Scene Twenty-Five

Monty Everard was a curious member of the judiciary. His manner was something of an English bulldog and could so be easily pictured as wearing the traditional red coats, jodhpurs and boots of the fox hunting fraternity. He was solid in appearance, manner and politics who could be touchy, prickly and obstinate in his views. However beneath this conservative exterior, there was a side of him that he had only half suspected. He didn't like being pushed around by anyone and could quite easily take offence at left wing political correctness as much as at an arrogant political elite who considered him as a mere functionary. Above all else, he loathed being taken for a ride and could make a very bad enemy. He had been fooled by Neil Haughton's smooth assurances that he had no intention of restricting the powers of the judiciary. He had believed it because he wanted to believe it. He did not want to face the thought that the traditional freedoms of Old England were gradually being whittled away, bit-by-bit. Nevertheless, he was a man who took his own council, watched and waited. The train of thought was beginning to penetrate his senses and made him feel more and more uncomfortable. What began to perturb him was the easy assumption by Sir Ian that he was a 'safe pair of hands.' It wasn't a great stretch of the imagination to think that, more and more, he was being taken for granted.

He began to take a close interest in the judicial guidelines from the Home Office that were taking up more and more space in his in tray. It never used to be like this, he began to be in the habit of saying. He found that snatches of Deed's utterances over the last few years began to echo back in his waking memory, which he had heard at the time and dismissed as just his typical left wing crankish conspiracy theories. Little by little, he started to become less certain in his rejection of that point of view.

"Whatever happened to the separation of powers between the executive and judiciary?"

he heard himself saying. As a rule, he and other judges held court over the barristers, witnesses and juries as before and nothing seemed to change except that he became more and more conscious of looking over his shoulder. He and other judges worked alone and their only sense of the collective were the cases that came to general attention amongst the brethren. Opinions cast about this or that trial were the mechanism by which each judge became centred, aware of his place in the grand scheme of trials. While all judges tended to be prima donnas as a result of their position in the grand scheme of things, they also needed to belong to a wider calling. The term, "brethren" summed up this feeling of community, even if it had had to come up to date and become partly sororial. That being said, it did not stop the petty quarrels and differences between then, Deed being at the centre of these differences because of his outsider status. Despite his immaculate manners, the tag 'baker's son', a description of his humble beginnings, had stuck to him in his early days. Afterwards, he gained a reputation of intellectual brilliance and political recklessness, which attracted mixed feelings of envy, exasperation and scorn. These feelings had been shared by Monty except for a growing undertow of suspicion that the man may be right all along.

This explains why, when Joseph Channing phoned him and told him the news about the forthcoming appeal hearing, he went along with the suggestion that they had a get together in his chambers after the afternoon session. He was willing to give it a go, keep an open mind and see which way it went. He made his way to Joseph Channing's chambers a fraction before John and, there they were, like three new boys on the first day of term, immediately sizing each other up, Monty being particularly watchful.

"Before we get down to business, I wondered if we could have a preliminary drink. I suggest my malt whisky."

There was a murmur of agreement. Joseph Channing's choice of refreshments was well known to be of the highest quality. He produced shining glasses and poured out equal measures.

"I suppose you are wondering why the need to get together in the first place when we are all kept busy enough," ventured Joseph.

"It seems a very practical idea since the three of us might have differing approaches to conducting trials. We need to work together harmoniously. I have the least experience of the three of us of this level of justice."

Monty couldn't help but be impressed by John's unassuming tones. He was making a visible effort to be tactful and constructive, qualities not normally associated with him.

"There might be an argument to consider that 'it will be all right on the night.' I am acting as 'devil's advocate,'" he responded, just to test the water.

"As flattering as the thought is, it might not be the wisest course of action. We are, after all, hardy individualists, accustomed to work alone in the judge's throne and, before that, as barristers, where we have learnt to develop the art of performance. I'm not disparaging our profession, merely describing it. Our experience of working collectively is not great, at least mine isn't, and we have each grown accustomed to developing our own ideas. For this reason, Joseph's suggestion of a preliminary get together seems very sensible."

Joseph Channing beamed at John. From first impressions, the man's idea of teamwork sounded very splendid.

"My thought entirely. Well, this has the makings of a pleasant social occasion as well as necessary business."

Monty nodded assent and sipped the fine whisky very appreciatively. A mellow feeling was beginning to spread through him and it was not just the whisky.

"You have a reputation amongst barristers of taking over the line of cross examination on either side of the house. Are you sure that you won't give way to temptation, John?" Joseph asked with an amused gleam in his eye.

"I would not class resisting temptations as a virtue that I am overburdened with. In this case, it is more the case that there are occasions when my desire for the truth, in asking the critical question that isn't asked outruns my respect for due procedure. While some barristers are only concerned about appearing before me because they do a slipshod job, I must admit that I do irritate Jo Mills from time to time."

