The traffic was heavier than they anticipated but they still arrived almost an hour ahead of the appointment with the council and care officials. When they turned into the driveway and stopped for the gate to be opened after identifying themselves through the speaker grill, two men with cameras and another with a tape recorder ran from an unseen car parked opposite. There were momentarily blinding flashes and the man with the tape recorder said, ‘May I ask…’ before the gates opened and Perry accelerated through.
‘Bastards!’ exclaimed the solicitor. ‘Frightened the hell out of me!’
‘Weren’t you told of this, when you spoke to the house?’ Hall asked Johnson.
‘Annabelle said she’d been bothered but didn’t tell me there were ambushes outside the gate,’ said the family solicitor.
Alerted by the gate telephone Annabelle Parkes was at the open door by the time they reached the square, creeper-clad mansion. The nanny was a plump, round-faced girl who wore her hair short and disdained any make-up. The impression, even for someone who could only have been in her twenties, was motherly, which Hall decided was an advantage. There was a firm, no-nonsense handshake but no smile. Coffee was already set out in the drawing room at the front of the house, overlooking the terraced lawns and the distant coppice which hid the gate. It was a room of heavy velvet drapes and brocaded furniture which Hall guessed to be Regency. It could, he supposed, have been Georgian in keeping with the period of the house. Some looked similar to the antiques his father had sold, trying to stave off the Lloyd’s bankruptcy. There were a lot of photographs, the majority of Jennifer with Lomax, with Emily completing the family in several. They were smiling and laughing in virtually all of them, apart from two posed studio portraits. The one of Jennifer reminded Hall of the picture that most of the newspapers had used. She was more than simply beautiful, he decided. The head-tilted confidence he’d earlier recognized made her intriguing, too. Meeting her in any other circumstances would have made him curious to discover just how intelligent she was.
As she poured coffee Annabelle said, ‘I’ve kept Emily home from kindergarten. I didn’t know if they – if you – would want to see her. She’s upstairs in the nursery, playing. You said you wanted to talk before the others arrived? And I’ve packed clothes. Quite a lot, to give Mrs Lomax a choice. She takes a lot of trouble about how she dresses.’
‘Mrs Lomax is resisting Emily being taken into care,’ announced Johnson. ‘We can do that, certainly until after any trial. But it’s very necessary that we know if you’re prepared to remain here, looking after the child.’
‘That’s what I’m employed to do,’ said the girl, stiffly.
‘And are happy to continue doing so?’ pressed Perry.
‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s good to know,’ said Hall. ‘I’m surprised this approach came from the council so quickly.’
‘I’m probably responsible,’ confessed the girl. ‘Ever since it happened we’ve been besieged by newspapers and television people: they even got over the perimeter wall and came up to the house through the tradesmen’s entrance when we wouldn’t let them through the main gate. I complained to the police: said I had a child here that I wanted protecting…’
Hall sighed, nodding. ‘Yes, you probably are. We were confronted by some of them at the gate.’
‘I wish I’d been given some indication,’ complained Johnson.
‘I’m sorry if it was the wrong thing to do.’
‘It wasn’t,’ said Perry.
‘In fact,’ reassured Hall, ‘it might even make things easier.’
The girl went to a bureau near the window, returning with several envelopes. Handing them to Johnson, whose authority she already knew, Annabelle said, ‘They put these in the postbox at the gate, too: offering money for photographs and for interviews. I thought you’d want them. And there’s some other mail, as well. I’ve kept it all for you.’
Johnson accepted the package, moving away from them to go through it.
Hall checked his watch, deciding there was sufficient time. ‘Describe Mrs Lomax to me,’ he demanded, suddenly.
Annabelle frowned. ‘I don’t…’ she started. Then, ‘Of course, I’m sorry. A wonderful woman. We got on very well together.’
Perry had frowned, too. Then his face cleared and hurriedly he got out a pad and the silver pencil. ‘Did she and Mr Lomax ever fight?’
