by John Wilson
– As your Lordship probably knows this trial was originally fixed to commence on the 10th March of this year. Sadly, a tragedy of terrible proportions befell my client on the weekend before. Jenny, the only daughter he had with his first wife Joan, was killed by enemy action at the Café de Paris. I know that your Lordship, along with very many at the Bar, knew Joan Pemberton, who was taken away in an influenza epidemic at the age of twenty-nine?”
Mr Justice Wilkinson nodded sombrely.
– For several years my client was severely distraught at this first grievous loss. However, in due course, he met and married his current wife, Julia, who is the respondent to this petition and with whom he had three children: Stephen, Sebastian and Agnes. He had felt that this union was a happy one but during the course of last year he formed the view that the situation was far from happy. In short, he came to the conclusion that his wife was conducting an affair. He will give evidence to the effect that his suspicions were first aroused after Stephen, Sebastian and Agnes had been evacuated to the Cotswolds and the respondent spoke in her sleep. The words she spoke were: “Not now. One day perhaps.” My Lord, I would be the first to accept that these words are on one level innocuous. The obvious interpretation would be that the respondent was dreaming of her children. However, several nights later, Mr Pemberton will say that, again in her sleep, she repeated the self-same words in exactly the same sad tone of voice. Mr Pemberton was of course concerned at his wife’s evident distress and so the following morning over breakfast he asked her about what she had said. He wanted to soothe her concerns about her children and assumed that she would turn to that topic. However, to his great surprise and consternation she became seriously alarmed, he will say, and asked what else she had said in her sleep. There was no mention of her children, and when he asked her what she had been dreaming about she effected not to remember. This may seem to your Lordship to be a small and trivial point. But we submit that it is quite the opposite. Your Lordship is faced with a case which is made up of innumerable small points but they all point to the almost inevitable conclusion that the respondent was conducting an affair with the co-respondent, Mr Adam Falling.
Adam felt a scorching heat across his face. He bent his head and gripped tightly the crystal obelisk in his pocket. Talking in her sleep? Acting suspiciously when confronted? Why hadn’t she told him about this? He looked across at Julia, who was gazing down at the floor. Her eyes were blank. A murmur was running through the press box and he began to picture the following day’s headlines.
– Mr Falling …
Tempest continued with a half glance over his shoulder in Adam’s direction.
– I must tell you something about Mr Falling. He has been a member of the Bar for some fifteen years and was until recently a member of the chambers of which my client is the head. When my client became aware of Mr Falling’s affair he gave him seven days to leave. Has your Lordship come across Mr Falling, either in your years of practice or since your ascension to the Bench?
Mr Justice Wilkinson averted his gaze from Tempest and stared into Adam’s eyes. Adam did his best to stare back. Then the judge looked back at Tempest and shook his head.
– I hope Mr Falling won’t mind me saying this, but his has not been a successful career at the Bar. And yet, as a good Head of Chambers would do, my client did his best to help him out. For example, he recommended him for a position on the Aliens Tribunal. All this when he was in absolute ignorance of Mr Falling’s dishonesty and deceit.
Adam bowed his head.
– So, what does the case for the Petitioner consist of? I want to make it clear at the outset that, with two qualifications, we do not have any evidence that the two were together or that they ever communicated with one another. We can point to no witness who can make up that apparent deficit in the case. We do not have, as is so often the case in matters such as this, damning evidence from a private detective. However, what we do have on both these issues condemns the respondent and co-respondent absolutely. Mr Falling is a man from the lower middle class. He comes from the north of England although he does have a degree from Cambridge. Whilst he may have been unsuccessful at the Bar he is plainly intelligent and, we will say, he is a cunning dissembler. The respondent, equally, is no fool. It is our case that these two again motioning over his shoulder have attempted, largely successfully, to cover their tracks. That is, after all, the way of the adulterer throughout history.
It was clear that the judge’s curiosity had been pricked. The press were lapping it up.
– But, I want to turn now to the two qualifications to the concession that I have just made. Being seen together? They were seen by my client dancing the slow waltz at the Middle Temple Ball in the summer of 1936. That they did dance the slow waltz that evening is admitted by both of my Learned Friends. In reality, however, they could hardly deny it. I will be introducing into evidence Mrs Pemberton’s dance card. The slow waltz was the seventh dance and it is plain from Mr Falling’s own handwriting that he partnered Mrs Pemberton. Why is this germane, relevant or material? Well, of course, it may not be. However, when we examine the dance card we see that the next dance was to be a foxtrot and that Mrs Pemberton’s card had been marked by Mr Peter Preston, now one of Her Majesty’s Counsel. You are, I believe, familiar with Mr Preston KC?
– I know him very well. He has often appeared in front of me.