"How do you know, John?"

"Because she has asked me on more than one occasion to leave the questioning to her. The opposing barrister invariably agrees with her."

Monty chuckled. It showed John in a more appealing, whimsical light than he had imagined the man. He relaxed back on the sofa and was content that the dialogue lazily ambled its way along.

"I think it would be wrong at this stage in speculating on what arguments might come up though I'm sure we have our own thoughts on the case…..."

"Agreed," pronounced John

"……but I take it that we examine the case totally impartially without fear or favour. If we arrive at a verdict that threatens to embarrass the government, that is their problem, not ours."

The three of them felt all the more determined and resolute in talking this way. They buoyed each other up.

"I have one suggestion that might help," John offered helpfully.

"Let's hear it," Joseph insisted.

"However, if any one of us is unhappy with the way the case is being handled, we should agree to adjourn and sort out any differences behind closed doors rather than in the full glare of public, if not press attention. This is only a precaution."

"A very sound idea, John," Joseph pronounced to mutual satisfaction.

"Are there any other developments which we ought to be watchful for?" Monty asked.

"My experience is of controversial cases. I have found that Ian and his sidekick, Lawrence James, regularly favour me with their presence to report back to their masters and are very generous with their unasked for advice in my chambers. I feel that this case is politically sensitive and we should prepare ourselves for the possibility of being leaned on."

"Good Lord, I've never had that experience but, yes, I see what you mean."

"We are, I take it, not faint- hearted so as to be deflected in following our principles in case they are inconvenient to a weasel like Haughton."

"Damn second hand car salesman type," grumbled Monty." He had the cheek to come up to me in his oily fashion and congratulate me on being amenable to the wishes of the Home Office. He actually assumed I'd take it as a compliment."

"That sounds typical of the man," agreed John.

"Needless to say, that has started me seriously rethinking my position. Ian has kept harping on about me being a 'safe pair of hands," Monty sneered." You're fortunate, John, in being regarded as highly unsafe."

"Nonsense," boomed Joseph." John has worked hard at it over the years. I'm willing to pick up a few tips from him. By the way, did either of you drive down here," Joseph Channing asked with a conspiratorial leer.

"I came by taxi," John grinned.

"So did I. Your hospitality is legendary," chuckled Monty.

"So that means that none of us have to worry greatly about how much of this malt whisky and I won't have to drink it on my own," Joseph laughed gleefully.

The three of them laughed heartily and settled down to a pleasant evening drinking and socializing. Their behaviour was that of three naughty public schoolboys sneaking off for illicit pleasures and mentally thumbing their noses at the humourless, priggish prefects enforcing petty discipline.

The bitter winds of winter gave way to March squalls and sudden showers and, most of all lighter days and nights. It was fortunate that Nikki had spent time in prison on gardening duties or she would never have noticed the passing of the seasons. In this time of the year as the first shoots were starting to push their shoots to the surface, she felt a sense of life's renewal. The days were passing and the time was ticking ever onwards for the trial to take place. Both women had experience enough not to get preoccupied about the trial when there was nothing they could do about it. They were just driving home after a normal day's work.

"I've been thinking, Helen. I ought to warn my parents that there's a trial in the offing. It would be a bit rude just to let them read or hear about it in the press now that we've mended our fences."

"I'd agree with that one, Nikki. I just regret that I've got a father that's several hundred miles away in physical distance and a million miles emotionally," Helen said in disconsolate tones.

"How come?"

"He's a Presbyterian minister who was widowed when I was little. For all his good works in the community, he's never turned his attention to the one 'good cause' that was right under his nose, me. He's never appreciated anything positive I've done in my life, pursuing a career in the civil service, getting engaged…"Helen replied with heartfelt bitterness. Nikki has noticed that Helen had never talked about her family. This hadn't been unusual in her own experience, as she hadn't done so till recently.

"Jesus, Helen, that sounds a total downer. By any conventional standards, you've always done the right thing with your life."

"You're making the mistake of thinking logically, Nikki," Helen replied in a more even tone of voice. That isn't the way that a Presbyterian minister thinks and feels. Try to picture a middle aged man who's twisted up inside with religious guilt who views simple pleasures with suspicion. Above all else, he can never express his feelings simply and honestly. That's something that I learned from you, which he hasn't a bloody clue about. Anyway, I don't want to talk about him."

Nikki shrugged her shoulders and let it go. It was clear that Helen was carrying the same sort of burden. By contrast, she had emotionally let her parents go a long time ago and, by some mysterious process, they had come back together. It was plain to her that Helen had never really made that emotional break.

When they got home, Helen picked up the morning post. Laying aside the usual junk mail, she focused in on a square shaped letter whose wring stirred ancient memories. She ripped it open and stared at it for a long time. The expression on her face was understandably unfathomable as Helen had great problems in getting to grips with her own feelings. Her childhood upbringing in distant Scotland reached out of the depths of her psyche to try and claim her even as much as she intellectually rejected it.

