by H S Chandler
Lottie stared at him. He sat with his hands behind his head, staring her straight in the eyes, suddenly more sober than he’d been all evening. She realised she didn’t know him at all.
‘Why?’ she asked quietly.
‘Before this evening, I was hoping you’d just do it because I asked you to,’ he smiled.
‘So that was the carrot. What’s the deal with the stick?’ She felt nauseous. The red wine was curdling in her stomach and sending a fountain of acid towards her throat.
‘Come here,’ he said, standing up and holding out his hand.
‘No. No more bullshit,’ she replied, fighting tears. ‘Just tell me what’s really going on.’
‘You need me to spell it out for you? I thought you had more brains than that,’ Cameron smirked.
‘I don’t think you did, actually. You thought you could seduce me and that I’d be so obsessed with you that I’d do whatever you told me to. I ruined it by breaking up before we’d reached a verdict, apparently.’
‘You see, I knew you were bright.’ He walked to stand directly in front of her, looking down into her eyes. ‘Listen to me. If you don’t do what I’ve asked you, your husband’s going to get a visit he’ll never forget. If I time it right, he’ll be at the airport with your little boy before you’ve finished the weekly shop. I forget, is it a Pakistani passport your son has? I was pretty bored during those conversations.’
Time stopped. Her world turned upside down. Everything she’d believed to be secure and known was melting. Cameron’s face was twisted and hateful. She wanted to run to her son’s bedroom and wrap him in her arms, but she was stuck in some Hotel California style of hell and there was no way she could leave. The adrenaline rush hit her like a train. The options were fight or flight, and the latter wasn’t feasible. She sucked in the biggest lungful of air she could get and focused on the red-hot rage that was bubbling inside her.
‘Get the fuck out of my room,’ Lottie said, storming over to the table and grabbing the empty wine bottle. She turned it upside down and smashed the end of it against the window sill, thrusting it in Cameron’s direction. ‘You fucking low-life. How dare you threaten me with that. My husband won’t believe you. I’ll say you’re bitter because you tried it on with me and I said no. He’ll be more than ready for you.’
‘Oh, Lottie. You’re growing balls now? Bit late, to be honest.’ He pointed at his mobile, left on the floor. ‘Pick it up. There’s a file open. Just click the arrow.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not doing anything you tell me. We’re done. You’re a piece of shit. I guess it serves me right, but I’m done.’
‘Yeah, you are,’ he said, ignoring the smashed bottle end and leaning down to pick up the mobile.
He held the screen in front of her face and pressed play.
‘Make love to me,’ Lottie heard herself say.
‘You sure about this, Lottie?’ Cameron replied, his voice slightly muffled. As Lottie recalled, that was because he’d been kissing her breast at the time.
‘Yes. I want you, and I don’t want to play games any more,’ she demanded. What followed was largely groaning and the sound of dishes hitting the floor.
‘Turn it off,’ she hissed.
‘Really? It’s just getting to the good bit. You should hear yourself when you’re properly turned on. It’s quite impressive. Zain’s a lucky man.’
‘Don’t say his name,’ Lottie muttered.
Cameron laughed loudly, switching off his phone and putting it back on the bedside table. ‘You hypocrite. You were texting me from his work dinner, making plans to see me, wearing the clothes I asked you to wear. Do you remember letting me touch you under the table in the jury room or did I just imagine that?’
‘It was a mistake,’ Lottie said. ‘I was confused.’
‘I don’t think your husband’s going to accept that as an explanation when he hears you asking me to fuck you in his kitchen, on the kitchen table where you serve his meals.’
Lottie froze. The edge of her vision was a grey fog and there was a noise like angry bees in her head. ‘You wouldn’t,’ she said. ‘I have a child.’
‘You think I’d lie about a dead fiancée and flirt with some gay kid to get him to do what I want, but somehow I’m above playing this tape to your old man? That’s the desperation talking. Put the bottle down.’
‘No,’ she said, raising it level with his face.
‘You want to play?’ Cameron grinned. ‘Shit, I wish you’d been more like this during sex. Would have been a hell of a lot more interesting.’ He walked towards the door and opened it a crack.
