All She Ever Wished For

by Claudia Carroll

  ‘We’ll take another brief ten minute recess,’ sighs Judge Simmonds, banging her hammer down like an auctioneer as Sandra makes her way back down the steps to where I’m sitting with clenched knuckles in the jury box.

  ‘Can you follow me, please?’ she asks.

  ‘Poor old, Tess,’ I can hear Edith saying as I’m led out of the box. ‘I knew there was something wrong with her when she didn’t eat any of that delicious food just now.’

  ‘And she came in white as a sheet this morning,’ says Jess. ‘If one of my kids looked like that, I’d whip them off to see a doctor immediately.’

  ‘Trouble in paradise, if you ask me.’

  ‘Oh definitely man trouble,’ says Jane assuredly. ‘I can spot it a mile off. Same with my own daughters, you know. If there’s something up with either of them, the first sign is when they go off their grub.’

  Last thing I’m aware of as I’m being led out of court is Kate King’s pale, white face looking back at mine. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman look so worried.

  *

  A moment later, I’m being led down a long corridor with Sandra at my side as Judge Simmonds swishes on ahead of us. We take a lift to a higher floor, then down another corridor before the judge stops abruptly at the door to her chambers, which turns out to be a tiny, private office with her name neatly printed on the door. Feeling like a schoolgirl caught smoking down at the bike sheds who’s about to be hauled over the coals by the headmistress, I follow her inside as Sandra closes the door firmly behind us.

  So now it’s just me and Judge Simmonds, completely alone.

  ‘Am I right in assuming you know the witness in question?’ she asks, turning to face me, wasting no time in getting to the point.

  I explain the situation to her while she listens intently, arms folded.

  ‘But you’ve never actually met this person, Jasper Adams? Your knowledge of him is purely second hand?’

  ‘Well … no, I’ve never met him,’ I tell her, ‘but still. I thought it only right to let you know.’

  She nods curtly and strides back to open the door, where Sandra is standing patiently outside, like a sentry on guard duty.

  ‘Would you kindly ask Oliver Daniels and Hilda Cassidy to come in here, please?’ she asks. Sandra nods and immediately bustles off to do as she’s told.

  Then when it’s just the two of us alone again, the judge walks over to the window just behind her desk, taking her wig off and pausing for a moment to look down onto the view of the car park below.

  ‘I should tell you that it’s my duty to inform both Prosecution and Defence counsel of this development,’ she says. ‘Because if either side have an issue with the matter – which might easily be the case – then we cannot proceed as planned. If any juror has a connection to a witness, then both sides have the right to insist on starting the case afresh.’

  ‘So you mean …’

  ‘It means a whole new jury will have to be sworn in from scratch,’ Judge Simmonds says, still focused on the view down below her office window. ‘You’ll be dismissed as of now and no longer required to serve on this case.’

  I take a moment to digest what she’s telling me. That this huge court case, all this press interest, not to mention all the sacrifices that I’ve made myself just to turn up here every day, could all be for nothing.

  ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am,’ I say, and it’s only when the words are out that I know I really mean it too. ‘I hadn’t realised it was such a big deal. I just thought I should be as honest with you as possible.’

  ‘I understand,’ Judge Simmonds says a bit more gently now as she turns back to face me. ‘And for what it’s worth, you certainly didn’t do an easy thing in coming forward like this. But you did do the right thing.’

  I’m asked to wait outside while Oliver and Hilda bustle importantly past me into Judge Simmonds’ chambers, so I take a seat in the corridor, with my mind racing.

  Two weeks ago, something like this would have been the answer to my prayers. So why am I sitting here with a knot of tension in my stomach, praying both counsels can agree that this doesn’t really matter? That this is nothing more than a minor blip and that the case can continue as before?

  KATE

  The Criminal Courts of Justice

  The present

  ‘What on earth can be taking them so long?’ said Kate to one of Hilda’s junior counsels, an eager-looking thirty-something guy with a head so bald it looked exactly like a boiled egg from where she’d been sitting behind him.

  ‘My guess is that the juror in question wants off the case,’ he answered curtly, barely looking up from the mound of papers and legal files that were scattered all across the court bench.

  Kate froze in her seat.

  ‘But why? I mean, why now, when we’re almost finished?’

  ‘Could be for any reason. Conflict of interest for one. Though more likely it’s because of jury contamination. You wouldn’t know who could have tried to get to her. People’s behaviour during a case like this would really amaze you.’

  With a shudder, Kate thought back to her lonely run on the pier just the previous morning. How she’d accidentally bumped into that young, pretty girl from the jury, who was out doing exactly the same thing. Had she panicked, was that it? Had she realised that having just come into contact with Kate – however accidentally – that she’d now have to report it all back to the judge? And worst of all, was there a chance that she’d quote Kate on what had been said?

  What did I say anyway? Kate thought, racking her brains to remember back to that early-morning run.

  This isn’t what you think. None of this is what you think.

