At the Dark Hour

by John Wilson

  – This is how I remember Margaret and how I would ask you to remember her. It is a portrait taken at a Middle Temple Ball in the thirties when I had the luck to be her partner for the evening. She had beauty, poise and grace. She had style and she had substance. Margaret – he said addressing the photograph – we shall never forget you.

  Blytheway fell silent. Adam felt an urge to applaud but stifled it. There was a deep silence after he had finished speaking, and after a long pause and one last look at the photograph Blytheway click-clicked his way back to his seat. The music began again: Adagio in G Minor by Albinoni, according to the Order of Service – the violins keening over a muted funereal organ.

  According to the programme the final piece of music was to be “Solemn Melody” by Henry Walford Davies, who had himself died the previous month and had once been the organist at the Temple Church. However, when the Albinoni came to an end and the string quartet began changing their scores, Adam saw Roly put out a delaying hand. Jack Storman KC rose to his feet and shuffled over towards the coffin. He was stooping and breathing heavily.

  – Thank you, Roly. Thank you to everyone who has taken the trouble to come here this morning. I know that there is nothing in the Order of Service about a second speech. That is because I really did not think that I would be capable of saying anything. I will be brief. I have been very blessed – just in knowing Margaret, let alone being with her … being married to her for twenty-five years. I confess. I really do not know how I will be able to carry on now. But I will find a way. And, I think, the beginning of the way lies in front of me now. You. All my friends. I will find a way, with your help. None of us can afford the luxury of giving up. We must go on. The pain I am currently feeling is almost unbearable. But I am no different from so many, some of them who are here with me today, who are feeling similar, perhaps even worse pain.

  Adam looked across at Pemberton and saw that he had his head in his hands.

  – We must support one another through this. This war will end. We will, somehow, survive it. I would like to invite you all to join me afterwards at Sunbridge Park Manor. Unfortunately, our … my home is uninhabitable at the moment. I must tell you about the last exchange I had with Margaret. We were in the Anderson shelter at the bottom of our garden. It was the early hours of the morning and we had been in there, hugging one another, for almost five hours. Margaret said that she was thirsty and I insisted on going to get her a glass of water. She tried to persuade me not to. It was too dangerous, she said. But I went anyway. How I wish I had stayed with her. Her last words to me, before I left the shelter, were, “I love you so much!” My last words to her were, “I love you too.”

  That fire-cracker moment when he saw his garden illuminated and she had one more second to live.

  Storman bowed his head. There was a long silence punctuated by sobs from the congregation. Eventually, Storman struggled back to his seat and the string quartet began to play. After about a minute Blytheway helped Storman back to his feet and the two of them joined the other pall bearers and lifted Margaret’s coffin off its dais. The white lilies on top of it swayed. They placed it on their shoulders and began a slow, stately walk back up the aisle. Storman was at the front on the right and, as he passed by, Adam reached out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. The older man looked at him and grimaced.

  By the time the congregation had emerged from the church the coffin was in the hearse and the horses were clip-clopping towards the cemetery. This had been the moment Adam had been dreading. All those people who did not want to speak to him, who hated him, or with whom he did not want to converse. It would have to be endured. He would walk at the back of the cortege and keep out of the way.

  – Daddy!”

  – Hello, sweetheart. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the country?

  – Oh, but I couldn’t, Daddy. I was really unhappy there. There was a man who I thought was nice to begin with but he wasn’t. He used to try and come into my room at night because, he said anyway, that he wanted to talk to me. I had to start locking the door. I was going to write to you to tell you I was coming back but I wanted it to be a surprise.

  – Well. It is certainly a surprise, Deborah. And it is absolutely lovely to see you. I’ve missed you so much! But it’s not safe here. People are being killed. People we love.

  – I know, Daddy. But I was so lonely. And I missed you and Mummy. And I was so unhappy. Mummy’s agreed that I can come back. I can be with my old friends again. So many of them are still living around the corner. So many of them have come back.

  He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She took his hand and together they walked at the back of the cortege as the hearse made its slow journey towards the cemetery.

  – Will you come and play with me? At home? Soon? Please?

  – Yes. Of course.

  – And can we get another cat?

  – Of course we can!

  – I miss Socks but we can’t bring her back, can we?

  – No. We can’t. I am so sorry about Socks.

  – It’s not your fault, Daddy. You did what you thought was right. I really don’t blame you for that.

  He squeezed her hand and looked ahead to the mourners in front of him. Pemberton and Preston and the assorted members of his old chambers were immediately behind the hearse. Catherine walked along behind them. She had not made any attempt to greet him, but he could hardly blame her for that. Julia too was alone within the crowd. Her veil had made it impossible for him to work out what was going through her mind.

  – I want to tell you about all of my adventures. Everything I’ve learned.

  – And I want to hear them all. Everything!

  – You and Mummy will get together again, won’t you?

  – I don’t know, sweetheart.

  – But you must! I’ve been thinking about that more than anything. I can help. I’m sure I can help!

