LITMIR.BIZ

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the energy to argue or defend herself, but at least she had the satisfaction of knowing how much her refusal to respond irritated her father.

      She had been there about ten minutes or so when she saw the woman who had come to her house on that fateful day and accused Henry of being her husband. This time, dressed in a brown suit with patchy velveteen cuffs, she was on her own. The two of them made eye contact and as the woman gave her a nod of recognition, Annie turned her head away before working her mouth into a thin half smile. They sat apart, the woman sitting primly with her handbag clutched tightly on her lap and Annie staring at the floor.

      ‘You’d think they’d have a proper waiting room,’ her father complained. ‘How much longer have we got to hang around here?’

      Annie didn’t see Henry until she was in court about an hour later. As she stood in the witness box, he sat opposite the judge in the dock. He looked pale but he was smartly dressed in his best suit. Her heart lurched and as she looked at him he mouthed, ‘I love you.’ She felt slightly bewildered.

      The inside of the courtroom was even more imposing than the outside, although the wood panelling behind the judge’s seat and along the walls made it seem rather dark. The ornate vaulted ceiling gave the room a kind of conservatory feel. In the centre under the judge’s bench was a large table where a woman stenographer sat listening to and recording the proceedings. The jury sat in front of her. Annie scanned their faces. They were all men and, judging from their dress, from all walks of life. Three of them seemed very old and one man sported a huge walrus moustache.

      As she was sworn in, Annie recognised Mr West, but the man who spoke up for Henry was new to her. Somewhere along the line she had been told his name was Mr Collingwood, King’s Counsel for the defence. She was asked to give her name and then before Mr Hounsome, the KC for the prosecution, began his questioning, the judge interrupted.

      ‘If the jury are at times constrained to think that there might be an element of humour about bigamy, they should remember that there is another side to the case which is more important and has no humour whatsoever.’

      Annie drew her grey and black swagger coat around herself and the members of the jury stared at her with concern. Turning to her, the judge said in a less severe tone of voice, ‘Considering your condition, Mrs Royal, would you like to sit down?’

      Annie nodded, but the moment they brought a chair was the moment she felt her greatest humiliation. She still wore her wedding ring and yet even as she put her right hand on the Bible, it felt as if she was telling lies. Her coat slipped open and her advanced pregnancy was obvious to all. Every eye in the courtroom was upon her. She could see the gentlemen of the press at the back of the court scribbling in their notepads and, worst of all, her father who had already given his evidence about the missing brooch and his toxic relationship with Henry, glowering from the public gallery. A woman in a fur coat and broad-brimmed black hat was sitting to the right of her father. Annie had never seen her before but she stared down at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Could this be the other woman who had made a complaint against Henry?

      Annie answered the questions put to her with dignity and truthfully. Yes, she had married a little over a year ago. Her marriage certificate was passed around. No, when she signed the certificate, she had no idea her husband was still married.

      ‘He told me his first wife had died in the war,’ Annie explained.

      There was a murmur in the gallery and she glanced up to see her father shaking his head in disbelief. Her mother, sitting to the left of him, was dabbing her eyes.

      ‘You met when the defendant worked in your father’s jeweller’s shop?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘You had a speedy courtship?’

      ‘Yes. We met and married within three months,’ Annie smiled.

      ‘And you set up home in Horsham where your husband then got a job working for another local jeweller,’ said Mr Hounsome, luring her on. His tone was gentle and concerned. Annie began to relax.

      ‘Yes. He was very well respected,’ she said proudly. ‘Henry likes things done just so, and they gave him a promotion almost straight away.’

      ‘In other words, you noticed that he brought home more money.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Did your husband ever bring items from the shop back home?’

      ‘Yes. There wasn’t always time to finish what he was doing so he brought bits and pieces back home. He often worked late into the night.’

      Mr Hounsome showed her a watch and some jewellery. ‘Have you seen these before?’

      ‘Yes. That was one of the watches he was cleaning, and the necklace had a broken clasp. My husband repaired both of them one evening.’

      ‘He brought them home, but did he take them back the next day?’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘How do you know?’

      Annie chewed her lip thoughtfully. She had presumed the items were in his briefcase when he left in the morning.

      ‘Mrs Royal, how do you know for sure that your husband took the items back to the shop?’

      ‘I trusted him,’ Annie said stoutly. ‘I’m sure that’s what he would have done.’

      ‘But he didn’t, did he? The watch and the necklace are here in the courtroom.’

      Annie frowned.

      ‘They were found in your home. Hidden in your husband’s wardrobe.’

      She began to realise that Henry was charged not only with the theft of the brooch from her father’s shop but with other thefts too.

      ‘Someone had broken into the drawer of the dresser, Mrs Royal.’

      ‘That was me,’ she said quickly.

      ‘You broke into your own dresser?’

      ‘Yes. I was looking for money,’ said Annie. She glanced towards Henry and noted his look of disapproval. ‘I wanted to go and visit my husband in prison and I knew he kept money in the drawer.’

      ‘Why not use the key?’

      ‘My husband had the key.’

      ‘Were you looking for money, or perhaps you thought that with your husband in custody you could help yourself to a watch or a necklace or two?’

      ‘No!’ cried Annie desperately. In the public gallery her mother stood up to leave.

      ‘M’lord,’ Mr Collingwood protested. ‘Mrs Royal isn’t on trial here.’

      ‘It is my client’s contention that she drove him to steal, to satisfy her constant demands for more money.’

      ‘That’s not true!’ Annie cried helplessly. ‘I never did that.’

      ‘Proceed with another line of questioning, Mr Hounsome,’ said the judge.

      Mr Hounsome pressed her on other matters; her negligible social life, the loss of friendships and her lack of contact with her parents; all, he suggested, was the result of Annie wanting to have Henry to herself. She protested heatedly that everything he’d said was so negative and blatantly untrue. Annie could hardly believe her ears and although she tried to keep ahead of what he was saying, the questions came so thick and fast it gave her no time to think. But one thing she understood all too clearly; he was implying that somehow Henry’s plight was her fault.

      When Mr Hounsome finally sat down, Annie had told the truth, but she had a sinking feeling that she had only made matters worse. In his defence, Mr Collingwood had her tell everyone what an excellent husband Henry was and how well he looked after her. She told them of her shock when meeting the first Mrs Royal and how she was convinced that there had been a ghastly mistake – but it was to no avail. She could tell from the stern faces of the jury that she

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