Which they did. Nervously. With Jennifer in those early days the most nervous of all, the convinced priest the least. Jennifer very much needed his conviction to sustain her own hope, after the immediate elation of the exorcism. But as those days passed it became easier for her, the confidence growing imperceptible layer by imperceptible layer.
She kept her vow and maintained her religious instruction under Dawson, eager to pray – although unsure to whom – for the freedom to be permanent. She continued her treatment under Julian Mason, too, surer that she’d come through the horrific mental ordeal with her sanity intact but realistically accepting she needed that agreed and confirmed by a trained psychiatrist – a mind doctor – just as much as she needed to be guaranteed physically to have recovered by Charles Cox. Least perceptible of all was the gradual preparation each provided, unconsciously at first and each in their own specialized way, to equip Jennifer for her return to the closest she’d ever come to life among ordinary people who would never consider her anything but abnormal, apparently free of Jane or not.
Mason identified Jennifer’s unprompted acceptance that she needed him as one of the most important indicators of her mental health. ‘She has come through it,’ he told Jeremy Hall. ‘She could still be damaged, wrecked even, if Jane comes back: that’s the key, which it’s always been. But basically she’s as solid as a rock. What we’re seeing – what I’m seeing – is the determination always to win, to be the best, that we’d heard about but never properly been able to see, until now.’
‘Isn’t that a pretty quick prognosis?’ queried Hall.
‘What are you talking about?’ demanded the psychiatrist. ‘I’ve been with her, night and day, for weeks, remember! She’s been my only patient. And she never had a mental problem: she had Jane, inside her head, trying to give her one. And it didn’t work.’
‘What about thinking of killing herself?’
‘Thinking of doing it is very different from actually doing it. Wouldn’t you have considered suicide, if you’d been the victim?’
Wanting to make his practical contribution to Jennifer’s rehabilitation – secretly disconcerted that he wasn’t doing as much as the other three men – Hall said, ‘There’s been quite a few things left in limbo. Is it too soon to involve her in making decisions?’
‘It can’t be soon enough. One thing that’s got to be restored is her total confidence, the arrogance if you like, that she had before. People become confident making decisions for themselves.’
‘It’s about confidence that I’m concerned. I need to go back to London: get a lot of things on course. We talked about it last night, out walking. She asked me not to go. Got upset at the thought.’
Mason nodded, ‘That dependency is something we’ve got to deal with.’
‘So do I just go?’ It was a clinical question, his only concern to do nothing to cause Jennifer any setback. He still couldn’t imagine everything coming to an end: that there was a finite point and that it was fast approaching.
‘No,’ decided Mason. ‘She’s making giant strides but at her speed, not ours. She’s still in a cocoon here. She’s got to be eased off her dependency upon you and me and upon Mr Dawson. Not have anything snatched away.’
‘What needs to be settled is still largely about her. How about bringing people here? Involving her that way?’
‘Good,’ nodded Mason. ‘A very good idea.’
Jennifer thought it was, too. Guided by the psychiatrist Hall gave her two days’ warning and hopefully briefed everyone else just as thoroughly against anything she wasn’t prepared for. Bert Feltham was to be the only stranger and Jennifer said she was quite happy with his inclusion, too.
‘My first single-minded contact with someone from the outside world!’ she said. Mason was as pleased with the joke against herself, as he was with everything else Jennifer was doing and saying. But not as pleased as Jennifer. She felt alive, vibrant, a sensation she could scarcely remember. It was going to be all right. Everything. All right best of all – most of all – with her and Emily. Jennifer abruptly stopped the reflection, refusing it.
The chamber’s chief clerk, unaccustomably subdued in dark grey, arrived with Humphrey Perry. Well briefed – perhaps too well briefed was Hall’s initial thought – by the solicitor, Feltham tried overly hard to behave as if there had been nothing whatsoever unusual about Jennifer. But couldn’t quite carry it off at the moment of introduction, offering and then withdrawing his hand.
