The Black Mountains (67 page)

Yes, they were all assembled now—counsel, police, jury. And above them all the judge, looking as if he had fallen asleep already. From where he was standing, the dock was outside his line of vision, but he knew Ted would be there, and he wondered how he would be feeling.

The public benches were immediately opposite the door, and he saw his mother and Rosa sitting there among the handful of other folk who had come in to listen to the case. They were at opposite ends of the seat, both stiff and still, not looking at one another. Funny how his mother had turned against Rosa. She'd always been such a one for standing up for Ada Clements when others ran her down and called her names.

Through the glass panel in the door, Jack saw the prosecuting counsel rise. He was a dark, whiskery man with a booming voice, but the thick door effectively muffled his words, and Jack could not make out what he was saying.

In the adjournment for lunch, he and Winston Walker took Charlotte to a small café nearby the courts for something to eat, but the barrister was the only one with any appetite.

“The things they're saying!” Charlotte exclaimed angrily. “Awful things, making our Ted out to be a real lout! It's all I can do to sit there and hold my tongue, Jack!”

“Don't worry, Mrs Hall, we'll get our turn later,” Winston soothed her, but his calm manner only seemed to irritate her more.

“It's all very well for you. It's not your son they're on about!”

“Mam!” Jack said sharply. “Mr Walker's doing his best for us and don't you forget it.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Charlotte mopped her face with a handkerchief. “And how that Rosa Clements has the cheek to come and listen to every word, I don't know. Sitting there like that! I've never seen anything so brazen!”

Jack said nothing. He thought that Rosa looked more lonely than brazen, but perhaps the proud determination in her bearing could be taken for that. To say so now would only upset Mam more, and he didn't want that. But he made up his mind to try and see Rosa when the court adjourned for the day.

He was called to give evidence half-way through the afternoon. Christ, but it was as bad as taking off for a bombing raid in Belgium, he thought, as he went through the now-open door into the large, yet airless, court. It would have been bad enough if he had been going into the witness box on Ted's behalf, but he wasn't. He was there because he had seen the blow struck, and the prosecution would be doing all they could to make it as damning as possible.

Struggling to keep his limp to a minimum, he crossed the court to the witness box. In the dock, Ted was pale but calm, and the two exchanged a quick, brotherly glance. Then Jack was asked to take the oath, and prosecuting counsel rose, bowing and scraping in the direction of the judge.

“Your honour, I ask that I may be allowed to treat this witness as hostile. As brother of the accused, I fear he may be less than helpful.”

Jack stiffened. What the hell did they expect?

“I'm not given to lying, sir. I shall tell you exactly what happened that day.”

The judge peered at him narrowly over his spectacles, then cleared his throat.

“Hmm. I see. Proceed, Mr Scales. I shall decide how much leading of the witness can be permitted as we go along.”

“Thank you, your honour,” the prosecuting counsel paused for a moment, then went on, “ Perhaps this would be an opportune moment for me to say I am not questioning for one moment the honesty of Mr Jack Hall. It will doubtless be raised at some stage that he has a most distinguished war record. But I would remind you it is not he who is on trial here, but his brother, a much more colourful character, as I believe I have already shown …”

Jack did not dare look at Charlotte, but he guessed it was all she could do to restrain herself from leaping to her feet and interrupting.

“Mr Hall,” the prosecuting counsel turned his attention to Jack once more. “A previous witness, an employee of the late Mr Thorne, has already told us how you and your brother came bursting into his office looking for trouble. You did not arrive at the same time as your brother, however. Is that correct?”

Jack nodded. “I arrived a few minutes after him.”

“Why?”

The short sharpness of the question took Jack by surprise.

“I … I'm sorry, I don't understand …”

“You arrived at Mr Thorne's office a few minutes after your brother had forced his way in, and you, too, charged up the stairs without further ado. I simply ask, why? What was in your mind as you pushed past Mr Thorne's young lady and ran into the room where your brother was attacking him?”

“He wasn't attacking him,” Jack protested.