The girl shook her head. ‘That’s the strangest part, about what’s happened. I’ve never known them argue, ever…’ She smiled for the first time. ‘Almost unnatural, we used to say.’
‘We?’ queried Hall.
‘There’s a housekeeper who also cooks and a daily lady and a gardener. And there’s another man who comes in to help the gardener…’ She gestured behind her. ‘There’s a lot of ground.’
‘Mr Lomax stayed in London during the week?’ coaxed Perry.
‘Rarely more than two nights. And when he was away he always telephoned. As I say, they were devoted to each other.’
‘Did Mrs Lomax ever talk to you about someone named Rebecca?’ asked Hall.
There was another frown. ‘I think she’s a friend of Mrs Lomax. Came here a long time ago.’
‘But Mrs Lomax didn’t mention her more recently?’
‘In what way?’
‘Just talk about her,’ shrugged the barrister, refusing to lead.
‘No.’
‘What about illness? Was Mrs Lomax ever ill?’
‘Hardly ever caught a cold.’
Hall searched for a way to ask the most important question without doing so directly. ‘Did she ever complain about headaches?’
The girl shook her head. ‘Not that I can ever remember.’
‘Anything about her head at all?’
‘Has she gone mad?’ demanded the forthright girl.
‘It seems there’s an illness,’ said Perry.
‘Will she get better?’
‘She’s been examined by specialists,’ said Hall. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘She never complained about anything to do with her head.’
‘Or behave strangely.’
Annabelle hesitated. ‘Only the day it happened.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘There’s hardly anything to tell, really. She went to collect Emily from playschool: she usually did. They came home excited because Emily had learned a letter of the alphabet and Mrs Lomax said they were going to the zoo. There’s a zoological park nearby. We went into the kitchen and then almost at once Mrs Lomax walked out.’
‘Did she say anything?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Was she walking normally?’
‘I suppose so. I was sitting Emily up. I was scarcely aware of Mrs Lomax leaving.’
‘You didn’t see her take a knife?’
Annabelle shuddered, slightly. ‘No. I didn’t even know she’d left the house. I thought she’d forgotten something in the car or gone to the bathroom or something. It wasn’t until I went looking for her, when our lunch was ready, that I saw the car had gone.’
A woman in a black dress that also looked like a uniform appeared at the door and said, ‘I’ve let the people from the council in the gate.’
‘Mrs Jenkins, the housekeeper,’ identified Annabelle. ‘Can she help you at all?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Hall. ‘Thank you.’
From the bureau by the window, Johnson said, ‘It’s difficult to believe, isn’t it?’
‘What?’ asked Perry.
The other solicitor waved several letters. ‘All from the charities Jennifer worked for and supported…’ He looked down at the topmost one. ‘“In view of recent circumstances we will, of course, have to ask you to stand down from the committee”,’ he quoted. ‘Charity certainly seems in short supply, doesn’t it?’
There were two cars carrying a total of five people, two of them women, one of the men in the uniform of a police inspector, that drew up outside. Annabelle met them at the door as she’d greeted Hall and Perry. The housekeeper directly followed the group into the drawing room with more coffee, which Annabelle distributed while everyone else exchanged cards.
‘I hope this preliminary meeting is useful,’ declared the county solicitor, Stewart Baxter. ‘You’ll agree our concern about the child is justified?’
‘No,’ said Hail. ‘I won’t.’
The man blinked. ‘In the circumstances-’
‘The only circumstances that need concern you is the welfare and safety of a four-year-old child,’ broke in Hall. ‘Emily Lomax is being cared for by a certificated nanny, living in a house with a full-time staff. It is her mother’s wish that she remains so…’ he looked towards the two women, a doctor named Maureen Snare and social worker Victoria Pryke. ‘… Emily is here, for you to see and speak to, if you wish.’
‘The local police were summoned to protect her,’ said the social worker.
