which she had killed DS Gossard was to be placed into her own hand. George looked sideways and felt inexpressible sympathy for the way that Helen comforted Nikki with all the strength of her heart as she had comforted Karen. "Now, Miss Atkins, I assure you that the gun is not loaded, but can you demonstrate for the court, exactly what you did with the gun at the moment that you shot James Fenner." Lauren hesitated as her fingers tentatively touched the gun and seemed to extend themselves round it. The audience was expecting the gun to shake in the grip of such a nervous highly-strung woman but, curiously, her arm was steady and her eyes cold and hard. The aura emanating from her could be felt of cold rage. She lifted it and pointed the gun in a perfect line from her shoulder, down the length of her arm and the line of her gun pointed, not at Fenner's stomach, but directly at the head of the man who was facing her. She turned automatically sideways on and anyone with the slightest idea of body language could see that an assassin was in the witness box.
"Now, Miss Atkins, aim the gun at my stomach, not my head. That wasn't how James Fenner was killed." The barrister spoke with a slightly shaking voice. He had long dealt with the circumstances of murder but this was the first time he had been on the receiving end, even in pretence.
Lauren was stock still and her arm stayed utterly rigid. She made no outward response, even when the question was repeated. Roisin was utterly horrified that within that many-sided woman that she and Cassie knew and loved, this side of Lauren had come to the surface. She longed to rush over and fold her in her arms but the majesty of the law forbade her. Someone help her please, the massed thoughts screamed out.
"Miss Atkins, can you describe just exactly who you are looking at?" John's melodious voice spoke at his gentlest.
"Miss Atkins, who is in front of you? Please, I want to help you." He again spoke with all the power of his voice, shortening his sentences. Other times, his voice was a musical instrument, which he used consciously to entice a young and attractive woman into bed. On this occasion, only his voice and his alone could seep through the nightmare walls of Lauren's mind that had locked her in. He knew instinctively that he had to talk her down and the trial came second.
"Charlie," came the slurred response.
"You mean your father?" "You can call him that if you want," Came the icy response. "Where are you right now, Lauren?" "I'm in my mum's back garden." "How old are you?" John asked to Neumann Mason-Alan's bemusement. It was obvious where she was and how old she was. The women in the gallery were on emotional tenterhooks as thank God, the one man with the power had all the wisdom in the world that they respected.
"I'm thirteen. Mum's out. I wish she would come home as it's my birthday treat today." A curiously childlike voice, higher in the register, spoke through the body of the slim woman. "Is there anyone with you, Lauren?" "Dad. He's teaching me something all Atkins kids have to learn," Intoned the words of Charlie in her childlike pitch of voice while her gun was trained on Neumann Mason-Alan's head. He was visibly sweating even though he knew that there was no bullet in the gun as he felt himself taken hostage.
"What is your father telling you to do next?" John's melodious voice asked. Inwardly, he was horrified as, there but for fortune, his own Charlie might be that tortured woman.
"He want's me to shoot Fenner." There was a loud click as she pressed the trigger. In an instant horrified moment, she could hear Fenner scream as she shot him in the stomach. She dropped the gun as if it were red hot and slumped sideways in the witness stand.
"For God's sake, someone get help," John shouted in a state of real horrified compassion. "Court is adjourned." There was a total melee as Gina and Dominic rushed to help Lauren while the women in the gallery looked on helplessly in anguish. John put his head in his hands while tears ran down Jo's face.