Madame Juror.

Chapter 2

After going through the door, and having to tolerate numerous interviews and questions and nearly being thrown out at least twice, finally, even with a little bit of respect, I was ushered into another room. Eleven men waiting inside turned sharply to stare at me.

As my escort shut the door firmly behind me, along with the general message that the case would be opened in half an hour, I saw a few of the men muttering suspiciously to each other. I knew all of them were staring, albeit with varying degrees of discretion. Determinedly undeterred, I headed for the teapot standing in the corner, calmly poured myself a cup and sat down on a chair. I wasn't really in a position to make the first move here, and I knew it.

"Good afternoon" one younger man finally said, striding confidently over to me and holding out his hand. He was tall, and lean, with a wide, Cheshire cat smile, and wore a rather cheap, flashy suit in a grim shade of royal blue and, coupled with his silver-rimmed glasses that glinted in the light he was altogether a very bold sort of character.
"Patrick Chatt" he grinned cheekily. "And who might you be?"

"Alianna Winter" I replied politely, putting down my tea and shaking his hand.

"It's a pleasure, ma'am" Patrick Chatt laughed, and it seemed to me like the barrier between me and the whole room had been broken, as more and more of then began to come up and talk to me.

"Charles Brenkley" another, older, man introduced himself. I politely shook his hand. He seemed like a nice man, his brown hair slightly balding on the top, and despite the extra weight he obviously carried it was clear that in his day, he had been very physically in shape.

"My name is...Merrigan-Sophomore Vendradaire" a third man gushed, in a heavily accented tone, taking my hand, kissing it, and staring rather unnervingly straight into my eyes. He was slightly shorter than Chatt, and had a foreign look about him, black hair, tanned skin, bright, dancing eyes.

"You are...the very beautiful lady" Vendradaire continued, his accent morphing the words into one long drawl.

"Oh, do be quiet, the lady isn't here for you to give her attention!" a fourth man snapped irritably. He was in his middle age, but he was still blonde, tanned, and athletic. He seemed to have a very prominent role in the group as he pushed Vendradaire aside, and offered his hand briskly.

"Lee Abernarthy. If you don't mind me asking, why are you here?" he asked sharply. I smiled easily at him.

"I'm the twelfth member of the jury for the court case today. I believe we are one short, are we not?"

"But that's preposterous!" A short, fat little man with a bald head and a rather spectacular handlebar moustache butted in. "We can't have a woman on the jury!"

"Oo says wot we can and can't have?" An absolute giant of a man with arms almost the width of my waist spoke up, in a broad country accent. He sounded like a farmer's boy, or perhaps a farmer, since as I planted his age at about twenty four or five he really could be either.

"Mr. Samuels, I must contradict you there, you see, it's common knowledge here in town that women simply aren't up for the strenuous mental challenges being a juror in court carries!" someone else, a rather imposing, stern looking gentleman with greying hair and an unfortunately sized nose butted in again. My eyebrows shot up at the remark.

"And who might you be, may I ask?" I enquired, feeling a little cheesed off. The man with the big nose huffed to himself.

"Albert Price" he said grandly. "Co-founder of..."

"Well, Mr. Price, if you don't mind me pointing out, I've already had to go through a tonne of questions, mainly people asking me just that. I believe if the staff here say I'm up for the job, you're not really in a position to contradict" I cut in sharply, before Mr. Price could launch into the song-and-dance he had obviously repeated so much in the past.

"Well said, Miss!" A broad Glaswegian accent praised from the back of the gaggle of men. A smart, friendly-looking Scotsman with classic ginger hair pushed his way through, introducing himself as Grant Patience. I honestly tried my hardest not to laugh.

"It's true, Miss Winter here seems to have an awful lot of charisma" another voice chipped in. This one, I found out, belonged to a man called Hamish Rider, and on the outside he struck everyone as the good-looking man about town. But something in his character set me the tiniest bit on edge. There was more to this man than first appearance.

I watched as Mr. Abernarthy, Mr. Price and the short, fat little man with the handlebar moustache seemed to band together, moving into a little group almost as if to defend themselves from attack.

"I hope you understand, Miss Winter, that you can't stay here" Mr. Abernarthy continued.

"Nonsense" I said bluntly. "There's no reason for me to leave."

"But it's not proper!" the man with the handlebar moustache complained. "Women should remain in the home!" They shouldn't even be allowed in the courtroom..."

"With all due respect, Mr. Adelaide, it's perfectly reasonable for a woman to be part of a jury, and as Miss Winter here has already told us, the court staff have allowed it, so really, you can complain about it all you like, but there's nothing you can do." A very young, fresh faced young man with sun-bleached blonde hair and baby blue eyes jumped to my rescue, and although he didn't raise his voice his words still created the necessary impact.

I raised a solitary eyebrow. The young man, now seemingly aware of the tension he had created, smiled a little shyly and offered his hand. I took it.

"Alianna Winter" I said pleasantly. I liked this boy.

"Harry Bright" the boy replied quietly. "I...I believe I've read about you somewhere."

"I daresay you might have" I teased. "But I'd be most obliged if you didn't ask questions."

Harry Bright nodded feverently. His utterly adorable character seemed to always be able to bring a grin to my face. As the little gaggle around me disbanded, I noticed the distinct groups they moved into. Mr. Abernarthy, Mr. Price and Mr. Adelaide, being the men with the highest class, were in one, with Hamish Rider tagging rather awkwardly on to the side. Mr. Vendradaire and Mr. Patience appeared to have bonded over their shared foreignity, despite, in my opinion, Scotland not really being a foreign place at all. That left Mr. Chatt, who appeared to have found his place talking endlessly in my ear, Mr. Brenkley, who sat with the country giant Mr. Samuels a little way away from us, and Harry Bright, who stayed quietly by my side, as if he wasn't too sure where he belonged.

I stopped, and did a quick head count. That only made eleven people, including me. Where was the twelfth?

I spotted him sitting quietly by the window, dressed perfectly in an all black suit. He seemed altogether very focused on the outside world, so I casually asked Mr. Chatt who he was.

"Him?" Chatt replied confusedly. "His name's John Smith, apparently. Don't know where he comes from, don't know what he does for a living, don't know anything."

"Well" I mused, sizing this mysterious John Smith up carefully. "I can say he's in a well paid job, and that he probably lives somewhere in London. He isn't married, which points to him being a very neat and meticulous character..."

"I'm sorry?" Chatt butted in, with a laugh. "How can you possibly know all that just by looking?"

I sighed.

"Practice. If I told you, you'd instantly comment on how obvious everything was."

"I don't see how something like that can be obvious" Chatt pointed out with a smirk. I sighed, looking disappointedly at him.

"Wait" Harry Bright said suddenly. "You said he wasn't married-is that because he doesn't have a wedding ring on?"

I refrained from pointing out how blindingly obvious that was, instead opting to smile patiently and tell the boy he was right, which seemed to please him. I also managed to avoid having to explain why I knew what I knew, as at that point, a messenger poked his head through the door. It appeared the courtroom was ready for us.

The little sketch is, as many of you may have guessed, Hettie, and I'm sorry it's sideways but blame my phone.