Jennifer was surprised – annoyed even, as she had been throughout the previous day by his lack of contact – at Jeremy Hall arranging for her to travel to court in a police van and under front and rear police escort. Her uncertainty lasted only until they attempted to leave the hospital. The Embankment outside, in both directions, seethed with people – more public than press – through whom it was practically impossible to move. It took thirty minutes to move as many yards, the outside of the van constantly banged and hit, her name shouted again and again, in an echoing, chanted demand for her to put herself at the narrow window. From which, in fact, she recoiled.
It was far worse at the approach to the court. The solid block of a baying, gawking mob began to form a quarter of a mile away, jamming every street they tried, and they only reached it, finally, edging along in the middle of a linked-arm guard of walking policemen, with others forming an outer barrier physically forcing a path. Jennifer finally closed her eyes altogether against the camera lights, careless of how she’d look in any picture that might be snatched.
It was clearly impossible for her to use the public access, which she was entitled to do on bail. Instead she entered as she had on all the previous days, through the gated-off rear doors.
Hall was already there, waiting. Jennifer was shaking, frightened, and said, ‘This is incredihle. Awful. Do something!’
Before Hall could reply Jane said, ‘ This is how it’s going to be! ’
Hall began walking with her along the corridor, hand cupping her elbow, careful not to come into contact with her strapped side. ‘I spent yesterday trying to think of something. We’ll sort it out.’
‘ Believe that and you’ll believe anything! ’
‘Where’s Emily? I phoned home, yesterday afternoon. Mrs Jenkins said Annabelle had taken her away. By helicopter! What the hell…?’
‘For the same reason you had to be brought here by the police. We had to get Emily away. Annabelle’s with her, of course. Johnson, too. Emily thinks she’s on holiday.’
Jennifer shuddered, flinching at the pain from her ribs. ‘I want it to end. For everyone to go away.’
‘ It’s just beginning! I keep telling you! ’
‘Let’s get today over.’
‘I saw what was inside the coffin,’ declared Jennifer. The contents had been photographed from both helicopters, by television as well as still cameras, and in the majority of cases published without the obscenity being air-brushed or blanked out. It had first been shown on the previous evening’s television news.
‘Today’s really just a formality.’
‘ But there’s a lot of surprises still left.’
The two regular wardresses were waiting at the bottom of the court steps, reminding her. ‘You’ve got everything from the prison?’
‘Johnson has.’ To the wardress, Hall said, ‘Keep close to her.’
‘ Tell him not to worry. I’ve got a different surprise today. One you’re really going to like.’
‘She says she’s got another surprise.’
Ann Wardle visibly stood back. As the Irish-accented Kathleen did the same she said, ‘What?’
‘ Surprises are surprises! ’
Jennifer shook her head against the question.
Hall said: ‘There’s nothing that can go against you in court. You’re provably innocent.’
‘We’ve been beyond that for the last two days, haven’t we?’ demanded Jennifer, objectively. She didn’t have to stress the weariness. Her injured ribs and knee ached and Peter Lloyd had told her that morning that the result of the HIV blood test might take longer than he’d first thought, although he’d made it a priority request. Jane had been noisily in the background throughout her sedated half-sleep and she’d had her first real experience of how mobs would react (‘ Told you you’d be a freak, from now on: didn’t listen, did you? ’ to that reflection) and Jennifer at that moment wasn’t sure how much longer she could go on fighting: didn’t know – wouldn’t know – after today what she had to fight. The court, the murder charge, had been a reality, an actuality she could confront: understand. And she’d had someone believing her, supporting her. She wasn’t faced with any reality from now on. And her defender wouldn’t be around to help her. She wouldn’t be in any court and so Jeremy wouldn’t be there to rely on. He hadn’t tried to distance himself from her today: actually held her arm, helped her along the corridor and been careful he didn’t jar into her side, to hurt her. She didn’t want to lose him: be without him. Didn’t want to be alone, apart from her tormentor.
‘ But I’m all you’ve got, honey. Think of it like a marriage; the worst marriage in your worst nightmare. Then double it.’
‘Here it is,’ announced Hall. ‘The last time you’re going to have to stand in a dock.’
‘ Ready, steady go! ’
Yet again Jennifer had to force one foot in front of the other to ascend into the dock. The approaching noise was practically deafening – louder than it had ever been – but at her appearance it died, into an awed silence that was even more disconcerting. Police were shoulder to shoulder around the dock but today there was no darted media approach. For her own satisfaction Jennifer stood at the dock rail, for the first time not trying to withdraw from the incredulous fascination but gazing defiantly, challengingly, back at her onlookers. Briefly she was tempted to say something, anything, (‘ Go on! Go on! ’) to see how frightened the reaction would be but she didn’t. (‘ Lots of time, later,’). Jeremy Hall turned and smiled and she smiled back.
Even Jarvis’s expression was less gargoyle-like when he entered and he extended it in the direction of the media and, Jennifer thought, everyone desperate to ensure their little place in the history of the supernatural bizarre. How many other people would want her autograph, like the wardresses who sat behind her now with what they regarded a safe distance between them?
‘ Why not sign for both of us? We could do double-sided photographs, Jane and Jennifer! ’
‘Jennifer and Jane,’ said Jennifer, softly but aloud, watching the shocked reaction – the awareness that she was talking to the ghost inside her – from around the court. Not funny, she corrected herself, at once: playing games, stupid, insane games.
