The Black Mountains (69 page)

The judge, who must have heard plenty of similar—and worse—facts outlined during his career, managed to look suitably shocked.

“You are saying, Miss Clements, that the deceased actually tried to seduce you by offering you the means to … ah …”

“Get rid of a baby if I got one. Yes. That's why I wasn't surprised when I heard what he'd done to Rebecca Church. I knew such things could be dangerous. She wouldn't. She was too innocent.”

“But why have you not said this before?”

“I wasn't very proud of myself. I didn't want to admit to having known Mr Thorne as well as I did. But I don't want to see Ted Hall go to gaol for something any man would have done in the circumstances. I happen to think it's important that the truth should come out. Much more important than my reputation.” And in spite of lengthy cross-examination, Rosa remained adamant. She had known Rupert Thorne, and he was an out-and-out bounder. Nothing could move her on that point.

Finally, the judge put an end to the examination. “Mr Scales, have you any more questions of this witness?”

“None, Your honour.”

“Mr Walker?”

“None.”

Rosa left the witness box.

“Mr Walker, I presume you intend to put your client into the witness box,” Mr Justice Hayburn said when she had reached her seat, and then it was Ted's turn.

Ted was clearly shaken by Rosa's evidence and stood facing Winston Walker with eyes that were full of reproach. But there was nothing the barrister could do now but question him about the background to his assault on Rupert Thorne, and nothing Ted could do but admit it.

In a low voice, he told the court how he had come to hear of the reasons for Rebecca's death.

“I was wrong to take the law into my own hands, I suppose, but I'd do the same again,” he said quietly. “ To do that to her, and then threaten to tell people she'd asked for it—Becky, my Becky …” His voice cracked, and his fists clenched on the wooden surround of the witness box. Winston Walker, although he, too, was shaken by Rosa's disclosures, knew that he had gained the sympathy of most people in court.

After the closing speeches Mr Justice Hayburn had his turn. “This is,” he said, peering over his spectacles at the jury, “ a very good illustration of the variety that can be found in cases of manslaughter—more varied, in all probability, than any other crime known to law. In some cases manslaughter is tantamount to murder, in others it can be almost accident. But in the case now before this court, you, the jury, have two questions to answer. The first—was the blow struck by the defendant an unlawful blow? The second—did it cause the death of the deceased? On this point you must take into account the excellent medical evidence which has been placed before you. If, after consideration, you decide that the answer to both these questions is ‘yes', then the defendant is technically guilty of manslaughter, and it is your duty to find him so.

“You may be feeling, with justification, a certain amount of sympathy for the accused, but you must not let this sway you in reaching a fair verdict. Rather, you must trust in me to exercise the discretion vested in me as regards punishment. This is a matter which is entirely within my discretion, and you must trust me to exercise it.”

Jack glanced at Rosa, sitting expressionlessly in her place. Her evidence was Ted's only hope now, and though he doubted his brother would thank her for it, he himself was more than grateful for what she had done.

Although the jury were out for only an hour, it seemed like a lifetime. And when they returned, and Mr Justice Hayburn took his place again, Jack found himself searching their faces for a clue as to their decision. There was none. With the rest of the hushed court, he could do nothing but wait for their verdict.

The foreman rose, and the clerk of the court asked him if they had agreed.

“Yes, we 'ave.” His voice seemed to echo around the four walls.

“Do you find the defendant, Edward Hall, guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty.”

Their breath came out as one so that the whole court seemed to have sighed. Jack looked from Ted's white face to Charlotte's impassive one, on to Amy, who was taking no trouble to hide her emotion, and Rosa, who was staring straight ahead, as if she had removed herself from the court and all the proceedings.

“Edward Hall.” Mr Justice Hayburn turned towards him, his gimlet eyes looking more like black beads than ever. “You have been found guilty, quite rightly in my opinion, of the manslaughter of Rupert Thorne. There are, however, certain mitigating circumstances in this case, and I am prepared to take these into account. You were, I believe, provoked and pushed beyond the limits of your endurance, and when you struck the deceased, I do not believe it was your intention to do him any lasting harm.