‘Quite properly so,’ agreed Hall. ‘But not to protect her: to remove from the estate trespassing journalists who could have terrorized a child as young as Emily…’ He crossed demandingly to Johnson, hand outstretched for the appropriate letters. ‘These followed, when the journalists were expelled. And will be produced by me when I protest to the Press Complaints Commission. As I will protest about those blockading the gate and by whom you were doubtless confronted…’ The pause was perfectly timed. ‘I sincerely hope none of you co-operated to provide a headline about Emily being taken into care. Because she isn’t. And if any such stories appear I shall officially complain to your authorities and not only demand a full and public retraction but an explanation for why people in your position commented upon a matter that has sub judice implications…’ The second pause was as well timed as the first. ‘… But as you were accompanied by an inspector from the local force to which the press complaint was initially made it is, I’m sure, unnecessary for me to have that concern.’
Humphrey Perry guessed immediately there had been co-operation at the gate from the look that passed between Victoria Pryke, the fair-haired man described as a member of the same division named Eric Pringle and the hot-faced police inspector, Paul Hughes. It was a passing realization. Perry was far more interested in Jeremy Hall. On this showing he wasn’t by any means the cheeky bugger of the previous night’s judgement: he was an extremely aggressive advocate who appeared to possess another essential weapon in a lawyer’s armoury, the ability to seize a weakness and hammer it into defeat.
‘This isn’t at all the sort of meeting I’d hoped it would be,’ said Baxter. He was a large, self-satisfied man accustomed to deference and was disorientated at not getting it now.
‘How, then, can we help you?’ smiled Hall.
‘We have to take into account the fact of Mrs Lomax’s arrest. And the reasons for it,’ insisted Baxter. He was red faced too, although from irritation, not guilt, at what had happened at the gate.
Hall made much of examining the exchanged cards before coming up to the man. ‘You’re a lawyer?’
‘You know I am!’
‘I accept that criminal law may not be your field, but we can surely agree the principle of innocence until the proof of guilt?’
‘Yes,’ said the man, tightly.
‘Then aren’t you acting prematurely?’
‘Our only concern is Emily’s welfare,’ persisted Victoria Pryke, a prim, cardigan-and-pearls woman.
‘Then we’re all on common ground,’ said Hall. ‘You’ve seen the circumstances in which Emily is living…’ He gestured towards Annabelle. ‘And you’ve met the nanny in whose care she is: I’m sure Ms Parkes will be only too pleased to show you her certificated qualifications and diplomas…’
He hadn’t expected it but Annabelle returned at once to the bureau in which she’d kept the media offers and came back with several documents, offering them generally to the group. Victoria Pryke took them, passing them one by one to the doctor who in turn offered them to Baxter.
‘You have a nursing qualification?’ queried Maureen Snare, looking up.
‘Specifically in paediatrics,’ elaborated Annabelle, triumphantly.
‘… and we’d be pleased to assure you of Emily’s care and well being in any other way we can,’ finished Hall, finally.
‘We’d like to see Emily herself,’ said the fair-haired social worker.
As Annabelle left the room Baxter said, ‘This is obviously a matter that will have to be considered after Mrs Lomax’s trial.’
‘ After,’ stressed Hall. ‘At which time it will be most vigorously opposed by me, for the same reasons you’ve been made aware of today.’
Emily was holding Annabelle’s hand when they entered but confronted with a room full of strangers she took her hand away and wrapped her arm around Annabelle’s leg. The nanny put a comforting hand around the child’s shoulders. Emily was wearing jeans and a Thomas the Tank Engine T-shirt. Her hair, bubbled in curls at the front, was plaited at the back, secured by ribbon with the same cartoon motif.
Both the woman social worker and the doctor hunched down, to Emily’s level.
‘Hello,’ said the social worker.
‘Hello.’
‘How are you?’ asked the doctor.