– When my client asked him recently about that slow waltz, Mr Preston was quite clear in his recollection. After the slow waltz came to an end and everyone began to regroup in preparation for the next dance, he went looking for Mrs Pemberton but she had disappeared; although when the time came for the next dance she was back in the Hall. So, for five minutes Mrs Pemberton was missing. “Five minutes?” your Lordship may ask. To which I would reply, How long does it take to strike a match? How long does it take for gasoline to ignite? For a man and woman to kiss? I shall be calling Mr Preston KC to confirm this small point of evidence. I had hoped that this would not be necessary, but although Mr Blytheway for Mr Falling was prepared to accept that evidence without contradiction, Mr Alnwick insisted that he be called to answer questions.
The press were loving it. Adam looked at Blytheway, who was sitting in front of him looking bored. He wasn’t even taking a note. Why had he simply accepted the evidence of Preston without asking him for his instructions? This was getting out of hand. What was Roly playing at? He looked across at Alnwick. Roly had said that Julia had been sold a pup. The man had a look of complacent endeavour on his face as he wrote furiously in his blue notebook. He was beginning to doubt Blythway’s judgment again.
– We will see where that takes us. I now turn to the question of communication. There is evidence of one act of communication. It is common ground that Mrs Pemberton wrote to Mr Falling in December of last year. We do not know what her letter said because Mr Falling had set it on fire and left the residue in his ashtray where Mr Pemberton found it. Although it had been burnt, by some piece of alchemy the watermark survived and my client recognised it. Why was Mrs Pemberton communicating with Mr Falling at all? A man who, on her case (on both of their cases for that matter), she hardly knew? We understand that she will say that it was a letter of apology for the unwarranted suspicions that her husband had been voicing. We say that, with respect, this is utter nonsense. In the first place there is little evidence that my client voiced his suspicions to Mr Falling. Secondly, we ask: If this was entirely innocent, why did Mrs Pemberton ask Mr Falling to destroy the letter? If it still existed and it said what she said it said, then it would be a powerful piece of evidence in her favour. Why destroy something that actually helps the case? We say that the answer is an obvious one: the letter said nothing of the sort! We must speculate on the contents of that communication, but our speculation leads us to this conclusion: that Mrs Pemberton had realised that her husband had worked out what was going on and was seeking to warn her lover.
Lover? thought Adam. We weren’t lovers by t
hen anyway.
– So we say that in these two instances we can point to the two brackets that wrapped up this adulterous association. The beginning and the end. It started with a dance and it ended with a letter of warning. You may ask: Is that all you have? I will answer that likely question. No. It is not. Unfortunately, it will be necessary, during the course of this hearing, to delve into Mrs Pemberton’s earlier life and to things such as her finances. Now I must ask Mrs Pemberton to forgive me, but she would have to admit that she is not an educated woman. Like so many women she did not go to University. That is not a criticism. Very few women do. It does not suggest that she is lacking in intelligence. It does mean, however, that for example her literary palette is narrower than that which one would expect from a man. And yet, a consideration of her bookshelves demonstrates an almost … avantgarde taste in literature. That, again, cannot be entirely a criticism. It is good to see a woman seeking to improve herself. The problem is this: her literary tastes mirror so closely those of Mr Falling that the coincidence becomes extraordinary. We will present evidence, by way of inventories of their books, that sets out the entire collection of Mr Falling’s books at Stirrup Court and Mrs Pemberton’s books in her private room in Eaton Square. That these two people who are outwardly so different in education and social standing should walk so closely together – one is tempted to say “hand in hand” – through the field of literature beggars belief. And so we ask, how did this coincidence come to pass? We say that the obvious conclusion must be that where their literary tastes converge what we are seeing is gifts from him to her.
Adam cursed himself again for being so stupid.
– Finally, we have the evidence of cigarette smoke. Again, you may think this is an ephemeral point. However, we will be adducing evidence to the effect that Mr Falling was a man who chain-smoked cheap Woodbine cigarettes. That these are regarded as “working-class” cigarettes is scarcely the point. They have their own distinctive smell. Mr Pemberton, as he explored in his mind who it was that his wife was consorting with – to whom in her dreams she had said “Not now, one day perhaps” – remembered that his wife’s clothing had of late been smelling heavily of cigarette smoke. He became convinced that this must be the smell of Woodbines. Indeed, he took the opportunity to smell closely the sleeve of her coat. It was hanging in the hall. You may think what an absurd, almost paranoid thing to do. The objective observer would certainly think so. The objective observer would ask: Why are you behaving in such a ridiculous manner? But the objective observer in this case was Mrs Pemberton. She came unexpectedly into the hall and found her husband with his nose to the sleeve of her coat. And how did she ridicule him? What did she say? Nothing. Instead the following day she had all of her clothing dry-cleaned! Why didn’t she say something about her husband’s apparently strange behaviour? Why did she take the first possible opportunity to have everything dry-cleaned? We say: to remove every trace of the evidence that my client was sniffing out. In the course of this trial we shall be seeking clear answers to those questions.