For one blissful second Lottie thought he might just leave. Instead he put his mouth to the opening and began shouting. ‘Yes, you’re amazing, do it! God your tits are beautiful!’
‘Shut up!’ she shouted.
‘Oh yeah, that’s right. Get on top. Ride me. Go on Lottie, fucking ride me …’ he yelled at the top of his voice.
She threw the bottle to the floor, sprinting for the door and slamming it shut.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Just stop. I’ll do whatever you want.’ She put her back to the door, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks.
‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘Although that was fun. Do you think Jack heard? Maybe he’d be interested in a threesome.’
‘You’re going to crush him. But not until you’ve got what you wanted from him, right? Can I ask why?’ she whispered.
‘You cannot. Need to know basis only,’ he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. ‘I should leave you to clean up. Careful with that glass. Sleep well, Lottie. I need you well behaved tomorrow.’ He picked up his T-shirt and slipped his shoes back on, whistling as he moved around her room. Lottie watched him in the mirror. She was shaking.
He was a monster, capable of anything. The audio file on his mobile would spell the end of her marriage. Zain wouldn’t wait around for any sort of explanation. She would lose everything. Her son would grow up not knowing his mother. How long before he forgot her face, the sound of her voice? There was no way she would win the legal battle if Zain took him to Pakistan. The audio file was all the evidence it would take to damn her completely.
‘G’night sweetheart,’ Cam said, planting a kiss on her mouth before leaving.
Lottie threw herself against the door, double locking it then sinking to the floor. She got her fingers into her mouth before she could scream out loud. There had been more than enough noise coming out of her room for one night.
It was obvious that Cameron had been planning this from almost day one. None of it had meant anything to him, yet she’d risked absolutely everything. She’d been taken for a fool. A willing fool, though. That was worse. So little resistance. He must have laughed himself to sleep after fucking her on the kitchen table.
What stung most was that she’d believed his declarations of love, and even indulged in her own admittedly teenage fantasies of what life with him might have been like. Cam playing football in the park with Daniyal. Her and Cam on holiday, soaking up the sun on some distant beach. She had betrayed Zain in her daydreams, in her sleep, and in the flesh. But Cameron’s motivation was the real mystery. Why risk so much for a woman he didn’t know? He hadn’t even wanted to be on the jury at the start. Not that it mattered now. Cam’s choices were his problem. She just had to comply and keep her family intact. Her head was a mess. All she wanted was to call a taxi and run home to hide, but that could only happen once she’d been a good girl and obeyed orders. Lottie crawled to her bed, dragging the covers over and hiding from the world. The hard truth, she thought, was that she deserved everything she’d got, and then a bit more.
30
Day Eleven in Court.
‘Right,’ Tabitha said, ticking items off a neatly written list. ‘We’ve seen the exhibits again and reviewed the evidence. Touching briefly on the judge’s summing up, the prosecution must prove to us beyond a reasonable doubt that Mrs Bloxham is guilty. She does not have to pro
ve her defence to be true. There was also the visit to the house to bear in mind.’
‘Do you think it’ll go on the market now?’ Agnes Huang butted in. ‘Only who would buy it after what happened there?’
‘He didn’t die,’ Garth said, sighing loudly. ‘It’s not as if it’ll be haunted.’
‘I reckon he could die any time,’ Agnes replied. ‘There’s a thought. If he dies, will we be brought back to do this all again, only with a charge of murder.’
Pan coughed loudly. ‘Let’s not get distracted,’ he said. ‘The house was clearly worth enough to make money a potential factor, even without the savings accounts. Plenty of people have killed for less. The defendant wasn’t very good at answering questions on that. She changed her story a few times.’
‘She didn’t change her story,’ Jack said loudly. ‘The prosecutor kept tripping her up.’
‘You can’t get tripped up if you’re telling the truth,’ Gregory added loftily. ‘I agree with Pan. The finances might be a motive.’
‘I was wondering why she didn’t tell the prosecution psychiatrist what she told us in court. I’d have leapt at the opportunity to put my side of it as soon as possible,’ Jennifer said.
