Part Fourteen
John Deed made his stately way from the court building to the chambers, musing on the day's court proceedings to date. He was aware that he had given way to that compulsive curiosity for little details that added to his outrageous reputation when he had pursued the question of Yvonne's motives for being closeted with Mr Ajit Khan. It was the mantra of 'sticking to the point' which had been chanted in educated Oxford accents from when he was first called to the bar that provoked that rebellious spirit within him to break out from time to time. He had been long trained in following the geometric patters of the law and admiring the austere sculpturework but put a social convention up before him and his taste veered sharply towards the surrealists.
The only problem was that Jo Mills didn't see things the same way. He knew well that Jo's recent outburst of anger at him was merely the opening shot in a long cannonade if she had the time, space and privacy to let fly. Despite all this, he felt that, perhaps he had gone too far and that he had some making up to do on this occasion.
Mrs Atkins took his fancy as being quite an attractive woman who gave a pretty good account of herself to that buffoon Cantwell and she had a definite twinkle in her eye and was very quick to tune in on male admiration. He feared that he may find that feeling not being reciprocated by her after letting Cantwell go on the attack without restraining him as he knew he could have done. The woman's nerve and steel sharp mind impressed him as her verbal swordthrust "After all, you're defending one" went through Cantwell's guard like lightning like a masterstroke. Cantwell, getting overconfident, had, for that fraction of a second, left that opening. From today's showing already, this trial was proving to be interesting and complex.
John Deed parked his car outside the red bricked mews cottage but from time immemorial, was accustomed to take the rough side cinder path at the right hand side of the line of cottages, and turn first right into her garden at the back which shared the common access path to that row of cottages. Jo Mills had seen him coming and was waiting for him like an avenging angel, having predicted with faultless accuracy to within ten minutes as to when John Deed would arrive in his car. He had changed into his more modest garments of black trousers and open necked white shirt and braces, which was an affectation of his youth. This time, Jo was not her usual welcoming self as she shot out of the back door with a large empty wineglass in her hand.
"You will be doubtless aware that I have been visited by Ian Rochester and Lawrence James and been subjected to the usual third degree." John Deed spoke in his emotionless tone just before Jo Mills could carry on where she had left off.
"And…." Jo started.
"They appealed to me most unethically to take up the unfortunate case of the American photographer whom Tracy Pilkinton stabbed to death. Have you heard of any rumours of Ian having any far-flung relations in Florida whose death I was instructed to avenge and any money he might inherit? Ian Rochester on a mission of mercy and appealing to my better nature does have the effect of making my stomach rather queasy."
"Am I supposed to sympathise with you after what you let that Cantwell animal inflict on my witness or act as nurse for your ailments or both?" Jo Mills stormed at him.
"Was I asking you to?" John Deed asked Jo Mills very rhetorically and unfairly as he knew very well that he had exactly that effect on her. "I always had a bit of a weakness for women in uniforms of all descriptions. I merely wanted to mention that the Guardians of the Nations Ethics have not failed to overlook the chance to favour me with their good advice."
"That is not the point," Jo raged, wondering how she could let this impossible man run rings round her while she was more than capable of setting steel toothed logical man traps for male barristers and waiting for them to blunder on and for the jaws of the trap to snap shut on their ankles. But it was because John Deed is John Deed and because of their long standing on off affair, she realised ruefully in a slightly calmer frame of mind.
"Why did you let Cantwell go in to the attack on my witness without one whisper from you. I demand an explanation." Jo eventually said when she had remembered her train of thought and with her left hand, flicking a curl of fair hair that had become dishevelled and hung down in front of her eye.
"You did tell me, my dear, of my failings in assuming the role of judge, council for the defence and council for the prosecution all in one. I took heed of your advice but I may have overcompensated in my concern for you." John Deed replied sheepishly." But if you feel that I went too far, then………."
Jo let out a wordless sound of total frustration and exasperation. The man was impossible.
"I know you, John Deed. First you habitually cramp my style in court, totally and utterly and then, for once, you go to the totally opposite extreme just to drive me mad." Jo reached for her bag and fumbled feverishly round for a cigarette, clicked the lighter several times which refused to spark and threw both items down on the grass."let me tell you, John Deed if ever you……….." she started to say, wagging her right forefinger at him to ram home the point she was making.
…………."I shall be forced to, forced to…….." Jo repeated her sentence an hour later.
