Now everything changed. His acceptance went far beyond being effusive to be cloying to the point of sycophancy. There was the artificiality of individual handshakes and back-slapping congratulations, and the embarrassment of a eulogizing speech from Proudfoot. There was a lot about his potential being recognized from the start and of the fame he’d brought to the chambers as well as to himself. There seemed a contest among the QCs to be the first to take him to lunch and Cappell, who until now had barely acknowledged his existence, suggested proposing him for membership of the Garrick or the Reform or both. It was, decided Hall, like being the dog to win the supreme championship at Crufts: everyone wanted to take him for a walk to show off.
It was Henry Kerslake, another junior, who asked the question. ‘What’s she like? ’
‘A frightened woman,’ said Hall, unhelpfully.
‘I mean does it show, physically?’
‘She doesn’t look any different from any other woman: just one head.’ Immediately despising the cynicism, which sounded as if it were directed at Jennifer and not Kerslake, he added, ‘The only physical evidence is when she can’t resist being forced to do something.’
‘Good Lord!’ said Kerslake, as if he’d had a revelation. ‘She looks beautiful in the newspaper pictures.’
‘She is. I told you, there’s no outward manifestation.’
‘You frightened of her?’
It was like a courtroom cross-examination, Hall thought. ‘There was a frightening episode in the hospital.’
‘When she attacked the child?’ prompted Piltbeam.
Hall looked accusingly between Perry and Feltham, supposing it was inevitable. ‘Yes.’
‘What an experience,’ enthused Kerslake. ‘Actually being close to someone like that. Incredible!’
‘Actually it’s very sad.’
‘When does the lecture tour start?’ demanded Piltbeam, half joking to lighten the moment.
‘As a matter of fact there was an approach from an agent this morning,’ admitted Hall. It had been one of the five new offers in the pigeon-hole of his still beleaguered apartment. Patricia had called again, as well as five newspapers all of which increased their initial offers for interviews and personalized stories.
‘And I’ve got four briefs specifically asking for you by name, Mr Hall,’ disclosed Feltham. ‘I haven’t made any commitment yet: wanted to discuss them with you first.’
‘More consideration than you show us, Bert,’ complained Cappell.
‘The offers to Mrs Lomax herself are astonishing,’ came in Perry. ‘An American publisher is offering the equivalent of?3,000,000 for a book.’
‘Jennifer Lomax could become an industry!’ said Cappell, in another attempted joke.
‘She won’t,’ Hall said, positively. Why did they think it was so amusing?
‘Still no trouble with the fees, though?’ suggested Hugh Norton. He was the oldest QC in chambers, a passed-over lawyer who never appeared in criminal court and only took sufficient civil litigation to support the middle of each day at his regular ground-floor corner table of El Vino.
‘Unlikely in the first place, quite apart from our being awarded costs,’ assured Perry. ‘I had Johnson anticipate the verdict: make an assessment. Mrs Lomax was already wealthy in her own right and Lomax’s Will makes her a millionairess. And having been found not guilty she qualifies for all the insurance policies, company as well as private. And they’re worth a fortune. He’s still working it out.’
Hall shifted, uncomfortable with the bone-stripping dissection. ‘Aren’t we being premature?’
‘Practical, old boy,’ defined Cappell. ‘You pulled off a brilliant defence. Earned your fee. Everyone should be well and truly satisfied.’
He wasn’t, Hall abruptly realized. He supposed they were right, although their attitude offended him. He’d fulfilled his function and owed Jennifer Lomax nothing more: if anything her debt was to him. But he wasn’t going to leave it: leave her. He’d chosen the four psychiatrists because of their expertise – and wanted Mason with him later for the same reason – but it had only been four: there were others he could consult until he found how to free Jennifer. The answer might even come from Milton Smith when he talked to people in America who might be able to help. And exorcism. He definitely had to discuss that with Jennifer, irrespective of any initial reluctance.
‘We’re certainly more than satisfied,’ said Proudfoot, as the other barristers began drifting from the room.
Looking more towards the solicitor than anyone else, Feltham said, ‘I suppose we should start on the paperwork then?’
‘Don’t see why not,’ agreed Perry, cheerfully.
‘I do,’ stopped Hall. ‘I don’t want any bills submitted until I say so…’ He was, he acknowledged, directly challenging Feltham on the man’s own territory, a cardinal offence. Quickly he added, ‘I don’t consider the case is finished yet. So as I said, it would be premature.’
‘Not too long, though Jeremy,’ urged Proudfoot. Misquoting, he said, ‘Time and tide in the affairs of men and all that sort of thing. Bert’s got an orderly queue waiting for your services, by the sound of it.’
‘What do you want me to do about them, Mr Hall?’
‘Mr Hall’ from the in-chamber legend, ‘sir’ from an arrogant police superintendent, recognized Hall. Things had very clearly changed. ‘Ask them to wait, Bert, if you would. Anything that couldn’t be held for a few days?’
‘I don’t think so, Mr Hall.’
‘I’ll leave it to your judgement…’ He smiled, aware of his own hypocrisy. ‘That’s what everyone else does here, isn’t it?’
Feltham smile back. ‘Leave it to me, sir.’
Hall declined all the immediate lunch offers and was glad because he was in his rooms to receive both panicked calls. Superintendent Hopkins he already knew. Peter Lloyd initiated the second approach, verbally to introduce the hospital administrator Hector Beringer.
Hopkins complained that the crowd around the hospital had become so bad that twice already that day they’d had to close Westminster and Lambeth bridges and seal off the westerly approach to Waterloo station to maintain the barest minimum of a totally interrupted rail service.
‘I stopped counting after we’d issued three hundred breach of the peace and obstruction summonses,’ said Hopkins. ‘There’s been assaults upon my officers: people just won’t leave, even after they’re officially charged more than once. And I’ve suspended actual arrests to prevent a riot…’ The man paused, for breath. ‘… There’s actually a group of about forty who say they belong to the Resurrection of Life church, trying to set up a bivouac encampment alongside Lambeth Palace: they’re claiming Jane’s ghost has summoned them. Over a hundred extra officers have had to be seconded in-’
‘What’s your point, Superintendent?’ Hall cut in.
‘I would have thought that was obvious, sir. It’s becoming difficult for us to cope, even with mounted assistance. We’re on the verge of losing control.’
‘Your responsibility is to maintain order,’ reminded Hall.
‘I don’t need to be told what my responsibilities are, sir. I’m trying to get some idea how much longer this nonsense is going to continue…’ He paused, imagining the nearest he could come to a threat. ‘And also to find out to whom officially to address a formal notification that I am going to suggest to my Watch Committee that we attempt to recover from Mrs Lomax the money all this is costing.’
‘I haven’t an answer to your first question. Address your letter about costs to my instructing solicitor, Humphrey Perry. It will, of course, be strenuously resisted.’
Hopkins sighed, defeated. ‘Haven’t you any idea when Mrs Lomax might be discharged?’