‘ That’s it, insane! And that’s how I’ll do it: take your mind away. And you won’t even notice it until it’s too late. ’
Oddly, or perhaps befitting the complete unnaturalness of the moment – the moment a staid, undemonstrative, unhysterical British court of law legally established and recognized the existence of the supernatural – there was a strange anti-climax about the conclusion of the trial.
The scientists contributed with the formality of their findings, which they presented in microscopic detail. Anthony Billington even insisted, throughout his evidence, upon referring to DNA by its full name, deoxyribonucleic acid and, following his lead, Phylis Shipley did the same. Although there was no possibility of prosecution challenge or appeal, upon technicality, Hall allowed both to introduce charts and diagrams showing the formation and relationships between double-stranded molecules and nuclei and chromosomes, which they illustrated in hugely enlarged detail. And asked each virtually identical questions when they came to the end of their esoteric explanations.
In Jennifer’s head Jane hummed: Jennifer thought she recognized snatches of ‘Small Town Girl’.
‘ Wrong. How about “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”? ’
‘Describe, in laymen’s language, what deoxyribonucleic acid provides for you,’ Hall demanded, from the prosecution expert.
‘A unique and individual genetic picture,’ responded Billington.
‘A body fingerprint,’ suggested Phylis Shipley, when she followed into the witness-box.
‘Each different from any other?’
‘The same only in identical twins,’ qualified Billington.
‘Have you prepared photographs of the DNA you extracted from the blond hair and O Rhesus Negative blood samples found in Gerald Lomax’s office?’
Billington said, ‘Yes.’ Phylis Shipley offered sufficient individual folders for the entire jury.
In Jennifer’s head echoed the sound of a protracted yawn.
‘Did you successfully extract comparison DNA from the hair and bones in the coffin of Jane Lomax?’
‘ Ruined the spelling! ’
‘I did,’ said Billington.
‘What was that comparison?’
Although it was already obvious, there was a loud and disbelieving intake of communal breath when Billington indicated his photographic charts and said, ‘There is absolutely no doubt the hair and O Rhesus Negative blood from Gerald Lomax’s office contains deoxyribonucleic acid identical to that I found in the bodily remains in the grave of Jane Lomax.’ The sound echoed around the court again when Phylis Shipley repeated the finding.
Hall remained standing, as the woman scientist left the witness-box. He said, ‘My Lord, is it your wish that I make a submission?’
‘That will not be necessary,’ refused Jarvis. It took him only minutes to direct the jury formally to return a verdict of not guilty, to the background of rising noise throughout the court. It quietened only slightly when Jennifer was called to rise.
Jarvis said, ‘Jennifer Lomax, you leave this court having been found not guilty of the charge of murder brought against you, it having been admirably, legally and scientifically proved by your learned counsel that the crime was perpetrated not by yourself but by the spirit of Jane Lomax, who possesses your body and your mind. You are, Jennifer Lomax, a woman to be greatly pitied and in need of help that none of us can begin to understand. There was, in a certain period of British legal history, a phrase utilized at the conclusion of some murder trials that seems to me to be very fitting today… May God have mercy upon your soul.’
‘ You know what you’re going to do, now that this is all over, don’t you? ’ said Jane. ‘ You’re going to be reunited with Emily. And one day, when I feel like it, I’m going to make you kill her. Won’t that be fun? ’
Jennifer emitted an anguished, strangled scream. Ann Wardle only half-caught her so Jennifer still hit the dock floor hard but she had fainted too deeply into unconsciousness to feel the fresh pain in her ribs.
Geoffrey Johnson was waiting for Annabelle in the bar of the Wiltshire theme park when she came down from the room she was sharing with Emily. Annabelle accepted the waiting glass of wine and said, ‘She’s asleep. But I’ll need to keep checking her. She’s started wetting the bed.’
‘Kids of that age do. Mine did.’
‘Geoffrey!’ Annabelle erupted. ‘She hasn’t seen her father for months and doesn’t know what’s happened to him! Her mother tried to kill her! She thinks the bad men who invaded Hampshire wanted to take her away and to escape them she had to leave in a helicopter. And at four, helicopters aren’t exciting. They’re bloody frightening. Emily wetting the bed isn’t a thing that kids do. She’s developing psychological problems.’
‘Jennifer’s not guilty. She’s free. So she’ll be back with Emily in a day or two.’
‘Is that how long she’s going to stay in hospital?’
‘They don’t know yet. They’re not sure why she fainted, apart from the obvious relief.’ Johnson poured more wine. ‘I spoke to Humphrey while you were upstairs. And I’ve booked in. They’ve asked me to stay: make sure you’re not found. Apparently the scenes in London were incredible. Humphrey said it had to be like the hysteria of a medieval execution when people were hanged, drawn and quartered.’
‘I’ve unplugged the television. I didn’t want Emily waking up and putting it on, just in case…’ She sipped her drink. ‘It’s not going to be as easy here as it was at home keeping newspapers from her. I know she can’t read but she can see the pictures. There were a couple of bad situations at home.’
‘Jeremy asked me to thank you, for what you’ve done. And are doing.’
Annabelle looked seriously at the solicitor, ‘I’m not sure for how much longer.’
‘You can’t quit now!’ protested the man.
‘You think I’ve enjoyed it?’
‘Of course you haven’t. None of us have. But it’s all over now.’
‘She’s still possessed, isn’t she? And you told me the psychiatrists couldn’t help.’
‘Jeremy’s trying to think of something.’
‘I don’t want to live in a house with a woman who’s got a ghost in her head. And I don’t think we can allow Emily to after what happened at the hospital.’
‘Let’s wait until we know why she collapsed,’ pleaded Johnson.