‘You’re aware people are trying to help you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So it’s very important to tell them the truth.’
‘Yes.’
‘So I want you to tell me the truth. Remember, it’s very important.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you kill Gerald because he was having an affair with Rebecca?’
‘Didn’t kill Gerald. Jane killed Gerald.’
‘Would you have killed him, if you’d known?’
‘No!’
‘Why not? You’d have been humiliated, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, but I couldn’t have killed him. That’s not right.’
‘ Killed me, you bitch! ’
‘What would you have done?’
‘Asked him to stop. Asked him what was wrong.’
‘You’d have wanted your marriage to go on?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you love Gerald?’
‘Yes.’
‘Even though he was having an affair with Rebecca?’
‘Just sex.’
‘Was it just sex with you and Gerald, when your affair began?’
‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t love him at first?’
‘No.’
‘Did he love you?’
‘No.’
‘Who fell in love with whom first?’
‘Me with Gerald, I suppose.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Said I wanted it to end.’
‘ Liar! Let me in, Jennifer. I want to talk to you. Let me in to talk to you.’
‘She wants to talk to me.’
‘I don’t want to talk to her. I want to talk just to you. Why did you want to end your affair, if you loved him? I don’t understand.’
‘He was married to Jane.’
‘ Let me in! ’
‘Why was that important?’
‘Didn’t want the marriage to break up.’
‘Why did you sleep with him in the first place?’
‘He was attractive. I wanted to.’
From where he stood Hall could see sweat glueing Mason’s shirt to his back. The man held a handkerchief to wipe his face. Jennifer appeared quite relaxed, eyes half closed, legs still crossed at the ankles. He couldn’t make out any discolouration on her arm where the burn had been, minutes earlier.
‘It wasn’t wrong then?’
‘No.’
‘Only when it became serious?’
‘Yes.’
‘ Liar, liar, liar! ’
‘Why?’
‘Because it was serious. A threat.’
‘Not to you.’
‘Jane wasn’t well.’
‘ Spare me, do! ’
‘Her dying made it easy, though?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you think that might happen?’
‘How could I?’
‘By killing her.’
‘We didn’t kill her.’
‘ You did! You fixed the dose.’
‘Do you believe in ghosts?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s ridiculous. Ghost’s don’t exist.’
‘Jane’s in your head: possessing you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ghosts must exist, if Jane’s possessing you.’
‘I know. But they can’t. I won’t accept it. I’m frightened.’
‘ I’ve scarcely begun yet.’
‘What are you most frightened of?’
‘People not believing me.’
‘Would it send you mad, if they didn’t?’
‘She won’t send me mad. She says she will but she won’t. I’ll beat her. Beat everyone as a trader.’
‘ Oh, yes, I will! ’
‘How are you going to beat her?’
‘I don’t know.’ Tears began slowly to make a path down Jennifer’s cheeks, although there was no sound. She scrubbed a bandaged hand across her face.
Fosdyke moved, at last, reaching forward and patting Mason’s shoulder. The psychiatrist nodded, again without turning.
‘I want to go backwards now, back to when you were young. A baby even.’
All Hall’s voyeuristic discomfort went, forgotten, to frowned disbelief. Jennifer relived Emily’s birth (‘No pain, She’s coming. Beautifuclass="underline" so beautiful.’) and Jane’s death (‘Sorry. I’m so very sorry.’) and her first day arrival at Enco-Corps (‘I’m going to be the best here. Top the trading commissions. Make a million.’) and the sadness of the Randolph celebration meal after her Oxford graduation (‘I know Mummy would be as proud as you are, Daddy.’) The voice change, from adult gradually to baby talk, was imperceptible and it wasn’t until they went through teenage into puberty into childhood that Hall became conscious of it. It took him almost as long to realize the purpose of the regression, when the frequent medical questions registered and he realized the exercise was not for the psychiatrist’s benefit but for Fosdyke’s, a search for pathological causes for whatever it was Jennifer was suffering. None emerged.
It was late into the afternoon and Mason’s shirt was black with perspiration before he finally stretched up from the bed and for the first time Jeremy Hall became conscious of the odour of too many people being for too long in a small room. He became conscious, too, that he was contributing to it.
‘When I clap my hands you’ll become aware not just of me but of other people,’ said Mason. ‘And from now on you’re to help your barrister, Jeremy Hall, as much as you’ve helped me. Will you do that?’
‘Yes,’ said Jennifer.
‘And I want you to help everyone else like me: doctors like me. There will be a lot who want to talk to you. Is that all right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if I want to talk to you again like this, we’ll count the numbers on the watch. Will you do that for me, whenever I ask you?’
‘Yes,’ promised Jennifer. She blinked, opening her eyes more fully, at the sound of Mason’s hands coming together. ‘Did I help?’ she demanded at once.
‘Absolutely,’ said Mason. ‘Thank you.’
Minutes later, back in the neurologist’s convenient rooms, Mason helped himself to the ever-ready coffee, looked around the assembled men and said, ‘She hasn’t learned how to fake her condition from text books. I’ve no doubt whatsoever that Jennifer Lomax is as sane as any of us in this room. Maybe more so. Just as I’ve no doubt whatsoever that Jennifer Lomax isn’t inventing the voice in her head. It’s there!’
‘So I’ve got the first case of ghostly possession in British criminal history?’ demanded Hall.
‘I don’t know what you’ve got,’ replied Mason, ignoring the intended cynicism. ‘But I’ve got a Paper that’s going to turn psychiatry on its head, worldwide.’
‘You sure?’ demanded John Bentley, in frustrated disappointment.
‘I’ve gone through every line of the inquest evidence and talked not just to the investigating officer but the coroner’s officer as well,’ assured Rodgers. ‘Jane Lomax died from an accidental overdose of insulin. There’s nothing we could use to reopen the case.’
‘Fuck,’ said Bentley, viciously. ‘I would have just loved sticking Jennifer bloody Lomax with a second murder. Can you imagine the bombshell that would have been?’
‘Easily,’ said Rodgers, who feared the other detective was endangering professional objectivity through personal pique. ‘But we’ll have to make do with what we’ve got.’
‘And what have we got?’
‘Everything wrapped up and tied in ribbon,’ said the inspector. ‘We’re ready to go. Fastest case ever.’
‘Don’t rush the submission to the Crown Prosecution. Let them go around in a few more circles.’
‘Until we submit the evidence they won’t be able to brief psychiatrists,’ reminded Rodgers. ‘They’ll need to do that.’
‘A week,’ decided Bentley. ‘We’ll wait a week.’
‘We’re going to see Mummy in hospital?’
‘Would you like that?’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Her head hurts. The doctors are making her better.’
‘Is she going to die?’
‘No, darling. Of course not.’
Chapter Fourteen
Until Perry’s hurried call Jeremy Hall had not intended being at the hospital for Emily’s visit. It had nothing to do with the eventual trial and although that trial, his first murder, was of great professional importance he’d already recognized, objectively, that he was spending too much time personally involved in situations with Jennifer Lomax which more properly should have been handled by the solicitor at that moment talking far too quickly to him on the telephone. Quite apart from offending the man himself, trickled into the gossip mill that filled to overflowing the Inns of Court trough it could – and, he was sure, would – be represented as his nervous inability to delegate anything through fear of failure. Which, even further apart, would be compounded by his having – apparently – willingly accepted a totally indefensible brief the outcome of which could only be failure anyway. So why was he bothering?