to be resolved.
Turning to Appleton’s attorney, the judge said, ‘At last, Mr Bartle!’
Jordan was reminded, within minutes of Bartle opening, of his own lawyer’s remark that Bartle had a lot of court ground to recover. Jordan’s biggest surprise was that there was no attempt to apportion or admit blame to either Alyce or Appleton. Marriage was a solemn but often difficult undertaking, intoned Bartle, its failure always regrettable and too often acrimonious. They would hear of such acrimony. They would hear of adultery, to which the judge had already referred. From the care of its selection, Bartle acknowledged each member of the jury to be men or women of the world and as such, on behalf of his client, he accepted that theirs, after his honour’s guidance, would be a properly considered and well founded verdict.
‘Clever opening,’ insisted Beckwith, unasked, bending sideways to Jordan. ‘Not talking down to them but to them, as equals not to be frightened of a court or what they’ve got to do in it.’
Coming sideways to meet the lawyer, Jordan was briefly aware of Walter Harding resuming his seat just behind the separating rail and of Alyce’s brief, snatched look of relief.
Returning to what was happening in front of him, Jordon decided Alfred Appleton appeared even more overpoweringly large when he took the stand, trying – but failing – to refuse his earlier thought of the incongruity of such a gross man being in bed, making love, to someone as fragile as Alyce. There was a studied politeness, though, in the way Appleton responded, even voiced, to his attorney’s lead, talking not to Bartle but always between the jury and the judge. He was proud, declared Appleton, to be a descendent of one of America’s oldest and most respected families. And had been even prouder when, by his marriage to Alyce, there had been created the link to another similarly respected, country-founding family. He had never – nor ever would – take lightly the privileges and responsibilities of his birth. He worked – worked hard – for his living, hoping in a small way to give back something of the benefits that he’d inherited from his forefathers’ building and development of the great country that was the United States of America. He’d hoped his marriage to Alyce Bellamy would be a contribution towards that ambition. So hard had he followed the American ethos of working to build up his Wall Street practise that, stupidly and now regretfully, he’d neglected Alyce in the early years of their marriage. But he’d hoped to have realized that neglect in time, trying to balance the demands of business with the responsibilities of his marriage.
His fervent hope had been that they could start a family, to seal the joining together of their dynasties with children. But they did not materialize. Knowing that his wife preferred a country to a city life he’d suggested she live in a family house on Long Island, from which he’d commuted every day of the week to Manhattan. Commodity dealers worked to a twenty-four-hour clock, meaning that he needed to be in the city around six in the morning and felt rarely able to leave before seven at night and after a few months he was warned by his doctor that he was risking a nervous breakdown. He changed his routine, splitting his week evenly between their two homes. His wife became unresponsive to him and he, in turn, became convinced that she was having an affair. Stupidly, rejected by a wife he loved, lonely in Manhattan, he became involved in two quickly terminated affairs, one of which, to his great and abiding regret, had resulted in Leanne Jefferies appearing with him in court as a defendant in a damages claim brought against her by his wife.
He believed his conviction that his wife was having an affair was confirmed when he discovered he was suffering a venereal disease. Despite which, after treatment, he made a determined effort to save his marriage by attempting a reconciliation with his wife after she demanded a divorce. Shortly afterwards, his wife announced that she was suffering a venereal infection and blamed him for giving it to her, which he categorically denied then and still did now, believing it was she who had given it to him, for him, in turn, unwittingly, to give it to Leanne Jefferies.
Despite the difficulties they had experienced – the venereal infection being the greatest – he still loved his wife and was willing once more to try yet another reconciliation. He had made that clear to her but she had said she wanted to go away to France to consider it. But from France, where he later learned she had formed an association with an Englishman, Harvey Jordan, she had instructed her attorney to initiate the threatened divorce that had brought them to court that day.
Beckwith began scribbling a series of notes to Alyce’s attorney as Appleton’s evidence-in-chief drew to its close, with Reid hunched in what appeared to be virtually permanent conversation with a head-shaking, red-faced Alyce.