  Yes, that was it. They’d been her exact words. And now they could potentially hang her. She glanced over to the other side of the court where Damien was being ushered outside by a cohort of barristers, all vying to pitch their theories of what this recess could potentially spell for them. He had his back to her, but as sheer bad luck would have it, at that moment he happened to turn his head just a quarter inch, so now their eyes met.

  All this for a bloody painting, she tried her best to telegraph to him across the packed courtroom. One that you probably wouldn’t have even noticed was missing, if she hadn’t been there to point it out to you.

  TESS

  The present

  I don’t know if this is a good sign or a bad sign, but a few minutes ago, both Hilda and Oliver strode out of Judge Simmonds’ office where they’d both been cooped up and walked right past me without as much as a single word; either to me, or to each other. I’m not entirely certain what to do now, so I sit, wait, fidget and worry, in that order. Then a minute later, the office door opens and Judge Simmonds herself is on the move.

  ‘Well then,’ she says to me, looking as intimidating as ever now that her wig is back on. ‘I’ve discussed the matter at some length with both the Prosecution and Defence.’

  ‘Yes?’ I say weakly, fully expecting her to order me to pack up my bag, publicly apologise to everyone – from my fellow jurors, to the people that line up for free seats in the public gallery every day – then crawl out of here with my tail between my legs.

  ‘And both sides are in agreement that as you’ve never actually met, spoken to or indeed had any contact whatsoever with this new witness,’ she says, ‘and that your knowledge of him is entirely second hand, they’re happy for the case to go ahead, as planned.’

  ‘You mean … we’re OK then?’ I half-stammer. ‘We’re back on track?’

  ‘So it would appear.’

  ‘Oh … well that’s great to hear. Erm … thank you, and sorry if I caused you any trouble.’

  ‘Well, come on then,’ she says, beckoning me to follow her as she quick-marches down the corridor. So I do as I’m told, trailing a step or two behind her, she’s walking so fast. We turn down another corridor in silence and all I can think is that not so long ago, I’d have been wailing and gnashing my teeth at still
being shackled to this case, when a convenient little exit route had just appeared out of nowhere, like Alice in Wonderland’s low door in the wall.

  Weirdly though, that’s not how it feels at all. The exact opposite in fact. Because right now I actually can’t wait to get back to court, back to the jury room, back to see this all through to the final furlong. Being perfectly honest, I’m actually relieved that I haven’t been turfed out and that I’ll live to serve another day.

  ‘So how are your wedding plans coming along?’ Judge Simmonds asks me out of nowhere, as we both wait for the lift to take us back downstairs to court.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The day you were summoned for service, I believe you mentioned that your wedding was imminent?’

  ‘I can’t believe you remember that,’ I tell her, flabbergasted.

  ‘It’s kind of my job to remember things,’ she says, with just a hint of a tiny smile. ‘Plus you did produce all manner of folders, files and I distinctly recall a mood board, showing how vital it was that you be excused from the case.’

  I redden a bit at the thought of how inanely and desperately I’d acted back then. Then the lift arrives and we both step inside.

  ‘Everything on track for the big day?’ she asks politely.

  ‘Ehh … well kind of,’ is all I can come out with though. You mean apart from a very reluctant bride, who’s having serious knots in her stomach every time she thinks about her whole future? Oh yeah, other than that, we’re all systems go.

  We arrive at our floor and the lift door obediently pings open.

  ‘Glad you were called to serve then?’ Judge Simmonds says, turning to face me before she steps out.

  ‘More than that.’

  ‘Do you know, it’s quite extraordinary,’ she says with a twinkle, clipping out of the lift as I trail after her. ‘I’ve yet to meet an unwilling juror who regretted serving, by the time the case is about to come to a conclusion. Never fails to astonish me.’

  *

  ‘You did the right thing,’ says Will.

  ‘Certainly feels that way,’ I tell him, stooping down to pick up the remains of a half-eaten cream cheese bagel. ‘Although I have to say, I was terrified that Judge Simmonds would think I was only coming forward to try to wriggle out of the case. Yet again.’

  ‘You’re not though, are you?’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Now? When things have just got interesting?’

  We’re in the jury room by the way, as he and I have offered to wait behind and clear up after this morning’s impromptu breakfast picnic, while the others were all bussed over to the Ebola Arms for lunch. Lunch, which Judge Simmonds called practically the very minute that court reconvened. All to disappointed groans from the courtroom and even a muttered ‘is this a court of law or a bloody holiday camp?’ from the public benches, clearly audible throughout the whole court, as it was no doubt meant to be.

  Will and I work on in silence for a bit, making sure every last morsel of breakfast has been cleared away. Anything rather than invoke the wrath of Moany Mona.

  ‘Tell you something,’ he says, scooping up fistfuls of crumbs and the bottom end of a breakfast roll. ‘For a gang of pensioners who constantly complain about how hard it is to get something to eat that they actually like, they certainly are able to put their grub away, aren’t they?’

  I smile, but don’t say anything, just concentrate on clearing away empty coffee cups.

  ‘You’re miles away,’ he eventually says, stopping what he’s doing.

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Don’t pretend with me. You know you are.’

