‘There is something else, I’m afraid,’ said Mr Gibbons, and he held up a folder of papers. Sir Alan Darsdale jerked awake. This was most irregular. ‘Apologies to my fellow magistrates for the lack of formal procedure,’ said Mr Gibbons, ‘but this only came to my attention immediately before the session.’ He frowned a little and looked at someone sitting at the front of the court – a tall, thin man in a very smart pinstriped suit, who stretched his legs out in front of him and folded his arms across his chest. The man’s face was craggy – the wrinkles and worry lines that marked his forehead were so deep they almost looked like scars. He cleared his throat – a dry little sound that sounded a bit like the cough of a fox – and he nodded, almost invisibly, to Mr Gibbons.

Mr Gibbons then whispered something to Mrs Baron and pulled the documents from the folder. He leafed through the pages, showing her one after another.

Mrs Baron grew very pale. Her hand moved towards her mouth.

The same documents were then shown to Sir Alan Darsdale, who said nothing but raised his bushy white eyebrows until they almost met the curls of his magistrate’s wig.

Sir Alan Darsdale cleared his throat. ‘The court will take a brief . . .’ he announced loudly, then muttered, ‘What’s the wretched word?’

‘The court will adjourn for a few minutes,’ said Mrs Baron, and I noticed that her voice had changed.

Automatically, my hand reached for my sister’s. She placed her other hand quickly over mine.

As soon as the three magistrates left through the rear door of the court, the room erupted with noise. I looked around. Everyone was chattering, their eyes alight with the melodrama of the moment. I thought perhaps I was going to be sick.

‘Pa?’ I said. But he was having a silent conversation with Mutti.

What’s happening? her eyes said to his.

I don’t know, I don’t know, said his in reply.

I had never seen Mutti look so white and small. She suddenly looked terribly young, younger even than me. I noticed that a policeman who had been sitting in the front row had stood up and was now hovering a few feet behind her, watching her warily, as if she were a wild animal, or a bank robber with a gun.

Chapter 14

14

When the magistrates came back into the courtroom, Mrs Baron’s face looked very strange, as if it had been stitched up and the thread pulled too tight.