Court Out (22 page)

“No, I don’t,” he replied, stealing a piece of garlic bread from the side of my plate. “You’re going to have to get over it, you’re a pretty good barrister!”

“Just pretty good?” I exclaim in mock horror.

“Yep, that’s all you’re getting from me so stop fishing.” He laughed.

“Ok, I’m putting my rod away now,” I grumbled, finishing the remains of my creamy pasta.

Sebastian disappeared from the room and returned with a totally calorific pudding: chocolate profiteroles with lashings of double cream.

“Oh my God. I can’t eat this!” I squealed, “I’m not going to be able to zip my dress up as it is!”

Somehow however, I managed to eat the whole bowl and practically scraped the pattern off the china in scooping up the last few crumbs.

Sebastian’s firm has just got the contract to design a new shopping centre so he kept bouncing ideas off me as to what I thought should be included. I thought I came up with some good ones, such as having special designated parking spaces for high heel wearers, but given the look of complete bemusement on his face when I suggested it I doubt he’ll forward it to his boss.

I swear, there are so many potential ways to make women spend more money when they go shopping, as in my opinion it all comes down to comfort. Why don’t they have special foot care stations, so when your feet are burning from the pain of walking around on the balls of your feet all day or you have a really nasty blister, you could go and sit in one of those huge massage chairs and have a lovely therapist attend to your tender bits and provide you with plasters and Party Feet? I’d totally go and I know that most of my friends would too.

They could even offer a mini pedicure service and sell flip-flops in case you had passed the point of no return and couldn’t face putting your heels back on. Ooh, they could even have a little bar area too and give you one of those miniature bottles of champagne with a straw in it.

Trust me, with pain-free feet and a glass of bubbly in them, most women would be more than happy to carry on shopping for an extra hour or so. It’s a no-brainer really. I wonder who I should write to, to suggest this. They couldn’t say no, it’s a total money maker all round!

I decided not to mention this idea to Sebastian, it’s not really his area and to be honest, I’m not sure he’d support a venture that means I get to shop for longer.

Sebastian’s sent me off to have a long, luxurious bubble bath and I’m listening to an audio book on my iPod as I relax in the hot soapy water. I know I should have been thinking of ways to try and diffuse the Serena-Rivers situation, but I just can’t work up the energy. She’s a grown woman and can take care of herself. And as for Rivers, maybe he was just drunker than he looked, or was just feeling the pressure of his upcoming wedding to Lucinda. I’ll buy Serena a Penguin tomorrow to try and smooth things over. God, I really shouldn’t be thinking about food now. I’m avoiding looking at my swollen tummy and I resolve to start a new diet tomorrow. I say this at least once a week, but today I mean it. No, really, I do.

When I wake on Friday morning ten minutes before my alarm is due to go off I’m in an excellent mood. I curl up against Sebastian and smile happily to myself, feeling all cosy and snug. Today should be an easy day; the prosecution case is finished, all there is left to do is to listen to Quinn’s speech and then hear the Judge sum the case up, reminding them of the law and evidence they have to consider. Nothing really for me to do at all.

If I was being really vigilant, I could take in some other work to do, but I think I deserve a day off. Hopefully, this weekend will be a light one too as although we won’t have anything to do in court on Monday when we’re waiting for a verdict, the clerks should just presume I’ll need to be with Corr and not give me anything else. Then, when the jury convict Hobbs, maybe Corr and I will go out for a celebratory drink. That’d be really fun, and totally well deserved.

I hope I’m not counting my chickens, but there is no way in a million years the jury could have bought any of his rubbish. I certainly didn’t, not that I’m biased or anything...

Just in case, when I later dress, I put on my ‘lucky suit’ a black knee length shift dress over a white shirt, with a short three quarter length sleeved jacket. I pull my hair back with a pearl clip and put some matching pearl studs into my ears. I decide to push the boat out and locate the black McQueen heels Sebastian bought me. I know that they’ll be absolute agony, but they do go really well with this outfit.

