Part Forty-Three
After the lunchtime adjournment, Karen took her place in the witness box, feeling inwardly nervous of what was to come, but outwardly exuding nothing but calm detachment. She had been surprised to see that Neil had been in the gallery, and she found herself hoping against hope that seeing Di being thoroughly humiliated would be enough for him. But there he was, sure enough, sitting up there on the front row, on the other side of the aisle to the others, with only the width of the steps separating him from George. Karen could see them all from where she was: George, Nikki, Helen, Yvonne, Cassie, Roisin and Barbara, and she didn't want any one of them to witness her undoing. But most of all, she didn't want George to see those pictures, to see what a complete and utter slut she must have been to do the things she'd done for Fenner, and in front of a camera of all things. But never mind George, what was John going to think of her after this.
But her musings were cut short, however, when John, with a swish of his robes, appeared through the door behind the judge's bench. Neumann Mason-Alan was so eager to begin his tirade, that he was back on his feet again before everyone else had time to sit down. John held up a hand. "Mr. Mason-Alan," John said in sonorous tones. "Whilst such a level of enthusiasm would usually be a credit to you, the gleam in your eye leads me to believe that on this occasion, your motivations may be somewhat different. Please remember the warning I gave you yesterday." Neumann didn't let this deter him in the slightest. "Ms Betts," He began, mentally stalking her in the manner of a particularly vicious, though slightly inept tomcat moving in for the kill. "Precisely why did you initiate an affair with Ritchie Atkins?" "Do you know something," Karen replied conversationally. "On both occasions that I have been called to give evidence in this court, it's that old chestnut that has been uppermost in the minds of the opposition. It's getting a bit old hat now, don't you think?" Jo laughed before she could stop herself, and John struggled to hide a smile. "However dated you feel the question may be, Ms Betts," John said trying to keep a straight face. "You must give the court an answer." "I initiated an affair with Ritchie Atkins," Karen said, spacing her words carefully. "Because I found him attractive. What other reason could there be?" "And you did not think it wise to steer clear of the son of someone whom you were locking up at the time?" "Not in the least. I was led to believe that Ritchie Atkins had absolutely nothing to do with the family business, a fact which I found to my cost to be fictitious." "Roughly how long did this affair last?" "A matter of a few weeks." "And it is on the basis of this squalid little affair, lasting no more than, a few weeks, that James Fenner, a principal officer in one of Her Majesty's prisons, is brutally murdered?" "Oh," Karen drawled almost seductively. "There was nothing squalid about an affair with Ritchie Atkins. That's the point, he was as believable as the bible on which I swore the oath." "During this trial," Mason-Alan continued. "We have heard of two men's love for you, that of Ritchie Atkins, and that of James Fenner. We have also heard how both of these men in some way did you harm. Please could you tell the court what it is about you that first makes a man love you, and yet then makes said man hurt you?" "I'd have thought," Karen said coolly. "That such a question might more usefully be put to someone I've slept with, not to me." "Well now, is there anyone in this court whom you have slept with?" "Cut it out!" John snapped before Karen could answer. "I do apologise, My Lord," Neumann replied, insincerity dripping from every syllable. But his clear intention to insult Karen at every possible opportunity had well and truly set the scene for the rest of the afternoon. "Ms Betts," Neumann continued blithely. "Please could you tell the court, what Yvonne Atkins' reaction was on hearing that you were having an affair with her son, who was, let us not forget, ten years your junior?" "If I remember rightly," Karen said slowly and deliberately. "Her words were, I ought to scratch your bloody eyes out." There rose a titter from the gallery, and a muttered exclamation of "Typical," From Nikki. "And yet little more than a year later, you decided to pursue an affair with another Atkins. Only this time, it was with Yvonne Atkins who, by your own admission, threatened to scratch your bloody eyes out." "People change," Was Karen's unequivocal reply. "Do people change so very much in such a very short time?" "A year's quite a while in love and war," Karen commented dryly. Again, the murmur of nervous laughter rose from the gallery. "Wouldn't it be more accurate to suggest," Neumann continued stonily. "That you insinuated yourself in to Yvonne Atkins' bed, because you knew that she still had the means of removing James Fenner from your life?" "You devious little worm!" George said none too quietly. "This man, whom everyone believes raped you, was, until he was killed, haunting your every waking, or should I say working moment." "And how do you know he still isn't?" Karen asked derisively. This seemed to throw Neumann for a moment. "So," Neumann said, ignoring her last remark and desperately trying to regain the reins. "Was Yvonne Atkins' criminal potential the reason why you began an affair with her? After all, if anyone could remove James Fenner, it was her." "I began an affair with Yvonne Atkins," Karen replied, looking down her nose at him in disgust. "Because on getting to know her after she was released from prison, I discovered the warm, funny, incredibly sexy personality that Yvonne often keeps away from prying eyes. On the surface, Yvonne can appear brash, tough and without a remotely gentle bone in her body. But take away that layer, and you'll find the strong, loving woman who has given her life to her children, and who, even now, would do anything she possibly could for them." There was a short silence after Karen had said this, and George looked along the row to see that Yvonne had tears in her eyes. "Was Yvonne Atkins the first affair you'd had with a woman?" "Yes," Karen replied, now getting tired of the questions this pathetic little man was throwing at her. "And is Yvonne Atkins the only woman you've had an affair with?" "I'd have thought that was my business, not the court's," Karen said tartly. "Where are you going with this, Mr. Mason-Alan?" John asked, sounding just a little bored. "My Lord, I am simply trying to establish whether the removal of James Fenner was Ms Betts' intended goal in becoming sexually involved with the mother of his killer." "And I believe that your argument to that effect has been shot clean out of the water," John said decisively. "So please move on to something else, because I am getting tired of such pointless questions." "Very well, My Lord," Neumman replied, and the gleam of entrapment became perceptively deeper. "Ms Betts, Ritchie Atkins most pressing motivation for asking his sister to kill James Fenner, appears to be because he was aware of your having been raped by James Fenner. Now, as I understand it, you didn't actually ever tell Ritchie Atkins as much, now did you?" "Mr. Mason-Alan, I have warned you before about leading the witness," John said disgustedly. "I apologise, My Lord, I will rephrase the question. Ms Betts, did you ever actually say to Ritchie Atkins, that James Fenner had raped you?" "No," Karen replied, knowing exactly what was coming. Why, when Fenner had been the perpetrator of the crime, was she always the one having to justify her actions? "So, the main reason behind the brutal killing of James Fenner was built on nothing more than supposition, was