Part Thirteen

Lauren was watching Eastenders when the doorbell rang later that evening. As can happen so often in August, the rain had suddenly appeared, transforming what had been a pleasant sunny day in to a torrential downpour. On opening the front door, she was greeted by the sight of a thoroughly drenched Karen. Moving in to the hall, Karen shook her wet hair out of her face.
"You look like a drowned rat," Said Lauren beginning to laugh.
"Yes, you wouldn't think it'd been sunny this morning. Is Yvonne in?"
"Sure." Lauren led Karen towards a carpeted passage that led off the hall. "She's probably listening to some of that country crap she calls music, all guitars and South American drawl." Karen followed Lauren passed a couple of closed doors, to one at the end, which led in to what Yvonne liked to think of as her bit of personal space. In dimensions it was very similar to the lounge at the other end of the house where Lauren had been watching television. An enormous sofa full of cushions faced the large fireplace, with an equally cavernous armchair to one side. Karen also took in a stereo, which was currently playing something just as Lauren had described. There was a bookcase, which looked to be stocked with paperbacks ranging from trashy to crime, and a large desk in the corner where Yvonne was sitting, simultaneously sorting through bills and e-mails on a small computer.
"Mum," Lauren broke in to Yvonne's concentration. "Someone to see you." Yvonne looked up and on seeing Karen, said,
"Jesus, did you take a dip in the pool on the way here?" Karen smiled.
"It's throwing it down. Are you busy?"
"Nothing that can't wait," Said Yvonne closing down the computer. Lauren had disappeared back to Eastenders. Trigger, who had been sprawled in his favourite place under the dow, ambled over to Karen and leaned his head against her thigh. "Bloody useless guard dog, he is," Said Yvonne grinning. "Didn't even hear the doorbell. He's getting lazy in his old age." Karen ran her hand over his head.
"How old is he?" She asked.
"Nearly twelve. He's doing well for an Alsatian." As well as being full of all Yvonne's favourite pastimes, this room was also liberally dotted with pictures of dogs. The one that had pride of place over the mantelpiece was an enlargement of a magnificent blue lurcher. Noticing Karen looking at this, Yvonne said,
"You shouldn't have favourites, but she was mine. Would you like a drink?" She asked, gesturing to the bottle of Scotch on top of a small sideboard.
"Please," Replied Karen. "I need some Dutch courage."
"Is this about what happened today?" Yvonne asked, pouring a generous amount in to each glass.
"In a way," Karen acquiesced. "There's something you need to know, about why I took up with Ritchie in the first place." Handing Karen her glass, Yvonne moved to one end of the sofa and Karen took the other.
"What exactly did Fenner say to you?" Asked Yvonne lighting a cigarette.
"He pointed out that I wouldn't want it coming out in court how much of a slag I am."
"But you're not," Said Yvonne without a second thought.
"That isn't quite what you said when you found out about me and Ritchie."
"Well, I don't doubt that you'd have felt pretty similar if you discovered Ross was shagging someone ten years older than him. Besides, that was before I found out what a bastard Ritchie is."
"Jim threatened that if I didn't cover up for him in court, try and remove any blame from him about Snowball getting undeserved access to the library and her interlibrary loans, he'd make the jury well aware of my liking for making fake allegations."
"Again," Said Yvonne, "You don't."
"That's not quite how Grayling and area see it, and it definitely isn't how the jury would see it."
"So, what allegation did you make against Fenner that area couldn't do anything about?"
"Yvonne, this isn't easy for me. Letting someone in isn't how I do things these days."
"That's obvious," Said Yvonne gently, realising that whatever was coming was something Karen would never have spoken about if she hadn't been forced to.
"I was raped," saying it like that had made it seem to Karen almost like she was talking about someone else. Saying, he raped me, would have been even more personal, which she knew was ridiculous.
"Jesus. I always knew Fenner was an evil bastard but that just proves he's rotten to the core. When did it happen?"
"A while before all of this started, not long after Crystal's baby was born."
"What happened?" Karen looked ready to run.
"You don't need to know specifics, Yvonne."
"Maybe not, but you've clearly never talked about it."
"When did you become so wise?" Asked Karen, making a feeble attempt at changing the subject.
"It's something that place does to you," Yvonne replied. "You learn a lot about human nature, enough to know that if something as emotionally crippling as being raped is kept inside an never allowed to come out, it eats away at you till you go mad."
“The one and only time I went through every detail of that night was an utter disaster.”
“I’m assuming that’s when you told the police about it.”
“Yes, but as I didn’t have any evidence, they refused to take it further.”
“Why not start from the beginning?” Asked Yvonne, sensing that Karen was avoiding this on purpose.
“Perhaps because that’s the hardest part.” Yvonne got up and refilled their glasses. Karen looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Do you remember that day when he stormed off the wing after you made that quip about him and Grayling?”
“Vaguely,” Said Yvonne, “But there were so many days like that.”
