Dance While You Can

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Miss Barsby claims she saw Mrs Walters drive into the village at two-thirty on the afternoon of the fire. Miss Roberts, the Walters’ nanny, has testified that Mrs Walters returned to Westmoor just after four o’clock. According to Mr Samuelson, in that one and a half hours Mrs Walters accomplished the following: a thirty-minute journey to the warehouse, where she started the fire, argued and perhaps fought with her sister-in-law, then – after suffering extensive burns – called Daniel Davison from his post and, together with a man so far unidentified, thrust Davison into the flames; she then ran half a mile down the road to dispense with the petrol can, ran the half mile back again, and then returned to Westmoor after another thirty-minute drive. Is this likely, members of the jury? Is it even possible?

  ‘Miss Roberts has also testified that she had overheard Christine Walters threatening the defendant. And the evidence presented by British Airways, Pan Am and Singapore Airlines makes it clear that Christine Walters was likely involved over many years in what have turned out to be extremely dubious international transactions. It was the threatened exposure of those transactions, and the defendant’s refusal to bow to blackmail, that drove Christine Walters to hire someone to – in the words of my learned friend – “kill two birds with one stone” by setting fire to the warehouse and depriving Mrs Walters of her life. That, members of the jury, is why Christine Walters has gone into hiding and is not present in this courtroom.

  ‘During this trial my client has never denied her presence at the fire, nor has she sought to deny the evidence of the prosecution witnesses. I ask you to take a look at her, members of the jury. Does she really look like the gorgon of Mr Samuelson’s conjectures? Of course not. She is a decent, law-abiding citizen who has become embroiled in a series of events almost too fantastic to credit.

  ‘There are a great many more things I could say about my client’s sister-in-law, but we are not here to try Christine Walters, we are here to see that justice is done in the case of Elizabeth Walters. Justice – British justice – dictates that she is innocent until proved, beyond all reasonable doubt, to be guilty.’ I smiled and looked up at Elizabeth. Her eyes were lowered, and when I turned back to the jury every one of them was watching her. ‘There is so much doubt in this case that I am sure you are as surprised as I am that we are here at all. It is physically impossible for Mrs Walters to have committed these crimes; on the contrary, she was the intended victim. I leave it to you, then, members of the jury, to see that justice is done by returning a verdict of Not Guilty.’

  As I sat down I felt a tap on my shoulder, and Oscar Renfrew, Elizabeth’s solicitor, passed me a note. ‘Holy Shit! You’ve done it!’ I read, and I allowed myself a smile. Freddie’s face was expressionless, but when I caught his eye he winked. Every face in the jury box showed a confusion of doubt and sympathy. Oscar Renfrew was right, I felt it in my bones.

  The judge decided to adjourn until ten-thirty the next morning, when he would deliver his summing up before sending the jury to consider their verdict.

  That night Jessica left a message at chambers asking me to see her. On my way home I called in on Henry and Caroline to speak to Elizabeth and tease her for not having faith in me from the beginning. She looked better than she had over the past few days, but the strain was still evident. I didn’t feel the time was right to tell her that the next step was to find Christine – before Christine came to find her.

  Jessica and I went but for dinner. We talked mainly about the trial, and I was surprised at how sympathetically she listened. I must confess it was good to have someone I could confide in after keeping my feelings under such tight control, and when Jessica told me that my father had grudgingly praised my performance, I couldn’t help being pleased. Yet I had to admit to myself that his reservations about the case hadn’t been entirely unjustified; defending Elizabeth wasn’t the easiest thing I’d ever done, and I still wasn’t sure it would turn out to have been the wisest, either.

  Jessica smiled at that. ‘You were so confident a moment ago.’

  ‘I still am. Well, I suppose there’s always a chance the jury could have some sort of mass aberration . . . No, what I meant was that maybe I behaved immaturely over the whole thing. Because it was Elizabeth, I wouldn’t hear of anyone else taking the case. I didn’t even know if it would be the best thing for her, I just felt I had to do it.’ I shrugged. ‘Too late for all this now, eh? Just thank God it worked out.’