it not?" "Did you not hear what I said only three minutes ago?" John asked scathingly. "Do not lead the witness. You know better." "What I am trying to ascertain," Neumann persisted. "Is whether or not there is any actual proof that this crime, supposedly committed by James Fenner, ever took place. I believe the jury may find it interesting that after reporting this crime to the police, you then retracted your statement, just days before the CPS were to inform you that they weren't taking up the case. What I shall endeavour to prove," He continued, now really getting in to his stride. "Is that this crime had never taken place, and that on the contrary, your relationship with James Fenner, your sexual relationship that is, was one of immense enjoyment to you both, including I might add, a certain amount of sexual experimentation." Here it comes, Karen thought in resigned acceptance. Fishing something that looked suspiciously like a packet of photographs out of his briefcase, Neumann walked over to the overhead projector and switched it on. "My Lord," Jo said, hurriedly getting to her feet. "Yes, Mrs. Mills, I know what you're about to say," John replied, waving his hand to her to sit down. "I do hope this is both relevant and necessary, Mr. Mason-Alan, or you will have a lot of explaining to do." "I believe it is the witness who will be providing the explanations, My Lord," Neumann replied jovially. The first picture that was projected on to the blank wall of the court, was of a very suntanned Karen, lying on a sun lounger, completely naked. An indecipherable murmur rose from the gallery, because none of them had been expecting anything like this. "Ms Betts, do you recognise this?" Neumann asked, the glee prematurely lighting up his face. "Well, seeing as it's what I have the pleasure of looking at in the mirror every day," Karen said scathingly. "Yes, I most certainly do recognise it." The hearty laugh at Neumann's expense that came from the front row of the gallery, made Karen briefly smile. "And how about this one?" Neumann asked, ignoring the laughter and putting a second photograph under the light. This one, showed Karen lying on what looked like a hotel bed, leaning up on her elbow in the direction of the camera, a soft, sultry smile on her face, leaving the viewer in no doubt of what was to come. "I would be very interested to know where you got those pictures," Karen replied, bypassing his question altogether. "Because as far as I was aware, they were last in Jim Fenner's possession, and as he is now dead, I believe they belong to me, seeing as I am the person featured in them." "Mr. Mason-Alan," John intervened. "Precisely what are you trying to achieve by all this?" "My Lord, I am simply enlightening the jury as to the fact that Karen Betts is no rape victim..." Before he could continue, there was a flurry of outrage from the gallery. "...And that if such a crime did not take place," Neumann raised his voice above everyone else's. "Then the main factor which forms the backbone of the defence can no longer be called an extenuating circumstance. Look at this for example," He ploughed on, ignoring any effort from John to silence him, and putting yet another picture under the light. Karen's face burned in mortification when she saw which one it was. She recognised the place as the balcony of the hotel room they'd had on holiday. She was naked yet again, but this time leaning up against the rail that ran round the top of the balcony wall. But it wasn't the surroundings that were catching everyone's attention. Modesty hadn't been allowed a look in on this one. It was plain to see that Karen had been sunbathing naked, and that she liked to be as hairless and smooth-skinned as possible when with a lover. The long, well-defined fingers of her left hand were playing over her left breast, and her right hand was resting casually on her hip, leaving the viewers in no doubt as to what would be in future pictures. As Karen stood and stared at the picture of herself, feeling her face flaming with colour, she heard a mixture of responses from the gallery. George's, "Good god," Yvonne's, "Bloody Hell," And Nikki's "Jesus Christ," Were just some of the reactions to her shame. But Neumann still wouldn't let up. "I would ask you, Ms Betts," He continued, now feeling that he had the backing of his audience. "Does this look to you like a woman who would refuse any kind of sexual intimacy from a man who was once her lover?" Karen knew she couldn't speak. No way could she stand there and face this man out. Taking the only refuge left open to her, she turned about, stepped down from the witness box, and stalked purposefully out of court.
After a moment's appalled silence, Cassie quickly rose to her feet and squeezed her way along the row, clearly with the intention of following Karen. When Cassie moved passed her, George attempted to go with her, but Cassie said very quietly, "Leave this to me. Anything resembling a lover is the last thing she'll want to see right now." George knew it had been meant kindly, but it didn't prevent her from feeling totally useless. John, on the other hand, simply stared at Mason-Alan, giving his level of anger and loathing a few brief moments to mature. "Hand me those pictures," He said, the quiet, almost deliberately spaced words belying the anger about to erupt. "But my Lord," Neumann tried to protest, but he was cut short. "Do it!" John roared, in a voice that nailed every other person to the spot. After removing the picture of Karen from under the light source, Neumann put all the pictures back in their envelope, and walking up to the bench, handed them to John. "Never," John continued once he'd received the pictures. "Have I witnessed such a blatant disregard for dignity and human decency. Did it not occur to you that Karen Betts is actually a human being, with possible feelings of shame and embarrassment just like the rest of us?" "My Lord, I was simply trying to..." "Don't interrupt!" John bellowed, far angrier than anyone, Jo and George included, had ever seen him. "I warned you yesterday, didn't I. I warned you not to intimidate any witness under any circumstance. You have completely and unreservedly ignored every word I have ever said to you regarding your treatment of witnesses. What will it take, for you to learn that you cannot treat a witness, especially one whom you specifically asked to be called, in the manner of a dumb animal that can be bent and manipulated to suit your purpose? Are you even aware, that by introducing that ludicrously cheap and degrading evidence, that you have contravened the Criminal Procedures and Investigations Act?" "My Lord, I..." "In section 3 subsection 1, it categorically states that the prosecutor must disclose to the accused any prosecution material which has not previously been disclosed to the accused, and which in the prosecutor's opinion might undermine the case for the prosecution against the accused. As a regularly used puppet of the prosecuting establishment, you ought to know this Act inside out and be in the habit of using it to the letter. As I understand it, you have not, on any prior occasion enlightened the defence as to the existence of these pictures. Therefore, I am declaring any inference drawn from them as null and void. This will include all the evidence you have ruthlessly drawn from Karen Betts during this afternoon's session. This is because, and only because of the way you have persistently undermined my authority in this court, and such an exhibition of defiance and plain ignorance of procedure and common decency, I will not have. I will be informing the Professional Conduct Committee of your behaviour this afternoon, and you can be sure that you have not heard the end of this. Now get out of my sight."