"What, my dear." A naked John Deed asked an equally naked and more dishevelled Jo Mills in the warmth and comfort of Jo's bed after they had made love and Jo rediscovered the reasons that brought her back to this impossible man. Nothing he had said or done tonight had changed her professional judgement, she supposed to herself.
Jo slipped out of bed to find her black leather handbag which she had dropped, smashing her best makeup powder in the hurry to make their way to bed. She sighed. This wasn't the first time this had happened. The blank expression on John Deed's face did not deceive for one minute, Jo's not very brain taxing deduction that if John Deed had a preference, he could decide which sort of appearance he preferred Jo to make before him, right now or earlier today.
"We can't keep meeting like this, John." Jo murmured, tracing a line along his left eyebrow.
"You mean the spies are out. Ian Rochester will be poised up a flight of ladders with binoculars and long distance camera. Yes…….I can see him as a peeping Tom. You heard the other day what I told you of Rochester minor at the dear old school that he bores us about."
Jo let out a laugh today, the first laugh she had had that day, found her lighter and cigarettes which she had retrieved from the garden and with mock modesty, made her way back to bed.
"You will look after yourself in court in future. Damn it, you know what I mean, John." Jo replied with a muted touch of exasperation and real concern for the man. A little bit of her reacted the same way when, as a bright and observant child, she got to act as mother to her own father whose health she worried about at his coughing bout as he went out to work and the tiredness in his eyes.
"I shall behave myself impeccably," John replied in crisp staccato tones appearing to emphasize the last word. In reality, she worried about the man more as he got a perverse thrill in flaunting his unorthodoxies before the increasingly Politically Correct and conformist Lord Chancellor's Department.
Accordingly, she ran her fingers around his shoulder blades and gave way to the illicit thrill which had always added spice to their lovemaking as John moved over her.
"At least Yvonne Atkins has someone to help her, Karen Betts." Mumbled Jo into John Deed's shoulder many hours later in the dim light. " Although in fact from seeing Karen Betts comfort her, I couldn't help wondering if it was more to it than a Wing Governor giving professional support to a prisoner before going onto the stand."
"Rubbish," John Deed sleepily replied. "That's for the TV dramas."
Like the normal professional relationship between Circuit Judge and Barrister, Jo smiled knowingly to herself.
John Deed made his stately way from the court building to the chambers, musing on the day's court proceedings to date. He was aware that he had given way to that compulsive curiosity for little details that added to his outrageous reputation when he had pursued the question of Yvonne's motives for being closeted with Mr Ajit Khan. It was the mantra of 'sticking to the point' which had been chanted in educated Oxford accents from when he was first called to the bar that provoked that rebellious spirit within him to break out from time to time. He had been long trained in following the geometric patters of the law and admiring the austere sculpturework but put a social convention up before him and his taste veered sharply towards the surrealists.
The only problem was that Jo Mills didn't see things the same way. He knew well that Jo's recent outburst of anger at him was merely the opening shot in a long cannonade if she had the time, space and privacy to let fly. Despite all this, he felt that, perhaps he had gone too far and that he had some making up to do on this occasion.
Mrs Atkins took his fancy as being quite an attractive woman who gave a pretty good account of herself to that buffoon Cantwell and she had a definite twinkle in her eye and was very quick to tune in on male admiration. He feared that he may find that feeling not being reciprocated by her after letting Cantwell go on the attack without restraining him as he knew he could have done. The woman's nerve and steel sharp mind impressed him as her verbal swordthrust "After all, you're defending one" went through Cantwell's guard like lightning like a masterstroke. Cantwell, getting overconfident, had, for that fraction of a second, left that opening. From today's showing already, this trial was proving to be interesting and complex.
John Deed parked his car outside the red bricked mews cottage but from time immemorial, was accustomed to take the rough side cinder path at the right hand side of the line of cottages, and turn first right into her garden at the back which shared the common access path to that row of cottages. Jo Mills had seen him coming and was waiting for him like an avenging angel, having predicted with faultless accuracy to within ten minutes as to when John Deed would arrive in his car. He had changed into his more modest garments of black trousers and open necked white shirt and braces, which was an affectation of his youth. This time, Jo was not her usual welcoming self as she shot out of the back door with a large empty wineglass in her hand.
"You will be doubtless aware that I have been visited by Ian Rochester and Lawrence James and been subjected to the usual third degree." John Deed spoke in his emotionless tone just before Jo Mills could carry on where she had left off.
"And…." Jo started.