Jennifer laughed openly at the man and said, ‘I don’t bite any more: and I no longer have an alter ego that does it, either.’
Geoffrey Johnson got to the clinic fifteen minutes later, burdened by briefcases and files. Inevitably the plump family lawyer was smoking one of his carved-bowled pipes. He paused by the Bentley to knock out the dottle before coming into the clinic.
Although she had already agreed Hall again queried Feltham’s presence at the meeting and again Jennifer insisted she had no objection.
‘Let’s get as much done as soon as we can. There must be a lot to catch up with: things to do,’ said Jennifer, eagerly. Back in control of herself, she thought: in control, in charge, of everything concerning her. Jennifer Lomax was Jennifer Lomax again. What she wanted – what she decided – these men would do. Follow her instructions and her wishes. From today she’d go forward. Pick up the pieces: rebuild a life. Shouldn’t be frightened to be by herself, Julian Mason had told her at their last session, the previous day. More than strong enough to cope. And she was: she was sure she was. Jane had gone. Wasn’t coming back. Ever. That’s what Dawson said. The man she had to believe because he’d driven Jane away. And God: God too. It was still easier to believe the priest. So there was a lot to do. There was the rest of her life – her life and Emily’s life – to work out. Make safe and secure and never endanger again. She hadn’t talked about Emily to Peter yet. Hadn’t talked to anyone, not even Dawson. Or Jeremy. Had to, soon. The big decision. The biggest. Talk about it and then plan the reunion. Not reunion: pompous word. Mother’s didn’t have reunions with baby daughters. The meeting then. Plan the meeting. But not yet, not today. Formalities was how Jeremy had described the purpose of this gathering: settling the formalities. She looked expectantly at the barrister, who took the cue.
Hall said, ‘A lot of today is going to be taken up with money. This isn’t the way this is normally done – certainly not between barrister and client – so it’s going to be an exception to the rule…’ Encouraged by Jennifer’s self-mockery he said, ‘… But then everything has been an exception to every rule.’ He looked to the family solicitor. ‘… Which sets the stage for you, Geoffrey…?’
Johnson cleared his throat, a smoker’s cough, as he unloaded his briefcases. Hall was glad he’d had a larger conference table moved into his suite.
Johnson said to Jennifer, ‘With your power of attorney I’ve had to expend rather a lot of money. I’m anxious you should see the accounting and approve it…’ He smiled, briefly. ‘It’s not an essential decision today, providing you’re satisfied with my discharge of my duties, but you also might like to decide whether you wish me to continue with power of attorney, now that you’re…’ The man stumbled to a halt.
‘… Now that Jane’s gone?’ finished Jennifer, helpfully.
‘I’m very glad you’re better,’ said Johnson, still awkwardly.
‘You and me both, Geoffrey. You and me both,’ said Jennifer, with bright glibness. She was actually enjoying herself, amused at the apprehension everyone apart from Jeremy was finding it so difficult to hide. She was seized by the urge suddenly to say, ‘Boo!’ to see what they’d do.
The solicitor burrowed protectively into his bank of paper, isolating separate sheets like a bombardier laying out his ammunition. The financial outlay had necessarily been extremely high, Johnson warned, firing his first salvo. The Regent’s Park apartment had sold within days of being put on the market for its full asking price – instead of stating the price, the man slid the first of his prepared papers across to Jennifer – but completion had only just been concluded. Until five days earlier the estate had been responsible, as it was for the Hampshire mansion, the running of which cost considerably more. Another account sheet followed the first across the table towards Jennifer. Against that maintainence had also been put the cost of removing Emily and Annabelle by helicopter and their accommodation since. Here Johnson hesitated, looking to Hall who shook his head, unsure if Jennifer saw the gesture: she’d been gazing down at the figures. Also included were the costs of the private security firm now necessary to protect the Hampshire house and all the costs being incurred at the clinic: more invoices slid across the table.
