Part Seventy Two
Jo turned on her heel , grim faced, and strode her way back to her office, closely followed by John. John sat himself nonchalantly in a chair while Jo turned her back to him and firmly shut her door. It was as if she wanted to bar the door to any intruders. She was struggling for the mindset that dispassionately sifted out, in her mind, the undeniable facts of the matter in hand from the hearsay and the circumstantial. It was the ingrained training in her and her habit of weighing up the reliability of the testimony. She stared at the cheap cassette recorder that held in its compact rectangular brown reel to reel shape, the personification of the sustained damage done to a woman. This was no abstract cause to be fought for in the name of justice but an intelligent woman with a force of character, ensnared by an evil man and dragged down by a spider's web of conspiracy. For all this, she was a strong woman, as strong as herself?
'Why is it that men always do that………. Why is it that men always do that……. Why is it that men always do that…' echoed round in Jo's mind.
"I told Karen when I saw her privately in chambers that the injustice that she suffered at the hands of Mr Fenner should not go unpunished and that I would do all I can to see that at the very least, this type of cover up never happens again," John spoke in his dispassionate, reasonable tone of voice."
"Injustice!" exploded Jo incredulously, "You call it an injustice?"
"Certainly I do, Jo," John replied, closing his eyes in the attitude of the fictional hero of his youth, Sherlock Holmes. "I was very much moved by the way she spoke to me at the time and I meant every word that I said."
It was the emotionless way that John spoke that caused Jo to explode. He was so damned calm about everything and though, at heart, she believed that he did care, it was the combination of thoughts that blew the top off the emotional pressure cooker.
"Well I'm really glad you felt that way. That makes me feel reassured that the desiccated calculating machine that you are, that weighs the scales of justice, might make you feel just a little bit upset this time," Jo raged sarcastically at him, her voice slightly shaking when the volcanic upsurge of her emotions broke through.
"I am angry, bloody furious and I don't care who hears. You have a typical male reaction to having to face something totally horrible where you must fight down what passes for feelings in your body, to not get emotional about it, to bottle it all up, to make everything so neat and tidy in your mind and then it is safe for you to speak. Why, oh why, can't you storm and rage and stop being so emotionally constipated. I have heard a woman, much like myself, having to pour her heart out about being taken advantage of by a cheap conniving man who she described as 'charm personified."
At that point, Jo paused to draw breath while she strove to put the spoken word to her whirling thoughts. As she did so, her blue eyes stared accusingly at John. She could not say it but the last two words could apply to him, now she realised it. It was a sickening thought because she could not square it with the very real acts of kindness and justice that he dispensed, the way he selflessly helped out her own father with no thought for personal advantage. He was, after all, everything that she aspired to be as a practising barrister and, who knows, a judge. He was the guiding light when ,in moments of doubt, she asked herself what John would have done in a similar situation.
"It could have happened to me, John," Jo finally blurted out.
"Oh come on, Jo," John said as he went to comfort her but she flinched back. "You would never have been so stupid as to go to bed with someone like Fenner."
"Except when………." Jo started to speak but stopped abruptly.
John knew. Jo was talking about the time sixteen years ago when at the height of their intense relationship, she had found herself pregnant. With a dying husband whom, in her way, she was fond of, it made sense not to carry on with the pregnancy. It seemed the right thing to do and Jo had let herself be propelled in the direction of the abortion clinic and the child that she had never had but could have had.
"No one is invulnerable or infallible, John, not you not me and not Karen Betts," Jo said calmly and clearly.
It shook John. He had meant well and, of course, saw Karen as a woman to be pitied and helped. He had done the rational thing and realised that, on top of the public exposure of her relationship with Ritchie Atkins, she was preparing to do the same with her one time relationship with James Fenner. He disliked the shifty treacherous man intensely as he disliked anyone without moral principles. Jo was always level headed and had an incisive mind for the strengths and weaknesses of the case. Why was she getting so emotional about the matter? Emotions are a treacherous beast to be enslaved to where nothing can mean everything and vice versa. He set out his store by the dispassionate application of the law rooted in high principles. He never had cause to doubt himself.
Jo saw that something in what she had thrown at him had registered but saw the familiar tell tale signs of him trying to distance himself from something unpleasant. Of course, what made it very hard for her was that John was nearly right in reducing the raw and bleeding feelings to the bare facts of a case to put to a court of law. Being nearly right wasn't enough, her feelings screamed out in rebellion against the way that their calling had so powerfully influenced them both to think. And, in his own way, John did care, certainly enough to act boldly and courageously on occasion where many a moral coward would hang back. But why was it so hard for John to join his divided selves into the one person? She saw the fatal and painful duality of their calling but, with all his wisdom, how much did John know of this? Was it because he was a man or was it simply John's own complex and enigmatic character.It was only now that Jo's own niggling doubts, buried deep in her, had risen to the surface and given itself words to speak to her.
