The Girl from Kingsland Market

by June Tate

  ‘Objection!’ The defence counsel was on his feet.

  James looked at the judge. ‘The prisoner is already being held for the robbery of the jewellery, My Lord. I just want to clarify that these are the same pieces.’

  ‘Overruled.’

  James stared at Percy. ‘Well, was it the same jewellery?’

  Percy looked furious. ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘And Frank Clarke is what is commonly known as a fence. A man who buys stolen goods.’

  Percy just glared at James.

  ‘Answer the question, Mr Stanley,’ the judge ordered.

  ‘Yes, he is.’

  ‘A man, no doubt, who deals with many a stolen article, maybe much more expensive goods than you were offering. Perhaps that’s why he called you small-time, a nobody. You tell us he continued insulting you and that is why your fight was furious and why it ended up eventually outside the lock-up, where it continued for some time until you had him on the ground, trying to choke the life out of him. We’ve been told he could hardly breathe. You hoped to finish him off for disrespecting you, as you called it, didn’t you? After all, as you said yourself – nobody does that! You are a man of great self-importance; it’s obvious that you were enraged at being spoken to like this.’

  James strolled over to the jury, then turned back to Stanley. ‘I put it to you that Clarke surprised you by getting to his feet, you thought you had him – that you could finish him off – make him pay for his insults! Show him who he was dealing with. When he got up and struggled to regain his balance, he didn’t come at you as you say he did. He didn’t have time, you had only one chance to kill him and you took it! You plunged the knife into him before he had time to fight back. Your arrogance and your temper have led you here today and one human is dead because of it.’

  ‘That’s not true. He came at me. It was an accident!’ Percy yelled at him, banging his fist on the front of the box, his face puce with anger.

  Hardy, now having riled his man, carried on.

  ‘This was no accident. The previous witness clearly stated that Clarke had only just regained his balance and turned towards you. That’s when you saw the advantage and you took it! You plunged the knife into him!’ Hardy showed the court by pretending to hold a knife and use it with great gusto. There was an intake of breath from some. He turned back to Stanley. ‘Then, when finally your victim had taken his last breath and lay still, you realised you had a body to deal with. You then panicked, locked the body away and went to fetch your brother to help you move it, which you then callously hid in the nearby cemetery. What I don’t understand, Mr Stanley, is if this was an accident, as you say and you stabbed Frank Clarke in self-defence – why didn’t you call the police?’

  Percy, still angry, just glared at James. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! They’d never have believed me with my record.’

  Hardy was delirious at hearing this. Percy’s past record couldn’t be used unless someone introduced it – and Percy had just done so.

  ‘Your record, Mr Stanley? Do you already have a police record?’

  Percy suddenly realised his great mistake. He looked over at his counsel, who just shook his head in despair.

  ‘Mr Stanley, I asked you a question. Do you have a police record?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to enlighten the gentlemen of the jury?’

  ‘I’ve served time for GBH.’

  ‘That means grievous bodily harm, gentlemen,’ James told the jury. Then, turning back to Percy, he said, ‘I believe the man you attacked was so badly injured, he had to stay in hospital for some considerable time.’ Percy didn’t answer but just glared at him. James carried on. ‘It has been proven you are a violent man. You’ve already served one term in prison because of this. I think you are an arrogant and angry man who does not like being crossed, and when Frank Clarke told you were a nobody, you lost your temper and killed him in cold blood. You’ve not shown one ounce of remorse during all the time you’ve spent in the witness box, because you don’t have any. I think you are a menace to society and should be put away for a long time.’ He went back to his bench and sat down.

  The defence counsel stood. ‘I have no further witnesses, My Lord.’

