Next of Kin Read online

  ‘A drunken boy. And it wasn’t so very long ago, was it?’

  ‘It’s … I never meant to hurt him.’

  ‘Mr Bentley, I presume you were sent down from Harrow after the incident?’

  Gareth shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I stayed on.’

  ‘Really? How extraordinary! And after such a violent fracas? How on earth did you manage that?’

  Gareth looked up and in the distance he could make out the figures of his mother and father at the side of a row, Roderick with head bowed and body crumpled in pain, Jane staring at him, her lips moving to guide his answer. He had a sudden memory of how she used to mime the words of songs he performed at school concerts when he was a child; how she had focused her eyes directly on him, knowing the words he had to say almost as well as he did himself. This was like a macabre echo of those youthful, simpler days.

  ‘I believe my father made a contribution to the school and—’

  ‘He bought them off, am I right?’ asked Harkman.

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘In order to protect his son, he bought them off. Well that’s entirely reasonable. Perhaps in the same situation any of us would have done the same thing. But there’s no one to buy you out of trouble this time, Mr Bentley, is there? Your violent ways have caught up with you at last, haven’t they?’

  ‘Objection, Your Honour!’ cried Sir Quentin, climbing to his feet.

  ‘Did you kill Raymond Davis?’ shouted Harkman over him. ‘Did you brutally murder him that night in Bedford Place?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ said Gareth, flustered now, trying to appeal to his parents for help. ‘It’s all such a mess … I don’t know what happened … I woke up and—’

  ‘You were the only one there, Mr Bentley! You must have killed him. In a drunken, violent rage, you attacked him.’

  ‘I don’t see how I—’

  ‘Objection! Counsel is—’

  ‘Mr Davis arrived at the door to see Mr Montignac, and you—because you had not enough of a sense of responsibility about yourself to keep sober and your wits about you—set about him in a drunken rage and brutally attacked him.’

  ‘I don’t remember it,’ shouted Gareth. ‘How can I answer your questions when I don’t remember it?’

  ‘But you don’t remember attacking Aidan Higgins either. And you admit now that you did. Isn’t it perfectly conceivable that you attacked Raymond Davis and have forgotten that too?’

  ‘It’s conceivable,’ he said, his hands on either side of his head. ‘I suppose it’s—’

  ‘It’s more than conceivable, isn’t it, Mr Bentley? There’s no other logical explanation. You woke up covered in the man’s blood. You killed him, didn’t you?’

  Gareth looked up as the court went silent. He scanned the faces, looking for someone.

  ‘Didn’t you, Mr Bentley?’ he roared.

  Gareth looked from left to right, over the figures of the court reporters, past his parents, ignoring the strangers who were revelling in his discomfort.

  ‘Didn’t you kill Raymond Davis, Mr Bentley?’ shouted Harkman, gripping the stand before him. ‘You’re guilty of this crime, are you not?’

  Gareth found who he was looking for, the white shock of hair in the back row directed him to the face of Owen Montignac, his friend and employer, the man who’d given him a chance when he needed one, and he found that Montignac’s eyes were locked directly upon his own, as if he had been guiding him to find him, and his head was moving very slowly up and down, up and down, so that after a moment Gareth’s head found itself doing the same thing. Very slowly he broke away eye contact and looked back at Mr Justice Harkman and, like a drowning man finally giving up his hold of the small piece of wood that has kept him afloat for so long, he slipped under the waters and allowed the suffocation to follow.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he cried, his body sinking in the chair. ‘I don’t know what to think any more. I can’t remember any of it … any of Aidan … or Raymond … or…’ He started to shake his head sadly and the words became lost in an explosion of tears and heaving shoulders. ‘It’s all … I don’t know what I did … I thought it was…’

  From his seat at the front of the court, Roderick Bentley had heard enough. He leaned across to his wife and said gruffly, ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Go?’ she asked, turning to stare at him, barely understanding his words, so wrapped up was she in her son’s pain. ‘Go where?’