"I'm getting old, Jo . You can't expect me to change my way of life at my age. Old habits die hard," John explained wearily.
What was he expected to do, he thought, slash his wrists and commit ritual hara kiri in sympathy with all the victims of injustice? There was only so much he could give of himself, and in his own way, he gave generously and unstintingly. There was something within him that made his feeling run cold in the presence of the person and kept his distance but there was some peculiar twist within him that once his senses connected with the dry and arid principles of law and how flagrantly a transgression too place, he became another person. There was something inside him, he could not put a name to it, that caught fire in ardent sympathy for the injustice and the human being. Once his deep sense of honour was engaged, he clung on like a limpet, becoming all the more obstinate the harder he was pushed to back down.
"I know only too well, John," Jo's slightly shaking voice spoke a multitude of confused emotions and very mixed feelings born of their on off relationship.
" But what are we arguing about? We're on the same side. But when everything is said and done , you know what you have to do. If you really care, you must be dispassionate about the case. If I remember rightly from my conversation with Karen, her previous attempt to seek justice was thwarted by Mr Grayling. I recall what a sly and slippery character he was giving evidence in court."
John had alternated between pleading and firm reasoning to Jo and finally switched to a tone of cold contempt and utter distaste of Grayling. He could not stand the sight of anyone who was prepared to sell his soul for material advancement and took an obscene pride in doing so. Toadies and bullies were rife in the semi militaristic regime of the public school that he attended. When he was little, he fought back with his fists so that the sheer look of contempt that he stared back at the bullies made them hold back and leave him alone. Any of the weaker, more defenceless friends of his that were liable to be picked on in some back corner of the school were safe from them as well. He was now in a more sophisticated, more dangerous world of words and institutions but,essentially, matters had not changed.
Jo put her hands to her head in utter frustration. Of course John was right. But it didn't make it any easier. The words he spoke made her want to agree with him as his integrity in these matters was beyond dispute. So why was she fighting with him so much?
"Are you seriously suggesting that that loathsome reptile would collude with Sir Ian Rochester in denying Karen the justice that she is entitled to, in fact that justice is crying out for?" Jo replied, in mounting anger as the hideous possibility dawned on her and finishing in words that she unconsciously borrowed from John many years ago.
"They are two of a kind, that precious pair. I consider the danger very real,"
John replied quietly.
"But they must be stopped," Jo exclaimed.
"By God, I won't let the man get away with it a second time," Came the reply as John's mouth set in a tight line and his anger boiled over in a sudden flame of rage.
"Excuse me, Jo. I have urgent business to attend to with Sir Ian."
After John kissed Jo perfunctorily on the cheek, his sheer suppressed violence of movement as he made for the door made Jo feel that familiar fear for John that he would one day push matters too far.
"You'll be careful, John," She urged, the roles having somehow reversed so that she was entreating him not to be foolhardy and reckless.
"As careful as I always am, Jo," his words floated back with the sudden fierce blast of air that accompanied the closing door and reassured Jo not at all.
Jo helped herself to a stiff drink from the bottle on the side. It was what she felt she needed most at that second.
"Can I have a word with you, Ian?" John said politely to the man.
Ian raised his eyebrows as this was something of a role reversal. He was busy contemplating a paper that he was preparing for the Attorney General about modernising the judiciary. He wondered what on earth the man was doing seeking out his company at a time like this.
"It's strange to see you seeking out my company, John. I would have thought that after the Atkins Pilkinton case you would have kept a low profile. Do you want a cup of tea?" Sir Ian offered with chilly formality.
"Most certainly, Ian," John said politely. Where he had to, he was capable of bottling down his feelings perhaps far too easily though on this occasion, it would work in his favour. The situation was reversed where he was asking a favour from Sir Ian for a change and charging in feet first was not going to help him achieve his end.
While they were waiting , John took in the details of Sir Ian's office. It was large and spacious and had the look of a bygone era in the Civil Service before the brutal efficiency style of the modern switched on executive had taken over. There was something prim and proper in the look of the place.
Eventually, a rather attractive young woman served them tea in ornate bone china cups and saucers and while they sipped, they tried to take the measure of each other before the opening exchanges. John took one glance at her, noticing as always, that she had nice legs.
"Stay away from her. She's married," Sir Ian said firmly and accusingly, having intercepted John's oh so casual glance.