  The judge glanced over to James Hardy, who got up and walked over to the jury. ‘Gentlemen, you’ve heard the evidence. You’ve seen the man accused of the murder of one Frank Clarke, a man who came to Southampton to purchase stolen goods. A trade agreement, although an illegal one. Nothing that one would expect to have such dire consequences. But as you’ve observed, Percy Stanley has an uncontrollable temper. He’s already severely injured one person and put him in hospital – and served time for doing so. Perhaps we are fortunate that we were not gathered here at an earlier date on a charge of murder, but we are here today. Frank Clarke is dead because Percy Stanley lost his temper yet again and attacked him with a knife. Not in self-defence, as he claims, but in pure rage because, as he said, he was disrespected.

  ‘We’ve already heard from a previous witness that Stanley once had the victim on the ground fighting to breathe. Had he not struggled free, I feel sure that he would have died from strangulation instead of stabbing, because Stanley was so enraged, he would have killed him then. The defendant claims that Frank Clarke got up and came at him, but Miss Collins stated under oath that Clarke didn’t have the time to do so before he was stabbed. This was no accident. Had it been so, Stanley would have been full of remorse. Did you see any of this in his demeanour? No, neither did I.

  ‘This man took the life of another in a fit of rage, because he felt he’d been insulted. No other reason. This man is a danger to society, and I believe he should pay the price for the life that he took so deliberately – and without pity.’ James walked back to his bench and sat down.

  The defence counsel took a moment to face the jury. He knew there was little chance of winning the case, but the public could be unexpected, and a jury and its deliberations was always an unknown factor.

  He stood in front of the twelve men. ‘Gentlemen, my learned friend has made a strong case against my client and much of what he says is true. Mr Stanley has served a prison sentence for grievous bodily harm. We don’t dispute that he has a temper and is quick to anger. Yes, he felt insulted and it ended up in fisticuffs, but – and this is important – Mr Stanley at no time intended to kill Frank Clarke. He was only defending himself when Clarke managed to get to his feet. You can imagine how angry he was as he turned to my client. After all, he’d taken a beating and that goes against the grain in any male. He ignored the knife in Mr Stanley’s hand, and came at the defendant. What choice did he have but to use it to save himself? It was used purely in self-defence and nothing more. He does not deserve to be tried for murder!’ He walked away and sat down.

  The judge addressed the jury. ‘Gentlemen, it is time for you to come to a decision. But before you do, I need to explain the law to you.’

  This he did briefly, using layman’s terms for the jurors to understand. He explained the burden and standard of proof and the legal ingredients of the offence charged.

  ‘What the prosecution claims was a severe assault resulting in death. The accused is charged with murder. What the defendant described was lawful self-defence and not murder.

  ‘You have heard the witnesses give their sworn statements and you have heard the defendant give his. One witness stated that Mr Clarke didn’t attack Mr Stanley when he got to his feet after being punched to the ground, the defendant disputes this. Taking all this into account, if you think the prosecution evidence is true – without reasonable doubt – then the verdict is guilty. If you think that the defendant’s evidence might be true, then he’s not guilty. Please take your time. Go through the evidence carefully before making your decision.’

  The judge, followed by the jury, left the courtroom. Percy was taken below to the cells to await the verdict. Ben and Phoebe went to a nearby cafe with the solicitor and the counsel for a we
lcome cup of tea.

  ‘What happens now?’ Phoebe asked.

  ‘We have to wait for the verdict, and no one knows how long that will take.’

  Ben leant forward. ‘Have you any inkling as to what that will be?’

  James Hardy smiled softly. ‘I’ve learnt not to jump to conclusions. One can never tell what goes on in a jury room. But I will say that Stanley came across as an angry man. He wasn’t sorry for what he’d done, and it showed, but we’ll wait and see.’

  Three hours later, the jury returned and everyone took their places to hear the verdict.

  Chapter Thirty

  There was a feeling of tension in the courtroom. The press were ready; pens poised waiting for the news that would be printed the next day. Those in the public gallery were almost afraid to breathe, wondering what the verdict would be. Percy Stanley stood in the dock, now pale and drawn, knowing that he could face the gallows if there was a guilty verdict.

  The judge’s voice echoed in the silent room. ‘Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?’

  The foreman stood. ‘We have.’

  ‘What is your verdict?’

  ‘Guilty!’