“I tracked him down to the B and B where he was staying, and I went to see him. I’ve never seen him so depressed. He kept pouring me drinks.” Karen stopped, as if prevented by some impenetrable force. Yvonne reached out to take her hand, but there was such an aura of “keep off” resonating from Karen that she withdrew. Karen was staring in to the eyes of the lurcher in the painting. It seemed to provide her with an anchor, something to prevent her from looking in to Yvonne’s face to see the scorn that she was sure must be there. She was a mixture of desperation to maintain the barriers she had so irrevocably erected after that night, and a craving to let go of the cords that were holding her senses so tort that they would surely snap. What Yvonne could feel in watching this woman whom she had come to look on as one of the dearest, closest friends she’d ever had, was the pain, anger and fear that were coming off Karen in waves. All Yvonne could do was watch. She had no place breaking in to Karen’s torment. Allowing the walls to crumble, or building them even higher was Karen’s choice, nobody else’s. Eventually, Karen’s far too brittle shell began to crack, not unlike an egg that has been left too long to boil.
“I was so stupid," She said, with a strangled softness that only threatened a further loss of the reins.
“Why?” Yvonne tentatively asked, almost feeling like she was breaking in on a personal viewing of the mind’s uncremated remains.
“I got in to bed with him," Karen replied, the tears beginning to slide almost regretfully down her face. “I actually got in to bloody bed with him. Do you have any idea how much I loathe myself for doing that?”
“Tell me,” Encouraged Yvonne gently.
“If I hadn’t done what I did, he wouldn’t have assumed I was offering what I wasn’t.” Yvonne suddenly noticed an odd thing about Karen, crying made hardly any difference to her voice. Even though Karen’s body was clearly fighting against the constriction of too many unshed tears, her voice had hardly altered, except to display the pain and self-loathing she so clearly felt. Also sensing that something to hold on too might not go amiss, Yvonne moved slowly forward, gently putting her arms around Karen. She gave Karen plenty of time to back away, but the presence of Yvonne’s gentle arms and unthreatening body seemed to give Karen the permission she needed to bare her entire soul. Karen made very little sound as she cried. Her body simply shook in Yvonne’s soothing embrace.
“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Yvonne cajoled. “What Fenner did to you wasn’t your fault. So what if you ended up in bed with him. That doesn’t give him the right to do what he did. You said no, and no means no. You just have to start believing that.”
“When you have no-one to publicly blame, it all becomes a bit internalised,” Said a muffled voice from the region of Yvonne’s shoulder. Karen couldn’t believe she was doing this. She hadn’t been this close to a woman since her mother was alive, and probably not even then if she was honest with herself. She’d known Yvonne as more than an inmate for about a year now, but never had they touched on anything so deep and soul destroying. Though if having your son do what Ritchie had done to Yvonne wasn’t bad for the heart, Karen didn’t know what was.
“I’m sorry,” Karen said softly. Yvonne raised Karen’s face to meet hers, and looking at her with the famous Atkins stare, she said,
“Let’s get one thing straight, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Do I make myself clear?” Karen gave her a watery smile.
“It might take a bit of working on,” she said, looking Yvonne straight in the eye for the first time that evening.
“Trust me,” Said Yvonne, “I intend to. You’ve got to start believing in the good things in life again.”
“And there we come back to one of the things in life that isn’t good right now,” Said Karen, leaning her head against Yvonne.
“You mean Ritchie,” It was a rhetorical question.
“We’ve never really talked about men, have we?”
“Apart from how useless most of them are, no,” Said Yvonne matter-of-factly. “But then as you’ve been single since Ritchie, and I’ve been single since I got out, sex has never arisen as a general topic of conversation. Why?”
“After Fenner,” Karen began hesitantly, “That side of mine and Mark’s relationship was a total disaster. Sleeping with someone who knows how weak and pathetic you are capable of being isn’t good.” Yvonne gently rubbed Karen’s arm as if to give her strength. “Mark couldn’t get passed the fact that I had willingly gone to see Fenner and got even remotely close to him. I think part of him despised me for that. The rest of him was all to aware that I probably wasn’t enjoying anything we did.”
“And you insisted on sleeping with Mark to try and prove that what Fenner had done didn’t matter.”
“Something like that. So, when Ritchie came along, I thought it was my one chance to put Mark, Fenner and the entire nightmare behind me. Ritchie didn’t know anything about me. He didn’t know what Fenner had done and he didn’t have any idea what I was like normally, which meant he didn’t know if I faked it or not.” Yvonne gave Karen a little squeeze as if to demonstrate the pain she was feeling on Karen’s behalf.
“And did this amazing piece of philosophy work?”
“Not so you’d notice,” Karen replied. “It just made me feel more cheap than I already did.”
“Karen, you are not cheap, nor a slag, nor anything else you’ve attributed to yourself tonight.” Yvonne had said this so vehemently that she hadn’t realised that tears were beginning to run down her own face. She was only alerted to their presence when Karen lifted a hand and wiped away a tear with her finger.
“Yvonne, please don’t cry.”
“You are a very attractive, very talented woman with an enormous amount to offer anyone. You are worth far more than my useless shit of a son.” They sat in companionable silence, with the gentle tones of Alison Krauss coming from the stereo, and the room only lit by candles. Yvonne always preferred the softer, more seductive lighting of candles to the glare of an electric source, even if it did have a dimmer switch. Once the tears had gone, neither of them felt inclined to let go of the other. They seemed to derive some strength from each other’s proximity, which was certainly a new experience for both of them.
“What are you going to do?” Asked Yvonne, eventually breaking the silence. Karen lifted her head from its place on Yvonne’s shoulder and looked at her quizzically. “In court tomorrow,” clarified Yvonne, “After what Fenner threatened this afternoon.”
“I don’t know,” Said Karen. “And I probably won’t know till I’m on the stand.”

