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“Alexia?” Angus Grey was looking at her curiously. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Would you like to see Teddy after sentencing?”
Alexia nodded. “Yes. Definitely.”
Just then a commotion broke out at the back of the courtroom. There were gasps and shouts. Something important was happening, but it was going on behind her, so Alexia couldn’t make out what it was.
“What’s going on?” she asked Angus. But before he could say anything, her answer came down the central aisle toward her. Dignified and beautiful in a simple black shift dress and Teddy’s mother’s pearls, Roxanne wheeled herself to her mother’s side.
“You came,” Alexia whispered.
“Yes.”
“For Daddy? Or for Andrew?”
“Neither. For myself. And maybe a little bit for you.”
Without thinking, Alexia bent down and put her arms around Roxie. The whirring and clicking of cameras from the press gallery was deafening.
Angus Gray thought, That’s tomorrow’s front page.
There was another flashing of cameras as Teddy came into the dock. Alexia and Roxie squeezed each other’s hands.
“He looks so thin,” Roxie whispered.
“I know.”
Teddy’s Turnbull & Asser suit, always one of his favorites, hung off him ridiculously now, making him look like a little boy dressing up in his father’s clothes. His perennially chubby cheeks looked gaunt and sunken. He was altogether shrunken, smaller, diminished. Catching sight of Alexia and Roxie sitting together beside his barrister, he flashed them a surprised smile.
“Don’t encourage that. Look away,” Angus hissed in Alexia’s ear. “He’s being sentenced for murder. He’s supposed to look contrite.”
He’s supposed to be contrite, Alexia thought. The problem is, he doesn’t believe he’s done anything wrong.
“All rise. Lord Justice Carnaervon presiding. All rise.”
Alexia felt dizzy as she got to her feet. This is it.
The crown’s case was simple and dispassionate: By his own admission, Teddy De Vere had shot Andrew Beesley dead in an entirely premeditated act of violence. He had successfully concealed the crime for nine years, and on being exposed had shown no remorse for his actions whatsoever. This apparent lack of understanding of, or concern for, the gravity of his actions rendered Teddy De Vere a danger to society. For this reason, and in the interests of justice, the crown were appealing for a full life sentence to be imposed.
Roxie listened to the prosecution’s address in rapt silence. She’d decided to come to her father’s sentencing in hopes it might bring her some closure. It was Summer Meyer’s visit to Fairmont House that had first got her thinking about it. Not just about the court hearing, but about seeing her mother again, taking the first small step toward forgiveness. Dr. Woods, her therapist, defined resentment to Roxie in one of their sessions in a way that had touched a nerve. “It’s like drinking poison, and then wondering why the other person doesn’t die.” Roxie realized: I’ve spent most of my adult life drinking poison and wondering why mother didn’t die. I mustn’t make the same mistake with Daddy. Coming to the High Court was an ordeal, a real trial by fire. But if she got through it, Roxie hoped, she’d emerge stronger, and with at least some of her demons purged.
In a sense, it had already worked. Seeing Teddy in the dock, a frail old man, she realized that he was still her father, still the man she’d spent a lifetime loving and trying to please. She could not forgive him. But she knew now with searing clarity that she could not stop loving him either.
As for Andrew Beesley, he was no longer real for her. His face, his touch, his voice . . . all had been lost so long ago. Roxanne couldn’t associate today’s proceedings with that person. Andrew was as much dream as memory, as much something she’d hoped for as something she’d ever actually had. It was all so very sad. But it was the past. Gone. Over. As the prosecution closed their address and Angus Grey stood up to speak, Roxie felt the future beckon, unknown and unknowable, but there, real, within her reach in a way that it hadn’t been for a very, very long time.
Angus’s speech was even briefer than the prosecution’s. Teddy had pleaded guilty, sparing the crown and all parties the necessity of a costly trial. He took responsibility and was ready to face his punishment. As wrong as his actions were, he had been motivated by a sense of responsibility toward his daughter. He had always been of good character.
Lord Justice Carnaervon cleared his throat. He was extremely old and thin and had revolting flaps of loose skin on his neck, like a turkey ripe for slaughter. His was not a merciful face.
Sitting beside her daughter, Alexia braced herself for the worst.
“Heinous crime . . . vulnerable young man, lured to his death.”
The judge’s words washed over her.
“No sense of remorse.”