I grab my red Mulberry and check I have everything I need. I really, really must sort this bag out as it’s getting beyond a joke now. I can see I have pretty much everything aside from the kitchen sink inside and I have no idea where to start.

I experimentally pull out an old copy of Elle and my phone charger, and then decide that more drastic measures are needed. Taking a deep breath and saying a silent prayer, I turn the bag upside down and upend the entire contents onto the dining room table and within seconds the surface is covered by a random selection of bric a brac. It looks like a jumble sale.

I fish around in the pile and retrieve my purse, phone, keys and a selection of makeup that I’ll need to make me look human. Satisfied that I have the necessities I turn to leave. I hesitate and think about my departure. I can’t really leave all this here can I? Sebastian will have a fit if he sees this. Inspiration strikes and I run to the kitchen and grab a plastic carrier bag. I return to the mess and start grabbing handfuls and stuffing them into the bag. Half empty bottles of perfume, old cotton buds, dried up highlighters, numerous letters and all manner of personal effects find themselves unceremoniously dumped in an old Tesco bag which I hide under the table.

I silently resolve to sort it out properly when I get home. Or maybe tomorrow. My Mulberry feels about a stone lighter and I run to the door calling up to Sebastian to say goodbye.

“I’m off now!” I shout. “I’ll probably be a bit late back, but I’ll give you a call later!”

“Ok!” he replies, “Good luck! Love you!”

“Love you too!” I reply happily.

I robe up in one of the conference rooms at court, feeling the familiar swell of satisfaction when I put my wig on. I know it sounds daft but when I’m all rigged up in my court dress I feel a bit, well, untouchable. People look at you like you’re important; people respect you because of what you’re wearing.

The first time I got to wear all the kit was when I was called to the bar six years ago. Along with Serena, Lucinda and Holly, the rest of my peers went down to London so that the ceremony could be performed. It was a really elaborate ritual, like something from a Dan Brown novel and I had to process up the long aisle at Temple Church and bow to a load of very senior barristers and judges in a certain order. Come to think of it, they actually filmed part of the Davinci Code there!

When it ended, it meant I was officially a barrister and would be allowed to practice. That was such an amazing night, aside from Lucinda making a spectacular fool out of herself. I really think my dad was proud of me. He’s normally a man of few words but even he couldn’t help but be impressed by the high caliber company and the pomp and circumstance of the night.

I spoke to mum earlier in the week and apparently Dad’s been following the trial avidly on the news and according to an anonymous source (Mum’s friend Teresa from badminton) he’s even been telling some of his patients that I’m involved in a high-profile murder case!

I open a MAC compact and quickly check my reflection and for the millionth time marvel at the godsend that is concealer. I snap it shut and leave the room turning off the light as I go.

As I enter the now very familiar courtroom, I can sense an odd atmosphere amongst the parties. Quinn is stood next to Rivers and they are talking between themselves in animated tones. I presume Quinn must be gearing up for his speech.

I can’t see Corr anywhere, which is odd, but there are a number of police officers waiting next to the jury box. The court clerk is talking to the representative from the Crown prosecution Service and from the look on the former’s face, there appears to be some juicy gossip being shared. Lucinda is sat in the public gallery looking even worse than before. Her skin has a slightly grey tinge and from the look of her swollen, red eyes framed by dark circles, I’d say it’s a safe bet that she’s been crying.

The door that the Judge uses to enter and exit the room opens and Corr appears followed closely by Mr. Justice Wynne. I look at them, completely confused as to why Corr would have been in the Judge’s room with him. Corr returns to his seat without speaking to or looking at anyone and the Judge checks that all of the barristers are in court before addressing us in a low, solemn voice.

“We have a problem. If I could please ask all four counsel to join me in my room then the matter can be discussed. I’d also like a member of court staff present to take a note of our discussions.”

What on earth is going on? I wonder, looking around frantically for some clues as to what this ‘problem’ could be. Nothing is forthcoming so I tap Corr on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” I hiss as discretely as possible.