  Percy Stanley looked shocked and he grabbed hold of the front of the dock as his legs almost gave way. He could scarcely breathe as he waited. Would the judge put the black cloth on his head? Was he to be hanged?

  The judge spoke. ‘Percy Stanley, you have been found guilty of murder. You took the life of another in cold blood and have not shown any remorse for this heinous crime. It is my duty to keep the public safe and I feel you are a menace to society.’ He paused. Not a sound could be heard. ‘I therefore sentence you to life in prison.’

  The policeman standing with Percy had to hold him up as his knees gave way with relief.

  Phoebe suddenly felt dizzy and gripped hold of Ben’s hand.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’

  ‘No, my head is spinning.’

  ‘Let’s get you out of here,’ he said, but as Phoebe tried to stand, she staggered. Ben immediately lifted her into his arms and carried her outside. Someone rushed for a glass of water as Ben made her sit and bend her head down to her knees until she felt better.

  She sipped the water and looked at her fiancé.

  ‘Is it really all over? Is he going away for the rest of his life?’

  ‘Yes, darling. It’s over.’

  ‘It’s not that simple, Ben. I still have nightmares about the murder. It’s not something I can forget that easily.’

  ‘I know it will take time, but at least you’ll never see Percy ever again. Eventually you’ll be able to put it to the back of your mind.’ He hugged her. ‘You’ll be too busy looking after Tim and me.’

  At that moment, James Hardy and Edward Phillips joined them.

  ‘Are you all right, Miss Collins?’ James asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you. When I heard the verdict I suddenly felt faint, but it’s passed now.’

  ‘Good! Now I think we all need that drink I promised. I know I need one and a brandy will soon put you back on your feet, Miss Collins. Trust me.’

  While they walked to the nearest pub, Percy Stanley was about to be taken back to Wormwood Scrubs. As he stepped outside the back entrance to the courtroom, Detective Inspector Bentley stood waiting. He looked at Percy with distain.

  ‘I told you, you’d go down one day, and I was right. If I’d been the judge, you’d be swinging from a rope! But your worst punishment is yet to come. In prison you’ll be a nobody – just another piece of trash with a number. Nobody special, and you’ll hate that, but let’s say in another thirty years or so, maybe you’ll have got used to it. After all, you’ll be an old man by then.’

  Percy began to curse and swear at Bentley, but he just laughed and walked away as he watched Percy struggle as he was pushed into a police van.

  The policeman sitting opposite him didn’t speak and Percy was relieved. He was still in a state of shock. He hadn’t expected a guilty verdict; he’d convinced himself that the jury would say it was self-defence. He’d escaped the gallows, but now he’d live the rest of his years cooped up inside prison walls. He was in his early thirties, a fit man. A long and lonely future stretched ahead, shut away with a load of criminals. He didn’t for one minute consider himself to be one. Still smarting from the detective’s words, he muttered to himself. ‘A piece of trash, am I? A nobody? You couldn’t be more wrong!’

  James Hardy held up his glass. ‘A toast. To a successful verdict!’ They all repeated it and drank. He turned to Phoebe. ‘You did so well as a witness, Miss Collins, but I must warn you that for a little while you will be subjected to a certain amount of notoriety. The press will be wanting interviews, the public will be curious about you. There will be a certain amount of gossip from those who can be scathing.’

  She looked concerned. ‘What should I do? How can I handle it?’

  ‘I would choose one reporter from a decent paper and give an exclusive interview and at the end of the interview say it has been a terrible ordeal and you want to be left alone to forget about it. Then refuse to speak to anyone else from the press. In a short space of time something else will become news and you will fade out of the picture. There will always be someone somewhere who will remember but in time it’ll be forgotten. Besides, you have Ben to look after your interests. He’s not going to let anyone harass you.’

  ‘I can’t quite get used to someone taking care of me for a change. It’s a comforting feeling, I must say.’

  ‘He’s a good man; I hope you’ll be very happy together.’

  ‘Thank you, I’m sure we will.’