When Cassie reached the foyer, she saw the front doors of the court building swinging shut, and ran hell for leather to push them open. Karen was striding purposefully towards her car. Cassie called out to her. Karen turned, and waited until Cassie caught up with her. "Where are you going?" She asked, catching her breath. "Anywhere away from here," Karen answered curtly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right," Cassie said quietly, not wanting to aggravate Karen's clearly volatile state. "I know," Karen replied, calming down ever so slightly. "And it's very sweet of you, but I just need some space. I'm not sure if I can look anyone in the face right now." "Especially George?" Cassie cut to the chase. Karen kept her expression blank. "If it makes you feel better," Cassie continued. "She wanted to see how you were too." "I'm amazed those bloody pictures haven't frightened her off," Karen said bitterly. "I barely know George," Cassie replied confidently. "But you can see a mile off that she's made of tougher stuff than that. She isn't going to be frightened off just because you posed for the camera." "I hope you're right," Karen said, not entirely believing her. Then a thought struck her. "Oh, no," She groaned in realisation. "Grayling was up there with you. That's all I need." "You leave him to me," Cassie said, determination clear in her voice. "Listen," She added, giving Karen an impulsive hug. "Wherever you're going, just take care." As Karen spun the wheel and roared out of the car park, Cassie stood and watched her, wondering just how much intrusion one person could take.
When Cassie returned inside, she found the others descending the marble stairs, and saw Jo and the prosecuting arse-hole emerging from the door reserved for barristers. Once out of the courtroom itself, Jo turned to Neumann and hissed, "You really are a spineless little cretin, aren't you." Neumann halted in his tracks, for a moment surprised by the venom in Jo's voice. "Only doing my job, Jo, you know how these things are." "Oh! Oh, do I," Jo replied in disgust, her voice rising with indignation. "Well, let me tell you that never in a million years would I stoop as low as you did today. You just haven't got a remotely sensitive bone in your body, have you. You're a worthless, pathetic individual who has to get his kicks from humiliating women who are far stronger than you will ever be." "Jo!" George interrupted, touching her arm to get her attention. "Come on," She said a little more gently. "It's really not worth it. He'll get his comeuppance when the PCC start digging their claws in." "I hope they take you well and truly off the road," Jo said over her shoulder as she allowed George to lead her away. But he hadn't finished. "What's a hearing with the PCC like, Jo? I'd almost forgotten you'd had one yourself." This was just too much for Jo, swiftly turning round, she was about to deliver either a verbal or possibly even a physical rejoinder to this very accurate jibe. But George, seeing something akin to the Atkins wrath in Jo's eyes, grabbed her hand and virtually dragged her away. "Jo, he's simply not worth getting into trouble over, not a pathetic little time server like him." "Oh, and this is the voice of reason speaking?" Jo flared, her blocked fury being displaced on George. "Jo, you know what you have to do," George explained patiently. Inwardly she winced as she saw a reflection of herself in the way Jo reacted. "Your quickest way to take your revenge on him is to defeat him in open court. How it will go is anyone's guess but, thanks to you, we've made most of the running. We've seen those fearfully obsequious friends of my utterly despicable ex, sitting behind us and looking as if they are going to their own funeral." Jo's rage started to dissipate as she realised what was getting to her. Every time she came to a long trial, she started out enthusiastically, thinking that sheer will power could slog her way through any obstacle. If it meant spending day after day in court, evenings poring over the evidence, continually rethinking her trial strategy as she went along, she never noticed how this was driving her down. Always at the same energy and emotional low water mark, she was apt to flare up, usually at the point shortly before she came to deliver her closing speech. That last attempt to tip the balance of the trial always had the secondary effect of pulling her together and refocussing her own sense of conviction in the justice of her case. Once she finished the trial, she physically and emotionally crashed out over the weekend, tired but with that triumphant feeling that obliterated the memory of the mid trial slump.
"You're right, George. I'm sorry." "I understand. In any case, I've always believed that revenge is the dish that is best eaten cold. I'm very good at that as you should remember." "I'll see you, George. I need to go home and rest." Jo suddenly felt exhausted when she stopped fighting that need for rest. She smiled at George's little joke, gathered her very full brief case, heading off to the exit.
"Hey, that's Grayling over there. I promised Karen that I'd have a word or two to say to him." "I'll join you and help keep you out of trouble," George offered generously, seeing the determined look in Cassie's eye. In turn, the other woman grinned broadly at George's unintentional joke but said nothing.
"We'll see you at the pub and get the drinks in for you both," called out Yvonne.
The two women made a line to intercept Grayling before he had a chance to slink off. His smile of greeting when they had homed in was insincere even by his standards.
"Ah, Miss Tyler. I hope you and your partner are making your mark in life outside Larkhall." "I hope you have properly recovered from that terrible injury you had at the time of the fire, Mr. Grayling." Fifteen all and her turn to serve, smiled George as she noticed the way Grayling's mouth was pursed up tight.
"We wanted to have a quiet word with you, Mr. Grayling, about the totally scandalous way that the prosecution barrister exhibited those photographs in an open court, with the risk of them falling into the hands of some sleazy Fleet Street hack." "I can't see what that has to do with me, Ms Channing, though it is interesting what you learn about your staff." "You might be less casual about it if naked pictures of you were exhibited in court for everyone to see. In any case, you ought to start wondering how those photos came to light, who had most to do with Mr. Fenner." "I see your point," Grayling said cautiously. He hadn't thought that the photographs were anything to worry about. The idea of it happening to him made him suddenly think of all sorts of jeering comments being made behind his back. That made it a different matter altogether. He started wondering who would be petty and malicious enough to slip the photos to the prosecuting barrister and he came up with a short list of one.
"So one thing I suggest that you do is to stamp very hard on anyone exercising their squalid little imagination, like Di Barker for example. You're the Governing Governor, aren't you?" "Yeah, like that spiteful old witch, Bodybag, mouthing off like she always does. She's another stirrer." The insolent way that Cassie spoke made George grin to herself. Grayling couldn't work out for the life of him who this troublemaker was talking about except that it had to be one of his prison officers.
