A Chance Encounter Pt. 02

"Yes My Lord."

"Very well. Mrs Lackington, I'm sure you wish to continue questioning the defendant." He looked down his spectacles at Jane with a smile.

"Yes, thank you My Lord. Now Mrs Carter, you were about to tell us why your husband didn't have sex with you."

I found out afterwards that Jane had had a quick word with Barbara, filling her in on where this was going so I noticed more confidence in her answers from now on. "He said I was too old and to . . . fat!" I think that every man in the room thought he must have been insane and every woman that he was intensely rude, probably blind as well.

"How long since you had sexual relations with your husband?"

"Three years or thereabouts. I can't be sure. I'm sorry."

"So you were angry?" Quick look at the Judge. He smiled, she was leading! "And you were embarrassed? Why?"

"Well, you know, him there with this girl. On the kitchen table!" She added with feeling. I glanced at the jury. The five women were all on her side. I suspect the men, several of whom were glancing in the direction of Miss Jones, a very shapely 19 year old, wouldn't have minded being the same position.

"And humiliated?"

"Yes, humiliated that he'd do this to me. In our house especially after . . .!" she stopped mid sentence.

"Especially after . . . what Mrs Carter." Oh she was good was Jane!

"He promised!"

"He promised?"

"He said he wouldn't bring them back to the house." I could see that Barbara was getting angry now, angry with her dead husband. I worried a bit about where this was going.

"Bring who back to the house?"

"Girls, women he picked up."

"Oh," said Jane in surprise (as if she didn't know!), "he'd done this before. Had affairs?"

Barbara looked down now. I must be difficult for a woman as attractive as her to admit to a husband having affairs. "Yes," she said softly, "lots of times." She looked up, "He said that he wouldn't bring them back to the house. I found him, before, in the bedroom with a girl. I said I'd divorce him but he didn't want that. Said I looked too good by his side and he couldn't afford a divorce. Oh, I mean he could afford it financially but it would harm his family and the business. So I said I didn't want girls in the house. He said he wouldn't."

"But you knew he continued to have these . . . liaisons?"

"Yes."

"So you weren't really surprised?"

"Well I was surprised he was in the house with her I suppose but not really that he was doing, you know, that with her."

Now the Judge interrupted. It was near 4 pm so he adjourned the trial until the next day. Jane seemed happy outside the courtroom. "Going well," she said with a smile. "Murder's definitely out of the window and I think the Manslaughter will go too."

I laughed, a tense, worried laugh, "Jane you're a marvel. More of the same tomorrow?"

"Mmm," she said with a smile. "Now go in and see her before she goes back to the remand centre. Say nothing about the trial remember."

I saw Barbara and she looked terrible. Red eyed from crying, almost shivering from the tension of giving evidence. The guards stood only inches away and all I could do was exchange platitudes and try to show her I cared. She seemed a little better but not much.

The next day Jane continued her examination of Barbara.

"Now Mrs Carter if I can just remind you of where we are. You told the court that your husband had been having affairs and that you had, on one occasion, found him with another woman in your bedroom. Is that correct?"

"Yes,"

"And he 'promised' that he wouldn't bring anyone back to the house again?"

"Yes,"

"So you were angry and humiliated?"

"Good, I think we understand your state of mind now Mrs Carter. Can you tell us what happened next?"

"Well, I sort of went into the kitchen. Stephen must have heard me. He looked round and pulled away from Miss Jones."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yes. 'What the hell are you doing here?'"

"Did you respond?"

"Well no, not really. I was so shocked I just, sort of, opened my mouth and nothing came out."

"Tell us what happened then."

"He, oh dear, he . . . tidied himself up!"

"'Tidied himself up?'"

"Oh, My Lord . . .?"

"I'm afraid you must my dear."

Deep breath. "He put his penis away!" It came out breathlessly, forced out.

"Mmm, I see," said Jane imbuing that phrase with so much disapproval it could almost be heard. "What happened then?"

"He moved towards me. I moved backwards, away from him."

"Was he angry?"

"Objection My Lord. I don't think the witness can comment on the mental state of the victim."

"My Lord," Jane was in like a shot, "the witness was married to the victim for almost 12 years. I suspect, like most women," a quick look at the jury, "she knew when he was angry."

"Mmm. Mr Peters I think we have to pass on this one. Objection overruled."