  After that we talked about Jessica, and what she and Rosalind were doing – but all the same, by the time dinner was over we were on the point of snapping at each other. It was probably as much to do with my intolerance as with Jessica’s incurable jealousy of Elizabeth. When we got home we went to our separate rooms, and she was still in bed when I left for court in the morning.

  Justice McKee’s summing up wasn’t exactly biased, but with his reiteration of all I had said about doubt and the lack of hard evidence to tie up the loose ends of the prosecution case, I could see that Samuelson knew he had lost.

  The jury returned at two. As they filed in Henry, who was sitting behind me, directed my attention to the public gallery. Charlotte was there, and my heart gave a flutter as she waved to me. Later that day we were going to tell her and Jonathan that I was their father.

  The clerk of the court was speaking. ‘Members of the jury, have you reached your verdict?’

  The foreman stood up. ‘We have, sir.’ He looked at me – and in that instant I knew.

  ‘Members of the jury, on the first count of murder, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘Guilty.’

  ‘Members of the jury, on the second count of arson, do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?’

  ‘Guilty.’

  The blood pounded in my ears as I sat rooted in shock. I had been so certain. Henry grabbed my arm, and I swung round to see that Elizabeth had collapsed.

  The clerk’s voice droned on as verdicts were given on the three other counts. All I could do was stand and watch as the court ushers picked Elizabeth up and held her on her feet.

  ‘Members of the jury, on all counts you find the defendant guilty?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that is the verdict of you all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thank you. You may sit down.’

  The judge called for order. ‘I know you will wish to mitigate on your client’s behalf, Mr Belmayne, so perhaps we should continue.’

  Freddie stood up. I barely heard his mitigation, but when I looked up I could see that the judge was sympathetic, and indeed before he passed sentence he expressed his surprise at the verdict.

  Life imprisonment. Seven years, and three terms of five years, to run concurrently.

  I caught up with her as she was led from court, pushing the prison officer to one side and holding on to her, trying to keep her upright.

  ‘The children,’ she mumbled, ‘what will happen to the children? Oh Alexander, you will take care of them, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course, I – ’

  Before I could say any more, she was snatched from me and taken away to prison. It was the worst moment of my life.

  When I got to the robing room Henry was waiting with Caroline and Charlotte. Until that moment I had forgotten Charlotte had been in court. Seeing her face, white with terror, I took her in my arms and swore that I would do whatever I had to do, to see that her mother was freed from a prison sentence she should not be serving.

  – 29 –

  The following morning I went into chambers. I knew that for the children’s sake, as much as my own, I must carry on as normal. Jessica had been in court for the verdict. She had called Rosalind and the two of them had sat up with me through half the night. There was a certain irony about her support, since she herself had predicted that Elizabeth would be found guilty. Before she left that morning I hugged her, and even had to swallow a few tears as she told me how sorry she was things had turned out so badly. Whether she
meant between us or for Elizabeth, I didn’t know, but either way I sensed her sincerity and sadness.

  Raddish was coming out of my room as I walked in. ‘We’re going to appeal, Raddish,’ I said. ‘Get on to Oscar Renfrew and fix a meeting.’

  ‘Will do, sir. There’s a gentleman to see you, sir. Says he’s been to your home first, and your father sent him here.’

  ‘To my home? Did he give his name?’

  ‘Yes, sir, Mr Walters.’

  My immediate thought was of Edward, but that was absurd. David stood up as I walked in, and extended his hand. Reluctantly, I took it; I couldn’t forgive him for refusing to testify on Elizabeth’s behalf.

  ‘Mr Walters,’ I said, ‘I’m afraid you’re too late. Didn’t you hear?’

  ‘Yes, I heard. It’s why I’m here.’

  ‘Oh?’ I took off my coat and hooked it on to the coat stand behind the door.

  ‘I’ve heard from Christine.’