"How's Lady Rochester these days?" John replied with that misleadingly innocent look on his face to which Sir Ian's stoniest glare was sufficient answer. The way that John had once flagrantly carried on an affair with her still rankled with him.
"You will recall from watching the Atkins Pilkinton trial from the gallery that there were three witnesses called, Mr Fenner Principal Officer, Miss Betts Wing governor and Mr Grayling Governing Governor, all of whom work at Larkhall prison. I wanted to inform you before you hear of it officially that Mr Fenner will shortly be facing charges of rape and the plaintiff is Miss Betts," John Deed started in a more conciliatory fashion.
"I'm listening, John," Sir Ian replied warily. An advance tip off from John was even more of a rare occurrence than John seeking out his company. "I'm grateful for any advance news but what do I owe you for this favour?"
"Only this, Ian. This case could and should have been brought before a court of law well before now but she was dissuaded by Mr Grayling from pressing charges through a court of law. He had told her that from advice from an alleged friend in the CPS, that she had very little chance of success. Only I have it on best authority that it was you that he talked to," John said in friendly polite tones but there was a hard glitter in his eye and there was an edge of steel in his tones as he finished.
"I refuse to comment on the matter," Sir Ian replied but his eyes looked away from John's. "Surely from what you are saying, it may go against the woman in question that she has delayed pressing charges. You know that the CPS are not keen in taking up cases where the odds are stacked against the plaintiff."
"That is as it may be," John answered, acknowledging that he had hit upon a potential weakness in the case. "All I am asking for, Ian, is that the case is allowed to stand or fall on its merits and that if as a result of the court case, Mr Grayling does not emerge in a very good light, he takes responsibilities for any shady dealings which he initiated and that you remain in the background."
John fought very hard to remain at his calmest and most controlled and to suppress the anger boiling up in him. God forbid that he has to make a habit of cajoling this corrupt man with arguments partly stolen from Sir Ian's repertoire. His instincts told him how potentially corrupting this was. He remained poker faced throughout this tussle of wills. From long training,
It came second nature to not let his face show his emotions which inadvertently caused him problems in personal matters but in this case, served his purposes well.
Sir Ian looked warily at John and considered his position, he owed Neil no especial favours though a policy of 'you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours' had enabled his influence to spread far outside the narrow bureaucratic limits of his department. It was the cement that held time honoured British institutions together against the threat of the barbarian hordes .
"I'll do as you suggest, John. But I trust that this might be the start of a more harmonious relationship between the two of us. We haven't exactly seen eye to eye in the past," Sir Ian responded as he reluctantly acquiesced to John but he saw the opportunity to drive a bargain in return.
John said nothing. This was an obvious trap and he knew himself too well to consider it remotely possible that he would be a good boy in future and please his masters. That ran against the habits of a lifetime.
"While we are speaking so frankly, John, is there any truth in the rumours that you are having an affair with Ms Channing?" Sir Ian asked smugly. "Neil Haughton thinks that you are."
"None whatsoever, Ian. You must know how paranoid and insecure politicians are. You know me better than that. Well," and John looked at his watch in an exaggerated theatrical gesture, "I must not hold you up from your work any more. I hope that I have not taken up too much of your time."
"Anytime you care to drop in, John, you know where I am," Sir Ian responded in icy unwelcoming tones. Somehow, he felt he was wheedled into conceding more than he got in return from this Deed character.
John shut the door behind him and his feet took him with uplifted spirits towards the blue skies and fresh air away from the nest of intrigue and double dealing that served the Attorney General and the impartial administration of law and order.
Jo turned on her heel , grim faced, and strode her way back to her office, closely followed by John. John sat himself nonchalantly in a chair while Jo turned her back to him and firmly shut her door. It was as if she wanted to bar the door to any intruders. She was struggling for the mindset that dispassionately sifted out, in her mind, the undeniable facts of the matter in hand from the hearsay and the circumstantial. It was the ingrained training in her and her habit of weighing up the reliability of the testimony. She stared at the cheap cassette recorder that held in its compact rectangular brown reel to reel shape, the personification of the sustained damage done to a woman. This was no abstract cause to be fought for in the name of justice but an intelligent woman with a force of character, ensnared by an evil man and dragged down by a spider's web of conspiracy. For all this, she was a strong woman, as strong as herself?
'Why is it that men always do that………. Why is it that men always do that……. Why is it that men always do that…' echoed round in Jo's mind.
"I told Karen when I saw her privately in chambers that the injustice that she suffered at the hands of Mr Fenner should not go unpunished and that I would do all I can to see that at the very least, this type of cover up never happens again," John spoke in his dispassionate, reasonable tone of voice."