"Just who do you mean by Bodybag?" "Sylvia Hollamby, of course. All the girls have called her that name for years. I'm surprised you of all people didn't know that one. After all, you're the Governing Governor." "Let's get to the point. No one, I repeat no one at Larkhall gets to hear about those photos, and anything remotely connected to them, and the prison officers who were at court today should be quietly advised to keep their mouths shut." "I didn't know that Miss Betts meant so much to you," Grayling muttered in a meaningful way. It had come to his ears that a female barrister of her name was on hand when Buki Lester cut herself so tragically. It was irregular for her to be on the premises but if it meant that his name and Larkhall's wasn't bandied about in the corridors of power at Area, he was content to let matters be. That story makes sense when put together with the way that she is being so persistent about something that isn't her business. Being a gay man had long since taught him that people aren't as they seemed. Miss Tyler sticking her oar in is easier to explain as she's a natural troublemaker anyway. "Never you mind just why we're taking an interest in the matter. If anyone talks out of turn, there'll be hell to pay from me, and you know what that means." George's words spoken in her most precise, iciest tones worried Grayling as to the possible consequences of his actions. He paled at the vague but very real threat from this dominant forceful woman who had once given him a roasting in court.
"If you see Miss Betts before I do, can you pass it on to her that I shall see to this request." All the time he spoke, his eyes were flitting sideways to the right of George. When he finished speaking, he shot off like a rocket.
"Are you sure that it is all right for me to come and join you?" George asked Cassie in an uncharacteristically shy fashion. They were walking side by side as they made their way from the court towards the pub.
"Of course it's fine, George. You're one of us. Besides, there's a large dry Martini waiting to be drunk by you." A warm smile spread across George's face at the kindness and unquestioning sense of acceptance in Cassie's voice. It was only now that George worked out where this social insecurity came from as it was totally unlike her reputation for carrying off social affairs so splendidly. She remembered when she first started at boarding school, everyone had grouped themselves into cliques and she vividly remembered her first awkward steps to be accepted by the other girls. She never forgot the feelings of rejection when she was spurned by the more vicious, petty girls in her form who liked shutting people out. When puberty came and, with it, her attractiveness to the opposite sex, she became the life and soul of the party. It came to her, not the other way around and she could forget the past. Now after all the years of handling every largely male dominated social occasion, it was as if she had come round full circle. This time around, her reasons for wanting to be accepted were a much more mature need to be accepted by a group of like-minded people with whom she felt she belonged. "Just thought I'd say, George, before we go into the pub, that I know that you and Karen are together……." "Am I causing any problems?" George asked anxiously.
"There's no problem for me. Karen is really gorgeous and you've sure got good taste. I just thought you ought to know that not everyone knows, especially Yvonne." The others had occupied a large table in the corner of the room, enough for the seven of them to gather round comfortably. They were greeted by a row of smiles and there were two empty chairs saved for them.
"Did you get to talk to Karen?" "Yeah but not too much. She wasn't in a talking mood and she wants to be left on her own for a while." "I can understand Karen walking out of the court. Bastard." "Are you sure she will be all right? Ought one of us to phone her and see how she's going on?" Babs anxious voice followed Nikki's sympathetic anger.
"Leave it for later. Give her some time on her own and then we'll phone." "What about Grayling? He'd love to spread malicious gossip around Larkhall. You can tell that sort." The image of Grayling's profile sprang into Babs memory as she had sat nearest to him during the trial that morning. The expression on his face had been suspiciously blank. "George and I caught up with him. He won't squeal, not after George and I gently persuaded him to keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him." "Oh, and how gentle was gentle, you mean like the Kray brothers?" A wide smile spread across Yvonne's face as she contemplated how that formidable double act would have operated on Grayling.
"As if I would? George is a respectable barrister so I couldn't let her down." They all laughed out loud at the way Cassie played to the gallery with her unconvincing air of innocence. "I had to drag Jo away from that barrister of theirs. She came very close to striking him," Volunteered George. She had kept deliberately quiet when all the discussion centred on Karen for fear that she would betray her real feelings for her. It was a new experience to be able to sit back and quietly listen to what others were saying. She didn't have to be the centre of attention.
"I didn't think that barristers did that sort of thing." Helen's mouth was wide open in astonishment at the prospect of that apparently very respectable and, by definition, law abiding profession going to such extremes. "It was a close thing. I know Jo of old. She has very strong feelings for what is right and what is wrong. He offended every sense of decency that she possesses. When she does lose her temper, which is not as often as me……" and George smiled at this point. "…..that person had better take to the hills." "What a total slimebag that bastard was in raking up those photos of Karen. That was a calculated stroke as ever I've seen for a long long time…" "…..ever since you were in Larkhall," Finished Yvonne. "Memory fades, you know, of just how bad things can get." "I've never thought about it before but Karen must have a far easier time of it now with Fenner no longer around. Bodybag's a nasty piece of work but she's stupid." "You're forgetting Di Barker. She's off the wing for now but I imagine she'll be coming back some time. She's down but not out and can still cause trouble especially when she isn't known for what she's really like." "You sound as if you couldn't wait to get back to that dump and sort it out, Nikki." "What, the pie and chips special, lockups at night and no Helen to keep me warm at nights. That will be the day, Yvonne. There were good times there but I can remember the bad also." Nikki smiled at Yvonne's joke but finished on a reflective note as she became aware of her ambiguous nature of her feelings for Larkhall that she had hidden from herself for years.
"I think we could do without talking about Di Barker and her crocodile tear routine. The less said about her the better." They all fell into the sort of contemplative silence where no one has to speak. The quiet sounds of the pub and the comfortable chairs, so much more relaxing than the stiff benches, was soothing and restful.
"Those photos of Karen were rather tasty, you have to admit, oh sorry Babs, I forgot." "You can't take her anywhere. Just how do you manage her with your kids around." "She's quite a different person, Yvonne, believe me." "Oh really?" Helen's mind had suddenly become troubled, the thought of them all laughing and joking together at the pub and that, in the past, Karen had been part of the crowd. She was painfully conscious that they had given Karen quite long enough for even the most dedicated recluse.
"Look here, I think we've left it long enough. If it's OK with the rest of you, I'll talk to Karen on the mobile. I'll pop outside where it's quieter." "I'll join you," volunteered George.