"Thank you My Lord. In your opinion was your husband angry?"

"Very!"

"How could you tell?"

"His eyes . . . They were, I don't know, wide and staring. Like before . . ."

"Before?"

"Before when he got angry with me."

"Ahhh! Anything else?"

"He had one hand raised as he came towards me." She looked so frail as she said this. As if remembering something frightening.

"Had he done this before? Raised his hand to you?" She couldn't look at the court, muttering something. "Mrs Carter, had your husband raised his hand to you before?" I could see the prosecution QC itching to object but thinking better of it.

Barbara answered with a muted, "Yes."

"Mrs Carter was your husband violent towards you?" I smiled inwardly. I could see the manslaughter charge disappearing out of the window! So could the prosecuting QC.

"Objection My Lord. I can't see what this has to do with the events of that day." Pretty pathetic really. The judge slapped him down.

"Mr Peters, the state of mind of the witness is paramount in deciding why she acted, or otherwise, in the manner which she did. I see this line of questioning as perfectly valid." Oh dear, that was a real slap. Couldn't see him getting on his feet again!

"Thank you My Lord." Just the right tone, good old Jane. "Can you answer now please. I asked whether your husband was violent towards you in the past?"

Another muted, "Yes."

"Often?"

"No, occasionally."

"What form would that violence take?"

"Must I My Lord. I'm so ashamed." Says something doesn't it, that she should be ashamed of admitting that her husband hit her. I abhor men who hit women, even under provocation. Served the bastard right, I thought.

"Yes my dear, I'm afraid you must."

"He would slap me sometimes, slap my face."

"Anything else?" Jane was really rubbing it in now.

"Yes. He punched me."

"Where?

"My stomach, bottom and back." Now she looked up defiantly, "He said he didn't want the marks to spoil the way I looked!"

"Exactly," said Jane again imbuing that word with enormous disapproval. "My Lord, I will present evidence to corroborate the defendant's assertion.

"Quite so Mrs Lackington, please continue."

"So, to continue with that afternoon. You are backing away from your husband who was advancing towards you, apparently angry, with his hand raised. Did you feel threatened?" The prosecution QC began to move but a look from the judge kept him firmly in his seat. I think he realised that it was a lost cause and I suspected that his solicitor and the police were going to get their ears bent!

"I was frightened. Yes I suppose so."

"What then?"

"My back came up against the kitchen worktop. I couldn't go back any more. I was so frightened now -- he was near." She started to cry but carried on speaking, "I reached sideways to grab something, anything, to try and hold him off. Oh god I was so frightened now. He would be worse, I knew it, now I'd actually found him. I felt something, grabbed it, and brought it round in front of me. I didn't really see what it was, didn't think. It was just something between him and me. He kept coming at me. What I was holding didn't seem to stop him." Now she was crying openly, sobbing.

"A chair and some water I think, Mrs Lackington," said the judge.

"Thank you My Lord," said Jane having now achieved almost everything she wanted. There were a few minutes delay. Enough time for Barbara to get hold of herself. Now she seemed beaten, deflated as she continued.

"Suddenly he made a funny sound and I felt my hand on his chest. It was all wet. I looked down and it was red. I couldn't understand that. He started to collapse and I let go of the handle. He fell and I saw the knife handle sticking out of his chest. Miss Jones was screaming, I was confused. I couldn't understand what had happened. I told her to go, as she said, and she left. I sat on the chair and looked at Stephen just trying to understand. Then I looked at the knife rack and saw that the filleting knife was missing and there it was sticking out of his chest."

"Now Mrs Carter, I will ask you again. Did you kill your husband."

A tearful, "Yes."

"But you didn't realise that you had picked up a knife."

"No, no. I couldn't understand what had happened."

"Thank you Mrs Carter. I have finished now. You must stay there and answer questions from my colleague."

Barbara nodded demurely and faced the prosecution. I won't go into detail because it was pretty pathetic. The more he tried to make Barbara say she wanted to kill her husband, the more confused she became about her intention. He just reinforced everything that Jane had been trying to do. He did get her to admit to going out looking for sex but her reasoning was so pathetically sad that I could see that even the women on the jury understood.

They called me about the weekend. I just said that we had sex on a number of occasions. He pushed me but I risked contempt by just saying that -- we had sex.