Without turning round he shakes his head and stands up, walking back towards the door behind the Judge’s chair. Silently, I follow him and in turn, Quinn and Rivers follow me. We walk along a narrow corridor with unflattering fluorescent lighting past the doors that lead into the other courtrooms. Finally we reach a door that is open and we all walk in to the Judge’s Chambers.

It’s quite a large room with a huge hand-carved wooden desk at one end with a regular conference table in front of it. The walls are dark red with various landscapes hung on them. There’s a small kitchen area with a kettle, mugs and packets of biscuits. I feel my stomach rumble slightly and hope that they get offered round.

The Judge invites us to take a seat at this table and he takes his place behind the older desk. I sit next to Corr opposite Quinn and Rivers and wait expectantly.

“There has been an allegation that someone has attempted to bribe one of the jurors,” says Mr. Justice Wynne with a sigh.

What! My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. This is a major scandal. I can’t believe that Hobbs has tried to buy his freedom! Talk about the last refuge of the damned. Wow, the shit is really going to hit the fan now. Jury bribing is a really serious offence, so either way, he’s off to prison for a really long time now!

“What exactly has happened?” asks Quinn in a grave voice.

“A juror was stopped in the street and told to ensure a particular verdict. A cheque for five thousand pounds was handed over,” replies the Judge solemnly. “I was made aware of this last night when the juror raised the matter with one of the court staff.”

“Fucking hell!” exclaims Quinn before quickly adding, “Sorry Judge, I just wasn’t expecting that! Do you have any idea who’s responsible?”

The Judge lets out a deep sigh. “Yes. The cheque has been recovered and the police have recovered CCTV of the alleged meeting.”

I’m totally speechless. Things like this are really rare because everyone knows that if you get caught trying to do something like this then the consequences are often a million times worse than the case in the first place.

“The police are waiting outside to detain the suspect and interview them about their involvement. I have no choice but to discharge the jury as I understand the juror spoke about this with some others in his number; further I cannot be sure that other jurors have not been contaminated in the same way.”

What? What! No! This means he’s gotten away with it. He knows we can’t try him again for the murder. I can only take comfort in the fact that we can nail him for this stunt.

Rivers interrupts my thoughts.

“Sorry Judge, did you say that the police were waiting outside? As in outside the courtroom?”

Mr. Justice Wynne bows his head.

“No. Not outside the courtroom. Outside the door to this room. Perhaps it’s best if they come in now.”

I sit motionless with shock. What on earth has been going on? This really is like something off the television. Surely neither Quinn or Rivers could have been involved. Maybe they just want to ask us all some questions about the trial.

The door opens and two of the uniformed officers that were in court earlier enter. They both look pretty similar: mid-forties, dark hair, not bad looking actually. The only real difference between them is that one has glasses and a few days worth of stubble. As they walk towards the table, I notice they’re both staring at me.

“Lauren Chase?” asks the scruffier looking one. I nod. “Lauren Chase, I’m arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

I think I’m going to black out.

“What?” I croak.

“You’ll have to come with us now,” says the other officer.

I’m barely able to feel my legs but somehow, push myself to my feet. I’m visibly shaking all over and I can’t make my brain connect to my mouth to try and either explain or understand what is happening.

“But, me? What, I haven’t done anything! No idea...” I trail off. I try to breathe and start again. “You think I did this? You think it was me? Why would I, why would you?”

“I’m sorry Miss, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. Please don’t make me use my handcuffs.”

I can’t see which of the officers has just spoken as tears are running down my face. I can’t breathe and I’m beginning to hyperventilate. I feel a hand on my arm and I’m guided back out of the room towards the door. I see a shadow in front of me and the person moving me stops. A low voice speaks and I instantly recognise it as Corr’s.

 “I’ll only ask you once. Did you do this?”

“No.” I whisper back, before I’m thrust forwards and lead back into the maze of corridors.

It feels like time is standing still and I know that I’ll have to wake up in a minute. This has to be a really bad dream, it must have been the garlic bread last night! I pinch the inside of my elbow really hard with my nails and feel absolutely nothing. For a split second I could faint with relief until I hear a loud, male voice exclaim in pain.