Sing Like You Know the Words (25 page)

-Right you are. And this
is…?

-Patricia.

-Nice.

It was easy to see that it was
important to Smith to have the feeling of being in charge. He
paused for a moment, giving the cigarettes his full attention. Then
he grinned again.

-What’s the news?

-It isn’t looking good, Rodney
answered. They have a good set of prints from the knife, and
there’s the blood on your clothes.

Smith shrugged.

-It’s not as if there is any
doubt who put the knife in poor Edith. I mean I left it inside her.
I wasn’t going to pull it out. It was horrible.

Patricia spoke next.

-But you did stab her more than
once Mr Smith.

-That was when I didn’t know
what I was doing.

-And have you finally decided
how you are going to plead.

-Not guilty, same as I told the
magistrates. Not guilty to murder; guilty to manslaughter with
diminished responsibility. Me being so upset about what she said to
me that I didn’t have any idea what I was doing. I expect you can
agree that in advance with your chum in the prosecution.

Rodney sighed.

-It doesn’t look like the
prosecution will agree to that. Patricia will explain why.

-They think they have a lot of
additional evidence, Oscar. For one thing the knife was taken from
the kitchen, but the incident was in the main bedroom, which raises
the issue of premeditation. It doesn’t look spur of the moment you
see. Also they have records of your wife being treated for earlier
injuries that seemed to be…domestic in origin. Prosecution will say
that you were violent to her in the past. And the other main thing
is that you say she told you that she’d been seeing someone else
for months and that she was going to leave and take your daughter
with her, but there is no evidence that such a lover ever existed
or that your wife ever saw anyone else. You can’t give us a name,
and friends and family say there was no such person and that it’s a
story you have invented.

-Well if you can’t find him,
maybe Edith invented him, have you thought of that? I can only tell
you what she told me. Maybe she imagined it would be easier to
leave me that way. I wasn’t to know was I?

-There’s also the times you
threatened her, in the presence of other people, Rodney
interrupted. There’s one statement that you told her you would rip
her guts out.

-Yeah, well people say all
sorts, and then after a tragedy like this, it gets exaggerated.
Doesn’t mean I intended to do anything. Patricia can explain that,
it’s what you people do. I mean, we had a tempestuous relationship,
but it was a loving one. Fifteen years.

-What about the beatings Oscar?
There will be medical reports.

-I was coming to that. It’s a
bit delicate, with a young lady present as well. The truth is; poor
Edith liked it a little rough, though it’s embarrassing to say. Got
her more excited. Sorry miss.

-You don’t need to worry about
making me blush Oscar. But the records show that there were three
hospital attendances in the last two years for fractures. That
would be more than a little rough.

-Oh but they weren’t any part of
that. That was just accidents in the home, like she told them when
she went to the hospital. I mean, I expect that’s what she told
them, because it’s true. Poor Edith you know, she was a good
mother, good around the home, but clumsy like. Always in the wars
even from when she was a little kid.

Patricia paused in her note
taking.

-So the story is that your wife
of fifteen years, who liked rough sex and was accident prone, told
you one day that she was fed up and had been seeing a man, who
doesn’t seem to exist, and that she was intending to set up home
with him and your daughter?

-I love my daughter. She’s the
apple of my eye. I’d do anything for her.

-And as a result of that
discussion, you rushed downstairs, grabbed a kitchen knife, ran
back upstairs and stabbed your wife, is it three times or four, all
before you had time to think?

-Maybe I took the knife only
intending to frighten her with it: to make her calm down. Yes, that
feels more like it. I couldn’t bear to lose her and I thought if I
could stop her leaving at that moment I would be able to talk her
round.

Patricia tried to fix Smith with
a stare, but the man’s eyes were never still.

-Oscar, my job is to tell your
story in the best way it can be told, but it has to be your own
story. What you are telling us now…

-It’s god’s truth Patricia.

-That’s between you and God. It
doesn’t matter what I believe personally. What matters, and what I
have to advise you to think about, is that it seems to me very
unlikely that a jury would believe that story. And I also have to
tell you that the court would be harder on you if you were found
guilty after putting the family through a trial and making
allegations about your wife without any proof.

-What family? I’m her family.
Don’t forget I am a victim of this situation as well.

-Edith’s mother? Her sister,
your daughter?

-I never liked her mother or her
sister, gobby cows. You’re not getting the wind up are you Pat?

-What do you mean?

-Don’t think you’re up to
persuading them? I wanted a woman brief because, well the story
sounds more credible coming from a woman. But if you don’t think
you’re up to the job…

-Oscar, you’re out of order
there, said Rodney.

-It’s fine; he can say what he
likes. I’m not too delicate to put your case how you want it, if
that’s what you mean.

-Exactly, I’m relieved to hear
you say that, cos that’s how it is ain’t it? You have to work for
me. You do what I say.

The grin had become a sneer or
something worse, even though Smith still did not meet Patricia’s
gaze.

-And you might have to lay it on
thick as well. Find a better way to say it. That’s what you people
do isn’t it, to justify your fancy fees?

On the way back in the car,
Patricia did cry a little but without breaking down entirely. She
asked Rodney to drop her at home as she didn’t believe she could
face chambers. She was looking forward to a long shower or a bath.
Rodney said that Smith knew he was going down and that he was
taking his enjoyment from hurting as many women as possible on the
way, Patricia included. He talked about getting her off the case,
but Patricia would not hear of it.

-He can have his enjoyment. I’m
going to do the best job I can for him , and I hope you won’t think
me unprofessional if I say that I’ll be hoping he is convicted.

-I’ll forget I heard that, but
yes.

