My whole body trembled. I couldn't help it. The simplest things frightened me now. I listened intently -- holding my breath -- waiting. It was quiet, too quiet. Sitting up timidly, I looked over my shoulder ready to duck at a moment's notice.A young woman's head popped up from behind the seat in front of her. She shifted until comfortable and then reopened the book she had dropped. She must have fallen asleep, I thought, letting out a prolonged sigh. Probably a law student. I looked around the almost empty wood-paneled courtroom and noticed a man off to the side picking his nose. I remember him. He's the reporter who interviewed me in the hospital. Oh yuck, gross. I shook that hand. His arm dropped when he saw me staring and then he nodded. My eyes darted away. Why did I look away? I used to be strong ... confident. What happened to me?I knew the answer and my eyes were drawn to the backs of the heads of the four girls sitting at the defendants' table -- former students of mine --. Warwick turned and once again left the room via the staircase to the next floor. ‘I’ll have the servants bring the belongings from your vehicle to your room for you,’ Lord Roft said, almost as an afterthought. ‘Oh, don’t bother,’ Jeff said. ‘It’s mostly just jerry-cans of water and diesel.’ ‘You travel around with tanks of water and diesel?’ Lord Roft asked, puzzled. Clara’s expression became anxious – she wasn’t ready to have to explain the situation now. ‘Well… Yes…’ Jeff sheepishly replied. ‘My mates told me that the U.K. was a very dry country in the grip of a fuel shortage. Apparently they were having me on…’ he continued, ad-libbing as best he could. Lord and Lady Roft looked at each other in confusion. Clara rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t get overseas much,’ Jeff said, as an attempted explanation. ‘I… see…’ Lord Roft responded, somewhat thrown by this new exhibit of eccentricity by the young man. ‘Well, never mind all that, I’m sure we all have much to talk about,’ Lady Roft said,.
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