"Injustice!" exploded Jo incredulously, "You call it an injustice?"
"Certainly I do, Jo," John replied, closing his eyes in the attitude of the fictional hero of his youth, Sherlock Holmes. "I was very much moved by the way she spoke to me at the time and I meant every word that I said."
It was the emotionless way that John spoke that caused Jo to explode. He was so damned calm about everything and though, at heart, she believed that he did care, it was the combination of thoughts that blew the top off the emotional pressure cooker.
"Well I'm really glad you felt that way. That makes me feel reassured that the desiccated calculating machine that you are, that weighs the scales of justice, might make you feel just a little bit upset this time," Jo raged sarcastically at him, her voice slightly shaking when the volcanic upsurge of her emotions broke through.
"I am angry, bloody furious and I don't care who hears. You have a typical male reaction to having to face something totally horrible where you must fight down what passes for feelings in your body, to not get emotional about it, to bottle it all up, to make everything so neat and tidy in your mind and then it is safe for you to speak. Why, oh why, can't you storm and rage and stop being so emotionally constipated. I have heard a woman, much like myself, having to pour her heart out about being taken advantage of by a cheap conniving man who she described as 'charm personified."
At that point, Jo paused to draw breath while she strove to put the spoken word to her whirling thoughts. As she did so, her blue eyes stared accusingly at John. She could not say it but the last two words could apply to him, now she realised it. It was a sickening thought because she could not square it with the very real acts of kindness and justice that he dispensed, the way he selflessly helped out her own father with no thought for personal advantage. He was, after all, everything that she aspired to be as a practising barrister and, who knows, a judge. He was the guiding light when ,in moments of doubt, she asked herself what John would have done in a similar situation.
"It could have happened to me, John," Jo finally blurted out.
"Oh come on, Jo," John said as he went to comfort her but she flinched back. "You would never have been so stupid as to go to bed with someone like Fenner."
"Except when………." Jo started to speak but stopped abruptly.
John knew. Jo was talking about the time sixteen years ago when at the height of their intense relationship, she had found herself pregnant. With a dying husband whom, in her way, she was fond of, it made sense not to carry on with the pregnancy. It seemed the right thing to do and Jo had let herself be propelled in the direction of the abortion clinic and the child that she had never had but could have had.
"No one is invulnerable or infallible, John, not you not me and not Karen Betts," Jo said calmly and clearly.
It shook John. He had meant well and, of course, saw Karen as a woman to be pitied and helped. He had done the rational thing and realised that, on top of the public exposure of her relationship with Ritchie Atkins, she was preparing to do the same with her one time relationship with James Fenner. He disliked the shifty treacherous man intensely as he disliked anyone without moral principles. Jo was always level headed and had an incisive mind for the strengths and weaknesses of the case. Why was she getting so emotional about the matter? Emotions are a treacherous beast to be enslaved to where nothing can mean everything and vice versa. He set out his store by the dispassionate application of the law rooted in high principles. He never had cause to doubt himself.
Jo saw that something in what she had thrown at him had registered but saw the familiar tell tale signs of him trying to distance himself from something unpleasant. Of course, what made it very hard for her was that John was nearly right in reducing the raw and bleeding feelings to the bare facts of a case to put to a court of law. Being nearly right wasn't enough, her feelings screamed out in rebellion against the way that their calling had so powerfully influenced them both to think. And, in his own way, John did care, certainly enough to act boldly and courageously on occasion where many a moral coward would hang back. But why was it so hard for John to join his divided selves into the one person? She saw the fatal and painful duality of their calling but, with all his wisdom, how much did John know of this? Was it because he was a man or was it simply John's own complex and enigmatic character.It was only now that Jo's own niggling doubts, buried deep in her, had risen to the surface and given itself words to speak to her.
"I'm getting old, Jo . You can't expect me to change my way of life at my age. Old habits die hard," John explained wearily.
What was he expected to do, he thought, slash his wrists and commit ritual hara kiri in sympathy with all the victims of injustice? There was only so much he could give of himself, and in his own way, he gave generously and unstintingly. There was something within him that made his feeling run cold in the presence of the person and kept his distance but there was some peculiar twist within him that once his senses connected with the dry and arid principles of law and how flagrantly a transgression too place, he became another person. There was something inside him, he could not put a name to it, that caught fire in ardent sympathy for the injustice and the human being. Once his deep sense of honour was engaged, he clung on like a limpet, becoming all the more obstinate the harder he was pushed to back down.
"I know only too well, John," Jo's slightly shaking voice spoke a multitude of confused emotions and very mixed feelings born of their on off relationship.