  ‘I have to take care of something,’ he said. ‘I have to fix this.’

  ‘But Roderick, you can’t just—’

  He stood up and made his way quickly and noisily along the row and out on to the aisle, practically breaking into a run as he made his way for the door and the corridor beyond, completely oblivious to the fact that every set of eyes in the courtroom except his son’s had been watching him. Particularly the eyes of Owen Montignac, who allowed himself a small smile as he checked his watch.

  Pushing his way through the door Roderick stood against the cold stone wall for a few moments, trying to catch his breath, knowing that he had no choice now, whatever happened their old way of life had just come to an end. Finally he knew just how little his integrity was worth.

  5

  LORD SAMUEL KEATON’S OFFICE was located on the second floor of the Palace of Westminster with a view over the Thames and Tower Bridge. Roderick climbed the stone stairs with a heavy heart. From the moment he had first been called to the Bar, and again when he had taken silk, he had sworn to uphold the law and had never once allowed his personal feelings to interfere with his professional duty. He had defended clients for whom he had no respect and had got them off serious charges on technicalities because the police had failed to uphold their part of the legal bargain. He had upheld the Golden Thread of Justice throughout his time in the courts and had never knowingly erred. And as a judge in sentencing he had never discriminated between convicted criminals on any grounds save the nature of the offence. And now, at the age of fifty-two, he was about to destroy his integrity and sacrifice his king in order to save the life of his son.

  He knocked on the door and waited for a response but none was forthcoming so he tried the handle and the heavy oak door swung open. Poking his head into the room he saw Lord Keaton sitting behind his desk on the telephone, leaning back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Keaton noticed him and beckoned him to enter.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said to the caller, winking at Roderick as he said, ‘important visitor.’ There was a pause while something was said to him in reply. ‘I believe I’ll be able to call you back in an hour with that information,’ he continued. ‘I’ll know the answer very shortly.’ He hung up the phone and smiled at Roderick. ‘I wondered how long it would take you to get here,’ he said.

  ‘Did you indeed,’ said Roderick grimly, sitting down in the chair opposite the desk. ‘Well I hope I didn’t disappoint you.’

  ‘Not at all. I wasn’t sure, of course. One can try to read another man’s actions but we’re all unpredictable souls. But after your son’s performance on the stand today—’

  ‘You heard what happened then?’

  ‘Heard it? My dear fellow, I was there.’

  ‘You were in court?’

  ‘I was in the gallery looking down on you. You wouldn’t have seen me. I wanted to make sure that the whole thing hadn’t been a tremendous waste of time. I did feel sorry for Jane, though; she looked absolutely devastated.’

  ‘Don’t talk about Jane,’ said Roderick sharply, causing Keaton to hesitate before continuing.

  ‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘Although there’s no need for us to be unpleasant about things. How’s your boy doing anyway? Did you speak to him afterwards?’

  ‘Do you really care?’ asked Roderick.

  ‘Well believe it or not, Roderick, I wouldn’t wish any harm on the lad,’ said Keaton. ‘Particularly as I’m about to save his life. You know you could give me a little credit for that,’ he adde
d.

  Roderick shook his head. Credit, or thanks, or any kind of appreciation were beyond him now.

  ‘Sorry about the office,’ said Keaton after a few silent moments had passed.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘That it’s so dingy. All the best ones are on the top floor. I’ve had to put up with this pit for years.’

  Roderick looked around in surprise; the room was both spacious and luxurious with a splendid view. But he had been in the Lord Chancellor’s suite many times and it was palatial in comparison. He could only imagine the egos that worried about such things in a place like this.

  ‘Well I don’t suppose you’ll have to put up with it for too much longer,’ said Roderick.

  ‘You think not?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’ve come to a decision then?’ he asked.

  Roderick nodded. ‘It hasn’t been easy,’ he said. ‘I feel like the worst kind of traitor.’