"Here, you take a look at it," Helen said tonelessly, dropping it on the side.

My dear Helen

Today is a busy time of the year as I have to prepare myself for the round of service round Easter time but I thought it my duty to keep in touch with you, if only from afar.

Life in the further reaches of Scotland away from the busy metropolis has carried on much as it has ever done with only a few minor changes in the rhythm of life. The appeal fund to restore the church tower to its former glory is proceeding well. As you will remember, the upkeep of a country church is an onerous burden but one which I will continue to shoulder. The church has stood these many centuries and will continue to do so. I will have need at some check the slates on the vicarage roof but otherwise it continues to withstand the forces of nature.

The snow is still lying on the hills in places and the weather blows cold. I manage to continue to visit those of my parishioners who are troubled in spirit. It is my duty to do so. You will, of course, remember Mrs McDonald who lives at the bottom of the lane.

Life in the big city may have its superficial comforts and pleasures but there is something reassuring about the Spartan life in the Scottish hillsides where I was brought up many years ago.

I hope and pray that one day you will finally settle down as, you will find in time, none of us are getting any younger. I trust that your work in the prison service will prosper though I have never quite understood just why you chose that career path in the first place.

With love

Your father

"Not very personal, it it?" Nikki commented dryly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on, you'd better phone your dad. After all, you'll be more in the firing line from the press, just like you said."

Nikki's father came over one Saturday after rather a curt conversation on the phone. He was not happy that his daughter was going to drag his family onto the front pages of the press once again. He suggested coming over to talk the matter over.

"So your face is about to be spread across the nation's newspapers once again, Nicola? Quite frankly, I'm not happy about that. What's the point of going back to court after you've got your freedom? That doesn't seem a very wise decision to my way of thinking," Nikki's father pronounced in stern disapproving tones. This immediately wound Nikki up who was on the point of flying off the handle. Somehow, she veered away from reenacting her battles with him when she was in her teens. Instead, she gained access to a fluent reasoning mode of thinking.

"Listen dad, the last thing I am or ever will be is a headline junkie. I'd spent thirty odd years of my life just getting along quietly and making something of a success of my life. The last thing I ever wanted or needed was some policeman with very twisted ideas about my then partner. When I got my freedom that seemed enough at the time. The problem is that in leaving my club days behind for the benefit of my relationship, I'm forever condemned to a second rate job. Just imagine that you were transferred to the army and found yourself a sergeant major instead of a naval captain. Just how would that make you feel?"

"Hmmn, you have got a point there."

"And on top of this, some idiot has blocked my passport application. My barrister feels that there may be a hidden agenda, that I'm being punished to somehow to pay me back for daring to win my case on appeal."

"That sounds like a crank conspiracy theory," Nikki's father retorted in dismissive tones.

"You're talking about a barrister, dad, a very level headed woman whose job is to be absolutely objective about my case. Think about it."

"Whatever the reason for your passport being turned down, I do feel that you've been treated very shabbily. After all, an Englishman has the inalienable right to travel the world, wherever he might go."

"Man?"

"Generically speaking, Nicola. You must realize that the English language has an unfortunate lack of distinction between mankind and the sub species, men. Don't confuse the two," Nikki's father came back strongly with a smug expression on his face, knowing very well that this was one up to him in his lifelong battle with his daughter for the last word on the subject. Helen looked on in amusement and wished that she could have the same affectionately free and easy relationship with her family that Nikki had with hers.

"All right, dad, I'll concede that one."

"So what help do you want from me, Nicola? That's what it's all about."

Nikki was temporarily flummoxed by that question. She was still used to thinking in terms of parental disapproval.

"Just your approval and understanding. I don't suppose you'll be up for chaining yourself to the railings outside the court of appeal."

Her father chuckled at Nikki's droll humour but the look in his eye took in the serious element of her remarks.

"What would my friends in the Navy club make of me being on the front page as well as you……?"

Nikki smiled at the prospect of her oh so respectable father committing such an act and noted that he hadn't precluded such active support. She didn't know how to feel if he did come to lend his support. She noticed the broad grin, which spread across Helen's face and was glad for her.

"…..well, I'm not one hundred per cent convinced of everything you say, just why you have to throw yourself on the tender mercy of the court but if it means that you get what you deserve out of life, far be it for me to stand in your way. Yes, you have my approval. I am grateful that you've done me the courtesy in telling me in advance. I appreciate that. One last question, do you have confidence in your barrister?"

"Absolutely, dad. She strongly believes in me and knows everything there is to know about me."

"Well, that's settled then. I take it that Helen will be keeping you company at the trial. All I can wish you is good fortune."

Nikki shook his hand. It was a novelty for her to get parental approval in advance