“No?” Prosecuting Counsel asked smoothly. “ Then why were you in such a hurry?”

“Because …” Jack broke off, realizing the trap that had been laid for him, but not knowing how to avoid it, and the prosecuting counsel followed up his advantage.

“Dare I suggest, Mr Hall, that it was because you suspected your brother was likely to commit some violence on the deceased, and you wished to avert this if at all possible? Come now, you told us just now you are not given to lying. I'm sure in this small point we can expect the truth from a man of your integrity.”

Helplessly Jack glanced towards the dock and saw his own futile anger mirrored in Ted's face.

“An answer if you please, Mr Hall,” Counsel pressed him. “You went to the office, did you not, in the expectation of trouble? Further, you went at the request of your mother, who was also afraid of the violence your brother might perpetrate …”

“Objection!” Winston Walker was on his feet, but the prosecuting counsel was not to be put off.

“If necessary, Your honour, I can call witnesses who will say the mother of the accused telephoned Bristol University, where Mr Jack Hall is a student, to ask him to intervene. But I am sure the
truthful
Mr Hall will verify this for us.”

Jack nodded wanly. “ Yes, it's true. Ted had a bone to pick with him.”

“A bone? A bone to pick with him? Surely, Mr Hall, that is the most ludicrous of understatements? Isn't it true that your brother was madly jealous of the deceased because he had become engaged to a young lady your brother fancied himself?”

So that was the way they were going to make it look! Anger flooded Jack's veins, and he looked at Ted again. Surely, now, he would have to come out with the reasons behind what had happened! He questioned him with his eyes, seeking permission to say more, but Ted's mulish expression told him nothing that had been said had changed his mind. If anyone raised the true circumstances of Rebecca's death, he would never forgive him.

“Well, Mr Hall?” the barrister persisted, and Jack gesticulated wearily.

“It wasn't the way you're making it sound.”

“Oh, really? Then perhaps you would tell us how it was? Or perhaps his honour would prefer it if I steered you back towards the only thing you can really know about—what happened in Rupert Thorne's office that fateful day. When you arrived, Mr Hall, when you pushed your way in, what was happening?”

“They … they were arguing.”

“Arguing—or quarrelling?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Jack snapped. “What's the difference?”

The barrister smirked. “All the difference in the world, Mr Hall. An argument smacks of a friendly disagreement, while a quarrel—a quarrel is far more likely to end in violence, wouldn't you say? Just as this one did! Now, as the argument—as you call it—progressed, did you hear the deceased threaten your brother at all?”

“No, he … he just …”

“Yes?”

“He said he'd call the police if we didn't get out.”

“Hardly surprising, I'd have said. And did he attempt to throw you out himself? Use any violence on either of you?”

“No, he …”

“But you saw your brother use violence on him. In a completely unprovoked attack.”

“Unprovoked!” Jack exclaimed, remembering all too clearly the insults to Rebecca's memory which Rupert had used to taunt Ted. But under his brother's warning gaze, he said nothing.

“He only hit him once,” he said lamely.

“And once, it seems, was more than enough!” Counsel turned dramatically to the listening jury, arms outstretched. “ Gentlemen of the jury, how much clearer does it need to be? With one blow, the defendant murdered an innocent and respected man, a man who had had the misfortune to fall in love with a girl the accused thought of as his own—quite mistakenly, as it happens. For some insane reason, he …”

The judge stirred restlessly.

“Thank you, Mr Scales, we will hear your summing up later, no doubt. Now, Mr … ah … Walker, do you have any questions to ask of this witness?”

Winston Walker rose, doing his best to set the balance to rights, but with Ted's insistence on keeping silent, it was a hopeless task. With all the skill of his profession, the barrister had succeeded in making Ted into a dangerous lout, and the jury, used to stories of the drunken rowdyism of the Hillsbridge miners, were all too ready to believe every word, particularly when the victim was a highly respected professional man like Rupert Thorne.

When, at the end of Jack's evidence, the court adjourned for the day, Winston Walker said as much, standing in the same corridor where Jack had waited this morning.