  ‘Yes, but your name won’t live through the ages as one,’ said Keaton. ‘You’ll be forgotten, as will I, but the event will always be remembered. And it will have come about through our good offices. Precious few men get the opportunity to influence history like this.’

  ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’

  ‘It’s supposed to make you realize that you’re a part of something bigger than all of us now, whether you get the recognition for it or not. Isn’t that something to be proud of in itself?’

  ‘Nothing about this makes me proud,’ said Roderick. ‘But before I commit myself to anything, how do I know that I can trust you?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ asked Lord Keaton.

  ‘If I change my vote, how do I know that you can influence the judge to spare Gareth’s life?’

  Keaton shrugged. ‘Well I can’t give you any guarantees,’ he said. ‘You’ll just have to trust me, I suppose. But you can, you know. You have nothing to worry about on that score.’

  ‘Is that supposed to be good enough for me?’ he asked with an embittered laugh.

  ‘My dear fellow, if I let you down you can always go to the newspapers, can’t you, and tell them the whole thing? Of course you’ll destroy your own career along with mine because you’ll have to admit that your opinion was for sale. And all the cases you’ve presided over throughout your whole career will be mercilessly raked over and the prisoners released, for who knows how many bribes you’ve accepted over the years?’

  ‘I’ve never accepted a bribe,’ said Roderick angrily, leaning forwards in his chair. ‘Not once. Not ever. I have never done anything to be ashamed of—’

  ‘My dear fellow, there’s no point trying to convince me,’ said Keaton cheerfully. ‘I’m the one man in the world who knows exactly what your price is. Perhaps your so-called integrity was just never challenged before. Now you’ll have to trust me but for what it’s worth, that was Lord Sharpwell I was talking to on the phone when you came in. He does favour the death penalty, of course. Thinks a crime like this can’t go unpunished.’

  Roderick sighed. ‘And what’s in it for him?’ he asked. ‘What are you blackmailing him with?’

  Keaton burst out laughing. ‘I don’t have to blackmail him,’ he said. ‘He’s a solid man, Sharpwell. Knows what we’re up against. He sees what will happen to the country if the king isn’t set aside. No, he’s a Baldwin man through and through.’

  ‘And does he know about the little promotion you have in mind for yourself when this business is over?’

  ‘Well that’s neither here nor there, is it?’ he replied. ‘I’ll look after Sharpwell when the time comes. He knows that. Men of our calibre have to stick together. You’re one too, Roderick, you know. I have a lot of respect for you, believe it or not. You’re a young man still. You have another fifteen or twenty years on the bench before you. And believe me, I won’t forget what you’ve done for me when I’m sitting on the woolsack. You may find that your future is a golden one. There are so many ways that we could help each other in the future.’

  Roderick nodded. ‘I thought you might say that,’ he said, removing an envelope from his inner pocket and laying it on the desk. It was addressed to the Lord Chancellor of England. ‘You better not open that until you have the job,’ he said. ‘Or you may get done for opening another man’s mail.’

  Keaton frowned and picked it up. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s my resignation,’ said Roderick. ‘You don’t seriously think I could continue to try cases after what I’m about to do, do you?’

  ‘That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?’

  ‘I do not. I’m leaving this office today with the equivalent of thirty pieces of silver in my pocket. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I continued to think I had the right to judge others. My legitimacy has been stolen from me.’

  Keaton sighed and shook his head. ‘You’re such a drama queen,’ he said with a smile, making Roderick want to stand up and punch him on the nose. ‘But I’ll hold on to your letter for now. And I won’t read it, as you say, until this business is over. And even then I’d rather not accept it.’

  ‘You won’t have any choice. You may consider me officially retired as from today. When the Christmas recess is over, I will be gone.’

  Keaton shrugged. ‘If that’s what you want,’ he said. ‘But I think you’re making a terrible mistake.’

  ‘I’ve made many,’ he said. ‘But never while I’ve been wearing a judge’s robes. And I don’t intend to sully them now.’

  Keaton nodded and reached into a desk drawer to remove a piece of paper and pass it across the desk.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Roderick.

