Moira looked at her boss with her big eyes. ‘Aren’t you nervous at having to stand up in an Assize Court in front of all those people and argue about things that might mean a man’s life?’
He smiled at her reassuringly. ‘You get used to it – it happened often enough in Singapore; they get far more murders there than we do. The secret is not to chance your arm, just to stick to what you know without embroidering anything. If you don’t know the answer, just say so – not bluster or wriggle or exaggerate. If you do, the opposing counsel will nail you to the wall!’
He said this with the slightly uneasy feeling that this particular case would be stretching medical science to the limit. But with Moira looking at him as if he was God’s gift to jurisprudence, he thought that he had better look as confident as possible.
The following week the newspapers carried detailed accounts of the first day’s evidence from the Assizes in Gloucester, which had even attracted the notice of the national press. Like naughty vicars in the News of the World, a professional man such as a respectable veterinary surgeon became an object of prurient interest, especially when his neck was in jeopardy – particularly with the added bonus of a secret mistress in the background. The Garth House contingent were glad that the lady had not so far been named, as it seemed that both prosecution and defence, once both had admitted that such a woman existed, saw no particular advantage in identifying her.
The Gloucestershire Herald, which covered the whole county including Stow and nearby Eastbury, quite naturally carried the most detailed account, a blow-by-blow record of almost every word that was said in the courtroom. That Tuesday morning, Siân bought a copy in Chepstow and brought it to the house, where it was pored over at coffee time.
‘This opening speech they’ve printed,’ said Siân, jabbing her finger at the report of the first day’s proceedings. ‘Only the prosecution made one. That doesn’t seem fair to me.’
Angela, herself no stranger to the criminal courts, pacified the firebrand technician. ‘They get their turn later, after the witnesses have been heard.’
The papers reported the evidence of a number of people, some of whom seemed to have only a tenuous connection with the main issue, such as the farmer’s wife who made the phone call asking Samuel Parker to come and deal with the injured goat. More relevant was her husband, who described how the vet had arrived and given two injections into a vein of the animal, using the same syringe but two different fluids.
Then the District Nurse, Brenda Paxman, related how she had made a routine visit to Mrs Mary Parker in the late morning of that day. She had done her nursing duties of washing and bedmaking, then administered the first of two daily injections of morphine into the left arm. The patient was extremely drowsy, but certainly conscious and spoke a few words to her.
When asked in cross-examination, the nurse said that Mrs Parker’s condition was deteriorating from day to day but was not markedly different on that morning.
This was confirmed by the vet’s housekeeper, Mrs Cropley, who said that she gave her some warm milk from a feeding cup at breakfast time but could not coax her to eat anything. Her mistress, as she called her, spoke a few words to her, but she only wanted to fall back on the pillows and sleep, as she had done for the past week.
Nathan Prideaux confirmed with the housekeeper that Samuel Parker was most concerned and solicitous about his wife’s condition and spent much of his time when he was not working sitting by her bedside, often holding her hand.
The deceased woman’s sister, the pharmacist Sheila Lupin, was called next and, even through the dispassionate print of the newspaper, it was obvious that she had a quite different outlook on the situation.
‘She’s got it in for him alright!’ observed Siân as she read out the passage aloud for the others as they sat drinking their elevenses.
‘“Miss Lupin described how she had gone across to her sister’s house at about one o’clock, as she visited the sick woman several times a day. She found her unmoving in the bed, and there was a fresh injection mark on her forearm, from which a bead of blood was oozing. As she cleaned this off, she realized that her sister was dead and she then ran into the veterinary surgery to fetch the husband, who hurried to the sickroom and confirmed that his wife had passed away.”’
Further down the news report, Siân read out the part where the sister said that her suspicions were aroused when she saw a used syringe and containers of sodium Pentothal and potassium chloride lying on the examination table in the surgery. Being a pharmacist, she knew the significance of that combination and confronted her brother-in-law with the accusation, given that there was an injection mark on the arm still oozing blood and that there had been no sudden change in her sister’s condition that day to suggest that she had died of the disease from which she had been suffering for over a year.
‘What did he say to that?’ asked Moira, riveted by every word of the account.
‘It says that this was strongly denied by Samuel Parker and they had a few strong words about it, but she was not satisfied. She later spoke personally to the doctor who was called, and he shared her concerns and reported the death to the coroner.’
Siân folded the paper up and laid it on the table. ‘That’s all there is for the first day. The judge isn’t sitting today: something about a series of applications in other cases to be dealt with.’
‘They don’t work very long hours in these courts, by the sound of it!’ said Moira in a disapproving tone.
‘It’s not that easy, running a court,’ countered Richard. ‘They can’t start too early each day, as witnesses have to get there, often from a distance. And the judge may not like starting to hear an important witness who may go on for a long time, if it’s towards the end of the day. Better to hear him out in one go.’
Siân nodded at this. ‘It said at the end of the report that the judge commented that the case turned heavily on the medical evidence and he didn’t want to start on that until tomorrow.’
She looked across at Richard. ‘So does that mean you’ll have to go up there in the morning, doctor?’
‘I don’t know yet, Siân,’ he replied. ‘No doubt they’ll call the GP first, then the hospital pathologist, then the Home Office chap – all prosecution witnesses. Normally, the defence can’t call their people until after the prosecution have finished, but I suspect that Nathan Prideaux will want me to sit behind him and listen to all the medical evidence the other side produce.’
Moira sat up at this. ‘Don’t forget you promised to take me this time, doctor!’ she said earnestly.
Angela made a face at Siân. ‘Looks as if you and I will be stuck here alone tomorrow, while these two go off enjoying themselves!’
Later that afternoon the expected call came from the solicitor in Stow, asking Richard to present himself at Gloucester Shire Hall at nine thirty in the morning. He was wanted well before the court began, as Nathan Prideaux wanted a last-minute conference about the vital medical evidence.
Soon after eight the next day, Moira was waiting in the kitchen for Richard to finish breakfast with Angela. Neither were hearty fry-up enthusiasts and usually cereal and toast were the starters for the day, so soon Moira was climbing into the passenger seat of the Humber and they were on their way.
‘We both look very professional today, don’t we?’ he said as they hauled up Tutshill, the steep slope into England on the other side of Chepstow Bridge. Richard wore his double-breasted pinstriped suit, which the women of Garth House had badgered him into buying instead of the belted tropical linens that Siân disparagingly called his ‘big-game-hunter outfit’.
Moira wore a business-style suit of charcoal grey with a prim white blouse – perhaps a little austere in these days of the New Look, but Richard thought she looked very smart.