After the lunchtime adjournment, Karen took her place in the witness box, feeling inwardly nervous of what was to come, but outwardly exuding nothing but calm detachment. She had been surprised to see that Neil had been in the gallery, and she found herself hoping against hope that seeing Di being thoroughly humiliated would be enough for him. But there he was, sure enough, sitting up there on the front row, on the other side of the aisle to the others, with only the width of the steps separating him from George. Karen could see them all from where she was: George, Nikki, Helen, Yvonne, Cassie, Roisin and Barbara, and she didn't want any one of them to witness her undoing. But most of all, she didn't want George to see those pictures, to see what a complete and utter slut she must have been to do the things she'd done for Fenner, and in front of a camera of all things. But never mind George, what was John going to think of her after this.
But her musings were cut short, however, when John, with a swish of his robes, appeared through the door behind the judge's bench. Neumann Mason-Alan was so eager to begin his tirade, that he was back on his feet again before everyone else had time to sit down. John held up a hand. "Mr. Mason-Alan," John said in sonorous tones. "Whilst such a level of enthusiasm would usually be a credit to you, the gleam in your eye leads me to believe that on this occasion, your motivations may be somewhat different. Please remember the warning I gave you yesterday." Neumann didn't let this deter him in the slightest. "Ms Betts," He began, mentally stalking her in the manner of a particularly vicious, though slightly inept tomcat moving in for the kill. "Precisely why did you initiate an affair with Ritchie Atkins?" "Do you know something," Karen replied conversationally. "On both occasions that I have been called to give evidence in this court, it's that old chestnut that has been uppermost in the minds of the opposition. It's getting a bit old hat now, don't you think?" Jo laughed before she could stop herself, and John struggled to hide a smile. "However dated you feel the question may be, Ms Betts," John said trying to keep a straight face. "You must give the court an answer." "I initiated an affair with Ritchie Atkins," Karen said, spacing her words carefully. "Because I found him attractive. What other reason could there be?" "And you did not think it wise to steer clear of the son of someone whom you were locking up at the time?" "Not in the least. I was led to believe that Ritchie Atkins had absolutely nothing to do with the family business, a fact which I found to my cost to be fictitious." "Roughly how long did this affair last?" "A matter of a few weeks." "And it is on the basis of this squalid little affair, lasting no more than, a few weeks, that James Fenner, a principal officer in one of Her Majesty's prisons, is brutally murdered?" "Oh," Karen drawled almost seductively. "There was nothing squalid about an affair with Ritchie Atkins. That's the point, he was as believable as the bible on which I swore the oath." "During this trial," Mason-Alan continued. "We have heard of two men's love for you, that of Ritchie Atkins, and that of James Fenner. We have also heard how both of these men in some way did you harm. Please could you tell the court what it is about you that first makes a man love you, and yet then makes said man hurt you?" "I'd have thought," Karen said coolly. "That such a question might more usefully be put to someone I've slept with, not to me." "Well now, is there anyone in this court whom you have slept with?" "Cut it out!" John snapped before Karen could answer. "I do apologise, My Lord," Neumann replied, insincerity dripping from every syllable. But his clear intention to insult Karen at every possible opportunity had well and truly set the scene for the rest of the afternoon. "Ms Betts," Neumann continued blithely. "Please could you tell the court, what Yvonne Atkins' reaction was on hearing that you were having an affair with her son, who was, let us not forget, ten years your junior?" "If I remember rightly," Karen said slowly and deliberately. "Her words were, I ought to scratch your bloody eyes out." There rose a titter from the gallery, and a muttered exclamation of "Typical," From Nikki. "And yet little more than a year later, you decided to pursue an affair with another Atkins. Only this time, it was with Yvonne Atkins who, by your own admission, threatened to scratch your bloody eyes out." "People change," Was Karen's unequivocal reply. "Do people change so very much in such a very short time?" "A year's quite a while in love and war," Karen commented dryly. Again, the murmur of nervous laughter rose from the gallery. "Wouldn't it be more accurate to suggest," Neumann continued stonily. "That you insinuated yourself in to Yvonne Atkins' bed, because you knew that she still had the means of removing James Fenner from your life?" "You devious little worm!" George said none too quietly. "This man, whom everyone believes raped you, was, until he was killed, haunting your every waking, or should I say working moment." "And how do you know he still isn't?" Karen asked derisively. This seemed to throw Neumann for a moment. "So," Neumann said, ignoring her last remark and desperately trying to regain the reins. "Was Yvonne Atkins' criminal potential the reason why you began an affair with her? After all, if anyone could remove James Fenner, it was her." "I began an affair with Yvonne Atkins," Karen replied, looking down her nose at him in disgust. "Because on getting to know her after she was released from prison, I discovered the warm, funny, incredibly sexy personality that Yvonne often keeps away from prying eyes. On the surface, Yvonne can appear brash, tough and without a remotely gentle bone in her body. But take away that layer, and you'll find the strong, loving woman who has given her life to her children, and who, even now, would do anything she possibly could for them." There was a short silence after Karen had said this, and George looked along the row to see that Yvonne had tears in her eyes. "Was Yvonne Atkins the first affair you'd had with a woman?" "Yes," Karen replied, now getting tired of the questions this pathetic little man was throwing at her. "And is Yvonne Atkins the only woman you've had an affair with?" "I'd have thought that was my business, not the court's," Karen said tartly. "Where are you going with this, Mr. Mason-Alan?" John asked, sounding just a little bored. "My Lord, I am simply trying to establish whether the removal of James Fenner was Ms Betts' intended goal in becoming sexually involved with the mother of his killer." "And I believe that your argument to that effect has been shot clean out of the water," John said decisively. "So please move on to something else, because I am getting tired of such pointless questions." "Very well, My Lord," Neumman replied, and the gleam of entrapment became perceptively deeper. "Ms Betts, Ritchie Atkins most pressing motivation for asking his sister to kill James Fenner, appears to be because he was aware of your having been raped by James Fenner. Now, as I understand it, you didn't actually ever tell Ritchie Atkins as much, now did you?" "Mr. Mason-Alan, I have warned you before about leading the witness," John said disgustedly. "I apologise, My Lord, I will rephrase the question. Ms Betts, did you ever actually say to Ritchie Atkins, that James Fenner had raped you?" "No," Karen replied, knowing exactly what was coming. Why, when Fenner had been the perpetrator of the crime, was she always the one having to justify her actions? "So, the main reason behind the brutal killing of James Fenner was built on nothing more than supposition, was it not?" "Did