* * *
The court was assembled. The public galleries were full to bursting. ‘Answer the questions truthfully, and explain it exactly the way it happened,’ the lawyer told Rosie. She was fine until Doug was brought into the court flanked by two burly officers. Their eyes met and he was still staring at her when she looked away. If she had entertained any hope that he regretted all those terrible things he had said to her, she saw her mistake then. Hatred for her shone out of his eyes and smothered her.
Court was quickly in session. The jurors’ heads followed the prosecutor like spectators at a tennis match, first this way then that. The pathologist gave his evidence. ‘Killed by a single stab wound to the neck,’ he said. When the clear plastic bag containing the knife was held up for the jury to see, there was an audible gasp from the galleries. Rosie hung her head. In her mind she was reliving every detail of that night, and she felt sick to her stomach.
The day wore on. Rosie was called to the stand, and in as clear a voice as she could, gave her version of what took place on that awful night. ‘Martha had a knife to my son’s throat,’ she said, her voice falling to a whisper as she looked on the long sharp blade.
‘Is this the knife in question?’ she was asked. The bag was thrust under her nose. She was allowed to handle it, but the touch of the bag made her flesh creep.
‘As far as I can tell,’ she answered, quickly returning it. The knife had a white bone handle which was secured to the blade by the means of round flat rivets. It had been Rosie’s meat knife, which had gone missing some time back. It made her shiver to think how many times she had used it for mundane tasks in the kitchen. She wondered again how Martha had laid hands on it. Perhaps it had been in an upstairs drawer all along.
‘Describe the incident in question, exactly as you remember it,’ she was urged. And a great hush fell over the court.
Rosie took her time. Doug’s life was at stake and she did not want to get anything wrong. She explained how she and Doug were in bed when they heard the scream. She went on to describe how she was the first to enter her son’s room, and was horrified to see that Martha had him and was threatening to kill him. ‘She looked completely mad. Danny was crying,’ Rosie recalled. And the memory was overwhelming.
‘Please speak up.’ The voice was not unsympathetic.
Clearing her throat, Rosie went on, ‘I knew if I made even the smallest move, she would kill him.’
‘Please tell the court what happened then?’
‘Doug… my husband, he came into the room and tried to reason with her. But she wouldn’t listen. She…’ It was on the tip of her tongue to say how Martha claimed that Danny was not Doug’s but Adam’s. The mere thought of revealing such a thing made her hot with shame because, even though there wasn’t a vestige of truth in it, she had often wished that it was so.
‘Yes? You were about to say?’
‘She was insane.’
‘That was what you assumed?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Can you think of any reason why your mother-in-law should want to attack your son?’
‘She had always been very fond of him.’ Rosie silently prayed he would not press the point.
‘Had you yourself rowed with her on that day?’
‘Martha was not the easiest woman in the world to get on with.’ ‘I asked… did you row with her on that day?’ Pausing on his way to the jurors’ bench, he swung round and stared at her from beneath long bushy brows.
‘Not a row exactly.’
‘What then?’
‘Martha liked to make things difficult for everyone she came in contact with.’ Glancing at the day nurses who had already given evidence as to Martha’s unpredictable character, she wondered why they had to keep asking the same questions. It was almost as though she was on trial.
‘Apart from the deceased… and your son, whose evidence has already been read out, the only other witnesses to what actually happened were yourself and your husband?’
‘Yes, sir.’ My God! She was on trial! Suddenly she was even more aware of the many accusing eyes all focused on her. In that split second her gaze fell on Doug’s face. His smile was sinister, and she wondered whether he wouldn’t mind being hanged, as long as she was hanged with him. There was a moment of silence when she felt as though the whole world had her in its sights.
There were more questions. ‘Was there bad feeling between the accused and the deceased?’ ‘What exactly happened in that moment before the accused lunged forward?’ ‘Describe it to the court.’ ‘What happened immediately afterwards?’ The interrogation was relentless. Then, just when Rosie had reached screaming point, the examination was over and she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. You may now step down.’ Her legs felt like jelly as she made her way back to her seat.