Jane called some of Barbara's husband's ex-girlfriends. It was difficult for her because Jane made them tell the court what her husband had said to them about her but, again, it all hit home with the jury.

She called a doctor to comment on some bruising to stomach and kidney area, although the prosecution managed to get him to admit that they could have been accidents. Then a neighbour, where Jane found her from I don't know, testified that she had seen Stephen hit Barbara on two separate occasions. That was enough to settle the defence.

The prosecution summing up was rubbish. Felt a bit sorry for him really, didn't have much to work with and it was pretty clear that the jury had probably made up their minds.

Jane was brilliant. Stressed every point in Barbara's favour. It was short, sharp, and to the point.

The judge clarified the law on homicide to them and it was clear he was saying that they couldn't find her guilty of murder. Manslaughter he left to them.

I met Gordon in the corridor outside. "No problems Davy old son. Bloody hell she's good is Jane. Definite acquittal. Mark my words. Don't look so bloody worried."

Jane arrived. "I think we're OK here David. Worst will be manslaughter but I doubt that even. None of the women will find her guilty of anything. Men might hang on for a bit but they know the bastard had it coming." Strange I thought, said with more feeling than usual.

I was all of a dither, worried sick about the result. Look it meant so much to me. Over the months I'd come to, oh shit I don't know, come to love her I suppose. She was so sad, so different from the vibrant, alive woman that I'd shared that weekend with.

They weren't very long! Two hours later they came back. Barbara was brought back into court. She looked terrible. I've never been in that position but I've know a few people who have and it is wearing to say the least!

"Will the defendant please stand." Barbara stood.

The clerk turned to the Forewoman of the jury. "Have you reached a verdict?"

"Yes we have."

"And is it the verdict of you all?" God, it's a slow water torture!

"Yes it is."

"On the charge of Murder do you find the defendant Guilty or Not Guilty."

She didn't hesitate a second, "Not guilty."

It went on, through all the possible offences. Not guilty to every one. I was out of the gallery and down outside the courtroom doors. I heard the judge.

"Mrs Lackington, the defendant is discharged."

"The court will rise." The judge left and I was in like a shot. Barbara seemed stunned as Jane helped her down from the dock. I was there, holding her, when she began to cry. Great racking sobs. She clung on to me as if she were drowning. It's difficult to explain just how I felt then. I didn't want to let her go and I wanted to stop her crying, make her feel safe. Is that love? It was certainly a different feeling from that I had for my ex. Nor was it anything to do with the sex over that exciting weekend. I didn't know -- all I did know was that I wanted to protect her, stop her crying, make it so that she never cried again.

"It's over," I whispered in her ear, "all over."

"Is it really, really over?"

I smiled and nodded. "Jane, come and tell Barbara that it's over." So Jane took over and calmed her nerves then Gordon took her downstairs to sign for her property. She'd calmed somewhat when she came back but still looked lost, forlorn.

She looked at the three of us. "Oh thank you, thank you all. David," she said turning to me, "you most of all." A coy smile then concern, "But I don't know what will happen now. I can't go 'home'. His family . . ."

"Don't worry," I said with a smile, "I told you, remember, that I am a good lawyer and now you need a good family lawyer -- that's me. Do you want me to represent you?" I asked.

"Oh yes, yes please. What will happen?"

"To early to say. Anyway worry about that later. Now Gordon's made some arrangements."

"Yes my dear," Gordon took on his fatherly mode, "you're to come and stay with us until young David can sort everything out for you. Clara, that's my wife, has bought you some clothes. As you know, everything has been frozen at the house until the estate is settled. Is that acceptable?"

She looked pathetically grateful as she nodded. "I don't know how to thank you all," she said, "you've been so kind."

He smiled a lovely comforting smile and, with his arm around her shoulders, said, "Well my dear, David has told us all about you," sharp embarrassed look towards me. I shook my head, "And he likes you very much -- but then you know that don't you?"

She looked at me an managed a soft smile, "Yes," bigger smile, "I think that's pretty obvious."

"Mmm," he said, laughing, "come. Home!"

"Are you coming?" she said turning to me.

"Mmm, Jane as well. We're going to have a little celebration dinner."

"I'm glad," she said. I wasn't sure that was for the dinner or me coming. I hoped the latter. So off we went by taxi to Gordon's house in north London. This is a grand, rambling place. Just what you would expect from a senior partner in a large, and very successful, legal firm. I never counted the bedrooms but I know it had a number of bathrooms.