“You should not, of course, have struck him. We cannot have people like you taking the law into their own hands. But in passing sentence I have taken into account your previous good character, your war record, and the fact that you have already served several months' imprisonment for what you did. I intend, therefore, to bind you over for a period of twelve months on condition that you are of good behaviour and commit no further breaches of the peace. I trust you will not behave in such a rash and foolish way again.”

Ted stared at him, as if unable to take in what he had said.

“You mean—I can go home?”

“Yes.”

“Court will rise.” That was the clerk, and as the judge and his entourage left, hubbub broke out Ted, coming down from the dock, was surrounded, and half-laughing, half-crying, the family took him in their arms.

Only Rosa stood alone, and seeing her, Jack left the others and crossed to her.

“Thank you, Rosa,” he said quietly. “If you hadn't said what you did …”

She shrugged her slight shoulders. “ I did what I could.”

“But I thought you said you didn't know Rupert Thorne?”

She glanced around her, as if afraid she might be overheard. Then she smiled faintly. “I didn't.”

“You
didn't?
But you said …”

“It was only the truth, wasn't it? But nobody was going to believe me. So I just added to it a bit.”

“On oath! Rosa, for goodness sake!”

“It worked, didn't it? Ted's free—and so he should be. And it was time the truth came out. There's too much covering things up for fear of what folk will think or say. It isn't good.”

“Oh, Rosa!”

“Jack, come on! Mr Walker's waiting,” Charlotte called.

He put his hand under Rosa's elbow.

“You come, too. There'll be some kind of a celebration.”

She shook her head. “No. I know where I'm not wanted.”

“But after what you've done …”

“You're a fool, Jack,” she said, smiling sadly. “After what I've done, they hate me more than ever.”

“Oh no, they'll want to thank you …”

“Jack!” Charlotte said again, and there was no mistaking the icy aggression in her tone.

Rosa turned, sliding her elbow from his grasp and walking towards the door. She did not look at the Hall family as she passed them, and although their eyes, as of one accord followed her, none of them made any move towards her.

Then, head held high, she passed through the swing doors and out of sight.

“HE SHOULD never have let her go in the witness box. He should never have let her!” Ted said vehemently.

It was the next day. The family were gathered in the kitchen, and naturally the only topic of conversation was the trial, and its dramatic ending, but all those present seemed to be looking at what had happened from different points of view.

“Winston Walker was only doing what he thought best,” Amy said. “ I think he's a wonderful man, and you should be jolly grateful to him for getting you off.”

“I've no doubt you'll show him how grateful we are,” Ted snapped, referring to the way Amy seemed to have forgotten Arthur Packer since she had clapped eyes on Winston Walker. “ He's far too old for you, and the way you were flirting was downright disgusting.”

“Well, I like that!” Amy pouted. “ You get yourself found guilty of manslaughter, and you have the nerve to accuse me of being disgusting! That's a funny set of values, I must say!”

“For the Lord's sake, stop it you two,” Charlotte intervened. “Amy's right, Ted, you should be very grateful to Mr Walker.”

“I told him I wouldn't have it brought out,” Ted said stubbornly. “I told him I wanted Becky protected whatever the cost. Now it's been blown up into a proper scandal, thanks to Rosa Clements.”

“But it had to come out, Ted,” Jack said reasonably. “Can't you see, you'd be in gaol now if it hadn't been for her bringing out the truth.”

“I'd have rather that than have Becky's good name dragged through the mud,” Ted replied, lighting a Gold Flake. “ You all knew how I felt about it. So why did Winston Walker give her the chance to let it all out?”

Charlotte turned away impatiently, reaching for her hat to go out to the shops.

“Jack's right, Ted. It'll all be a nine days wonder, and it can't hurt Becky now. I just wish I'd had the courage to stand up and say it myself, instead of leaving it to the likes of her.”