you not hear what I said only three minutes ago?" John asked scathingly. "Do not lead the witness. You know better." "What I am trying to ascertain," Neumann persisted. "Is whether or not there is any actual proof that this crime, supposedly committed by James Fenner, ever took place. I believe the jury may find it interesting that after reporting this crime to the police, you then retracted your statement, just days before the CPS were to inform you that they weren't taking up the case. What I shall endeavour to prove," He continued, now really getting in to his stride. "Is that this crime had never taken place, and that on the contrary, your relationship with James Fenner, your sexual relationship that is, was one of immense enjoyment to you both, including I might add, a certain amount of sexual experimentation." Here it comes, Karen thought in resigned acceptance. Fishing something that looked suspiciously like a packet of photographs out of his briefcase, Neumann walked over to the overhead projector and switched it on. "My Lord," Jo said, hurriedly getting to her feet. "Yes, Mrs. Mills, I know what you're about to say," John replied, waving his hand to her to sit down. "I do hope this is both relevant and necessary, Mr. Mason-Alan, or you will have a lot of explaining to do." "I believe it is the witness who will be providing the explanations, My Lord," Neumann replied jovially. The first picture that was projected on to the blank wall of the court, was of a very suntanned Karen, lying on a sun lounger, completely naked. An indecipherable murmur rose from the gallery, because none of them had been expecting anything like this. "Ms Betts, do you recognise this?" Neumann asked, the glee prematurely lighting up his face. "Well, seeing as it's what I have the pleasure of looking at in the mirror every day," Karen said scathingly. "Yes, I most certainly do recognise it." The hearty laugh at Neumann's expense that came from the front row of the gallery, made Karen briefly smile. "And how about this one?" Neumann asked, ignoring the laughter and putting a second photograph under the light. This one, showed Karen lying on what looked like a hotel bed, leaning up on her elbow in the direction of the camera, a soft, sultry smile on her face, leaving the viewer in no doubt of what was to come. "I would be very interested to know where you got those pictures," Karen replied, bypassing his question altogether. "Because as far as I was aware, they were last in Jim Fenner's possession, and as he is now dead, I believe they belong to me, seeing as I am the person featured in them." "Mr. Mason-Alan," John intervened. "Precisely what are you trying to achieve by all this?" "My Lord, I am simply enlightening the jury as to the fact that Karen Betts is no rape victim..." Before he could continue, there was a flurry of outrage from the gallery. "...And that if such a crime did not take place," Neumann raised his voice above everyone else's. "Then the main factor which forms the backbone of the defence can no longer be called an extenuating circumstance. Look at this for example," He ploughed on, ignoring any effort from John to silence him, and putting yet another picture under the light. Karen's face burned in mortification when she saw which one it was. She recognised the place as the balcony of the hotel room they'd had on holiday. She was naked yet again, but this time leaning up against the rail that ran round the top of the balcony wall. But it wasn't the surroundings that were catching everyone's attention. Modesty hadn't been allowed a look in on this one. It was plain to see that Karen had been sunbathing naked, and that she liked to be as hairless and smooth-skinned as possible when with a lover. The long, well-defined fingers of her left hand were playing over her left breast, and her right hand was resting casually on her hip, leaving the viewers in no doubt as to what would be in future pictures. As Karen stood and stared at the picture of herself, feeling her face flaming with colour, she heard a mixture of responses from the gallery. George's, "Good god," Yvonne's, "Bloody Hell," And Nikki's "Jesus Christ," Were just some of the reactions to her shame. But Neumann still wouldn't let up. "I would ask you, Ms Betts," He continued, now feeling that he had the backing of his audience. "Does this look to you like a woman who would refuse any kind of sexual intimacy from a man who was once her lover?" Karen knew she couldn't speak. No way could she stand there and face this man out. Taking the only refuge left open to her, she turned about, stepped down from the witness box, and stalked purposefully out of court.
After a moment's appalled silence, Cassie quickly rose to her feet and squeezed her way along the row, clearly with the intention of following Karen. When Cassie moved passed her, George attempted to go with her, but Cassie said very quietly, "Leave this to me. Anything resembling a lover is the last thing she'll want to see right now." George knew it had been meant kindly, but it didn't prevent her from feeling totally useless. John, on the other hand, simply stared at Mason-Alan, giving his level of anger and loathing a few brief moments to mature. "Hand me those pictures," He said, the quiet, almost deliberately spaced words belying the anger about to erupt. "But my Lord," Neumann tried to protest, but he was cut short. "Do it!" John roared, in a voice that nailed every other person to the spot. After removing the picture of Karen from under the light source, Neumann put all the pictures back in their envelope, and walking up to the bench, handed them to John. "Never," John continued once he'd received the pictures. "Have I witnessed such a blatant disregard for dignity and human decency. Did it not occur to you that Karen Betts is actually a human being, with possible feelings of shame and embarrassment just like the rest of us?" "My Lord, I was simply trying to..." "Don't interrupt!" John bellowed, far angrier than anyone, Jo and George included, had ever seen him. "I warned you yesterday, didn't I. I warned you not to intimidate any witness under any circumstance. You have completely and unreservedly ignored every word I have ever said to you regarding your treatment of witnesses. What will it take, for you to learn that you cannot treat a witness, especially one whom you specifically asked to be called, in the manner of a dumb animal that can be bent and manipulated to suit your purpose? Are you even aware, that by introducing that ludicrously cheap and degrading evidence, that you have contravened the Criminal Procedures and Investigations Act?" "My Lord, I..." "In section 3 subsection 1, it categorically states that the prosecutor must disclose to the accused any prosecution material which has not previously been disclosed to the accused, and which in the prosecutor's opinion might undermine the case for the prosecution against the accused. As a regularly used puppet of the prosecuting establishment, you ought to know this Act inside out and be in the habit of using it to the letter. As I understand it, you have not, on any prior occasion enlightened the defence as to the existence of these pictures. Therefore, I am declaring any inference drawn from them as null and void. This will include all the evidence you have ruthlessly drawn from Karen Betts during this afternoon's session. This is because, and only because of the way you have persistently undermined my authority in this court, and such an exhibition of defiance and plain ignorance of procedure and common decency, I will not have. I will be informing the Professional Conduct Committee of your behaviour this afternoon, and you can be sure that you have not heard the end of this. Now get out of my sight."