After Doug’s evidence was heard, and was seen to be compatible with her own, the jury retired to consider their verdict.
When an hour passed, and then another, many people left the court to gather in small chattering groups in the outer hall. Rosie remained in her seat. Almost alone and feeling totally exhausted, she stared up at the huge domed ceiling; carved with crowns and eagles, it was a spectacular feat, and even in her dilemma she couldn’t help but admire it. In these awe-inspiring surroundings, she felt like an insignificant little speck. What would it matter if they did take her away and hang her? At once she thought of Danny, and was horrified by her own thoughts. ‘God forgive you, Rosie,’ she whispered, and her voice came back like an echo.
Unbeknown to her, when she had suffered all manner of fears in that confined witness box, Adam had lived the moments with her. From the back of the courtroom, he had willed her to be brave and not be afraid. He had listened to her version of what happened and had seen how distraught she was at the memory. And he had loved her with all his heart. Yet, when the jury was sent out, he made no attempt to let Rosie know he was there. He was so afraid she would turn him away. He needed to think, to decide whether he should approach her. He vividly recalled her reply to his letter, when she had made it clear he was not welcome in her life. It was true that she was married and he accepted that. Even so, if she would only have him, he would spend the rest of his life taking care of her and Danny. As the years passed, he found it increasingly harder to accept that Rosie was not his, and neither was Danny. What made it worse was that they might have been his, if only he hadn’t been so blinded by jealousy on that day she told him the truth about her and Doug.
Now, after all that had happened, the last thing he wanted was to alienate Rosie even more, and so, with this in mind, he went away to think. His heart told him to go to her. But his instincts warned him otherwise. After all, Doug had made no secret of his loathing for Adam, and he was still Rosie’s husband. As far as Adam could tell, she must be suffering agonies for him. If either of them saw him there, it was bound to make matters worse. The best thing you can do is stay out of sight, he decided, cursing himself for having made the journey here. But his love for Rosie would not let him stay away.
As the crowd surged out, he went with them. In the grimy little cafe across the road, he ordered a strong black coffee. After paying, he took the coffee and himself to the farthest corner where he sat alone and friendless, his heart and mind with Rosie. And his thoughts in chaos as he wondered whether or not to return home without making his presence known to her.
It was mid-afternoon when the jury returned, and all this time Rosie had not moved from her seat, except to pace up and down when her legs grew stiff and sore. Deeply agitated, she wondered how Doug was bearing up. Her mind went from him to Danny, and then she was filled with fear for all their futures.
Suddenly the crowds were pouring back and the court was in session again. The jurors filed into their seats and, when requested by the judge, the foreman stood up to give the verdict. As he read it out, Rosie’s heart almost stopped. Doug had been cleared of murder, but convicted of manslaughter. The judge’s voice rang out in sentencing
him. Doug stood in the dock, pale and nervous, his hands gripping the rail as though he desperately needed that support.
Rosie leaned forward as the sentence was given. ‘Five years’ imprisonment.’ The words echoed over and over in her mind. Doug was to be put away for five years.
It was finished. She felt empty, shocked, but relieved that Doug had been cleared of murder. As he was being led away, he called her name. She looked up to see him struggling with his captors. His head was turned towards her, his face twisted into a grotesque mask. ‘Five years, then I’ll be back,’ he yelled, that same sinister smile on his face. ‘Mind you wait, my lovely!’
Long after he had gone from her sight, Rosie could see that devilish smile. She could hear his words, and knew they were a warning. Doug blamed her for what had happened, and would make her pay. That was the veiled warning he meant to convey. And, because of it, he had committed her to the same sentence he himself had received, just as surely as if the judge had put them away side by side.
From his place at the back of the court, Adam also heard Doug’s message. But, unlike Rosie, he had not seen the wickedness on Doug’s face. He wasn’t aware of the awful rift between these two. Nor was he aware that Martha, and now Doug, had come to believe that he and not Doug, had fathered the boy. Adam knew nothing of all this. So, when the court was almost emptied, he remained, waiting for Rosie to pass by, and marking the moment when he could talk to her. She needed a friend. He could be that much at least, he thought.