‘That works both ways,’ Bill Caldwell noted. He was mopping his head continuously and his handkerchief was a dripping ball on the table. ‘If she was guilty and it was all a plan to get the money, she’d have told the psychiatrist as much as possible to get him on side. Why swear at him? Makes no sense.’
‘It does if what she told us is the truth,’ Cameron added. ‘Did anyone actually consider that?’
‘Yes, you’re all looking for holes in the defendant’s story. We’re supposed to be looking for the flaws in the prosecution’s case,’ Jack said, crossing his arms and looking ready to take on the world.
Lottie couldn’t bear to watch. He was a different person to the shy boy she’d first met. Cameron had made him bold, given him a purpose. As soon as the trial was over he’d be tossed aside like trash. She hadn’t even been able to make eye contact with Cameron, avoiding breakfast completely. There was a hard knot of hatred in her stomach, and her pulse was noisy in her ears. The first thing she’d done on waking up was phone Daniyal to tell him how much she loved him. Zain had seemed distant, although perhaps she had imagined that. He’d packed her bag thoughtfully, with cool clothes, her favourite perfume, and the make-up she preferred. Until then, she hadn’t realised quite how well he knew her.
‘The point about the psychiatrist for me was that she wasn’t at all afraid of swearing at him. How are we meant to believe she never once stood up to her husband?’ Tabitha asked.
‘I swear at my husband all the time. The man’s an idiot!’ Agnes laughed.
Gregory glared at her. ‘I’m not sure that’s relevant,’ he muttered.
‘I for one never use language like that,’ Tabitha went on. ‘It’s certainly not ladylike, and to a professional man, as well.’
‘Her gender’s not on trial,’ Jennifer noted. ‘It wouldn’t matter if it were man or a woman swearing. The point is that it seems there are two sides to Maria Bloxham. Is it possible that the act of trying to kill her husband was so liberating that she suddenly found some new strength?’
Lottie stared at her. The woman she’d so casually and ignorantly thought of as Just-Jen was much more. The full hypocrisy of her judgment hit her. Jen was insightful, bright and open-hearted. She wasn’t just an anything. The truth was, Lottie realised, that she’d been judging herself, then unfairly labelling every comparable woman in the same terms. There was nothing quite like low self-esteem for making you drag everyone else down to your level.
‘Sorry, but we’re not here to psychoanalyse the defendant,’ Pan said, tapping impatient fingers on the desk. ‘Let’s get back to hard evidence. If she didn’t strike him in self-defence it was either for the money, because she’s a dangerous crazy person, or because she just plain hates him. I’m erring towards the money.’
‘Of course you are,’ Jack said. ‘There is more to life, you know.’
‘Let’s not get personal,’ Tabitha interjected.
‘I’d say staring at a man’s caved-in skull is fairly personal,’ Garth Finuchin said.
‘Can I just say, the term crazy person is not politically correct. Could we decided on a better term if we’re going to discuss that aspect?’ Samuel piped up.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. We don’t need to discuss that at all. The prosecution hasn’t proved Maria Bloxham is suffering from any mental illness, so you can’t convict her on that basis,’ Cameron growled.
‘Fine,’ Tabitha said coolly. ‘We’re going round in circles. I suggest we all make a list of the key three issues. I’ll compile them and we’ll focus our debate on those.’
By lunchtime Lottie was exhausted. Dark shadows beneath her eyes betrayed the sort of night she’d had. Jack tried a few times to engage her help on his side of the argument but her heart wasn’t in it. Her freedom of thought had been curtailed. What point was there in her pretending to have an opinion? She had no idea if Maria Bloxham was innocent or guilty. The trial process had been a seesaw. All that mattered was that she kept on Cameron’s good side and got out as quickly as possible.
At 1 p.m. she was sitting with a plate of sandwiches on her lap that she had no intention of touching. She’d managed three cups of black coffee during the morning, her stomach not strong enough for the addition of milk.