When Cassie reached the foyer, she saw the front doors of the court building swinging shut, and ran hell for leather to push them open. Karen was striding purposefully towards her car. Cassie called out to her. Karen turned, and waited until Cassie caught up with her. "Where are you going?" She asked, catching her breath. "Anywhere away from here," Karen answered curtly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right," Cassie said quietly, not wanting to aggravate Karen's clearly volatile state. "I know," Karen replied, calming down ever so slightly. "And it's very sweet of you, but I just need some space. I'm not sure if I can look anyone in the face right now." "Especially George?" Cassie cut to the chase. Karen kept her expression blank. "If it makes you feel better," Cassie continued. "She wanted to see how you were too." "I'm amazed those bloody pictures haven't frightened her off," Karen said bitterly. "I barely know George," Cassie replied confidently. "But you can see a mile off that she's made of tougher stuff than that. She isn't going to be frightened off just because you posed for the camera." "I hope you're right," Karen said, not entirely believing her. Then a thought struck her. "Oh, no," She groaned in realisation. "Grayling was up there with you. That's all I need." "You leave him to me," Cassie said, determination clear in her voice. "Listen," She added, giving Karen an impulsive hug. "Wherever you're going, just take care." As Karen spun the wheel and roared out of the car park, Cassie stood and watched her, wondering just how much intrusion one person could take.
When Cassie returned inside, she found the others descending the marble stairs, and saw Jo and the prosecuting arse-hole emerging from the door reserved for barristers. Once out of the courtroom itself, Jo turned to Neumann and hissed, "You really are a spineless little cretin, aren't you." Neumann halted in his tracks, for a moment surprised by the venom in Jo's voice. "Only doing my job, Jo, you know how these things are." "Oh! Oh, do I," Jo replied in disgust, her voice rising with indignation. "Well, let me tell you that never in a million years would I stoop as low as you did today. You just haven't got a remotely sensitive bone in your body, have you. You're a worthless, pathetic individual who has to get his kicks from humiliating women who are far stronger than you will ever be." "Jo!" George interrupted, touching her arm to get her attention. "Come on," She said a little more gently. "It's really not worth it. He'll get his comeuppance when the PCC start digging their claws in." "I hope they take you well and truly off the road," Jo said over her shoulder as she allowed George to lead her away. But he hadn't finished. "What's a hearing with the PCC like, Jo? I'd almost forgotten you'd had one yourself." This was just too much for Jo, swiftly turning round, she was about to deliver either a verbal or possibly even a physical rejoinder to this very accurate jibe. But George, seeing something akin to the Atkins wrath in Jo's eyes, grabbed her hand and virtually dragged her away. "Jo, he's simply not worth getting into trouble over, not a pathetic little time server like him." "Oh, and this is the voice of reason speaking?" Jo flared, her blocked fury being displaced on George. "Jo, you know what you have to do," George explained patiently. Inwardly she winced as she saw a reflection of herself in the way Jo reacted. "Your quickest way to take your revenge on him is to defeat him in open court. How it will go is anyone's guess but, thanks to you, we've made most of the running. We've seen those fearfully obsequious friends of my utterly despicable ex, sitting behind us and looking as if they are going to their own funeral." Jo's rage started to dissipate as she realised what was getting to her. Every time she came to a long trial, she started out enthusiastically, thinking that sheer will power could slog her way through any obstacle. If it meant spending day after day in court, evenings poring over the evidence, continually rethinking her trial strategy as she went along, she never noticed how this was driving her down. Always at the same energy and emotional low water mark, she was apt to flare up, usually at the point shortly before she came to deliver her closing speech. That last attempt to tip the balance of the trial always had the secondary effect of pulling her together and refocussing her own sense of conviction in the justice of her case. Once she finished the trial, she physically and emotionally crashed out over the weekend, tired but with that triumphant feeling that obliterated the memory of the mid trial slump.
"You're right, George. I'm sorry." "I understand. In any case, I've always believed that revenge is the dish that is best eaten cold. I'm very good at that as you should remember." "I'll see you, George. I need to go home and rest." Jo suddenly felt exhausted when she stopped fighting that need for rest. She smiled at George's little joke, gathered her very full brief case, heading off to the exit.
"Hey, that's Grayling over there. I promised Karen that I'd have a word or two to say to him." "I'll join you and help keep you out of trouble," George offered generously, seeing the determined look in Cassie's eye. In turn, the other woman grinned broadly at George's unintentional joke but said nothing.
"We'll see you at the pub and get the drinks in for you both," called out Yvonne.
The two women made a line to intercept Grayling before he had a chance to slink off. His smile of greeting when they had homed in was insincere even by his standards.
"Ah, Miss Tyler. I hope you and your partner are making your mark in life outside Larkhall." "I hope you have properly recovered from that terrible injury you had at the time of the fire, Mr. Grayling." Fifteen all and her turn to serve, smiled George as she noticed the way Grayling's mouth was pursed up tight.
"We wanted to have a quiet word with you, Mr. Grayling, about the totally scandalous way that the prosecution barrister exhibited those photographs in an open court, with the risk of them falling into the hands of some sleazy Fleet Street hack." "I can't see what that has to do with me, Ms Channing, though it is interesting what you learn about your staff." "You might be less casual about it if naked pictures of you were exhibited in court for everyone to see. In any case, you ought to start wondering how those photos came to light, who had most to do with Mr. Fenner." "I see your point," Grayling said cautiously. He hadn't thought that the photographs were anything to worry about. The idea of it happening to him made him suddenly think of all sorts of jeering comments being made behind his back. That made it a different matter altogether. He started wondering who would be petty and malicious enough to slip the photos to the prosecuting barrister and he came up with a short list of one.
"So one thing I suggest that you do is to stamp very hard on anyone exercising their squalid little imagination, like Di Barker for example. You're the Governing Governor, aren't you?" "Yeah, like that spiteful old witch, Bodybag, mouthing off like she always does. She's another stirrer." The insolent way that Cassie spoke made George grin to herself. Grayling couldn't work out for the life of him who this troublemaker was talking about except that it had to be one of his prison officers.