‘All right.’ At Annabelle’s touch against her shoulder, Emily added, ‘Thank you,’ and looked up apologetically at her nanny.
‘That’s why we’ve come to see you,’ said the doctor. ‘To see that you’re all right.’
Again the child frowned up at Annabelle. ‘Why?’
‘That’s our job,’ said Victoria Pryke.
The child stood, regarding the council group steadily.
‘Do you like it here?’ asked the social worker.
Emily’s face crumpled although more in bewilderment than at the hint of tears. ‘I live here!’
‘With Annabelle?’ persisted the woman.
There was a smile. ‘She’s my friend.’
‘Like your mummy is your friend?’ persisted the social worker.
Emily’s bewilderment became more obvious. ‘My mummy is my mummy! But she’s not very well. My daddy’s away.’
‘I won’t let this continue indefinitely,’ warned Hall.
‘Are you Mummy and Daddy’s friends?’ asked the child, unexpectedly.
‘No,’ admitted Victoria Pryke. ‘We want to be your friends. To make sure you’re all right while they’re away.’
‘Annabelle does that,’ said Emily and Hall decided every lawyer should be blessed with witnesses like the child.
‘Do you want a more specific answer than that!’ he demanded.
‘No,’ said the doctor, straightening.
The other woman briefly remained crouched, then she stood. ‘No,’ she agreed.
As Annabelle led the child from the room Victoria Pryke said, ‘There was no way we could prevent our photographs being taken at the gate. It was done before we knew what was happening.’
‘We were approached by a man with a tape recorder. We didn’t speak into it,’ said Perry, seizing the opportunity to enter the conversation. ‘Focusing publicity upon a child would be the last thing you’d welcome, as a social worker, wouldn’t it?’
The woman was the first to leave the room, ahead of the rest of the group. The three lawyers stood at the window, watching the departing cars. Perry said, ‘You mean it, about complaining to their departments?’
‘Of course, if the reason for their being here is published. It would be monstrous if Emily were brought into it because some bloody social worker wanted her picture in the papers.’
They turned, at Annabelle’s re-entry.
‘They’ve gone?’ she said, surprised.
‘It’s over, at least until after the trial,’ promised Johnson.
‘She’ll be found guilty, won’t she?’ demanded the girl, forthright again.
‘There could be mitigating circumstances,’ said Hall.
‘But she’ll go to jail?’
‘Probably a special one, for treatment.’
‘Broadmoor!’
‘There are others.’
‘Poor Mrs Lomax.’
‘What have you told Emily, about her mother not being here?’ asked Perry.
‘Just that she’d had to go away, at first. Then I said she’s ill and needs special doctors. And that her daddy’s away, working. He often was.’
Hall nodded. ‘She wants to see Emily. Before she’s transferred from a proper hospital. You’ll have actually been telling the truth.’
Annabelle frowned. ‘Is it…?’
‘… Safe? There’ll be doctors there. But it would be quite safe anyway.’
‘Will she frighten Emily? With her illness, I mean?’
‘She might appear odd. Say things she wouldn’t ordinarily say.’
‘Is there any way I can explain it to Emily in advance, so she won’t be frightened?’
Hall shrugged, helplessly. ‘You could say it’s the medicine she’s taking.’
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Johnson. ‘I’ll collect you by car.’
Annabelle nodded. ‘Use the tradesmen’s gate. They don’t watch that so much.’
There was a remote control beam in the drive which automatically opened the main gate when it was broken by departing vehicles, lessening the need to slow, but at Hall’s insistence the surprised Perry stopped the car as soon as they emerged. There were three cars and a television van outside now. At once men disgorged from all of them: a television strobe burst on before the running cameraman got to them. The man with the tape recorder who’d been there when they arrived said, ‘Can we have your name, as Mrs Lomax’s lawyer? Is Emily being taken into care?’
‘There were some offers we’d like to consider,’ said Hall. ‘Can you give me some cards?’