‘Hey, how you doing?’ Cameron smiled warmly as he sat down next to her. She stared at him, open-mouthed. No words would come. ‘Did you get any sleep? Kind of looks like you had a rough one.’ He looked around, checking who could hear him, Lottie realised. She braced herself. Something new was coming. ‘So here’s the thing.’ He kept his voice low enough for just her. ‘The court has to think we’ve been working hard to make our minds up all day. They need at least ten votes, one way or the other, for a majority verdict. When Jack, you and I maintain a not guilty verdict, they won’t be able to convict her. It’s a numbers game. The prosecution said in court yesterday they wouldn’t seek a retrial if we couldn’t reach a verdict, so we just have to hold firm and it’ll all be over. Make it convincing, though. Maybe try to eat something. You’re going to need to speak a few times this afternoon. When I said keep quiet I didn’t mean act like you got struck dumb overnight. Pretend you haven’t made your mind up yet. Don’t make anyone suspicious, okay?’
Lottie nodded.
‘You need to smile at me and pick up a sandwich now,’ he said, putting a hand on her forearm. She forced the corners of her mouth to comply and raised a sandwich in one shaking hand. ‘Take a bite Lottie. I want to see you’ve got control of yourself.’ He squeezed her arm, gently at first, then tighter and harder until she forced the bread into her mouth and began to chew. ‘Relax. It’ll all be over soon.’ He winked at her, showing perfect white teeth as he grinned. ‘I like that skirt, by the way.’ He leaned across to whisper in her ear. ‘Reminds me of what I did to you with the ice cube.’ The sandwich turned to rock in her mouth. ‘I wonder how your husband will react when I describe that to him. Maybe it’ll excite him. I’m getting hard again just thinking about it. Don’t fuck up this afternoon.’ Lottie dropped the sandwich back on her plate as he walked away to rejoin Jack.
By 3 p.m. they’d rehashed every aspect of the evidence, Jack and Garth had narrowly avoided coming to blows, Samuel had been reduced to tears and Agnes had been asked to stop shouting at least ten times. Lottie commented every fifteen minutes. She was checking on the clock.
‘It’s nearly the end of the day,’ Tabitha said. ‘This might be a good time to take stock of where we are with the verdict. Shall we have a show of hands?’ There was a general round of tired nodding. ‘Right. Hands up please if you believe the defendant is guilty.’ It was slow but the hands went up. All except the three of them and Pan. ‘We’re split then,’ Tabitha said, noting the decision in her book. ‘The judge urged us towards total agreement
. May I ask which parts of the evidence you’re undecided upon?’
‘All of it,’ Cameron said loudly. ‘And there’s no way anyone in this room is going to persuade me otherwise. Doesn’t matter how much time we spend here.’
‘Me too,’ Jack backed him up.
Lottie felt everyone’s eyes on her. She took a deep breath, knowing she had to speak and that seconds were passing.
‘I agree with Jack and Cameron,’ she managed eventually.
‘Really?’ Tabitha asked. ‘Only you’ve been talking about the evidence as if you weren’t quite certain. Are there any questions you want to raise that we could answer for you, any parts of the trial you found hard to follow?’
‘None of it was hard to follow. I’m not some stupid kid you need to patronise,’ Lottie barked. There was a general intake of breath. ‘Listen, I kept an open mind. I considered the arguments. Maria Bloxham said she acted in self-defence. The prosecution hasn’t proved to me that she didn’t. The psychiatrist was arrogant and I don’t blame her for swearing at him. Is that enough for you?’
‘More than enough, thank you,’ Tabitha said, sniffing.
‘Self-defence? Hitting a bloke with his back turned? You lot are just bleeding heart liberals. Where the hell did common sense go?’
‘It’s called rule of law,’ Jack replied.
‘Learn that phrase at university, did you? Good luck with real life.’ Finuchin pushed his chair backed noisily from the table.
‘Most of us have been able to see sense,’ Gregory said. ‘I’m struggling to understand why you can’t see it from our point of view.’
‘Perhaps because we actually understand the phrase innocent until proven guilty,’ Cameron snapped. ‘Would you like me to explain it to you for the hundredth time?’