  Phoebe felt a great relief as she walked into her house at the end of such a stressful day. Ben put the kettle on as young Tim came rushing into the house. He looked scared as he asked, ‘What happened?’

  Phoebe went over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘Percy Stanley was sentenced to life in prison.’

  The boy burst into tears.

  Phoebe held him close. ‘Oh, Tim, please don’t cry. It’s all over now, we can forget about it and the brothers.’

  ‘Now you’ll be safe,’ he cried. ‘I was so worried he would murder you too!’

  This brought Phoebe to tears also as she held on to her brother, unable to speak.

  ‘Now, come on you two,’ Ben chipped in. ‘There’s no need to cry, we have a holiday to look forward to. I can’t arrive at my parent’s house if you are all red-eyed from weeping! What would my father think? He might think I’ve been unkind to you and I can’t have that. I expect he’ll ask you to help with his fish pond, Tim.’

  The boy wiped his tears. ‘I’d like that,’ he said. ‘Will your mother have some of her lemonade, do you think?’

  ‘Oh, my goodness, yes. She always has a jug ready in summer.’

  Two days later, suitcases packed, the three of them made the journey to Gloucester and were warmly greeted by Ben’s parents. Everyone relaxed in the cosy kitchen, eating freshly baked scones and sponge cake – and for Tim, a glass of lemonade.

  The days spent in the Cotswolds felt like a healing. Phoebe relaxed at last and Tim was in heaven, helping Hugh with his fish pond and digging in the vegetable garden.

  Ben had quietly taken his parents aside and told them what had happened.

  Hugh shook his head as he listened. ‘What a terrible ordeal for that poor girl. It’ll take some time for her to get over all this.’

  ‘I know, Dad, but I want us to get married soon so we can all start a new life together. I hope you both will be happy for us?’

  Ellie hugged him. ‘Of course we are. Phoebe is a lovely girl and young Tim is a delight. He adores you, son. We only have to see you together to know that there’s already a great bond between you.’

  The week seemed to fly by before they were on their way back to Southampton. Ben was due back on duty the next day, Tim started school again and Phoebe was off to the market to sort out her stall. Some of her goods
would now not be fit for sale after the days spent in court and the week away, but some should still be fine. She needed to get back to normal.

  She and Ben had decided to get married in November. In the meantime, he’d look for a larger flat until the following year when, as a wedding present, Hugh had offered to give them the money for a down payment on a house. Until then, Phoebe would work in the market as she’d said she needed to keep busy.

  Phoebe was greeted warmly by Marj on the Monday morning as she wheeled her stall onto its pitch. Marj flung her arms around her friend and kissed her cheek.

  ‘Oh, my love, I ’ave missed you!’

  ‘I’ve missed you too, you old devil! Let me look at you. You look fine. What’s been going on while I’ve been away?’

  ‘Well, love, it was all that news of the trial. It was in all the papers. It was the talk of the town, never mind the market! Such an ordeal for you. Are you all right?’

  ‘Still a bit shaky, Marj, to be honest, but the week away with Ben’s parents was lovely and it did help.’

  ‘So when’s the wedding?’

  Phoebe beamed at her. ‘Sometime in November. We have to go and see the vicar and sort out a date. You best buy a new hat!’

  ‘I’ve got one already! I knew I’d need it one day, I just ’oped I wouldn’t have to wait too long to wear it.’ Her smile faded. ‘I suppose that means you won’t be working no longer in the market?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. I am pleased, of course, not to have to face another winter out in the cold, but in another way I’ll miss it, it’s been my life for so many years.’ She caught hold of her friend’s hand. ‘But most of all, I’ll miss you, Marj. You’ve been more than a friend, more a guardian angel, looking out for me when I had to take over from Dad.’

  ‘Oh, bless you, love! You were so young and so brave, ’aving to earn to keep your family. It was a great responsibility, and you worked so ’ard to do so, and you were successful. I’m just so thrilled you ’ave that lovely man to take care of you both. I couldn’t be ’appier for you.’