“It's hopeless,” he admitted. “Unless we can persuade Ted to tell them the truth behind what happened, they'll not only find him guilty—which they're pretty well bound to do anyways—but the judge is going to be damned hard on him. When I think of a bounder like Thorne it makes me furious, but if Ted won't help himself, there's not much I can do.”

Jack nodded. After his grilling in the dock, he hardly felt like disagreeing.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rosa Clements standing uncertainly by the door, and excusing himself from the others, he went over to her.

“Rosa, don't run away. I'll buy you a cup of tea.”

As he said it, he wondered briefly if she might think he was trying to resurrect old relationships, but clearly she was too worried and too preoccupied for such a thought even to enter her head.

“Oh, Jack, what are they doing?” she asked. “ They're making it sound all wrong. I know Ted's got a temper when he's roused, but there must have been more to it than that.”

“There was,” Jack said “Becky died because of an abortion that went wrong.”

He heard the quick intake of her breath, and saw the stark pain in her eyes. “ You mean she was …”

“Having a baby. Yes.”

“I saw her, coming out of your house! She'd been to tell your Mam, had she? Was it Ted's?”

Jack shook his head. “ It was Thorne's.”

“
Thorne's?
But she … she wasn't that sort of girl.”

“Exactly. That's why Ted went mad when he found out … that, and the rest.”

“What rest?”

“He gave her the stuff that killed her, something to get rid of the baby, only it went wrong. He admitted it to us when we went to see him. It's no wonder Ted hit him. He just sat there, smug as you like, saying things …” Words failed him.

Rosa's hand was over her mouth, and her eyes were closed. After a moment she said, “He must tell them.”

“He won't. He's too concerned about protecting Becky's memory. He says he knows she would never have gone with that bastard willingly, but who else would believe it?”

Rosa's eyebrows made a fine dark line on her pale oval face.

“I would.”

“Why, did you know him?”

“No, but I knew her. She was too much of a prig ever to …” She broke off, reddening. “ I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But I …”

“I know,” he said softly.

“It just makes me so angry. What's the point of keeping quiet about something like that? The dead are gone. It can't hurt them. But Ted … they can't lock him up again! Not after what he's been

through! Oh Jack, I won't let them …”
Her voice tailed away, but before Jack could wonder what she

meant, he was aware of Charlotte standing beside them, her eyes

cold with dislike as they rested on Rosa.
“Good afternoon, Rosa. Jack, are you going to take me back to

the train, or shall we go and have a cup of tea somewhere first?

Mr Walker has some work to do preparing for tomorrow.”
He nodded. “All right, Mam, we'll go for a cup of tea. Rosa…”
But the sloe-dark eyes were veiled again.
“No, thank you, Jack.”
Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
“What did she want?” Charlotte asked suspiciously.
For a moment Jack did not reply. Then, “You always knew the

way things were with Rosa, Mam,” he said quietly.

JACK SLEPT little that night. He tossed and turned in the narrow bed at his digs, the happenings of the day jostling in his mind.

Ted was going to be sent to prison, there was no doubt of it, and he personally was aching to stand up and denounce the saintly Rupert Thorne to the entire court. It was more than infuriating to see the jury left ignorant in this way—it was a travesty of justice. But he was helpless to do anything about it. If Ted wouldn't have the truth brought up, it was not for him to do it, and in a way he respected his broker's reasons.

What Mam was going to do if Ted was sent to prison was something else that worried him. She was upset of course, by the whole proceedings, but still touchingly confident that in the end justice would prevail. If Ted was found guilty—as Jack was becoming convinced he would be—she was going to take it very hard indeed. The thought of her son being branded a common criminal, and locked away, would push her to the limits, and Jack was not sure her health could take it any more. Once, maybe, but not now. Not since the pneumonia …

Incensed by a feeling of helplessness, he pushed back the bedclothes, sitting up against the pillows, and for some reason he found himself thinking of his sleepless nights in hospital during the war.