  They were beside the open grave now. The coffin had been placed on the ropes and was being manoeuvred gingerly over the hole in the ground. And then it was released and the ropes were drawn out. Storman threw in the first handful of soil. Adam squeezed his daughter’s hand again.

  – I’ve got to leave now, darling. But I will see you soon.

  – You can’t.

  – I must.

  He picked her up and gave her a big hug. Then he put her down, kissed her and began to walk away.

  – Daddy!

  – I’ll see you very soon, sweetheart.

  There was no way that he could go to the wake. Storman would understand, as would Roly. He would be an unnecessary and unhelpful distraction. The Bateman trial began on Monday and he needed to know, urgently, whether Jones had been able to get the documents he had asked for. And what they said.

  Chapter Ninety

  (Monday 28th April 1941)

  Jones was beginning to see the possibility of another improbable success. He and Adam were sitting with Bateman on a bench outside Court Fifteen on the first floor of the Royal Courts of Justice. Barristers and their solicitors and clients were milling around the other courts making their final preparations for the day ahead. Dressed in their black gowns and wearing their off-white horsehair wigs, they were flicking through their papers and writing final scribbles in their blue books. The dark stone flooring and heavy wooden panelling outside the court rooms gave everything a gloomy air. Jones looked across at his counsel and thought about how much he had changed in the four months since he had first taken Bateman to see him. Adam too was wearing his black robe and horsehair wig. His winged collar and white bands were pristine and highly starched. He was, thought Jones, better dressed than he used to be – and had a great deal more self-confidence. However, at the same time, he appeared to have lost all hope so far as the future was concerned. It was only a week now before the rearranged Pemberton trial was due to begin, and he could understand Falling’s apprehension.

  It was 9.30 a.m. The scandal sheets had at last got hold o
f the story and it was beginning to circulate. That was hardly surprising, he thought. You couldn’t make it up! A KC is cuckolded by a junior member of his chambers with his glamorous younger wife. On top of that, Falling was representing a co-respondent in an unrelated matter and his Head of Chambers was representing the petitioner. The cuckolded KC representing the cuckold, and the cuckolding junior representing the person accused of being a cuckold. Everything was sub-judice of course. The press had to be careful what they said about pending trials. However, they were doing their best within those constraints. He looked over to the bench to his right. Various accredited members of the press had gathered. The proceedings were going to be in open court and so they could not be stopped. It was not as though it were a spy trial, after all. On the bench to his left were Jeremy Pemberton KC, Perkins, Collins and McKechnie. Beyond them were Farquarson, Mrs McKechnie and her solicitor.

  Adam was looking again at the new documents. Jones had brought them to him on the Sunday afternoon. Draft amended pleadings alleging condonation had been prepared and they would need the permission of the judge, but that should not be a problem. The truth would out. Mr Justice Caraway was a great believer in the truth. It was 9.45 a.m.

  – All right!

  Adam said.

  – I think that we should do it now.

  He got up and walked across to Jeremy Pemberton with the documents, his gown swaying behind him as he walked. Pemberton did not stand up as he approached.

  – What do you want, Falling?!

  – I have some new documents for you, Jeremy.

  – Well! It’s a bit late isn’t it?

  – I didn’t receive them myself until yesterday.

  – You’ll need leave.

  – Oh, I think I will get leave.

  – What are they?

  – Here.

  Adam handed Pemberton two separate bundles of documents.

  – I think you ought to take Mr McKechnie’s instructions on these. The ones in the buff envelope are the notes of the inquest into the death of Marjorie Bateman. You may want to ask your client why he – and Mrs McKechnie – and Mr Bateman – all gave evidence about her death. Why, in particular, they appeared to be all in harmony with one another. It does seem a bit odd, don’t you think, if Bateman had only recently discovered his wife in bed with my client?

  – Is that the best that you can do, Falling? This is absolute nonsense! A woman had died. Surely something like that comes first. You were there on Saturday. A terrible tragedy takes precedence over these … “everyday” concerns.

  – Oh, I entirely agree with you. These quotidian – Roly would have been pleased with that word – woes are as nothing compared to a death.

  – What else do you want to show me?

  Adam handed over the other documents. They were the result of a shot in the dark, he had to confess to himself. But he had hit the target.

  – First of all there is the application for payment out on the insurance policy. You will see that it is all in your client’s handwriting. Apart from my client’s signature. Mr McKechnie completed the whole thing. I understand that it was your client’s idea to make a claim.

  – And what if it was? Mrs Bateman had been run over and your client was entitled to make a claim.

  – But if your client was aware of the fact that Bateman was sleeping with Victoria McKechnie, why didn’t he say something at that stage? There was no ranting about “ABC” then, as we know. I have tens of witnesses, if necessary, who can say that the … the “diary outburst” … did not happen until about eight weeks after your client completed this application form. In fact, he did not say a thing about it until seven days after my client received his insurance money. This is the remaining document.