– My Lord. I must deal briefly with what may be described as the defences being put forward on behalf of the respondent and co-respondent. We do not accept either, although it has to be said that Mrs Pemberton’s defence does her more credit than that put forward on behalf of Mr Falling. It is her case that on practically all of the dates that are set out in the petition she was in fact having innocent tea at the Ritz with her late step-daughter, Jenny, and that they were discussing “women’s issues”. Jenny, of course, very sadly cannot now vouch for that, but we anticipate that either Mr Alnwick or Mr Blytheway or both of them will rely upon Jenny’s diary, which contains crosses against most of the relevant dates. It is deeply sad that Jenny is no longer with us. It is a lesser sadness that she cannot answer questions about her diary. There is nothing, unfortunately, that can be done about that sad fact. Our client does not accept that, notwithstanding Jenny’s filial loyalty, this affair did not happen. Then there is the case put forward on behalf of Mr Falling. He admits to adultery. But not with Mrs Pemberton. It is his – rather unbelievable – case that he was committing adultery but with a prostitute named Betty. That he went to the Stafford Hotel off Green Park will be clear from the testimony of Mr Jackson, a private detective. On behalf of the Petitioner we say that this is no more than a late-invented subterfuge to put this court off the scent. Why would he spend money on a hotel room when, in all probability, this lady of the night had her own room to go back to? It makes no sense. It is not as though Mr Falling had the finances, judging from the state of his practice, to indulge in such excess. We shall have questions to ask of him on this.
Adam looked over at the press box. Those who were not writing were smiling at one another. This was going to be a great story!
– My Lord, that is all I have to say at this stage. Does your Lordship have any questions?
– No, Mr Tempest.
– In that case I will call Mr Jeremy Pemberton KC.
Chapter Ninety-nine
(5th May 1941)
Pemberton rose and made his way to the witness box. This was reached by climbing several wooden steps so that he was on a level with the judge and looked down on everyone else in the court room. He was wearing a dark, expensively tailored three-piece suit, a white shirt and a blue tie. A white handkerchief peeped out from his breast pocket. He was facing the press box. His eyes moved from the journalists onto counsel, his gaze lingering with evident distaste on Roland Blytheway. From there he turned his gaze to Julia, and then finally to Adam. The look was withering. He took the oath and answered the usual questions about his full name, his address and his occupation, addressing all his answers to the judge, who took a diligent note. Adam took the opportunity during these preliminaries to steal a look in Julia’s direction. Her eyes were locked on her husband.
Jeremy Pemberton spoke smoothly and mellifluously in answer to Tempest’s questions. More in sorrow than in anger was his tone. Tempest took him methodically through his evidence. His education, his marriage to Joan, his impressive war record. Armistice Day. The birth of Jenny. The death of Joan. The years of sorrow. Meeting and marrying Julia. Taking silk. Their three children. Then, the background having been established, he dealt with all the matters that Tempest had outlined.
– I want to ask you about something that I have already described to the learned Judge. About the occasions when Mrs Pemberton talked in her sleep.
– Yes?
– We all talk in our sleep from time to time and usually it does not mean anything. It is the fragment of a good – or bad – dream?
– I accept that.
– Had Mrs Pemberton ever spoken in her sleep before?
– From time to time, yes.
– And did you ever, with any of these other episodes, feel a need to ask her about them?
– No.
– Why was it different this time?
– It was the way she said what she said.
– Could you perhaps explain to the court?
– It was … it was … I didn’t tell her this at the time …
Pemberton faltered and then began to weep.
– Would you like a glass of water, Mr Pemberton?
– No thank you. I’ll be all right.
– What was it about the way she said what she said?
– After she said the words “One day perhaps” she let out a terrible sob. She sounded dreadfully unhappy. I thought she was thinking about her children.
– And it happened again?
– Several days later. It was exactly the same. “Not now. One day perhaps.” And then she sobbed in her sleep.
Adam allowed himself to look surreptitiously in Julia’s direction. Her head was down and a hand hid her eyes. She could not, however, hide her tears. Large drops falling down her cheeks and onto the floor. He had known nothing of this. Tempest took his client through the conversation at the breakfast table, her alarm, her apparent inability to remember her d
ream, and then all the rest of the evidence about books, watermarks and the smell of Woodbines on clothing. Apart from the questions from a silk and the answers from another silk there was an eerie silence to the proceedings. The public gallery was full. The press were writing down everything they could. The judge, too, was filling his judicial notebook. By the time Pemberton’s evidence in chief had finished it was plain to all that the sympathies of press, public and judge were with him. I can’t see how this can get any worse, Adam thought to himself as Alnwick stood up to cross-examine. But it was about to get a lot worse.
Alnwick hauled himself to his feet. Before turning to Pemberton he looked first at the press box. With a little shock Adam realised the man was looking forward to the publicity; to his name being printed in the following day’s papers. Then he turned towards Pemberton – an imperceptible bow to the judge en route. After a routine “May it please your Lordship” he embarked on his cross-examination. It was entirely predictable. He laboured his points: Adam and Julia had been seen together only once in the last five years or so, there had only been one letter from his client to Falling and she gave an immediate explanation for this when Pemberton asked. He didn’t deal with the dream. He didn’t deal with Jenny’s evidence or the evidence in her diary. Instead he moved onto the evidence in relation to the books. Blytheway had his head in his hands.