"They appealed to me most unethically to take up the unfortunate case of the American photographer whom Tracy Pilkinton stabbed to death. Have you heard of any rumours of Ian having any far-flung relations in Florida whose death I was instructed to avenge and any money he might inherit? Ian Rochester on a mission of mercy and appealing to my better nature does have the effect of making my stomach rather queasy."
"Am I supposed to sympathise with you after what you let that Cantwell animal inflict on my witness or act as nurse for your ailments or both?" Jo Mills stormed at him.
"Was I asking you to?" John Deed asked Jo Mills very rhetorically and unfairly as he knew very well that he had exactly that effect on her. "I always had a bit of a weakness for women in uniforms of all descriptions. I merely wanted to mention that the Guardians of the Nations Ethics have not failed to overlook the chance to favour me with their good advice."
"That is not the point," Jo raged, wondering how she could let this impossible man run rings round her while she was more than capable of setting steel toothed logical man traps for male barristers and waiting for them to blunder on and for the jaws of the trap to snap shut on their ankles. But it was because John Deed is John Deed and because of their long standing on off affair, she realised ruefully in a slightly calmer frame of mind.
"Why did you let Cantwell go in to the attack on my witness without one whisper from you. I demand an explanation." Jo eventually said when she had remembered her train of thought and with her left hand, flicking a curl of fair hair that had become dishevelled and hung down in front of her eye.
"You did tell me, my dear, of my failings in assuming the role of judge, council for the defence and council for the prosecution all in one. I took heed of your advice but I may have overcompensated in my concern for you." John Deed replied sheepishly." But if you feel that I went too far, then………."
Jo let out a wordless sound of total frustration and exasperation. The man was impossible.
"I know you, John Deed. First you habitually cramp my style in court, totally and utterly and then, for once, you go to the totally opposite extreme just to drive me mad." Jo reached for her bag and fumbled feverishly round for a cigarette, clicked the lighter several times which refused to spark and threw both items down on the grass."let me tell you, John Deed if ever you……….." she started to say, wagging her right forefinger at him to ram home the point she was making.
…………."I shall be forced to, forced to…….." Jo repeated her sentence an hour later.
"What, my dear." A naked John Deed asked an equally naked and more dishevelled Jo Mills in the warmth and comfort of Jo's bed after they had made love and Jo rediscovered the reasons that brought her back to this impossible man. Nothing he had said or done tonight had changed her professional judgement, she supposed to herself.
Jo slipped out of bed to find her black leather handbag which she had dropped, smashing her best makeup powder in the hurry to make their way to bed. She sighed. This wasn't the first time this had happened. The blank expression on John Deed's face did not deceive for one minute, Jo's not very brain taxing deduction that if John Deed had a preference, he could decide which sort of appearance he preferred Jo to make before him, right now or earlier today.
"We can't keep meeting like this, John." Jo murmured, tracing a line along his left eyebrow.
"You mean the spies are out. Ian Rochester will be poised up a flight of ladders with binoculars and long distance camera. Yes…….I can see him as a peeping Tom. You heard the other day what I told you of Rochester minor at the dear old school that he bores us about."
Jo let out a laugh today, the first laugh she had had that day, found her lighter and cigarettes which she had retrieved from the garden and with mock modesty, made her way back to bed.
"You will look after yourself in court in future. Damn it, you know what I mean, John." Jo replied with a muted touch of exasperation and real concern for the man. A little bit of her reacted the same way when, as a bright and observant child, she got to act as mother to her own father whose health she worried about at his coughing bout as he went out to work and the tiredness in his eyes.
"I shall behave myself impeccably," John replied in crisp staccato tones appearing to emphasize the last word. In reality, she worried about the man more as he got a perverse thrill in flaunting his unorthodoxies before the increasingly Politically Correct and conformist Lord Chancellor's Department.
Accordingly, she ran her fingers around his shoulder blades and gave way to the illicit thrill which had always added spice to their lovemaking as John moved over her.
"At least Yvonne Atkins has someone to help her, Karen Betts." Mumbled Jo into John Deed's shoulder many hours later in the dim light. " Although in fact from seeing Karen Betts comfort her, I couldn't help wondering if it was more to it than a Wing Governor giving professional support to a prisoner before going onto the stand."
"Rubbish," John Deed sleepily replied. "That's for the TV dramas."
Like the normal professional relationship between Circuit Judge and Barrister, Jo smiled knowingly to herself.