  The name hung like poison in the air between us, and the hatred I felt toward this woman – whom I’d never even met – began to churn in my stomach. ‘When? Where is she?’

  ‘She rang me yesterday, after she’d heard the verdict. She’s in Cairo.’

  I picked up the telephone. ‘What are you doing?’ David asked.

  ‘Informing Interpol.’

  He shook his head. There wouldn’t be any point in doing that, he told me. ‘The people she’s with are at least three steps ahead of anyone in Interpol.’

  ‘How did she hear the verdict?’

  ‘Simple. She rang someone in Fleet Street.’ He paused, and looked down at his shoes. ‘She was at the warehouse, Mr Belmayne.’

  ‘I was never in any doubt of it.’

  ‘I think you should go to Cairo and find her.’

  I looked at him levelly, noticing that the scar on his face seemed to have deepened since the last time I’d seen him, in Gstaad. His thin hair looked as if he’d just come in out of a high wind, and I realised he’d been running his fingers through it nervously ever since I’d come into the room.

  ‘She’s your sister, why should you want her found?’

  His face was sad as he smiled. ‘Because, contrary to what you might think, I care very much for Elizabeth. I knew she wasn’t capable of setting fire to that warehouse, and I knew too that my sister was. But you see, Mr Belmayne, Christine is my sister, and despite everything I love her very much. When she disappeared – and I swear to you I had no idea where she was – I assumed Cairo was the last place she’d go, given that she didn’t have the money to pay the Pasha . . . .’

  ‘The Pasha?’

  ‘It means “lord”. He’s the one Edward and Christine have been dealing with all these years. A nasty piece of work. Anyway, after she disappeared and Elizabeth was arrested, well, I suppose my faith in British justice was misplaced, because I never dreamed Elizabeth would go to prison. I just assumed there wouldn’t be enough evidence.’

  ‘Your sister is cleverer than you think, Mr Walters. Go on.’

  ‘That’s it, really. All I know is that this Pasha character has some sort of hold over Christine. I want her out of it, and if it means facing up to what she has done, then so be it, she must stand trial.’

  I was surprised by that. ‘Not just a signed confession?’

  He shook his head. ‘But that’s probably all you’ll get – and you’ll only get that if you can find her.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll find her, Mr Walters, that I can promise you,’

  To my relief, the first class area of the British Airways flight to Cairo was almost empty, so I settled back to watch the outlying suburbs of London recede into the distance, and wondered how I was going to endure the five-hour journey.

  I willed myself not to think of Elizabeth, but it was impossible. I had seen her the night before, and her face, bloodless and bewildered, was etched on my memory. It was obvious she was still in a state of shock. That worried me more than anything else: how would she cope when she came out of it and fully understood what had happened to her, and worse, what was to come? My heart sank when I thought of the abuse, even violence, she might have to suffer from her fellow-prisoners. How would she find the strength to cope, after the ordeal of the last four months and the trial itself? As it was, after just two days she looked ill and couldn’t meet my eyes when she spoke. If a door clanged somewhere in the distance, she flinched, and once, as footsteps approached the room we were in, she tensed so hard her nails left deep red weals across her palms.

  When I told her I was going to Cairo, she mumbled that she didn’t want me to go, that it wouldn’t help anything. I knew she wasn’t in any state to discuss it, so I tried to change the subject, but she kept muttering over and over again that I didn’t know what kind of people I would meet there, that they were evil and I mustn’t get mixed up with them or my life would be in danger. I tried to make her understand that this was the only real chance we stood of getting her out, but her only answer was to say she didn’t want me to find Christine.

  When the time came for me to leave, a prison officer was waiting to escort her back to her cell. Elizabeth followed her down the corridor, her head bowed and her hands clenched at her sides. I waited, but she didn’t look back . . . .

  My head began to throb until it forced me from my seat. Maybe I was in some sort of shock too, for all I seemed able to feel was blinding rage at what so-called British justice had done to her. And I knew already that, once this was over, I wouldn’t have to be asked to leave the bar, I would go anyway.