When Yvonne eventually let Karen out of the front door later that night, the rain had stopped and drops of water glistened on trees and flowers. Yvonne stood on the front door step and hugged Karen tightly to her.
“You stay safe,” She said, “Promise me.”
“I will if you will,” Said Karen hugging her back. As she walked to her car, it dawned on Karen that Yvonne had used the words she would have used on a fellow inmate when she was in Larkhall. As she drove slowly towards home, she decided that this more than anything was what had cemented her friendship with Yvonne so irrevocably, perhaps even more so than how Yvonne had reacted to everything she had learnt that evening. Karen expected to feel awkward at how long they had stayed so close together, but she didn’t. It was simply a mark of how much better they now knew each other, a sign that they really were equals.

Part Fourteen

John Deed made his stately way from the court building to the chambers, musing on the day’s court proceedings to date. He was aware that he had given way to that compulsive curiosity for little details that added to his outrageous reputation when he had pursued the question of Yvonne’s motives for being closeted with Mr Ajit Khan. It was the mantra of ‘sticking to the point’ which had been chanted in educated Oxford accents from when he was first called to the bar that provoked that rebellious spirit within him to break out from time to time. He had been long trained in following the geometric patters of the law and admiring the austere sculpturework but put a social convention up before him and his taste veered sharply towards the surrealists.
The only problem was that Jo Mills didn’t see things the same way. He knew well that Jo’s recent outburst of anger at him was merely the opening shot in a long cannonade if she had the time, space and privacy to let fly. Despite all this, he felt that, perhaps he had gone too far and that he had some making up to do on this occasion.

Mrs Atkins took his fancy as being quite an attractive woman who gave a pretty good account of herself to that buffoon Cantwell and she had a definite twinkle in her eye and was very quick to tune in on male admiration. He feared that he may find that feeling not being reciprocated by her after letting Cantwell go on the attack without restraining him as he knew he could have done. The woman’s nerve and steel sharp mind impressed him as her verbal swordthrust “After all, you’re defending one” went through Cantwell’s guard like lightning like a masterstroke. Cantwell, getting overconfident, had, for that fraction of a second, left that opening. From today’s showing already, this trial was proving to be interesting and complex.

John Deed parked his car outside the red bricked mews cottage but from time immemorial, was accustomed to take the rough side cinder path at the right hand side of the line of cottages, and turn first right into her garden at the back which shared the common access path to that row of cottages. Jo Mills had seen him coming and was waiting for him like an avenging angel, having predicted with faultless accuracy to within ten minutes as to when John Deed would arrive in his car. He had changed into his more modest garments of black trousers and open necked white shirt and braces, which was an affectation of his youth. This time, Jo was not her usual welcoming self as she shot out of the back door with a large empty wineglass in her hand.
“You will be doubtless aware that I have been visited by Ian Rochester and Lawrence James and been subjected to the usual third degree.” John Deed spoke in his emotionless tone just before Jo Mills could carry on where she had left off.
“And….” Jo started.
“They appealed to me most unethically to take up the unfortunate case of the American photographer whom Tracy Pilkinton stabbed to death. Have you heard of any rumours of Ian having any far-flung relations in Florida whose death I was instructed to avenge and any money he might inherit? Ian Rochester on a mission of mercy and appealing to my better nature does have the effect of making my stomach rather queasy.”
“Am I supposed to sympathise with you after what you let that Cantwell animal inflict on my witness or act as nurse for your ailments or both?” Jo Mills stormed at him.
“Was I asking you to?” John Deed asked Jo Mills very rhetorically and unfairly as he knew very well that he had exactly that effect on her. “I always had a bit of a weakness for women in uniforms of all descriptions. I merely wanted to mention that the Guardians of the Nations Ethics have not failed to overlook the chance to favour me with their good advice.”
“That is not the point,” Jo raged, wondering how she could let this impossible man run rings round her while she was more than capable of setting steel toothed logical man traps for male barristers and waiting for them to blunder on and for the jaws of the trap to snap shut on their ankles. But it was because John Deed is John Deed and because of their long standing on off affair, she realised ruefully in a slightly calmer frame of mind.
“Why did you let Cantwell go in to the attack on my witness without one whisper from you. I demand an explanation.” Jo eventually said when she had remembered her train of thought and with her left hand, flicking a curl of fair hair that had become dishevelled and hung down in front of her eye.
“You did tell me, my dear, of my failings in assuming the role of judge, council for the defence and council for the prosecution all in one. I took heed of your advice but I may have overcompensated in my concern for you.” John Deed replied sheepishly.” But if you feel that I went too far, then……….”
Jo let out a wordless sound of total frustration and exasperation. The man was impossible.
“I know you, John Deed. First you habitually cramp my style in court, totally and utterly and then, for once, you go to the totally opposite extreme just to drive me mad.” Jo reached for her bag and fumbled feverishly round for a cigarette, clicked the lighter several times which refused to spark and threw both items down on the grass.”let me tell you, John Deed if ever you………..” she started to say, wagging her right forefinger at him to ram home the point she was making.