Clara met us at the door and immediately took Barbara under her wing. She did have two daughters, after all, just a few years younger than Barbara. Barbara herself seemed only to pleased to be mothered. I think she needed it. Needed the comfort of being accepted into a family situation. Jane had gone home to change, she would return for dinner. She said her husband John would come to dinner but I doubted it. He and I had never hit it off. I think he resented my and her success and the time we had spent at university together. I wasn't bothered, can't say I liked him that much anyway.

Clara came back downstairs. "I've left her to get ready. She's very vulnerable you know." Then specifically to me, "You must be careful with her David. Gordon has told me what happened, you know, after she killed him. You mustn't try to take advantage of her!"

I was used to this from Clara. My mother had died many years ago, whilst I was at university -- I didn't know my father. When I joined the firm Clara, sort of, took me under her wing. I stayed with them for a good while as I found my feet at work so I wasn't surprised by what she said. She knew, as well, how the divorce had hit me, especially losing the kids.

I smiled, "No Clara, I won't try to take advantage of her. Anyway, she's a big girl."

"And a very pretty one. Mind you, not a 'girl' -- a woman."

"Yes," I said with a sigh. This prompted a knowing look from Clara to Gordon who just smiled. He'd seen it all before. He knew I was hooked.

"Clara dear, leave him alone. Can't you see she has him hooked -- if she wants him that is!" I looked at him sharply. "See," he said laughing, "I told you Clara!" They both laughed and herded me into the lounge.

We chatted, laughed, wondered, then I off'ed, showered and changed gear. I had a room at Gordon's, had since joining the firm. Jane arrived later -- gorgeous as usual and without John (surprise!). Barbara was the last to come down. I thought she might dress up -- no. Simple blouse, skirt. Natural look, almost no make-up. She looked bloody fabulous. Well she did to me anyway. Couldn't take my eyes off her. Felt embarrassed really, sure everyone noticed. She was so different, coy, apologetic almost, but everyone, particularly Carla, made her welcome again.

Dinner, as ever, was great but I couldn't eat much. My stomach was churning and I felt so hot. Nervous, edgy. I wanted to be alone with Barbara, oh not for sex. Bugger it, of course I did, but not just now. I needed to say things to her. Try to explain myself. This is if I could figure it out myself. Never felt like this: Jane, Helen, no other girlfriend. Not that I'd had that many. Was it just the sex? Was it because I was on the rebound? I didn't think so.

Conversation buzzed for the whole meal but I didn't really take part. It was focussed on Barbara with Jane and Carla leading the way. After dinner Jane left, case in the morning she said. The rest of us into the lounge for coffee. Chat became just a bit stilted. I couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't stupid and, although Carla did her best, Barbara seemed reluctant to talk as well. Always a good reader of the situation, Gordon nodded to Carla and off they went to bed. As she left Carla's head round the door, "Don't keep her up too late David. It's been a long day."

We both smiled at her then sat quietly. Stupid!! I felt like a teenager on my first date. What to say. How to explain the way I felt when I didn't know myself. Nothing like this before. I was tied up in my own need to explain myself and I didn't notice Barbara. She told me later she felt the same, didn't know how to start. Finally I plucked up courage (?) and just said, "Bar . . ."

At the same moment she said, "David!"

"Sorry, go ahead," from me.

She flashed a look of thanks and I noticed now her whole demeanour was one of uncertainty, embarrassment almost. How were two grown, experienced (very experienced after our weekend together), adults behaving like a couple of teenagers on their first date?

She looked up, "Come and sit by me. I have some things I must say to you." Well, that didn't exactly make me feel any more confident as I crossed and sat next to her on the sofa. She turned to face me and took my hands in hers.

"I don't know where to begin," she said softly, "how to say thank you for all you've done." I made to speak. "No, no, let me finish." She looked into my eyes, god she was lovely!

"What you did after, after . . . you know. It was thoughtless and unkind to snare you like that." Now I did speak.

"That doesn't matter Barbara, doesn't matter at all." I took a deep breath. I had to explain myself now. "That weekend we were different people. We didn't know each other," I laughed wryly, "not sure we do now, but, well you know what I mean. Oh bloody hell," I said in exasperation. So bloody difficult.