“She doesn't care about anything, does she?” Amy put in. “Fancy, in front of all those people, admitting … well!” She broke off, giggling and biting her lip.

“Like her mother, if you ask me,” Charlotte said shortly. “ I hope you can see her now for what she is, Jack, a common little hussy.”

For a moment there was a complete hush in the kitchen, for the sight of Jack's face silenced them all, and as he got to his feet they shrank before the fury of his gaze.

“I don't think you realize, any of you, what that ‘little hussy,' as Mam calls her, did for our Ted. Well, it's about time you did. It wasn't just that she had the courage to stand up and tell the truth—and believe me, in a place like that to call it ‘courage' is an understatement. No, it went much further than that.”

“What do you mean, Jack?” Charlotte asked.

“You really don't know, do you, Mam?” Jack's eyes held hers, then moved slowly to Ted. “And nor do you, though you bloody well ought to. She perjured herself for you, Ted. Before God and the law, she perjured herself.”

“What?” Charlotte said sharply, and Jack turned back to her.

“She didn't know Rupert Thorne, Mam. She never had. But she knew the only way to make her evidence of any importance was to say she did. That's how much she cared about getting our Ted off. And all you lot can do is run her into the ground!”

The silence seemed timeless. Into it the clock ticked and the fire crackled, but none of them noticed.

“Dear Lord,” Charlotte said at last.

“You see, Ted?” Jack turned to him, ignoring her. “ That's how much she thinks of you. I was ashamed at the way you all treated her yesterday. And I should think the least you could do is give her credit for what she did.”

“I didn't know! I had no idea!” Ted was almost as white and shocked as he had been yesterday.

“Well, there you are,” Jack said flatly. “While you were buggering on about Becky's reputation, she gave up hers without a murmur to keep you out of gaol. And it's about time you all realized that and treated her with the respect that's due to her.”

They couldn't look at one another. They were too shamefaced. But when at last Charlotte turned to Amy, her old brisk manner had returned as if nothing were wrong.

“Go round next door and find out if Rosa's there, Amy,” she instructed. “ She'll no doubt be off again before long, back to wherever it is she's been, but I think I saw her go into the house last night. And ask if she'll come around and have a drink with us. I think we've all got something to say to her.”

Jack knew that was the closest Mam was ever likely to come to admitting she had been wrong.

By October, discontent was stirring once more amongst the miners, and the Ted Hall affair was forgotten as the call to strike grew louder.

“We'll show 'em what's what this time,” James said, confident in the support of the railwaymen and transport workers, and in no time at all, it seemed, he was proved right, for Lloyd George quickly agreed to settle on their terms, with money on the table and the promise of a National Wages Board to look into things later.

It was only the sharpest and most pessimistic among them who noticed that he had chosen the very same time to bring in the Emergency Powers Act, and some of those who did notice dismissed it as being unimportant. After all, it was only an extension of the powers the Government had had during the war, and that didn't seem to be harming anybody. So with a bit of extra cash in their pockets, who was going to complain about that?

The trouble was, as autumn turned to winter, things began to look black for every working family in the land. Post-war elation began to flag as prices soared and wages fell, and more and more men found themselves in the dole queue.

In the Miners Arms, where the chief topic of conversation over the last months had been the Guss Committee that was going to be set up to investigate the continued use of the old guss and crook carting method, the talk turned once more to wages, conditions of work and the state of the country as a whole.

“A land fit for heroes!” Hubert Freke observed drily one night early in the New Year. “ That's a joke if ever I heard one. Why, there's more out of work now than ever there was.”

“And with so many killed in the war, you'd reckon there'd be more than enough to go round. Leastways, that's what they tried to put over on us,” Walter Clements agreed. Stanley Bristow snorted loudly into his beer.

“I don't know what 'tis coming to! All o' my best horses, they had, and told me it was for the good of the country. Good of the country, my foot! It's all gone to pot, if you ask me.”