Tapping on the message, she saw: Result yet?

Zara glanced at her watch. It was close to deadline.

Not yet.

Going to get it in time?

Not sure. They’re not back. We’ve been told they’re coming, and lawyers are in place.

Shit! Hope for the best.

Zara put the phone back in her bag. Nothing she could do about it, but she understood the urgency of getting the story into this week’s Farming Telegraph. This case could set a precedent in the law around activists trespassing on private property.

As she started back to the courtroom, her phone buzzed again. Jeez, Lachy, nothing’s changed in two minutes, she thought, glancing at her watch.

Not Lachy this time. Her mother.

Zara hesitated. She didn’t really want to look at the message while she was working, but her brother had had an oncologist appointment today, following the last round of scans. They were all hoping that the tumours in Will’s bowel had shrunk.

Call when you can.

‘Shit!’ That didn’t sound good. Or, she thought, maybe it’s great news and we’ll be able to celebrate tonight. She really hoped that was the case. Will was her only sibling and they were very close. In relationship and age. Zara’s mum, Lynda, used to joke that the thirteen months between Will’s birth and Zara’s had been the only time their house had ever been quiet.

Will was the quiet one; Zara had been noisy from the moment she’d entered the world, or so her mum always said. Will was calm and considered, and Zara valued his gentle counsel and friendship.

It had been a long two years since her brother had been diagnosed with cancer. The shock of someone so young having bowel cancer had turned into a determination that he would beat the disease. Zara refused to consider any other alternative, particularly as the diagnosis had come so soon after their father’s death in a car accident.

Zara clenched her jaw and pulled open the door to the courtroom before the images of her father dying in the car could hijack her emotions.

Work, she told herself. Think about work.

Her heart hammered against her chest as she sat down. Not wanting to think about that dreadful time or the outcome of Will’s appointment today, she shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths. The grief was still raw, and emotion overtook her when she least expected it.

People in the courtroom suddenly stirred and her eyes flicked in time to see a door at the back opening silently and the foreperson leading the jury into the dock.

An air of expectation hit the room, and the low chatter and rustling suddenly stopped. Zara grabbed a pen and notebook from her bag. She scanned the faces of the jurors, trying to work out the verdict. They were all expressionless except for the girl on the end. It looked like she’d been crying, and her face was red. Zara wasn’t sure if the tears meant a guilty or not guilty verdict.