Will worked out at a gym two nights a week and also spent time in his own office, but they were together with increasing frequency.
The trial lasted over a month and was drawing to its close. Although they talked a lot to each other, they seldom discussed the trial. It was bad enough having to listen to all the terrible details during the day without thinking about it during their time alone together. They wanted to put it out of their minds, to escape from it. But at last, on a Thursday, it came to the judge’s summing-up, which lasted nearly a whole day. The judge was eminently fair, pointing out facts that they should remember, think about, but emphasising that they had heard everything and it was up to them to make up their minds now.
Leaving the court and going into the jury-room felt strange. They had used the room so many times before, but now they had come to make the decision, to give their verdict, to condemn a man to prison or to set him free. All twelve of them, without exception, felt the burden heavy on their shoulders.
They didn’t all agree on all the counts the first time, which meant that they all had to spend the night in a hotel, closed off from their homes and families—twelve special people with an enormous responsibility.
A table had been set aside for them in the hotel restaurant and they ate together, but afterwards they were free, within limits, to do as they liked. Four of them began to play cards, others went to their rooms, and some to the bar. Paris and Will were among the latter, but they sat in a corner, apart from the others, who gave them indulgent looks.
The kisses they had exchanged had got hotter over the past weeks, and both of them were experiencing deep frustration, which was heightened by sitting next to each other every day in court and having to pretend that there was nothing between them. Their hands, hidden by the bench in front of them, had often touched, their knees brushed and not always by accident, but they hadn’t dared to look directly at one another in case they gave themselves away to the beady-eyed judge. This secretiveness had added spice to their romance, but now it was coming to an end.
Nothing had been said, but both of them were awaiting the end of the court case with eager, excited anticipation. It was as if they had tacitly agreed that a man’s trial was an entirely wrong background against which to form a relationship, and that they couldn’t take their affair further until it was over, until they were free of it. And now that time was almost here.
‘Hopefully we’ll reach a verdict tomorrow and we won’t have to stay here over the weekend,’ Will remarked. His eyes, darkening a little, rested on her face. ‘So, if we’re free, will you come away with me for the weekend?’
‘Away?’ Paris felt her colour heighten. ‘Where—where to?’
Will gave a sudden, almost rueful grin. ‘I haven’t really thought that far. All I can think of is being with you,’ he admitted. ‘Where would you like to go?’
Her blush deepened at his admission, but Paris said, ‘I don’t know. In the country somewhere, I suppose. You said you could ride a horse; how about teaching me?’
‘Definitely not,’ Will said positively.
‘Why not?’
‘You might get bruised and stiff. I think we should do something very, very gentle—during the day.’ His eyes met hers, smiling and suggestive, promising so much.
Her voice strangely husky, and somehow knowing that he would make a good lover, Paris said, ‘So what do you recommend?’
‘Painting, archery. Or why don’t we just play it by ear?’
‘All right.’ Her voice shook a little. ‘We’ll do that, then.’
Reaching out, Will took her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Thank you, my darling.’
It was quite late on Friday afternoon before the jury finally reached a verdict. Paris gave an inner sigh of relief when it was decided at last. All day she had been on tenterhooks in case they lost their weekend together. Will, she knew, had felt the same. Their eyes had often met in exasperation and impatience; to them the verdict was cut and dried and it had been frustrating, to say the least, waiting for everyone else to agree.
They filed back into court, the judge came in and they were asked if they had reached a verdict. The foreman replied that they had and the prisoner stood up. He was a little pale, Paris saw, but there was still a jauntiness in his shoulders, the charming smile clung to his lips, and it came to her that he had the inescapable belief that they would acquit him.
When the verdicts were read out Ramsay changed completely. For a few moments he just stared as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Then he shouted, ‘No!’ and grasped the front of the box.
The policemen on either side of him quietened him as the judge gave sentence. ‘You are an evil and sadistic man, entirely unable to control your emotions, and your vindictiveness finally led to murder. I sentence you to life imprisonment.’
‘No!’ the prisoner shouted again. His face convulsed with fury. The boyish charm disappeared and his inherent cruelty was plain to see as he shouted, ‘I’ll get you for this. All of you!’ His frenzied eyes swept round the court. ‘Every last one of you.’ His finger stabbed out like a stiletto blade at the judge, the officials and then the jury. ‘Curse you, you filthy swine. I’ll make you pay. I’ll cut your throats. I’ll make you beg to die.’
He went on swearing and screaming insults as the guards tried to overpower him and eventually managed to drag him out of the dock and down out of the court. When they’d gone and the door had banged after him, there was a terrible silence, everyone too shocked by Ramsay’s hatred and venom to move or speak. It was the judge who broke it.
Wryly, speaking from long experience, he said, ‘You must take no notice of his threats. You have done your duty and I will make it my concern to see that you are all exempted from further jury service for the next ten years. Thank you for your services. You may now leave the court.’
They did so numbly, as did everyone else: the judge, the barristers and clerks, the public up in the gallery, their ears still ringing with the curses that had been hurled at them.
Will collected his car from a nearby car park and drove Paris to her flat where she packed some clothes for the weekend, then to his place where he threw some things into a bag. Within an hour they were on the road and heading out of London, away from the court and the evils they’d had to listen to for the past month or so, away from the threats and curses that had shattered their peace.
It was quite late before they reached the country hotel where Will had booked a room for the weekend. There was no time even to look around; they were shown to their room and Paris took the bathroom first, showering and changing quickly. Then it was Will’s turn, and immediately he was ready they went down to the dining-room for dinner.
Here, at last, they were able to relax, to enjoy a meal after having had little to eat all day, to drink a bottle of wine which helped to dispel the slight embarrassment that had been forced on them when they’d had to rush to change in each other’s presence but when they weren’t intimate enough for that yet. The meal also helped to ease the tension that Noel Ramsay’s outburst had caused. As Will said, they had more pleasant things to think about.
Looking into his eyes, so warm and expressive, Paris felt her heart miss a beat then fill with the excitement of anticipation, an emotion mirrored in his gaze. ‘What things?’ she asked, being deliberately provocative.
He gave a