  ‘It’s your vote,’ said Keaton. ‘I’ve told Hailsham that you won’t be attending the final meeting due to your family problems but that you’re determined to have your say. He knows we’ve spoken about things and when you sign that piece of paper you’ll be stating that I have the authority to speak and vote on your behalf.’

  Roderick sighed and read the document through. It was brief and to the point and did exactly as Keaton had said. When he looked up again, a hand was reaching across the desk and offering him a pen.

  ‘It’s for your son, Roderick,’ said Keaton quietly. ‘And you may not appreciate it now, but it’s for your country too.’

  He took the pen without a word and signed his name in the appropriate place, the nib cutting into the paper as he did so, and stood up without a word. Turning his back on Keaton, he walked towards the door but hesitated for a moment before looking back. ‘What happens now?’ he asked. ‘What should I expect?’

  ‘You don’t have to worry any more. Your boy will be found guilty, I imagine, tomorrow morning or afternoon at the latest. We’ll be in session in the morning before Hailsham speaks to the PM and I believe he’s planning on speaking to the king sometime after lunch. And your son will get a light sentence, a couple of months, perhaps a year, no more than that. And after that? Well the future is in the hands of the gods really, isn’t it?’

  ‘He may surprise you, you know,’ said Roderick.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The king. He may be made of sterner stuff.’

  Keaton laughed and shook his head. ‘You don’t know him.’

  ‘No, but you never know. What if he sets her aside?’

  ‘Then I lose,’ said Keaton with a shrug. ‘And there will be absolutely nothing I can do about it. The last laugh, as they say, will be on me. But you needn’t worry, once you’ve voted my way in the morning I’ll tell Sharpwell and your boy will be safe. I’m an honourable man, Roderick. I always keep my side of bargains.’

  Roderick nodded and made for the door.

  ‘He should have just followed in your footsteps,’ said Keaton as he walked away. ‘Your son, I mean. If he’d just done what—’

  Roderick wasn’t listening any more. The former judge closed the door behind him and made his way slowly downstairs and into the early December evening, where a light drizzle was startin
g to fall and the shadow of the Houses of Parliament along the Thames made him wish that he was anywhere else in the world other than there.

  6

  HE DECIDED NOT TO go to court the following morning. Instead he sat in his study, staring at the volumes of legal books that made up the majority of his library, wondering whether it was time to place them in boxes and take them off his shelves. He could barely stand to look at them without feeling like a traitor to his entire life. He turned away and his eye caught the photograph of his son, Gareth, that sat on his desk, taken when he was younger and more carefree, a wide smile plastered across his face, his future before him.

  ‘Roderick, aren’t you ready yet?’ asked Jane, stepping inside quickly, adjusting an earring and looking around her as if she had lost something.

  ‘Ready for what?’

  ‘For court, of course,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’

  He shook his head but couldn’t look directly at her. ‘I’m not going,’ he said. ‘Not today.’

  ‘Not going?’ she asked, stopping quickly to stare at him. ‘But you have to.’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything,’ he snapped. ‘I can’t take another day of it, if you want to know the truth.’

  Jane laughed bitterly. ‘And you think I can? Just get ready, please. We have to leave in about ten minutes.’

  ‘I said I’m not going,’ he shouted, standing up from his chair and walking around to face her. ‘Why can’t you listen to me when I speak? If I say I’m not going to court then that’s exactly what I mean. I couldn’t care less if I never see the inside of a courtroom again.’

  ‘You actually mean it?’ she asked in an astonished voice.

  ‘Yes, I mean it.’

  ‘And what about Gareth?’ she asked. ‘The judge might send the jury out today. Don’t you think he’ll want to know that we’re here for him?’

  ‘He knows that already.’

  Jane stared at her husband in exasperation; she couldn’t believe he would let her down at this crucial moment. She opened her mouth to remonstrate with him some more but then hesitated, a thought occurring to her. ‘You did it, didn’t you?’ she asked.