………….“I shall be forced to, forced to……..” Jo repeated her sentence an hour later.
“What, my dear.” A naked John Deed asked an equally naked and more dishevelled Jo Mills in the warmth and comfort of Jo's bed after they had made love and Jo rediscovered the reasons that brought her back to this impossible man. Nothing he had said or done tonight had changed her professional judgement, she supposed to herself.
Jo slipped out of bed to find her black leather handbag which she had dropped, smashing her best makeup powder in the hurry to make their way to bed. She sighed. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. The blank expression on John Deed’s face did not deceive for one minute, Jo’s not very brain taxing deduction that if John Deed had a preference, he could decide which sort of appearance he preferred Jo to make before him, right now or earlier today.
“We can’t keep meeting like this, John.” Jo murmured, tracing a line along his left eyebrow.
“You mean the spies are out. Ian Rochester will be poised up a flight of ladders with binoculars and long distance camera. Yes…….I can see him as a peeping Tom. You heard the other day what I told you of Rochester minor at the dear old school that he bores us about.”
Jo let out a laugh today, the first laugh she had had that day, found her lighter and cigarettes which she had retrieved from the garden and with mock modesty, made her way back to bed.
“You will look after yourself in court in future. Damn it, you know what I mean, John.” Jo replied with a muted touch of exasperation and real concern for the man. A little bit of her reacted the same way when, as a bright and observant child, she got to act as mother to her own father whose health she worried about at his coughing bout as he went out to work and the tiredness in his eyes.
“I shall behave myself impeccably,” John replied in crisp staccato tones appearing to emphasize the last word. In reality, she worried about the man more as he got a perverse thrill in flaunting his unorthodoxies before the increasingly Politically Correct and conformist Lord Chancellor’s Department.
Accordingly, she ran her fingers around his shoulder blades and gave way to the illicit thrill which had always added spice to their lovemaking as John moved over her.

“At least Yvonne Atkins has someone to help her, Karen Betts.” Mumbled Jo into John Deed’s shoulder many hours later in the dim light. “ Although in fact from seeing Karen Betts comfort her, I couldn’t help wondering if it was more to it than a Wing Governor giving professional support to a prisoner before going onto the stand.”
“Rubbish,” John Deed sleepily replied. “That’s for the TV dramas.”
Like the normal professional relationship between Circuit Judge and Barrister, Jo smiled knowingly to herself.

Part Fifteen

Yvonne arrived at the court earlier than necessary on Tuesday morning, having told Lauren there was something she wanted to do first, and to meet her there. She made her way to the witness room, praying that no-one would be there but him. Last night, Yvonne had shed tears over what Karen had suffered at the hands of Jim Bastard Fenner, but this morning Yvonne had woken in a boiling rage and with the resolve to make sure he never did anything of the kind again. Yvonne had no intention of doing Fenner any direct harm. For a start, she didn't think Karen would thank her for trying to fight a battle that wasn't her own, and second, not even for Karen was Yvonne prepared to consider another stretch inside. But Yvonne hadn't cornered the market in threats for nothing. She moved with the stealth of a cat down the corridor to the room where they'd all been incarcerated yesterday. With an excuse already formed on her lips, she silently pushed open the door.