Rosie took a moment to recover from the ordeal, though she would remember every minute for as long as she lived. Now, collecting her bag and fastening the buttons on her jacket, she turned – and almost fell into the arms of Robert Fellows. ‘I’ve come to take you home,’ he said. He studied her lovely face, and was touched by the sadness there. ‘I behaved like a fool last night,’ he murmured regretfully. ‘Can you forgive me?’
‘You have no business here, Mr Fellows,’ she said sharply. Seeing him was quite a shock. ‘As for last night, it was plain to me that you’d been drinking. I’ve seen that kind of behaviour before and it’s never very pleasant.’ She had seen it all too often, she thought bitterly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go… that is, if you think I should be allowed to live a life outside office hours?’ Her voice was deliberately sarcastic. The truth was, she felt he had a bloody cheek coming here. Not only had it angered her, she felt mortified with shame.
‘I deserve that,’ he admitted. ‘But I promise you, Rosie, it won’t happen again.’ He looked like a small boy caught out in mischief. ‘Won’t you give me a chance to make amends? After what’s happened here, won’t you at least let me see you safely home?’
Rosie was about to give him a piece of her mind when something happened that took her completely aback. The moment she raised her eyes, she saw Adam coming down the steps towards her. He was smiling. Then he was saying, ‘Can we talk, Rosie?’ And her heart was leaping out of control. With Robert Fellows on one side, and Adam on the other, she felt trapped. Which way should she turn? For the briefest moment she was tempted to go with Adam. But then she remembered. If only he hadn’t turned from her years ago, they might have been together now. Yet it was she who had gone astray, and not him; she must not forget that. Still, hadn’t he conned Ned out of his business? Wasn’t he also married? And wasn’t she? On top of all that, her husband had just been jailed for five years, and here Adam was, asking if they could talk. What in God’s name was he thinking of? Surely he must know his presence was like a red rag to a bull!
Her steady gaze belied the turmoil inside her as she told him in a cool calm voice, ‘I really don’t think we have anything to talk about.’
Acutely aware of the other man standing nearby, Adam murmured his reply. ‘I wouldn’t agree, Rosie. But if that’s the way you feel?’ His broad shoulders stiffened and his dark haunted eyes set her alight.
‘I do.’ Her voice was crisp and hostile. ‘Besides, I have a business matter to attend to.’ She bestowed a smile on the bemused Robert Fellows. ‘I think we should leave now.’ He nodded and gestured her to lead on.
All the way up the aisle she could feel Adam’s eyes on her. When she thought about it later, she didn’t know how she stopped herself from running back to fling herself into his arms. Leaving him there was the most painful experience of her life.
‘Handsome bloke.’ Robert Fellows was faintly jealous. ‘Married, I hope?’
Rosie turned the question. ‘Are you?’
‘What?’
‘Married.’
Momentarily astonished, he stared at her then grinned, showing a good set of teeth. Except for one which jutted out at an odd angle to touch his lower lip – though it took nothing away from his good looks. ‘You know very well I’m not married.’
‘Makes no difference to me whether you are or you’re not.’ Come to think of it, she didn’t even know what she was doing giving him the time of day.
‘That bloke… he seemed to care a great deal for you.’ His gaze dwelt on her face. ‘Who was he?’
‘No one you know,’ she said curtly.
‘In other words, mind my own business?’ He smiled, amused but curious. Back there he had sensed hidden emotions.
‘If you say so.’
Afraid that Adam might be watching, Rosie allowed herself to be shepherded into the big black car. Soon they were driving away from the court and towards the narrower streets of Blackburn town. ‘Castle Street, isn’t it?’ He gave her a sideways grin. ‘You’ll have to direct me.’
Too engrossed in her own thoughts, she made no answer. But when they neared the area, she indicated which way he should turn. Outside the house, she quickly disembarked, having spoken no more than two words the entire time. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked, walking with her to the front door. ‘I can stay a few minutes if you like?’ He wanted to stay. He wanted to take her to bed, but he knew he had to be very careful or he would lose her altogether.
‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said, deliberately putting herself between the door and him. She wasn’t ungrateful. In fact, she had taken a liking to him.