  ‘Sorry, Will,’ I say, turning to face him. ‘It’s just that there’s a lot going on right now. A lot of big decisions that I feel I’m being forced into making. You know what? At least in this case we get to decide on a verdict—’

  ‘If we ever get to decide on a verdict—’

  ‘But in my private life, I feel like I almost don’t have any control any more. That with the wedding so close, I’m on this roller coaster and I’ve got no choice except just to roll with it.’

  ‘“I am in blood stepp’d in so far …”’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Nothing. Just a quote from Macbeth.’

  ‘And for whatever reason, everything has come together at once and no one is giving me even the smallest chink of time to think things over.’

  A pause while Will takes a minute to digest this.

  ‘Remember, if you ever want to talk,’ he eventually says, ‘then I’ll be there for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ is all I can say back as I haul another stuffed black bin liner over to the door, ready to be cleared away. ‘You’re probably the only person in my life not putting any pressure on me right now’.

  ‘Then long may that continue.’

  ‘I really appreciate the support, you know.’

  ‘By the way,’ he says as we both get back to work. ‘There’s something you never told me.’

  ‘Oh yeah? What was that?’

  ‘Now it’s none of my business, but …’

  ‘Will, for feck’s sake, we’re stuck here on jury service together. As far as I’m concerned, you and I have no boundaries. Go on, ask me anything.’

  ‘You know when I met you at the bar the other night,’ he says, putting down a handful of empty coffee cups. ‘It’s just you seemed so upset and angry.’

  ‘Understatement of the year,’ I say, stomach clenching again just remembering back to that god-awful night.

  ‘In that case,’ he says, the dark eyes almost boring into mine, ‘I hope that whatever you and the fiancé argued about was nothing too serious?’

  I’m over at the window and take a moment to look down onto the street just below.

  ‘It was about ABBA!’ I say.

  ‘Ah,’ he says thoughtfully, before picking up the last of the rubbish and heading out the door.

  *

  ‘In my humble opinion,’ says Barney knowledgeably, as we’re all obediently lined up for this afternoon’s court call. ‘The Prosecution will spend a large part of the afternoon ahead throwing up every objection that they possibly can to this new witness, what’s his name. The very exact same thing happened in Kinsella versus Hamilton in 2003, you know. I was reading up on it only last night. Although now I come to think of it, it might have been 2004. You wouldn’t want to quote me on it.’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ says Ian dryly. ‘There’s no fear of that.’

  Turns out that Barney’s not too far off the mark. Given all the delays we had this morning, this session is mercifully short and it’s mostly taken up with Oliver Daniels trawling up just about every objection that he can possibly raise to Jasper Adams being called as a late witness. Insufficient time for the Prosecution to adequately prepare their cross-questions seems to be the general thrust of it. And as Barney accurately predicted, he spends for ever throwing up one case history after another where a late witness wasn’t permitted.

  ‘May God forgive me,’ groans Daphne, who’s sitting on one side of me while Will’s on the other. ‘And I really hope Barney can’t hear this, but it chokes me to have to admit that aul’ windbag was actually right.’

  ‘Whatever you say, say nothing,’ hisses Edith, who’s sitting on the other side of Daphne. ‘Otherwise we’ll never hear the end of this.’

  This goes on for, I kid you not, an hour. Then a good ninety minutes in, Hilda is up on her feet, firing back with case after case where late witnesses were absolutely allowed, listing them off in full. Names, dates, case histories, the whole works.

  And dear God, but it’s boring. More boring than being stuck in school on a sunny day, for a double maths class. So boring, in fact, that to my right, Will has started playing noughts and crosses on the freebie notepads in front of us, while Daphne is engrossed in writing out her shopping list. Cat food and Domestos bleach featuring strongly, I can’t help but notice.

  Everyone looks tired and fed up. Damien King is
staring out into the middle distance like he’s dreaming of the golf course he’ll doubtless be rambling around the minute he’s out of here. All the junior counsels look like they need matchsticks to prop their eyes fully open. The press are all openly yawning, and over at the public benches – which still have queues to get into them every day – people are getting up out of seats and drifting in and out of court. Anything just to escape the tedium.

  The only person who looks keyed up and tense, I notice, is Kate King herself, who’s constantly whispering to Hilda, passing her notes as she perches tensely on the edge of the bench.

  I try my best to concentrate, but keep finding myself drifting off. So instead, I surreptitiously join Will in a few games of noughts and crosses, as he carefully hides the notepad under the table so we’re not seen.

  And once or twice, I even manage to beat him.

  Then, just after 5 p.m., to relieved smiles from the Defence, Judge Simmonds says the magic words, ‘I’ve listened to your arguments and I’m overruling all objections. We’ll take a recess till Friday, then Jasper Adams may take the stand and the Defence may open with questions. I’m adjourning the court till then. With thanks to you all for your patience today.’

  And like that, she’s gone. As the jurors are guided out through the side door, it’s hard not to be aware of a frisson of excited whispers running like an electric current all the way from the press box to the public benches.

  What the hell can Jasper Adams possibly have to say that Kate King is so anxious we all hear?

  KATE

  The Chronicle