When Fenner turned and saw Yvonne standing in the doorway, he said,
"What're you doing here, Atkins?" Yvonne didn't reply immediately. She slowly moved towards him, stalking him like a lioness ready to defend her mate. Seeing her menacing glare attempting to nail him to the spot, he stepped back from her. Yvonne kept advancing until she had him backed up against the wall. Standing as close to him as her revulsion would allow, she fixed him with the stare that had brought so many men to their knees. Noticing the beads of sweat on his forehead, Yvonne asked in a tone that was both gentle and threatening,
"Are you scared, Fenner?" When he didn't answer, she added,
"Because you sure as hell should be after what I learned about you last night."
"Been crying rape, has she?" Yvonne caught him with a Karate chop to the throat, that had it been as hard as she would have liked, would have crushed his windpipe. But her wish wasn't to get herself a life sentence, merely to shut him up so she could talk uninterrupted.
"Now, you listen to me, Fenner. I'm going to talk, and you're going to stand there like a good little boy and listen. I'm not going to ask you why you did what you did to Karen, because the obvious answer is that you've never been able to keep your dick in your trousers. You haven't learnt to realise when it just isn't wanted, have you Fenner. First, Dockley, then Rachel Hicks, then Helen Stewart, and now Karen."
"Why, think you'll have better success with her, do you?" He croaked. Yvonne simply gave him a withering look, not giving his retort the time of day.
"My problem is," Said Yvonne, almost conversationally. "How do I make sure you don't ever do that to her again. How do I make you realise once and for all that forcing that excuse for a dick inside another woman, and Karen in particular, isn't the way to go."
"Why are you champion of her cause all of a sudden, Atkins?" Yvonne had had enough of being civil by this time. Grabbing hold of his tie, she forced the knot up as far as it would go, gradually cutting off his air supply.
"Just get this in to your thick skull, Fenner. You lay one more finger on Karen Betts, and you'll be finding out what's on the bottom of the Thames. Do I make myself clear?" Watching for the brief nod of his head, Yvonne let go of Fenner and watched him sink to the floor as he got his breath back. Strolling nonchalantly to the door, she turned and as a parting shot, said over her shoulder,
"It's as easy as clicking my fingers, Fenner. I could have you wiped off the face of the Earth in a matter of seconds. Don't you forget that."
"You really think you're all powerful, don't you, Atkins."
"Fenner. Unless you want to find out just how powerful I am these days, you'll go in to that court and tell the truth like a good little boy, because lies always catch up with us in the end, don't they."
"You want to ask Karen Betts about telling the truth."
"I mean it, Fenner. Keep your hands off Karen, and tell the jury the truth about your little dealings with Merriman, and I'll leave you alone. You even think of double-crossing me, and it'll be one of the last thoughts you'll have."

When Karen walked in to the foyer of the Old Bailey a little while later, she saw Yvonne, sitting reading the morning's copy of The Guardian.
"Anything interesting in there?" She asked, sitting down. Yvonne looked over the top of the paper at her and grinned.
"Only how I pissed off the defense barrister yesterday." She handed the paper over to Karen. Emblazoned on the front page was the headline, Former Gangster's Moll Tangles With Defense QC. This was followed by a fairly accurate account of exactly how far Yvonne had gone in questioning the judgment of the defense council, Brian Cantwell. Karen laughed huskily.
"Shame I didn't see that," She said, handing back the paper.
"Had any more thoughts about this morning?" Asked Yvonne, returning them to the issue of Fenner's ultimatum of yesterday.
"There isn't anything else I can do, is there," Said Karen. "I've got to tell the truth about his involvement with Merriman's sudden rise in status. Perjury is something I can certainly do without."
"We'll all be there in the gallery, you know, and you don't know that Fenner would follow through with his threat."
"Oh, he might, if he thought it was worth his while."
"Well," Said Yvonne, keeping the hint of certainty from her voice, "He might realise which side his bread's buttered before it's too late."