There was a confetti of pasteboard as identification was thrust through the open window at him.
‘What can you tell us?’ demanded the man with the recorder.
‘That there will be a complaint to the Press Complaints Commission about everyone whose card I have here, as well as their organizations, for harassment and totally unwarranted intrusion. I will also complain in open court, at an appropriate time, and invite comment from a judge.’
As Perry swept the car out on to the London road Hall said, ‘We’ll be back in London by early afternoon. You’ll be able to file the complaints today, won’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said the solicitor, tightly.
‘Don’t forget the authorities here, either. We know now that they gave interviews.’
‘We won’t forget,’ promised Perry.
‘Perhaps you’d drop me off at the hospital, on your way past?’
‘Relax. Don’t fight against me…’
‘ I’ll fight him. He won’t be able to do it! ’
‘… Just listen to me, nothing else. No-one else. There’s a lot to talk about. To get you well.’ Mason’s voice was even, monotone. He’d unstrapped his plain-faced wrist-watch and was holding it towards her: it moved back and forth very slightly.
‘Can you see the numbers?’
‘ Don’t look! ’
‘Yes, I can see them.’
‘What’s before twelve?’
‘ Don’t play games! ’
‘Eleven.’ It was hard, so very hard. Jennifer tried to make rigid her entire body, to hold it stiff so there couldn’t be any movement she didn’t want: to keep her lips stiff, too, so that only her words would come out, not Jane’s.
‘What’s after?’
‘One.’
‘ Stop it! ’
‘Eleven to one, one to eleven, eleven to one, one to eleven,’ incanted Mason, like a mantra. ‘Like a clock, back and forth, back and forth.’
Fosdyke and Lloyd stood motionless against the wall by the window. Hall intentionally stood half obscuring the window, the only unrehearsed part. He felt uncomfortable: intrusive. Was Mason right that strong-minded people were more easily hypnotized than the weak-willed; the mentally ill? He supposed the psychiatrist had to be. That was his job.
‘ Shut up! Don’t listen.’
‘Count the numbers to me the right way: your right way…’
‘… One, two…’ picked up Jennifer. ‘Three… four…’
‘ Stop. Don’t do it! ’
‘… five, six…’ Jennifer’s voice faded.
‘Good,’ said Mason, soothingly. ‘Very good… five…?’
‘… six…’
‘ No! ’ Jennifer’s legs jerked, but not as fiercely as before, little more than an exaggerated twitch.
Hall thought she looked so much better, in her own clothes, into which she’d insisted upon changing the moment he’d entered with the suitcases. Jeans and a sweater, her legs actually crossed at the ankle as she lay back on the bed.
‘No need to do that,’ warned Mason. ‘You can stop jerking your body about. You’re in control, not Jane. And you can close your eyes if they feel heavy. That’s it. Relax…’
The next leg twitch was hardly noticeable.
‘There…’ Unhurriedly, Mason restrapped the watch. ‘You know you’re not asleep, dreaming, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘That we’ve got a lot to talk about?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to talk to me, Jennifer?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you won’t lie to me?’
‘No.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘What’s the most important oath you could swear on, to keep that promise?’
Jennifer’s brow furrowed. ‘Emily’s life.’
‘Will you promise on Emily’s life to tell me the truth, all the time?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about Gerald’s life?’
‘Gerald’s dead.’
‘How did he die?’
‘Stabbed. Cut.’
‘Who stabbed and cut him?’
‘Jane.’
‘ Wake up! Don’t listen.’
‘Don’t want to listen.’
‘Yes you do, Jennifer. Is Jane telling you not to listen?’
‘Yes.’
‘ Listen to me. Not to him.’
‘Let’s stop her, Jennifer. Drive her out.’
‘ Can’t! ’
‘Can’t.’
‘Yes, we can. I want you to do what I tell you. I want you to stop hearing the voice.’
