‘A problem about which we can do nothing,’ said Hall, realistically.
‘You spoken to Feltham since you left chambers?’
‘No.’
‘Sir Richard wants a meeting, after this is over.’
‘I want to ensure Emily is OK. And that she and Annabelle get back to the house safely.’
‘I said Sir Richard wants a meeting,’ repeated the solicitor, emphatically.
‘I heard what you said. We’ll have it not just after the hearing but after I’m happy about the child and the nanny.’ He turned to Johnson. ‘You’ll take them back of course?’ It was phrased as a question although it wasn’t.
‘Of course,’ blinked the family lawyer, who had fervently decided during the journey from Hampshire how fortunate it was he hadn’t chosen criminal law.
The judge’s clerk came into the corridor, obviously startled at the number of people awaiting the hearing. Perry hurried off, to identify himself, momentarily disappearing into the melee that formed at once around the surprised court official. It seemed a long time before Perry re-emerged. He was clearly flustered, making jerky shrugging-off gestures as he returned along the corridor towards them.
‘ The Times, Mail, Sun and Express have engaged senior counsel. All QCs. Every organization is represented. God knows how many barristers. Bloody field day.’
‘Which shows how worried they are,’ pointed out Hall.
‘Not as much as I am,’ said Perry, with feeling.
‘Thanks for that expression of confidence.’
‘This is extreme.’
‘So I’ve already been told.’
They did not have to gown up for a chambers hearing, able to enter immediately there was a general summons. Sir Ivan Jarvis appeared even more surprised than his clerk by the number of barristers before him. Jarvis was a tiny, wizened man whose smallness was less obvious in a robe and wig and from the elevated bench of a Crown court. Now, on the same level as everybody else, the man appeared almost to be crouching like an enquiring squirrel behind a table the size of a car park, his head twitching from face to face. There were several spare smiles at barristers he recognized from the press side, a total lack of expression in the direction of Hall.
Hall perfectly concealed his inexperience of hearings in chambers, letting Perry lead to their expected place, any hesitation doubly covered by the confusion of seating the hiss-voiced squabbling newspaper contingent, which the clerk attempted with the arm waving urgency of an end-of-term photographer trying to assemble a disorganized class for proud parents’ end-of-term souvenir. The muttered disputes were heightened with sighed rearrangement and Jarvis said in a voice unexpectedly loud for such a small man, ‘Get along, get along. This is a simple application, not a major trial.’
‘He’s in a bad mood,’ whispered Perry, unnecessarily, from behind Hall.
It still took almost another five minutes for the media lawyers to be seated in their self-elected order of priority. Only at the very end of the chaotic process did Hall identify at the rear of the court the superintendent, Hopkins. He’d half expected Bentley and Rodgers, who looked back at him stone-faced, but not the uniformed Hampshire Constabulary inspector who had been with the council officials for the onsite child care meeting. Hall twisted more fully, frowning to Perry who said, ‘Hughes, remember? If he’d cleared the roads around the house like he should have done all this wouldn’t have been necessary. So why shouldn’t he be inconvenienced?’
‘I’ll call him,’ agreed Hall, approvingly. ‘And go and remind Bentley he’s precluded from talking about anything that has happened at the hospital and what his policewomen witnessed.’
‘Why?’ demanded Perry, soft voiced.
‘Just do it.’
Jarvis pawed some papers in front of him and said, ‘Mr Hall?’
Jeremy Hall rose, bowing his head deferentially and said, ‘I appear before you today, my lord, to press the application that has already been laid before you…’
‘… from the chambers of Sir Richard Proudfoot?’ halted the judge.
‘That is so, my lord.’
‘I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of your appearing before me?’
‘The pleasure, my lord, is mine.’ I hope but very much doubt, he thought.
‘An extreme application, Mr Hall?’
‘Reflecting an extreme situation, my lord.’
‘I hope you’ll be able to satisfy me of that.’
‘I’m confident I shall be able to.’
‘We’ll see.’
Behind him Hall heard the scuff of discomfort from Humphrey Perry.
From Hall’s left there was a continuous undertone of coughs and foot movement and paper shuffling. Jarvis looked towards it and said, ‘A matter of some considerable importance then?’
‘I would not have brought it before your lordship did I not consider it to be so.’
‘That’s encouraging to be told, Mr Hall. Hearings in chambers are not to be requested lightly.’
The movement sounds grew from the other side of the room. Hall didn’t look in their direction. ‘At the conclusion of this hearing, my lord, I am confident you will accept my invitation to find that the circumstances are anything but to be considered or judged lightly.’
‘Then we must hope, Mr Hall, that we are both satisfied, myself more than you. Proceed.’
For the first time Hall looked sideways, to see smiles of satisfaction on the faces of several opposing lawyers. They were all relaxed, languidly sure of themselves. He had sketched prompt notes for himself but mentally adjusted with the benefit of the unexpected Hampshire police officer. Within minutes – seconds it seemed – of his trying to detail the press ambush which he and Perry had personally experienced Jarvis began what progressed into a persistent barrage of interceptions, initially with a totally unnecessary query about the time of day and length of their being inconvenienced. Every time Hall halted, without a choice but without any impatience either and far more importantly never once losing his way. During the brief pause it took the clerk to carry to Jarvis their officially written Press Commission complaint, along with the bundle of letters promising money for photographs and interviews, Perry muttered, ‘He’s against us. And they know it across the room. They know they’ve won.’
The judge’s disconcerting disruptions continued when Hall offered the Hampshire officer and Geoffrey Johnson as witnesses to the harassment.
The policeman totally misconstrued the constant challenges as criticism and conveyed the impression that the mansion siege had at times been beyond police control. Hall snatched his first opportunity. ‘Yet you brought no action for breach of the peace.’
‘No, sir,’ admitted the inspector.
‘Nor for obstruction?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘It was the opinion of my superior officers the case would not succeed in court.’
‘Why not?’
Had suicide been an option at that moment, Hughes would have taken it. ‘I do not know, sir. The power of the press, I assumed.’
‘You yourself were subjected to harassment, were you not?’
The man desperately sought an escape and failed. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did the media surrounding the mansion show any respect for your uniform, officer?’
‘No, sir,’ admitted the miserable policeman.
‘They were aware there would subsequently be a trial?’
‘Of course,’ frowned Hughes. ‘That’s why they were there, trying to obtain background material.’
‘So they were showing no respect for a court, either?’
The man hesitated. ‘No sir, I don’t suppose they were.’
The policeman’s report of wall-climbing and back entrance intrusion established a consecutive narrative with the solicitor’s account of that day’s sixty-mile car chase with cameramen leaning out of open windows whenever his car was momentarily brought to a standstill by lights or traffic congestion: twice, when traffic was slowed to a crawl on his way through Wandsworth, photographers had jogged alongside, taking pictures.