‘And then there are very considerable legal expenses,’ said Johnson. ‘And why Mr Feltham is here. Those expenses have, officially, to be submitted to my firm, of which Mr Perry is a partner and which, in turn, represents Mr Hall. I can’t obviously approve payment from your estate to a firm of which I am also a partner: it constitutes a conflict of interest. It is necessary for you, personally, to authorize that.’
As if rehearsed, Feltham pushed the account sideways to Johnson, who passed it, unread, directly to Jennifer. She sniggered and said, ‘Surely it’s not too heavy to pick up.’ She lifted it, looking at the amount. ‘… But then again!’
Hall was embarrassed and thought the other three men were as well.
‘Seems to me like everything adds up to around?1,200,000?’ said Jennifer, furthering all their discomfort and knowing it. ‘You guys do even better than I as a trader and I thought I was good…’
‘There is no difficulty,’ said Johnson, hurriedly. ‘You are extremely well provided for…’
‘Geoffrey, you’re tying yourself in knots trying to be discrete!’ interrupted Jennifer. ‘Why don’t we talk figures: make it easier for you? I don’t give a shit…’ She looked quickly at Hall. ‘That was me swearing, not Jane!’
Hall grinned back at her, very much liking a Jennifer Lomax he hadn’t known before.
Johnson pushed doggedly on. ‘The legal fees have not yet been put against any account. They will be more than covered from the sale of the London apartment: there was no outstanding mortgage and the sale price was?650,000. There is a Swiss deposit account, in yen, amounting to?400,000. I transferred?75,000 from deposit to current here, so all the other bills have been settled, as of today. That still leaves you with?20,000 in your joint current account, with ?50,000 on deposit. Your personal account, which I have not touched, is in credit for?30,000. There are share portfolios which, on yesterday’s stock market quotations, amount to?1,500,000. And there are company and private insurance policies totalling?3,000,000: I have applied both to the private companies and to Enco-Corps for the discharge of those policies in your favour. Your late husband’s will still has to be admitted to probate but there is a?500,000 trust fund in Emily’s name, with yourself and myself as trustees. It becomes operable when Emily reaches the age of eighteen…’ He straggled to a halt. ‘Those are the main items which I want immediately to bring to your attention…’
‘At least I’m financially secure,’ agreed Jennifer.
Hall wondered if anyone else noticed the suggestion of uncertainty in Jennifer’s voice at the remark and wished he hadn’t. Johnson had covered everything they had discussed by telephone under general headings, although the solicitor had not itemised the financial outlay until that day. Hall said, ‘I don’t think it’s anything that needs an instant decision but there are a lot of offers outstanding that legally we should put to you.’
‘Offers?’ frowned Jennifer.
‘For books, original screenplays, magazine and newspaper serialization,’ listed Perry. ‘We’ve had twenty: the highest, from an American publisher, is for $8,000,000.’
‘We’ve had five in chambers, in the last two days that I haven’t yet passed on,’ said Feltham. ‘And I’ve heard two British publishers are bringing out “books of the trial”.’
Jennifer laughed, nervously. ‘What do they want?’
He should have given her better warning, decided Hall. ‘What it was like, for you,’ he said, lamely.
‘It was horrific for me.’
‘Which is what people want to know about,’ suggested Perry.
‘That’s… that’s ghoulish… voyeurism…’ She stopped, blinking rapidly. ‘It’s what Jane said she’d do. That she’d make me into a freak…’
Damn! damn! damn! thought Hall. ‘It’s nothing we need to talk further about, not now. Like I said, just something we had to tell you about, as your legal agents…’
‘… I don’t know… I don’t think…’ said Jennifer, haltingly. Her attitude in the beginning, something close to ebullience, was slipping away. That’s all people wanted to do, look at her and laugh at her, like people used to go on family outings to laugh at the unfortunates in Victorian mental asylums.
‘We’ll leave it,’ determined Hall, positively. It had been his mistake and he was angry at himself. He wanted to finish it all quickly now, to try to recover. He looked briskly around the room. ‘There’s nothing else is there?’