‘ Can’t! ’
‘She won’t stop.’
‘Go away, Jane! We don’t want you!’ said Mason. He didn’t raise his voice.
Hall was suffused with a feeling of unreality: this sounded more insane than when Jennifer was spouting the words supposedly from someone else.
‘ You can’t stop me! ’
‘Can’t stop her.’
‘Let’s put her in another room then. Close the door. Think of Jane in another room, with the door closed. A very thick door, closing out the sound. Go on, close the door. Can you do that, close the door?’
‘Yes.’
‘ No! ’
‘Shut her out, Jennifer. It’s easy to shut her out, from another room… the door’s very thick…’
‘ No! ’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you closed her out?’
‘Yes.’
‘She’s not so loud now, is she? Put in another room, like a naughty child.’
‘ Who the fuck’s he calling a naughty child? ’
‘No, not so loud now.’
‘Hardly hear her at all?’
‘ Listen to me! ’ There was a vague leg movement.
‘Hardly hear her.’
That’s good: that’s very good. Easy to ignore her now. We’ve shut her out. Do you want her shut out?’
‘Yes.’
‘Gone completely?’
‘Yes.’
‘ Never get rid of me! ’ The sound started.
‘She’s talking, but not loudly.’
‘Is she real? Is Jane real in your head, Jennifer?’
‘Yes. She’s trying to scream but it doesn’t hurt.’
‘So we can talk now, without her?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s that going to be like?’
‘Wonderful.’
‘Do you hate Jane?’
‘No.’
‘What then?’
‘Just want her to go away.’
‘ Won’t go away. Ever! You’ve got to wake up, in a minute. You’ll be mine again then.’
‘Tell me how much you loved Gerald?’
‘Totally.’
‘And he loved you?’
‘Totally.’
‘Who’s Rebecca?’
‘Rebecca Nicholls. Works with Gerald.’
‘Is she your friend?’
‘ Fucked Gerald. Fucked Gerald.’
‘Not now.’
‘You thought she was?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why isn’t she your friend any more?’
‘Had an affair, with Gerald.’
‘Did you know they were having an affair?’
‘No.’
‘Never suspected it?’
‘No.’
‘The police think you did.’
‘Not true.’
‘Is Jane true? Or did you make her up?’
‘She’s true. Here, now.’
‘But in another room?’
‘Still hear her.’
‘Do you know what a Cyclothymic Personality Disorder is, Jennifer?’
‘No.’
‘I’d really like you to tell me. I want to know.’
‘Don’t know.’
‘What’s a Paranoid Personality Disorder?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘You sure you don’t know?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you tell me what an Anankastic Personality Disorder is?’
‘No.’
‘You sure you can’t. I’d really like you to, if you can.’
‘I can’t.’
‘ Trying to trick you. Don’t answer him.’
Without turning to the men ranged behind him Mason raised his hand in a don’t-interrupt, warding-off gesture. He continued it to take a pen from the inside from his shirt pocket. ‘Can you see this pen?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s very hot. Very hot indeed. Do you believe me?’ It was a cheap ballpoint, plastic cased.
‘Yes.’
‘I’m going to put it against your arm…’
Lloyd started forward but Fosdyke snatched out, stopping the protest. It was difficult for Hall to hold back. He was sweating, his back clammy, his hands wet. Jennifer winced, jerking away. Almost at once a perfectly round red burn mark formed on the arm in which the drip had been, before she tore it out.
‘Does your arm hurt?’
‘It burns.’
‘I want to do some tests. Is that OK?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m going to ask you some questions again. And every time I do, before you answer, I’m going to put the hot pen on your arm. If you tell a lie, it will burn. But if you tell the truth, it won’t. Do you agree to that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Define a Cyclothymic Personality Disorder?’ asked Mason, putting the harmless pen to Jennifer’s arm.
‘I can’t.’
Hall tensed forward. No mark appeared.