‘See you tomorrow then?’ His brow furrowed. ‘Only if you feel able, of course?’
‘I’ll be in tomorrow, Mr Fellows. You can rely on it.’ There was no point in sitting at home moping. For the time being, work was her salvation.
He nodded and smiled. Then he climbed into his grand car and drove away. She didn’t watch him go. She didn’t turn around when he had to slam on his brakes because he was staring at her and didn’t see the lorry almost on top of him. Instead she quickly unlocked the front door and hurried inside where she fell against the wall and sobbed her heart out. ‘You fool, Rosie!’ she sobbed. ‘Adam was there, and you let him go!’ So much had happened that day, and all of it bad. All of it, that was, except for seeing Adam. In her mind’s eye she recalled the desperate longing in his beautiful dark eyes. It was the same as her own. And it was wrong. That was what she must keep telling herself. The love she felt for Adam was wrong. And, however much it hurt, she must harden herself against it.
* * *
‘I’ve got to know, Adam, how did he seem when they led him away? And what about Rosie… did she look well? Was she taking it all right? And what about the boy? Did you get news of him?’ Ned Selby had been a haunted man when he first came to Adam some weeks back. He was still troubled, and it showed in his haggard face as he leaned over Adam’s desk, pleading for news of his family.
‘Sit down, Ned.’ He waited until the older man was seated, then stared at him, shaking his head in frustration. ‘For God’s sake, man, you look dreadful,’ he chided. Ned was unshaven, his hair was now streaked iron grey, and his face that of a man at war with himself. ‘Where the hell have you been? By all accounts you never turned up for work yesterday, and here it is, eight o’clock, and I’m just about to finish for the day.’
‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t face work. I wandered about… just walked and walke
d. It were late when I got to bed, and late when I woke up. I’ve come straight here.’ His large work-worn fists plucked at the baggy material of his trousers. ‘I ain’t been drinking. You know I don’t touch the stuff.’ His bloodshot eyes closed, he groaned and asked again. ‘What happened? I need to know.’
‘I don’t expect you’ve had anything to eat?’
‘Couldn’t eat.’
Closing the ledger before him, Adam got out of his chair. ‘Come on. I dare say Mrs Jessup has left more than enough for one.’ He intervened when he saw how Ned was preparing to speak again. ‘We can talk later. You look as if you’re ready to drop. Come on.’ He rounded the desk and heaved the big man out of his chair. Ned felt lifeless and heavy in his grip. ‘Let’s get you washed and shaved, then I’ll tell you all you want to know while we eat. A deal?’ He looked Ned in the eyes, his warm smile encouraging the other man.
‘All right… a deal.’ Ned actually returned the smile. It was a rare occurrence these days.
While he used the upstairs bathroom, Adam waited in the living-room. Mrs Jessup had left a note on the mantelpiece. ‘Lit the fire in case there’s a nip in the air. The dining table’s set, and your meal’s all ready on the table. Though why I couldn’t have got you a roast of sorts, I do not know!’ Adam chuckled. She was a real old tartar, but worth her weight in gold was Mrs Jessup.
Ned came down looking a changed man. He had combed his hair and shaved the grey stubble from his chin, his shirt-collar was done up, and as he came into the room, he told Adam ‘You’re right, son. I thought I weren’t hungry, but now I’m bloody famished!’ He rubbed his great fists together and stood awkwardly at the door.
Instantly putting him at his ease, Adam strode across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Here’s another one who’s famished,’ he laughed. ‘So we’d best go and see what the wonderful Mrs Jessup has to offer.’ He led the way into the kitchen, and there, spread out on the table, was a feast; there were numerous dishes, all covered with pretty little cloths hung with beads; one contained a huge slice of salmon, another was full to the brim with tiny potatoes cooked and cooled in their skins, there were peas and carrots, and plump green beans, and right at the back on a long-stemmed earthenware dish stood a thick round apple pie and beside it a jug of pouring cream. ‘By! It’s enough to feed an army,’ Ned declared, his eyes popping out of his head and his stomach playing an audible tune.
More Than Riches Page 28