‘Yes,’ said Johnson, back among his papers and missing the look that Hall gave him. ‘The bank, quite rightly, have raised a query about your personal account, Mrs Lomax…’ He smiled up, having found what he wanted. Attached to the letter were a number of cheques. ‘These, in all, total?1,000. All, from the dates, while you were in prison. Obviously you had difficulty in writing, because of your injuries, but four are quite obviously forgeries: the bank have refused to pay out on them. Who’s Beryl Harrison?’
No! No! No! ‘I don’t want it taken any further!’
‘It’s a police…’ began Johnson but Jennifer talked over him. ‘Only if I choose to make a complaint. Which I don’t. I don’t want any more discussion about it. It’s ended.’ Had to get away: get away and hide.
The men in the room sat regarding her in varying degrees of surprise at an attitude that had run the gamut from recovered confidence through brief uncertainty to seemingly forceful, angry authority.
Jennifer shuffled through the papers, finding the legal invoices. She extended her hand towards Johnson and said peremptorily: ‘Give me a pen, please. Let me sign a cheque for this. Everything will be paid up to date then, right?’
‘Right,’ agreed Johnson, chastened but not knowing why.
Jennifer quickly scrawled her signature, beginning to stand as she finished. ‘Thank you all for coming. And for everything each and every one of you have done for me. I greatly and very sincerely appreciate it. Now you must excuse me. I have another appointment…’ Quickly, while she could still hang on.
None of them were fully to their feet before she swept out of the room.
‘What the hell…!’ exclaimed Perry.
‘We tried to cover too much,’ said Hall. He knew Jennifer did have an appointment, another instruction session with Dawson, but that it wasn’t for another two hours.
‘But we achieved a lot, very satisfactorily,’ said Feltham, picking up and looking at the cheque that Jennifer had signed in full settlement of the legal fees to date. He went directly to the barrister. ‘I charged you at?1,000 an hour, Mr Hall. With refreshers, of course. That’s what I’m quoting from now on, with no assurance that we’ll accept the brief…’ He smiled sideways, at Perry. ‘You might keep that in mind, Humphrey.’ He came back to Hall. ‘As of today you’re officially finished here, sir. Although of course I don’t know what your personal plans are. But I thought I might as well bring some work down, for you to consider. A hospital negligence on behalf of a child damaged by oxygen deprivation: insurance company need their wrists slapped. Heroin possession by the youngest son of an earl: says it was planted on him because his elder brother’s a registered addict. Dodgy, but I think it could be true: there’ve been two police complaint investigations in the division in the past three years, for stitching people up. And a grievous bodily harm. Black kid says he was defending himself against a racist gang: four against one and he gets charged!’
Back to normality, thought Hall. ‘I hope to be in the office in a few days. I’ll look at them before then. Let you know.’
‘It’ll be good to see you there, sir.’
‘What’s it like? The siege, I mean.’
‘Still pretty bad,’ said Feltham. ‘And I suppose it’ll get worse when the word gets around that you’re back. Surprised you got away so easily when you went to Hampshire.’
‘So was I,’ admitted Hall.
‘I didn’t need the reminder frown not to mention Emily,’ complained Johnson.
‘Where is she?’
Johnson shrugged. ‘They’ve gone to Disney, in Paris. And she’s wetting the bed all the time now. Annabelle is genuinely worried.’
‘Have you told Annabelle what’s happened here?’
‘She said she’s glad it’s all over. She thinks it would be best for Emily if they went back to Hampshire, after France. That living under a security screen would be better for the child than wandering about from theme park to theme park.’
‘Any more talk of her quitting?’
‘At least that’s stopped,’ said Johnson. ‘But solicitors for the Metropolitan police have offered a compromise over their policing claim for the hospital. They’re suggesting an independent assessment, by a fee draughtsman.’