  Ten minutes later I was back in my seat and signalled for the stewardess to bring me a drink. She’d been openly flirtatious when I boarded the plane, but after she realised I didn’t want company she’d treated me with thinly disguised contempt.

  ‘Alexander.’

  I turned in my seat and at first I couldn’t believe my eyes, ‘Charlotte!’

  She tried to force her smile wider. ‘I knew you’d never agree to me coming,’ she said, ‘so, well . . .’ She shrugged.

  Fighting to pull myself together, I got to my feet. ‘How did you get here?’

  ‘I thought I might be able to help. There might be something or someone I remember when we get there. I know Cairo.’

  I knew she had been to Cairo only once, when she was eleven. Now here she was at sixteen, her hair scooped under her beret and her eyes red and swollen, wanting desperately to do something to help her mother. I smiled and swallowed hard, then I kissed her on the head and sat her down in the seat beside me.

  ‘You’re not angry, are you?’ she whispered.

  ‘No. I’m not angry, but once we land I’m going to have to put you on the first plane back to London.’

  Tears welled in her eyes. ‘Don’t send me back. Please! I’ll go mad if I can’t do something. I’ll stay in the hotel, I won’t even move from my room if you insist, but please, let me stay with you.’

  My heart contracted as I watched her face. With her slanted dark eyes and fresh young skin she looked so like Elizabeth. I considered her a child, but she was the same age I had been when I fell in love with her mother.

  ‘Alexander?’ Her eyes were imploring as she waited for my answer. I ran my fingers over her cheek and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. ‘Alexander,’ her voice was soft, and shaking. ‘I know you’re my father.’

  To hear her say those words was almost too poignant to bear.

  ‘It is true, isn’t it? You are my father. And Jonathan’s too?’

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered, ‘and Jonathan’s too.’

  She rested her head on my shoulder, her hand tightly gripping mine.

  ‘How did you know?’ I said, after a while.

  She giggled. ‘Because Mum was always nuts about my smile. And then when I saw her looking at you, well, I’ve got a crooked tooth too, see?’

  I burst out laughing and hugged her before she could see the tears in my eyes.

  ‘When all this is over,’ she said, ‘when we’re back in Londo
n and Mother is free, can I change my name to yours?’

  ‘It’ll be the first thing we do, as a family,’ I promised, and felt both bitter and sad that Elizabeth wasn’t with us to share the moment.

  It was past ten o’clock when we got off the plane. Robert Lyttleton was there to meet us. His career with the Foreign Office had flourished, and he was now the Military Attaché at the British Embassy in Cairo, something that until two days ago I had been unaware of. Henry had rung him to fill him in on everything that had happened, and straightaway Robert had offered his help.

  I watched his face as he shook hands with Charlotte, and was somewhat bewildered by his lack of surprise at seeing her. ‘There’s a car waiting outside,’ he said. ‘I’ve made your reservations at the Marriott.’ He smiled at Charlotte, who was busily wrapping herself in a voluminous coat. ‘I’ve booked a two-room suite, so you’ll be sharing with your . . .’

  ‘You mean you were expecting her?’

  ‘I certainly was. Henry rang to warn me she was on her way, and, I might add, to give me her instructions.’

  I turned to Charlotte, who was now pulling a woollen hat down over her ears. ‘Henry knew you were coming?’

  She nodded. I shook my head and laughed. I’d have a few words to say to him when I got back.

  On the way into town Robert filled me in on what he had managed to find out so far. It seemed that Kamel – I wracked my brains for any previous mention of the name but couldn’t recollect one – had been arrested. Robert was uncertain what for, though he was pretty sure it had something to do with the running of an import-export racket somewhere in the Valley of the Kings.

  ‘But what I do know,’ he went on, ‘is that the police are trying to find some way of linking all this – the forgery, the alleged drugs and arms offences, and of course the murder of the security guard – to the Pasha.’