"Just who do you mean by Bodybag?" "Sylvia Hollamby, of course. All the girls have called her that name for years. I'm surprised you of all people didn't know that one. After all, you're the Governing Governor." "Let's get to the point. No one, I repeat no one at Larkhall gets to hear about those photos, and anything remotely connected to them, and the prison officers who were at court today should be quietly advised to keep their mouths shut." "I didn't know that Miss Betts meant so much to you," Grayling muttered in a meaningful way. It had come to his ears that a female barrister of her name was on hand when Buki Lester cut herself so tragically. It was irregular for her to be on the premises but if it meant that his name and Larkhall's wasn't bandied about in the corridors of power at Area, he was content to let matters be. That story makes sense when put together with the way that she is being so persistent about something that isn't her business. Being a gay man had long since taught him that people aren't as they seemed. Miss Tyler sticking her oar in is easier to explain as she's a natural troublemaker anyway. "Never you mind just why we're taking an interest in the matter. If anyone talks out of turn, there'll be hell to pay from me, and you know what that means." George's words spoken in her most precise, iciest tones worried Grayling as to the possible consequences of his actions. He paled at the vague but very real threat from this dominant forceful woman who had once given him a roasting in court.
"If you see Miss Betts before I do, can you pass it on to her that I shall see to this request." All the time he spoke, his eyes were flitting sideways to the right of George. When he finished speaking, he shot off like a rocket.
"Are you sure that it is all right for me to come and join you?" George asked Cassie in an uncharacteristically shy fashion. They were walking side by side as they made their way from the court towards the pub.
"Of course it's fine, George. You're one of us. Besides, there's a large dry Martini waiting to be drunk by you." A warm smile spread across George's face at the kindness and unquestioning sense of acceptance in Cassie's voice. It was only now that George worked out where this social insecurity came from as it was totally unlike her reputation for carrying off social affairs so splendidly. She remembered when she first started at boarding school, everyone had grouped themselves into cliques and she vividly remembered her first awkward steps to be accepted by the other girls. She never forgot the feelings of rejection when she was spurned by the more vicious, petty girls in her form who liked shutting people out. When puberty came and, with it, her attractiveness to the opposite sex, she became the life and soul of the party. It came to her, not the other way around and she could forget the past. Now after all the years of handling every largely male dominated social occasion, it was as if she had come round full circle. This time around, her reasons for wanting to be accepted were a much more mature need to be accepted by a group of like-minded people with whom she felt she belonged. "Just thought I'd say, George, before we go into the pub, that I know that you and Karen are together……." "Am I causing any problems?" George asked anxiously.
"There's no problem for me. Karen is really gorgeous and you've sure got good taste. I just thought you ought to know that not everyone knows, especially Yvonne." The others had occupied a large table in the corner of the room, enough for the seven of them to gather round comfortably. They were greeted by a row of smiles and there were two empty chairs saved for them.
"Did you get to talk to Karen?" "Yeah but not too much. She wasn't in a talking mood and she wants to be left on her own for a while." "I can understand Karen walking out of the court. Bastard." "Are you sure she will be all right? Ought one of us to phone her and see how she's going on?" Babs anxious voice followed Nikki's sympathetic anger.
"Leave it for later. Give her some time on her own and then we'll phone." "What about Grayling? He'd love to spread malicious gossip around Larkhall. You can tell that sort." The image of Grayling's profile sprang into Babs memory as she had sat nearest to him during the trial that morning. The expression on his face had been suspiciously blank. "George and I caught up with him. He won't squeal, not after George and I gently persuaded him to keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him." "Oh, and how gentle was gentle, you mean like the Kray brothers?" A wide smile spread across Yvonne's face as she contemplated how that formidable double act would have operated on Grayling.
"As if I would? George is a respectable barrister so I couldn't let her down." They all laughed out loud at the way Cassie played to the gallery with her unconvincing air of innocence. "I had to drag Jo away from that barrister of theirs. She came very close to striking him," Volunteered George. She had kept deliberately quiet when all the discussion centred on Karen for fear that she would betray her real feelings for her. It was a new experience to be able to sit back and quietly listen to what others were saying. She didn't have to be the centre of attention.
"I didn't think that barristers did that sort of thing." Helen's mouth was wide open in astonishment at the prospect of that apparently very respectable and, by definition, law abiding profession going to such extremes. "It was a close thing. I know Jo of old. She has very strong feelings for what is right and what is wrong. He offended every sense of decency that she possesses. When she does lose her temper, which is not as often as me……" and George smiled at this point. "…..that person had better take to the hills." "What a total slimebag that bastard was in raking up those photos of Karen. That was a calculated stroke as ever I've seen for a long long time…" "…..ever since you were in Larkhall," Finished Yvonne. "Memory fades, you know, of just how bad things can get." "I've never thought about it before but Karen must have a far easier time of it now with Fenner no longer around. Bodybag's a nasty piece of work but she's stupid." "You're forgetting Di Barker. She's off the wing for now but I imagine she'll be coming back some time. She's down but not out and can still cause trouble especially when she isn't known for what she's really like." "You sound as if you couldn't wait to get back to that dump and sort it out, Nikki." "What, the pie and chips special, lockups at night and no Helen to keep me warm at nights. That will be the day, Yvonne. There were good times there but I can remember the bad also." Nikki smiled at Yvonne's joke but finished on a reflective note as she became aware of her ambiguous nature of her feelings for Larkhall that she had hidden from herself for years.
"I think we could do without talking about Di Barker and her crocodile tear routine. The less said about her the better." They all fell into the sort of contemplative silence where no one has to speak. The quiet sounds of the pub and the comfortable chairs, so much more relaxing than the stiff benches, was soothing and restful.
"Those photos of Karen were rather tasty, you have to admit, oh sorry Babs, I forgot." "You can't take her anywhere. Just how do you manage her with your kids around." "She's quite a different person, Yvonne, believe me." "Oh really?" Helen's mind had suddenly become troubled, the thought of them all laughing and joking together at the pub and that, in the past, Karen had been part of the crowd. She was painfully conscious that they had given Karen quite long enough for even the most dedicated recluse.
"Look here, I think we've left it long enough. If it's OK with the rest of you, I'll talk to Karen on the mobile. I'll pop outside where it's quieter." "I'll join you," volunteered George.