‘ Trick! Music-hall trick! ’
‘Define a Paranoid Personality Disorder.’ The pen casing went down.
‘I can’t.’
No blister formed.
‘Define an Anankastic Personality Disorder.’ The pen descended.
‘I can’t.’
Jennifer’s skin remained unmarked.
‘Does it still hurt where I first put the pen?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m going to put it there again. It’s going to take all the pain away. And the mark will go.’
Hall felt an unnerved sensation at the back of his neck as he saw Mason place the pen on the angry mark. Almost at once the red began to fade.
‘There won’t be a mark,’ promised Mason. ‘All the pain’s gone, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
Hall was conscious of a relaxation from the two doctors alongside him. He didn’t look at them and they didn’t look at him.
In front of him Mason was asking Jennifer, ‘Do you like the cinema?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you go, with Gerald?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Did you ever see a film called The Three Faces of Eve? ’
‘No.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s a Multiple Personality Disorder?’
‘Don’t know.’
Mason learned forward with the pen again, putting it against Jennifer’s arm, and repeated the question. The skin remained smooth and even.
‘You’re aware people are trying to help you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So it’s very important to tell them the truth.’
‘Yes.’
‘So I want you to tell me the truth. Remember, it’s very important.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you kill Gerald because he was having an affair with Rebecca?’
‘Didn’t kill Gerald. Jane killed Gerald.’
‘Would you have killed him, if you’d known?’
‘No!’
‘Why not? You’d have been humiliated, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, but I couldn’t have killed him. That’s not right.’
‘ Killed me, you bitch! ’
‘What would you have done?’
‘Asked him to stop. Asked him what was wrong.’
‘You’d have wanted your marriage to go on?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you love Gerald?’
‘Yes.’
‘Even though he was having an affair with Rebecca?’
‘Just sex.’
‘Was it just sex with you and Gerald, when your affair began?’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t love him at first?’
‘No.’
‘Did he love you?’
‘No.’
‘Who fell in love with whom first?’
‘Me with Gerald, I suppose.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Said I wanted it to end.’
‘ Liar! Let me in, Jennifer. I want to talk to you. Let me in to talk to you.’
‘She wants to talk to me.’
‘I don’t want to talk to her. I want to talk just to you. Why did you want to end your affair, if you loved him? I don’t understand.’
‘He was married to Jane.’
‘ Let me in! ’
‘Why was that important?’
‘Didn’t want the marriage to break up.’
‘Why did you sleep with him in the first place?’
‘He was attractive. I wanted to.’
From where he stood Hall could see sweat glueing Mason’s shirt to his back. The man held a handkerchief to wipe his face. Jennifer appeared quite relaxed, eyes half closed, legs still crossed at the ankles. He couldn’t make out any discolouration on her arm where the burn had been, minutes earlier.
‘It wasn’t wrong then?’
‘No.’
‘Only when it became serious?’
‘Yes.’
‘ Liar, liar, liar! ’
‘Why?’
‘Because it was serious. A threat.’
‘Not to you.’
‘Jane wasn’t well.’
‘ Spare me, do! ’
‘Her dying made it easy, though?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you think that might happen?’
‘How could I?’
‘By killing her.’
‘We didn’t kill her.’
‘ You did! You fixed the dose.’
‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s ridiculous. Ghost’s don’t exist.’
‘Jane’s in your head: possessing you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ghosts must exist, if Jane’s possessing you.’
‘I know. But they can’t. I won’t accept it. I’m frightened.’
‘ I’ve scarcely begun yet.’
‘What are you most frightened of?’
‘People not believing me.’
‘Would it send you mad, if they didn’t?’
‘She won’t send me mad. She says she will but she won’t. I’ll beat her. Beat everyone as a trader.’
‘ Oh, yes, I will! ’
‘How are you going to beat her?’
‘I don’t know.’ Tears began slowly to make a path down Jennifer’s cheeks, although there was no sound. She scrubbed a bandaged hand across her face.