When Karen stood on the stand, and was asked to swear on the bible, she looked briefly up in to the public gallery where sat the four supporting figures of Yvonne, Lauren, Cassie and Roisin. Taking note of the hint of wariness in Karen's expression, Jo moved forward to begin her questioning.
"Ms Betts. I would like you to begin, by describing to the court, your brief liaison with the defendant, Ritchie Atkins." Karen took a deep breath and began.
"I first met Ritchie Atkins, when he came to visit his mother, in May of last year. I observed him across the visiting room and you could say my response to his attractiveness was immediate."
"And you saw no problem in pursuing a relationship with Ritchie Atkins?"
"Not at all. Just because his mother had been convicted of a criminal offence, didn't mean that Ritchie himself was of a similar persuasion." In the public gallery, Yvonne winced, though she knew this was the best way for Karen to explain it.
"And did you do the sensible thing of informing your superiors of your relationship with Ritchie Atkins?"
"Yes, at the first convenient opportunity."
"And what was the reaction of your boss, Neil Grayling?"
"He said, if you want me to slap your wrists for fancying a younger man, I won't do it. If you want me to tell you not to see an Atkins, I can't do it."
"Those were his exact words?"
"Yes. He made it clear that I wasn't jeopardising my professional integrity by having an affair with the son of one of the women I locked up."
"And you saw Ritchie Atkins on how many occasions?"
"Two. Once before I went on holiday, and once, the night before the fire."
"And did you inform his mother of your relationship?"
"Yes."
"And what, would you say was her reaction?"
"She wasn't exactly enthusiastic about it." Yvonne frowned to herself, remembering all the things she'd said to Karen on that day.
"And when did you first become aware of the existence of the gun?"
"It was discovered to be in my handbag on the day of the fire."
"Who found it?"
"Principle officer Jim Fenner."
"And why did he think to look in your handbag?" Here it comes, thought Karen, knowing that Fenner would crucify her for this.
"Jim Fenner had built up something of an alliance with one of the defendants, Snowball Merriman. he had made her up to a redband while I was on holiday." Jo held up a hand.
"Could you please explain to the jury exactly what being made up to a redband means?"
"A redband, or a trusted prisoner, is an inmate who is trusted in areas of the prison not usually inhabited by inmates. They are routinely given the jobs with the highest pay which they see as a privilege."
"And is it usual for a prisoner, who has only been an inmate for less than a week, to be given such privileges?"
"No, not at all."
"Would you have sanctioned this rise in status for Snowball Merriman had you not been away on holiday at the time?"
"Certainly not."
"So, what extra privileges were sanctioned by principle officer Fenner?"
"She was automatically given her own cell on enhanced and she was given the job of the library redband. This gave her almost sole access to the library and its contents. As part of this privilege, she was also given access to the interlibrary loan scheme, enabling her to have books sent in from outside sources."
"And all this took place within her first week of residence at HMP Larkhall."
"Yes." Brian Cantwell rose and moved forward to address the judge.
"My lord, might I remind the prosecution that principle officer Fenner is neither on trial nor in court to confirm or deny these allegations?" Before John could reply, Jo asserted herself.
"My Lord, I am simply attempting to make the jury aware of the cunning and sheer acting ability of the Defendant."
"Please keep to the matter in hand, Mrs. Mills." Jo returned to Karen.
"Ms Betts, please will you describe to the court, what Snowball Merriman did, in return for her status as an enhanced prisoner?"
"She informed principle officer Fenner, that a break-out was to take place, and that Yvonne Atkins and Ritchie Atkins had conspired to plant the gun in my handbag, in order to bring suspicion on me."
"What happened when Jim Fenner told you of this?"
"He grabbed my handbag and rummaged through it till he found the gun." Jo moved to the evidence bench and retrieved a sealed evidence bag. Returning to stand in front of Karen, she asked,
"Is this the gun that was found in your handbag, and which was later used to force you to drive Snowball Merriman to meet her co-defendant?" Karen recoiled from the sight of the gun, as if from a slap. Her reaction to seeing the gun again didn't go unnoticed by either Jo or John.
"Yes," Said Karen, attempting to get her voice under control. "that's the gun."
"And because I know the defense will ask you this," Said Jo, giving Cantwell a little smirk, "Are you absolutely sure that it was this gun that was used on both occasions?"
"I'm as certain as I can be," Replied Karen, admiring Jo's tactics. "But then I'm not exactly au fait with the size and make of guns, but the circumstances in which I saw this one give me reason to believe that I wouldn't be likely to forget it." Well put, thought Jo. This one would have made a good barrister instead of working for the crumbling empire that represented the prison service.
"You seem a trifle wary of the gun, Ms Betts."
"Wouldn't you be if you'd had that thing rammed in to your back and been forced to drive that woman to meet her accomplice?" Karen said this with such vehemence that everyone, including the jury, were left in no doubt as to how scared Karen had been.
"And now, would you tell the court about when the defendant, snowball Merriman, took you hostage, and forced you to drive her to a rendezvous with the other defendant, Ritchie Atkins."
"All the inmates had been out for exercise. They'd all just come in from the yard, and I was walking back towards my office. I was accosted by Snowball Merriman. She pushed the barrel of the gun in to my back. She said, I've found the missing gun, Miss. I'm a civilian worker, and you're giving me a lift to the station. This was her ploy for getting passed the gatelodge."
"It was this gun?"
"Yes! For the last bloody time, it was this gun!"
"Mrs. Mills, you've gone far enough with this line of questioning," John's voice reverberated around the court.
"My Lord, I am simply trying to avoid Ms Betts being put through a similar barrage by the defense council."
"I understand your plan of attack, Mrs. Mills, but your witness is clearly distressed and I insist that you not pursue this particular line of questioning any longer. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal, My Lord. Ms Betts, what happened after you were accosted by the defendant, Snowball Merriman."
"She forced me to tell the gate lodge that I was with one of the teachers from the education department. She made me walk to my car. When we got in the car, she grabbed my mobile and rang the other defendant, Ritchie Atkins."
"My Lord, I have submitted the mobile phone records to show that this call took place, 3C in your bundle. Ms Betts, what did she say to Ritchie Atkins?"
"She said, I got your old shag to give me a lift." Yvonne winced when she heard this.
"And then what happened?" Asked Jo.
"We arrived at her Rendezvous with Ritchie, and she forced me out of the car. She had the gun aimed at me all the time. She seemed to be on a high, getting a real kick out of having that much power over me. It excited her to be the one in control. She raised the gun to shoot me, and Ritchie got in her way. Much as I might loathe all the things he's done, he did save my life."
"So, you actually saw Snowball Merriman shoot Ritchie Atkins?"
"Yes. She shot him because he got in her way. If he hadn't, I'd probably be dead."
"Thank you, Ms Betts, that will be all." Taking note of Karen's drained expression, and knowing she still had far worse to come, Deed announced,
"Court is adjourned until two this afternoon."