  Adam handed over the letter which had enclosed the £10,000. He let Pemberton read it.

  – You see, Jeremy, all this suggests to me – and I think it will suggest to Mr Justice Caraway – that your client knew exactly what was going on. He knew all about his wife’s affair. He condoned it. Because he was having an affair with Marjorie Bateman.

  The gentlemen of the press had roused themselves and were gathered in a semi-circle around the bench. Pemberton was irritated.

  – We need to speak somewhere away from these people. Come with me to the Robing Room.

  Once there, Pemberton let rip.

  – You’ve got a bloody cheek! This is completely unprofessional!

  – I don’t know what you mean.

  – Springing this on me literally at the doors of the court!

  – As I said, I only found out about the insurance claim yesterday.

  Adam was careful not to include any sort of reference to the inquest notes, but then again he had not until recently had permission to make reference to those.

  – If what you say is true, Falling, your client is guilty of an insurance fraud. He will have to go to prison … and pay the money back.

  – I fully appreciate that, as does my client. However, he will not also be guilty of perjury, if the court accepts that what he is saying is true. Your client was the prime mover in this fraud. Bateman will be saying that he was undone by his overbearing superior. That will look good in the press before our own hearing next week, won’t it? You are still going to lose this case, Pemberton. My client would be prepared to meet his own costs if your client is prepared now to accept the inevitable. I can’t speak for Farquarson or Victoria McKechnie of course. He won’t do better than my offer. I think you had better take your client’s instructions.

  Chapter Ninety-one

  (Monday 28th April 1941)

  Pemberton asked Mr Justice Caraway for an hour on the basis that this might shorten the trial, and took Mr McKechnie back to Stirrup Court so that they could go through the new documents in the absence of the press.

  – What are you saying to me?

  – If these documents are true documents then I think that you’re almost bound to lose this case.

  – But you said that this was a case that it was impossible to lose!

  – Well, Mr McKechnie, that was on the basis that you were telling me the truth. These new documents suggest to me that you were not.

  Mckechnie let out an empty laugh.

  – So this Falling bloke. The one you said was useless. Has got us beat?

  – Not necessarily. If you are telling me the truth now and you weren’t having an affair with Mrs Bateman and you didn’t know that Bateman was having an affair with your wife, this case can still be won. I think, however, that it is unlikely. Take another look at these documents and then tell me whether or not you were having an affair with Marjorie Bateman … and whether or not you knew about Bateman’s relationship with your wife.

  Pemberton handed over the documents to an unwilling McKechnie. He turned them over in his hands and his shoulders slumped.

  – It’s all true. I didn’t know about … about … condonation … she was still my wife after all. Can’t we just carry on with the case? Why should he get to keep the money?

  – Of course we can carry on. But only on the basis that you admit to the court what you have just told me. Otherwise we must withdraw. And if we lose, you will have to pay even more in costs than you would have to pay today. And you won’t get any of that insurance money. I don’t think it is worth it.

  McKechnie reluctantly agreed and they made their way back to court.

  Mr Justice Caraway was content to accept the settlement. The Petition would be dropped. There would be no order as to costs between Bateman and McKechnie although he would have to pay Victoria’s costs. She could keep her children. Everything before the Judge was conducted with the utmost courtesy as was the tradition, but Adam could sense Pemberton’s rage and frustration.

  ****

  – I think I owe you an apology, Mr Falling.

  – I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  – That first time I met you I thought you were just a pervert with nothing but adultery on your
mind. I was wrong about that. Can we have that pint now?

  – Of course. I would be delighted. We can go to the Seven Stars. On condition, however, that Mr Jones comes with us.

  – Absolutely! This trial may have cost me a bit of money but it has all been worthwhile. I could have lost the lot – and more; I’ll be paying for the drinks. Do you mind if Victoria comes with us?

  Adam began to chuckle and had to stifle a cough.

  – Not at all. Why don’t you invite her barrister to join us as well? We may have to wait a little while until opening time.

  Chapter Ninety-two

  (Wednesday 30th April 1941)

  Adam looked at his watch. It was 11.30. He took his jacket from the back of the chair and put it on as he was leaving his room in chambers. It was a half an hour’s walk and he did not need to be there until 12.30, but he was nervous. He pulled out a cigarette as he descended, and lit up as he left the building. Today and the day before were free days. The precipitate ending to the Bateman trial meant that he had been able to have two lie-ins in a row and, for all his anxiety, he felt refreshed.

  In the end he had stayed in the Seven Stars until about seven in the evening. The recent raids meant that no one wanted to stay in the pub much later than that. Victoria and her legal team had joined them all, and Bateman had insisted on buying all the drinks. Adam had drunk two pints of bitter. Bateman was in ecstasy.

  – It hasn’t been cheap but it’s been worth every penny!

  – Thank you, Mr Bateman …

  – It was worth it just to see that look on McKechnie’s face.

  Bateman turned to Victoria McKechnie.

  – I think we should get married now.