‘How would you describe your being here in court today, confronted with the end of a marriage in which you held so much hope and expectation?’ asked Bartle, finally.
‘A tragedy I shall regret for the rest of my life,’ replied Appleton.
Reid appeared in no hurry to get to his feet, to begin his cross-examination, and even when he stood he fumbled, without apparent success, through his disordered papers. And then he needed to use an asthma inhaler before he could speak. Finally he said, ‘I apologize, your honour. And to you, Mr Appleton.’
‘Do you need a short recess?’ asked the judge.
Jordan, concentrating upon Appleton, caught the briefest exchange of satisfied looks between the man and his lawyer.
‘No, your honour. But thank you for your consideration,’ said the attorney, no indication of difficulty in his voice. ‘But I would seek your understanding in an application, even before beginning my examination, to recall this witness at a future time.’
Jordan was aware of Appleton’s face tightening. Bartle’s, too.
‘Do you wish to approach the bench?’ invited Pullinger.
‘No, your honour. The jury has heard of the plaintiff’s admission of two adulterous relationships, but been introduced to only one, that with Ms Leanne Jefferies, a defendant in the secondary action of criminal conversation?’
‘Your honour!’ interrupted Bartle, coming to his feet. ‘Perhaps it was remiss of me not to have brought to the jury’s attention the death of the second woman to whom my colleague is referring. And if you find it to be so, I apologize. But -’ he turned, to include the jury – ‘the person concerned, Ms Sharon Borowski, was the victim of a fatal automobile accident. As such she cannot feature in any way in this hearing. This surprise intercession therefore has no purpose or part in these proceedings.’
Reid took his inhaler from his pocket, considered its use, but then replaced it. ‘Your honour, in the required exchange of material before the commencement of this case -’ he moved his hand through the papers on the table before him, coming up with a single sheet – ‘numbered thirty-five in your bundle, your honour, I advised the other side that I required the medical records of Ms Borowski?’
‘To which I replied that none were available, the unfortunate woman being dead,’ came in the opposing lawyer, again.
‘Indeed Mr Bartle did,’ agreed Reid. ‘It’s numbered thirty-six in your bundle, your honour. Two other people died, in the accident involving Ms Borowski, a mother and her son. The fatality is the subject of a civil action, against Ms Borowski’s estate by the husband of the other woman who died. From enquiries I have made, after Mr Bartle’s dismissal of my request, I believe there was a toxicology analysis carried out upon Ms Borowski. That would have included blood samples. I have applied to the coroner for a copy of that analysis, relevant as certain medical matters would appear to be in this case and to which the plaintiff, Mr Appleton, has already given some evidence…’ Turning very slightly towards the jury, Reid went on: ‘And I would stress some evidence, to the matter of transmitted infection. It is for that reason, in the hopeful expectation of a reply from the coroner during the course of this hearing, that I am making my recall application.’
‘I find no problem with this,’ said Pullinger. ‘Mr Bartle?’
‘I know of no precedent for such a course to be admissible,’ argued Bartle. ‘The dead cannot provide evidence from the grave.’
‘It would not be Ms Borowski providing evidence from the grave,’ disputed Pullinger. ‘It would be a coroner or medical examiner, both of whom could be called to give evidence before this court, on oath, of their findings…’ He paused. ‘A course, a provision of evidence, that Mr Reid opened to you by his original request.’
‘I am at your honour’s discretion and disposal,’ capitulated Bartle, with no alternative.
‘Which is that I shall allow Mr Reid’s application, as I now invite Mr Reid’s initial examination.’
Beside him Jordan saw that Beckwith had created a virtual army of exclamation marks upon his legal pad. Aware of Jordan’s attention, his lawyer scribbled, ‘Absolutely Brilliant!!!’ and immediately blacked out the words to make them unreadable. Jordan saw that Alyce was sitting with her head sunk so low upon her chest that she could