In the public gallery, Yvonne sat, slightly stunned. for a start, she'd never heard in quite so much depth, exactly what had happened that day. But second, Karen had totally avoided telling the court about Yvonne having clearly requested some sort of ambush for Ritchie and Snowball. She hadn't mentioned anything about Yvonne's involvement in that disaster. When Karen appeared, Yvonne walked over to her and said,
"Why did you do it?" Karen looked at her slightly nonplussed.
"Do what?"
"Why didn't you tell the court about the three of you being shot at by my lot?"
"What, and make things more complicated than they already are? Yvonne, I know why you arranged that little surprise, and if they knew about your involvement, no-one could guarantee they wouldn't put you back in Larkhall."
"I owe you one," Said Yvonne, amazed at the change that had been wrought in Karen in the time Yvonne had known her.
"No, you don't," Said Karen gently. "Seeing as I'm the reason why your son is confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, it's the least I could do. Okay?"
"Yeah, thanks," Was all Yvonne could say. Then Cassie seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"You look like you could do with a large drink," She said to Karen.
"That's the best idea you've ever had," Replied Karen, the need for a drink and a cigarette seeming to turn her in to an instant junky. "I think I need refueling before that defense barrister sticks the knife in."

Part Sixteen

Fenner seethed with secret rage and hatred for that Atkins bitch and that Betts cow. They’re expecting him to jump when they say jump like any other dominant castrating bitch he’d met before. She clicks their fingers with those elegantly elongated painted nails, he is expected to be all meek and mild to take orders. Now that Atkins is out of Larkhall, she’s twice as bad as when he could at least have the satisfaction of turning the key to the cell door and giving her the orders of the day.
He saw the way they gathered together in the domed foyer of the court all cosy cosy, the glare that that Tyler dyke stabbed in his direction and the look of disapproval on Connor’s face as if he were something dug up somewhere. No welcome from them, even though he’s trying to do the same as them.
If Fenner’s old schoolmistress could see him now, one sharp eye would have told her that James Fenner was playing that “well, if I’m not invited to play their game, then I won’t let them play mine either.” Always got some grudge against some other boy and she often popped out to the back of the bike sheds to find him twisting another boy’s arm behind his back while he yelled in pain and was getting obvious pleasure out of it. Till she had him after school writing out one hundred times. “I shall not bully other children” Forced against his will, the eight year old Fenner slouched at his desk, the only one there while that gimlet eye was unblinkingly watching every move. He learned to hide his rage behind an outward show of acquiescence, one lesson from school that he never forgot.
“Just popping out for a packet of fags.” Fenner’s midpitched voice carried across the courtroom in a muffled way while the group of women thought they heard a voice of some kind, turned round but by that time he was away.
Out in the fresh air of the street, Fenner swiftly spied a run down tobacconist and bought the cigarettes of his choice. His real purpose was to double back and look out the defence solicitor that he’d seen briefly earlier on. An evil smile creased his face, as he was sure that he had an interesting tale to tell.