It was a three day trial: at the
end the jury retired for not more than twenty minutes before
returning a verdict of guilty to murder. Patricia didn’t remember
the conversation she had with Smith after he left the dock. There
was no question of an appeal. She did remember and could never
forget the expressions of mingled hate and contempt that were
directed at her from the public gallery and the jury box during the
course of the proceedings.

You can’t wash that off, she
thought. It was something I thought I knew about but then it wasn’t
what I imagined. And it’s not what I thought I would do. I was
supposed to make things better not worse.

Something had changed in her.
She was becoming cynical, and everything she found in the world
seemed to confirm that cynicism. The realisation gave her a feeling
close to panic, as if her living body were being encased in ice or
stone and she could feel the crust of it rising up over her. She
felt desperate to discover a flame that must continue to burn
within, that would redeem her and lead her back to a state of
grace, if only she could find some object worthy of it.

Chapter Seven

In February 1988, David
announced, to general astonishment, that he was giving up the law
and selling his interest in the partnership. He had come so far,
and so quickly, that no-one, his partners included, could
understand what he was thinking of.

Matthew said the same as
everyone else; that he was doing fantastically well and it would be
madness to give up now. David replied that the only thing he was
doing well was making money.

And the most profitable work is
mostly just buying and selling houses and other kinds of property.
Anyone could do it; it’s only that the agents and accountants and
bank managers like me, so they send me the business.

Besides, he added, everyone knew
there was a crash coming. These good times were going away and
probably not coming back.

-But there’s more to it than
that. There’s more to life. I can feel it. We are put here to do
some good, you know, not just to survive.

Matthew suggested that if he
felt that way, perhaps he could take on some more deserving cases,
maybe go back to doing voluntary sessions at the advice centre, the
way he and Patricia had done in the early days.

-Patricia is a saint, and I’m
not. I couldn’t get away from the place quickly enough, if I’m
honest. I only kept going because she did. It was like the drama
group at college all over again, all that embarrassment just to be
close to her, following her round pretending to be interested.
Don’t get me wrong, I was happy enough to put the time in if I
could believe that it might be some use, it wasn’t that I resented.
Just week after week the same futile complaints. Half of the people
I saw were suffering terrible unfairness and there was generally
nothing I could do to help them. It was just a case of explaining
that they used to have rights; but our wonderful government had
recently removed them. The rest of them were looking for tips on
how to play the system to their advantage. It was a game with them
to see if I could get them to give me the true facts f their case
before they worked out from my advice what story they should tell
me.

-Patricia still thinks that kind
of work matters.

-And she’s right, but you know
what she’s like. She thinks of her whole career as a charitable
project. She imagines these toe rags and thieves she deals with are
the working classes, needing assistance to better themselves. You
and I are working class ourselves, so we know better. If you live
in a street of fifteen families all more or less with the same
start in life, and one is a family of villains, you don’t think
that maybe you ought to befriend them and try to help them. You
just make sure your own kids don’t play with theirs, in case
whatever is wrong with them kids rubs off. My dad thought that
working class meant you worked, except when our rulers and bosses
had messed things up so badly that there was no work to be had. You
generally find that socialist lawyers come from comfortable homes:
it gives them that romantic view of stealing and cheating.

David explained that when he
thought about doing some good, he had in mind the ordinary people,
the ones who were not complete screw-ups.

-In that case, Matthew asked
him, what will you do?

-You know the old Cromwell
engineering works.

-What about it?

-It’s for sale.

-Of course it’s for sale, it’s
going under: everyone knows that.

David frowned.

-It’s true that the order book
is nearly exhausted and the MoD contract is uncertain. Nearly 400
jobs at risk, most of them highly skilled.

-David I told you about that two
months ago. We even printed it in the paper.

-I’m going to buy the
company.

-How, what are you going to use
for money? No, wait, why? Why would you do that even if you could
raise the money?

-My father spent most of his
working life in engineering. It’s precision work. Unbelievably
skilled. What they do there is a craft. It would be like closing a
pit, once you shut it down you can never get it back ever.

-So you are going to make
yourself bankrupt together with them, to show solidarity?

-It can be turned around
Matthew. What is it we keep saying, about businesses let down by
stupid, short-sighted management? It’s time to do something more
than talk about it.

David explained that the
business was a private company “but we’ll take it to the stock
market in two years”. He had some financial backers but yes, there
would be a lot of debt, and risk for him. Patricia understood all
of this and had complete faith in him

-You make it sound as if
something that is definitely going to happen.

David smiled.

-It’s all arranged. We are
signing the contract and completing next week. I hope you’ll be
able to cover the celebrations for the paper, and join us of
course. There’ll be quite a party.

-Wait a minute David, you’re
talking about making the world a better place, but the main part of
Cromwell’s business is making parts for tanks. How does that fit in
your scheme to help the world?

David spoke, rather
unconvincingly Matthew thought, about the need to find new,
peacetime markets, and how it wasn’t as if Cromwell’s was a
supplier of weapons: they turned out precision castings for a
variety of uses. Tank treads were only one item on the product
list. He was more enthusiastic when he spoke about his hopes for
developing new technology.

-We are inventors and innovators
of the world in this country Matt. Look at Chobham armour,
developed in England. Who else would have thought of using ceramic
tiles as armour? It’s light, nothing gets through it. Of course the
Americans actually have most of it because it’s too expensive for
our army. But imagine the excitement of developing something as new
and radical as that.

Matthew did not bother to argue
further. He had seen that look of enthusiasm and unshakeable
confidence in David’s face before, and he knew that words were
powerless against it. So the deal was done.