‘Rubbish!’ rejected Hall. ‘That’s presupposing an acceptance of responsibility on our part. Which there isn’t. Draughtsmen don’t come into it: someone’s playing with legal words they don’t understand. Tell them we don’t consider there’s anything to negotiate.’
‘It’s going to seem strange, getting back to other work,’ mused Perry. ‘I’m sure you can hardly wait.’
‘It’s certainly going to feel different,’ conceded Hall.
‘It might have been a lot at one session,’ conceded Julian Mason. ‘It’s not a setback.’
‘You don’t seem surprised,’ challenged Hall, curiously.
‘Maybe I’m not.’
‘So you know what it’s about?’
‘I think I probably do.’
‘And I can probably guess.’
‘Jennifer said it was closed, didn’t she?’
‘Something like that. Are you going to tell me?’
‘Of course not. And you should know better even to think I would.’
‘I’m concerned for her, that’s all: want to guard against a repeat of what happened today.’
‘You can do that by forgetting about it.’
‘She was upset by the idea of a book, too.’
‘I can understand that as an initial reaction. But I think it could be thought about more fully.’
‘It would make her into the freak Jane threatened. What she’s terrified of.’
‘Come on!’ said the psychiatrist, brutally. ‘She’s always going to be that. It’s something she’s going to have to learn to live with and don’t ask me how, because I haven’t got a clue.’
‘Have you told her that yet?’
‘She doesn’t have to be told. But she won’t admit it. That’s why it might help to write about it.’
‘How?’
‘If she committed herself to one publisher or one outlet, whatever, the others might eventually go away. But more important than anything, the very act of writing about it would be a catharsis.’
‘Actually benefit her, you mean?’
‘Probably more than I’m going to be able to.’
‘Should I talk to her about it?’
‘It’s all part of encouraging her back into the real world, isn’t it? The real world she hasn’t been in for a long time.’ The psychiatrist looked very directly at the other man. ‘But Jennifer is always going to be a freak.’
‘I ran away.’ She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. She didn’t want to tell him the reason: risk everything.
‘Your choice,’ said Hall.
She wished he hadn’t sounded so disinterested. ‘You sound like Julian. Have you discussed it with him?’
Always honesty, he remembered. ‘Yes.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He didn’t tell me why, obviously. Just that it was a matter for you.’ It was their evening walk, to the outer perimeter now although she was still careful to avoid close contact with anyone else. Hall didn’t think Jennifer being there was a secret any more, obviously not among the staff, and was glad that Julian Mason’s assurance about money buying silence had proved true. The danger, then, had always been other patients.
‘I don’t want to tell you.’
‘Then don’t.’
‘I still shouldn’t have run. I panicked.’ She felt so safe on these walks: enjoyed the warmth of his hand, feeling his closeness.
‘It was your first time in a group like that.’
‘It wouldn’t have happened once.’ She hoped she wasn’t sounding self-pitying.
‘You’ve got to learn again.’
They walked on in silence. Jennifer said, ‘Could you help me learn?’
‘I’m not sure that would be helping you.’ The silence lasted longer. This time he broke it. ‘Would a book be such a bad idea?’
‘I wouldn’t know how to begin,’ she protested.
‘You don’t have to study or pass exams to do it, do you? There’d be editors, people like that, to shape it for you. You’d probably get a lot of guidance before you even got started.’
‘It would be like letting people stare at me.’
He searched for the right reply. ‘Or stop them doing it.’
‘I know that’s going to be a problem,’ she admitted.
You don’t, thought Hall: you haven’t any conception. ‘I think you should think about it quite seriously.’
‘I hardly need the money.’
‘I’m not thinking about the money. It would get the whole thing out of your memory.’
‘I don’t imagine anything could ever do that,’ Jennifer said, soberly.
‘I wasn’t talking about forgetting. I was talking about adjusting.’
‘That’s something else I know I’ve got to learn: how to adjust.’
It was time he himself adjusted, Hall decided. Past time. So he had to stop putting it off.