Karen put on a brave face as she took the stand in the afternoon and did her best to steady her nerves. She held onto the dock rail firmly and looked the defence solicitor in the eye as he took his place. Jo Mills was out of Karen's vision but, behind her professional mask, there was more than a hint of real concern, from one human being to another. She had not grown up as John Deed's pupil and on and off lover for nothing.
“Miss Betts, “Brian Cantwell’s harsh voice opened the attack,”You have given evidence this morning, have you not, that one of the defendants, Snowball Merriman, had been given a series of privileges within a week of her admission to your care, such as being given her own cell, and being appointed as librarian for the prison library service.”
“Yes, Sir, this is so.”
“And you also testified that all this took place in the week when you were on holiday.
“Yes, Sir, this was the case.”
“And you testified that you would not have sanctioned the granting of these privileges if you had been present at the time when Snowball Merriman was admitted to prison.”
“Yes,” Karen said evenly. She knew what was coming and thank God this man signalled his moves in advance.
“So, if you thought that the privileges were unreasonable in any way, why did you not simply remove these privileges on your return as Mr Fenner’s senior officer?”
“Because………….I am guided to a certain extent by the opinion of the Personal Officer in all matters. I interviewed Snowball Merriman as part of her induction and I found that my initial impression of her was mixed. She came over as someone who was very much different from the run of the mill prisoner but with a strong interest in old Hollywood movie stars and her own book collection in her belongings. She passed herself off as an American actress although her file showed her as Tracy Pilkinton from Wigan. The fact that she passed herself off with a false identity is not so surprising in this star struck age.”
“You were asked a straight explanation of your decision, or non decision, Miss Betts.” Brian Cantwell snarled.”Can you come to the point?”
“I was doing just that,” Karen replied fighting to keep an even strain.”Snowball Merriman had hardly started to serve her sentence at Larkhall. The appointment as library ‘redband’ was, at the very least, premature, in my opinion with no time for her progress to be assessed for her suitability. I am not in the habit of reversing the decisions of junior officers made in my absence unless I had absolute and clear evidence as to the unsuitability. I had no such evidence prior to the explosion. Just shows you that experienced officers of many years standing like Mr Fenner and myself are not immune from being deceived. As I know to my cost.”
Cassie and Roisin sat, in the front row of the spectator’s gallery, open mouthed holding their hands willing strength in their thoughts to Karen as the battle unfolded. And this was the woman she had badmouthed as a jobsworth in a suit when she was desperate to see Roisin after she had been discharged from the Muppet Wing.
Brian Cantwell paced round in a small circle letting a hush fall on the court adding tension to the proceedings before resuming his stance.
“Do I understand it that you set great store by your professional integrity.” He asked slowly, dragging out every syllable.
“Always and at all times,” Karen rushed in eagerly, wishing to set her stamp on the proceedings. Too eagerly, thought Jo Mills who had a sudden chill feeling run down her spine.
“So when you made an allegation of rape against another prosecution witness to the trial, this was an instance of your high standards.” replied Brian Cantwell softly yet clearly in the hush. “The rape allegation which you were so apparently certain of yet you withdrew of your own free will supposedly because you did not want your son Ross dragged into the proceedings.I understand that the alternative, of the Home office pressing charges never materialised. Perhaps you can explain this to the court, Miss Betts.”
Karen went white when, in a hideous moment of blinding clarity, she realised that she had been sucker punched into dropping her guard in a matter that found her at her weakest. She clutched onto the rail and she felt weak and her skin felt clammy. She dropped her eyes for a second unable to look the triumphant barrister in the eye who, in this split second, seemed to be prosecuting her for the rape.
“You must answer the question put to you, Miss Betts,” came John Deed’s low melodious voice.
In that instant, the nightmare vice of steel that had locked its way round Karen’s thoughts and paralysed them snapped and, in a moment of clarity, the words formed themselves directly from her thoughts without the conscious connection with her voice.
“I did, indeed, go to the police to press a charge of rape against Jim Fenner. I was advised by Mr Grayling at the time when I first pressed the charges that Area management were unable to press charges while the police prosecution was going ahead. In the end, I had personal reasons at the time in not going ahead with the charge.”
“My Lord, the witness is verging on contempt of court in her persistent evasion of a perfectly simple question. If she was so sure in the rightness of her case, then surely she would have sought recompense by the legal channels which as a Wing governor in a prison, she must surely be aware of. If she has been found out of crying ‘rape’ and not following the matter through, then it surely means that not much credence can be placed on her testimony in the matter of the charges before the defendants.”
John Deed saw red at this. The barefaced cheek that Brian Cantwell employed in appealing to him on a matter of law when he was guilty of transgressing the limits that barristers are allowed to go in the examination of a witness. The words ‘cry rape’ stuck like an arrow into his mind. Beating Jo Mills to it by a hairbreath and Cassie and Roisin who were likewise roused to anger, John Deed let rip. The fact that John Deed jumped in before Yvonne’s total fury and lightning thoughts, was unprecedented.
“Mr Cantwell, I direct that this line of questioning that you have introduced be struck from the record. I shall not allow you to pursue the matter further. You have practised at the Bar long enough to be aware of the limits as to how a highly sensitive matter like the matter you have introduced should be pursued. “
Brian Cantwell opened his mouth to protest but it remained open and no words passed his lips when he saw John Deed’s fury being directed upon him. In the meantime, Karen took deep breaths, in and out repeatedly out of sheer instinct in this snatched moment when the heat was off her. Sulkily, Brian Cantwell returned to his usual stand to consult his papers.
“Miss Betts,“ Brian Cantwell said. “Let us turn to the events involving Snowball Merriman’s
escape from prison when you drove the accused to the place during the course of which Richard Atkins was inadvertently shot and the possession of the gun. When were you aware that such a weapon existed.”
“I first became aware of the gun when Jim Fenner grabbed my handbag, turned it upside down on my desk and it fell out. When I came back to my office afterwards it had disappeared.”
“And when were you next aware of the gun.”
“When Snowball Merriman stuck the gun into my back.” Karen replied with a tired and slightly irritated sigh.
“And you claim that you had no foreknowledge of it before each event.”
“Yes,” came the reply.
“So how do you explain the remark you made to the accused. ‘You only got the gun because of me, I'm not going to risk anyone else's neck.’ Surely that implies some foreknowledge of the gun which, after all is a heavy and bulky item.”
“Mr Fenner showed me the card ‘Don’t place your Bets till the rod’s in K’s bag.’ Before he turned out my bag. He explained that I was being set up to smuggle in a gun without my knowledge and his explanation was convincing…..”
“What,” Mr Cantwell raised his voice with the air of finding a sudden unexpected revelation.”the man you accused of rape?”
“Mr Fenner is a professional in the Prison service of many years standing.” Karen’s tired and fuzzy voice yet articulated the still sharp logic which carried her through.”Despite one incident, I have found him to be a professional officer and, in a situation like this, the job matters more than personal feelings. A thorough investigation from top to bottom found no trace of the gun and when it reappeared pushed into my back by Snowball, I felt morally responsible for the gun turning up in this way even though I was not formally responsible for it. Especially as that morning I was with Ritchie Atkins.That’s the way I am and I don’t change,” Karen summoned up a faint ghost of a smile for the first time that day. A small victory but it mattered so much at that point in time.”
“Do you have any further questions of the witness? “John Deed asked quietly.
“No further questions” Brian Cantwell replied and Jo Mills indicated that she had no questions to ask, at least inside court.
“Court is closed for the day.”
While Karen tottered out of the court, behind the scenes, Fenner’s face split into an evil smile wondering how much he got his revenge on that bitch who nearly dragged him into court on a trumped up charge of rape.