Nine Perfect Strangers

Carmel began to weep softly. Frances put her hand on her arm.

‘So how does this game Death Row work? Let me explain. If you are sentenced to death, what happens? You need someone to argue on your behalf, don’t you? To argue for clemency, for a stay of execution. Obviously that person is your . . .’ Masha raised encouraging eyebrows.

‘Lawyer,’ finished Jessica.

‘Yes!’ cried Masha. ‘Your lawyer who defends you! The person who says to the judge, “No, this person does not deserve to die! This is a good person, Your Honour! An upstanding member of the community with so much to offer!” You see what I’m saying? So, you are all lawyers and you each have a client. You understand?’

Nobody spoke.

‘I have assigned your clients. Let me read out the names to you.’

She held up a piece of notepaper and read out: ‘Frances defends Lars. Lars defends Ben.’ She looked up at them. ‘You’re listening? I will only say this once.’

‘We’re listening,’ said Napoleon.

‘Heather defends Frances, Tony defends Carmel, Carmel defends Zoe, Zoe defends Jessica, Jessica defends Heather, Ben defends Napoleon and . . .’ she took an exaggerated breath ‘. . . Napoleon defends Tony! Whew! That’s all of you!’ She looked up from the paper. ‘Do you all know you are defending?’

Nobody answered. They all looked dumbly back at the screen.

‘Tony, who are you defending?’ asked Masha.

‘Carmel,’ said Tony evenly.

‘And Zoe, what about you?’

‘I’m defending Jessica,’ said Zoe. ‘I don’t really understand what crime she’s committed.’

‘The crime is not relevant. We’ve all committed crimes, Zoe,’ said Masha. ‘I think you know that. No-one is innocent.’

‘You’re a psychotic –’

‘So presumably you are the judge, Masha?’ Napoleon spoke loudly over the top of his wife.

‘That’s right! I will be the judge!’ said Masha. ‘You will each have just five minutes to defend your client. It’s not long – but it’s long enough. Don’t waste time with waffle! Make sure that every word packs a punch.’ She curled her hand into a fist.

‘You will have the night to prepare. Presentations will be at dawn. You must ask yourself, Why does my client deserve to live?’

‘Because everyone deserves to live,’ said Tony.

‘But why your client in particular? Let’s say there is only one parachute left! Only one place left in the lifeboat! Why should your client take that parachute over someone else?’ said Masha.

‘Then it’s women and children first,’ said Tony.

‘But what if you are all the same gender? All the same age? Who lives? Who dies?’ said Masha.

‘Is the game called “Last Parachute” now?’ said Lars, his face hard with bitter mockery. ‘So we’re all going to sit around and discuss ethical dilemmas like first-year philosophy students while Yao lies there comatose on your desk? Wonderful, this is all just so transformative.’

‘Careful,’ said Tony under his breath.

‘This is an important exercise!’ shouted Masha. The tendons on her neck were rigid with rage.

Frances felt sick. She was going to lose this game. She always performed poorly in these kinds of ‘activities’ and now her ‘client’, Lars, had already got the judge offside.

Ben spoke up in a placatory manner. ‘So, could you just explain, please, Masha, what happens if – according to you, our judge – we don’t successfully defend our clients?’

Masha breathed in deeply through her nostrils. ‘Well, obviously we don’t generally execute our guests! That’s not good for business!’ She laughed gaily.

‘So this is all just . . . hypothetical?’ said Ben.