Read Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) for Free Online Page B

seats behind the glass
partition separating the viewing gallery from the courtroom. Honey followed
along a row and took a seat, heart racing. Only sixty out of the hundred and
twenty or so called had turned up—that gave her a one in five chance of being
picked. Not great odds, but not too bad.
    The court registrar began checking who was
present. Honey remembered this long, drawn out part from last time—the
registrar read out the names of everyone on the list and you had to call out if
you were there and say how far you’d travelled so they could reimburse
expenses. The names were called alphabetically so hers was nearer the end.
    “Summers, Honeysuckle?”
    She called out, “Yes, thirty-three
kilometres,” because she’d checked the distance before she got out of the car.
    After that, for a while nothing else happened,
and she drew out her book and tried to read for a while, but her mind buzzed
and her stomach churned. In the end, she put the book away and tried to think
about the weekend.
    She was getting married. Married! This time
next week, she’d be able to call herself Mrs. Concannon. She’d doodled her
signature repeatedly, practising how to link the H and the C with a big loop. Over
the past six months, thinking about the wedding had been one of her major
joys—she’d whiled away many tedious moments ironing or sitting in the dentist
or out walking by daydreaming about the big day, as well as by thinking about
what she’d finally do to Dex once she got him into bed.
    But for once, thinking about it didn’t
settle her. She kept remembering the faraway look he’d had in his eyes, and his
tender but rueful smile, as if he was trying to think how he could get out of
it without hurting her too badly.
    His denial that he’d changed his mind when
she questioned him about it the night before had been vehement, though, so she
tried to reassure herself that everything was fine. Besides, she had other
things to worry about at that moment, because the lawyers had taken their
places, and to one side the defendant had entered the court and stood
nervously, looking at her feet.
    She was medium-height, of medium
prettiness, with shoulder-length mousy brown hair. She picked at her nails and
refused to look up at the people waiting in the gallery. Honey could understand
her fear. How intimidating to come into the courtroom and see all those people
looking at you, all judging you before they’ve even heard your story. What had
she done? Stolen something? Honey had feared it might be a horrible case, with
the defendant accused of being a rapist, or worse, a murderer. She couldn’t
believe this young woman had murdered anyone. She knew she shouldn’t draw
conclusions before she’d heard the evidence, but then that’s what first impressions
were all about, weren’t they? That’s why the woman wore a neat blouse and
skirt, and why she’d brushed her hair and put lipstick on. Her lawyer would
have instructed her on how to present herself, to ensure the jury’s first
impression was a good one.
    The door opened for the judge to enter, and
everyone rose as he made his way to his seat. He was a tall man with a shock of
white hair who scared Honey and she hadn’t even heard him speak yet. But when
he finally did speak, his voice was low and reassuring, and he welcomed
everyone to the courtroom and asked them to sit.
    The registrar read the charges to the
defendant. Honey had trouble concentrating, her head buzzing with a hundred
different things. Something to do with wounding with intent—the woman had
attacked someone?
    “How do you plead?” the registrar finished.
    The woman cleared her throat. “Not guilty.”
She glanced at the judge, then looked away.
     The judge nodded and began to explain the
jury selection process. He outlined how they should walk into the courtroom if
their names were called and pass the two lawyers sitting at tables in the
middle of the room. If one of the lawyers called out