Fosdyke moved, at last, reaching forward and patting Mason’s shoulder. The psychiatrist nodded, again without turning.
‘I want to go backwards now, back to when you were young. A baby even.’
All Hall’s voyeuristic discomfort went, forgotten, to frowned disbelief. Jennifer relived Emily’s birth (‘No pain, She’s coming. Beautiful: so beautiful.’) and Jane’s death (‘Sorry. I’m so very sorry.’) and her first day arrival at Enco-Corps (‘I’m going to be the best here. Top the trading commissions. Make a million.’) and the sadness of the Randolph celebration meal after her Oxford graduation (‘I know Mummy would be as proud as you are, Daddy.’) The voice change, from adult gradually to baby talk, was imperceptible and it wasn’t until they went through teenage into puberty into childhood that Hall became conscious of it. It took him almost as long to realize the purpose of the regression, when the frequent medical questions registered and he realized the exercise was not for the psychiatrist’s benefit but for Fosdyke’s, a search for pathological causes for whatever it was Jennifer was suffering. None emerged.
It was late into the afternoon and Mason’s shirt was black with perspiration before he finally stretched up from the bed and for the first time Jeremy Hall became conscious of the odour of too many people being for too long in a small room. He became conscious, too, that he was contributing to it.
‘When I clap my hands you’ll become aware not just of me but of other people,’ said Mason. ‘And from now on you’re to help your barrister, Jeremy Hall, as much as you’ve helped me. Will you do that?’
‘Yes,’ said Jennifer.
‘And I want you to help everyone else like me: doctors like me. There will be a lot who want to talk to you. Is that all right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if I want to talk to you again like this, we’ll count the numbers on the watch. Will you do that for me, whenever I ask you?’
‘Yes,’ promised Jennifer. She blinked, opening her eyes more fully, at the sound of Mason’s hands coming together. ‘Did I help?’ she demanded at once.
‘Absolutely,’ said Mason. ‘Thank you.’
Minutes later, back in the neurologist’s convenient rooms, Mason helped himself to the ever-ready coffee, looked around the assembled men and said, ‘She hasn’t learned how to fake her condition from text books. I’ve no doubt whatsoever that Jennifer Lomax is as sane as any of us in this room. Maybe more so. Just as I’ve no doubt whatsoever that Jennifer Lomax isn’t inventing the voice in her head. It’s there!’
‘So I’ve got the first case of ghostly possession in British criminal history?’ demanded Hall.
‘I don’t know what you’ve got,’ replied Mason, ignoring the intended cynicism. ‘But I’ve got a Paper that’s going to turn psychiatry on its head, worldwide.’
‘You sure?’ demanded John Bentley, in frustrated disappointment.
‘I’ve gone through every line of the inquest evidence and talked not just to the investigating officer but the coroner’s officer as well,’ assured Rodgers. ‘Jane Lomax died from an accidental overdose of insulin. There’s nothing we could use to reopen the case.’
‘Fuck,’ said Bentley, viciously. ‘I would have just loved sticking Jennifer bloody Lomax with a second murder. Can you imagine the bombshell that would have been?’
‘Easily,’ said Rodgers, who feared the other detective was endangering professional objectivity through personal pique. ‘But we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got.’
‘And what have we got?’
‘Everything wrapped up and tied in ribbon,’ said the inspector. ‘We’re ready to go. Fastest case ever.’
‘Don’t rush the submission to the Crown Prosecution. Let them go around in a few more circles.’
‘Until we submit the evidence they won’t be able to brief psychiatrists,’ reminded Rodgers. ‘They’ll need to do that.’
‘A week,’ decided Bentley. ‘We’ll wait a week.’
‘We’re going to see Mummy in hospital?’
‘Would you like that?’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Her head hurts. The doctors are making her better.’
‘Is she going to die?’
‘No, darling. Of course not.’