" But what are we arguing about? We're on the same side. But when everything is said and done , you know what you have to do. If you really care, you must be dispassionate about the case. If I remember rightly from my conversation with Karen, her previous attempt to seek justice was thwarted by Mr Grayling. I recall what a sly and slippery character he was giving evidence in court."
John had alternated between pleading and firm reasoning to Jo and finally switched to a tone of cold contempt and utter distaste of Grayling. He could not stand the sight of anyone who was prepared to sell his soul for material advancement and took an obscene pride in doing so. Toadies and bullies were rife in the semi militaristic regime of the public school that he attended. When he was little, he fought back with his fists so that the sheer look of contempt that he stared back at the bullies made them hold back and leave him alone. Any of the weaker, more defenceless friends of his that were liable to be picked on in some back corner of the school were safe from them as well. He was now in a more sophisticated, more dangerous world of words and institutions but,essentially, matters had not changed.
Jo put her hands to her head in utter frustration. Of course John was right. But it didn't make it any easier. The words he spoke made her want to agree with him as his integrity in these matters was beyond dispute. So why was she fighting with him so much?
"Are you seriously suggesting that that loathsome reptile would collude with Sir Ian Rochester in denying Karen the justice that she is entitled to, in fact that justice is crying out for?" Jo replied, in mounting anger as the hideous possibility dawned on her and finishing in words that she unconsciously borrowed from John many years ago.
"They are two of a kind, that precious pair. I consider the danger very real,"
John replied quietly.
"But they must be stopped," Jo exclaimed.
"By God, I won't let the man get away with it a second time," Came the reply as John's mouth set in a tight line and his anger boiled over in a sudden flame of rage.
"Excuse me, Jo. I have urgent business to attend to with Sir Ian."
After John kissed Jo perfunctorily on the cheek, his sheer suppressed violence of movement as he made for the door made Jo feel that familiar fear for John that he would one day push matters too far.
"You'll be careful, John," She urged, the roles having somehow reversed so that she was entreating him not to be foolhardy and reckless.
"As careful as I always am, Jo," his words floated back with the sudden fierce blast of air that accompanied the closing door and reassured Jo not at all.
Jo helped herself to a stiff drink from the bottle on the side. It was what she felt she needed most at that second.
"Can I have a word with you, Ian?" John said politely to the man.
Ian raised his eyebrows as this was something of a role reversal. He was busy contemplating a paper that he was preparing for the Attorney General about modernising the judiciary. He wondered what on earth the man was doing seeking out his company at a time like this.
"It's strange to see you seeking out my company, John. I would have thought that after the Atkins Pilkinton case you would have kept a low profile. Do you want a cup of tea?" Sir Ian offered with chilly formality.
"Most certainly, Ian," John said politely. Where he had to, he was capable of bottling down his feelings perhaps far too easily though on this occasion, it would work in his favour. The situation was reversed where he was asking a favour from Sir Ian for a change and charging in feet first was not going to help him achieve his end.
While they were waiting , John took in the details of Sir Ian's office. It was large and spacious and had the look of a bygone era in the Civil Service before the brutal efficiency style of the modern switched on executive had taken over. There was something prim and proper in the look of the place.
Eventually, a rather attractive young woman served them tea in ornate bone china cups and saucers and while they sipped, they tried to take the measure of each other before the opening exchanges. John took one glance at her, noticing as always, that she had nice legs.
"Stay away from her. She's married," Sir Ian said firmly and accusingly, having intercepted John's oh so casual glance.
"How's Lady Rochester these days?" John replied with that misleadingly innocent look on his face to which Sir Ian's stoniest glare was sufficient answer. The way that John had once flagrantly carried on an affair with her still rankled with him.
"You will recall from watching the Atkins Pilkinton trial from the gallery that there were three witnesses called, Mr Fenner Principal Officer, Miss Betts Wing governor and Mr Grayling Governing Governor, all of whom work at Larkhall prison. I wanted to inform you before you hear of it officially that Mr Fenner will shortly be facing charges of rape and the plaintiff is Miss Betts," John Deed started in a more conciliatory fashion.
"I'm listening, John," Sir Ian replied warily. An advance tip off from John was even more of a rare occurrence than John seeking out his company. "I'm grateful for any advance news but what do I owe you for this favour?"
"Only this, Ian. This case could and should have been brought before a court of law well before now but she was dissuaded by Mr Grayling from pressing charges through a court of law. He had told her that from advice from an alleged friend in the CPS, that she had very little chance of success. Only I have it on best authority that it was you that he talked to," John said in friendly polite tones but there was a hard glitter in his eye and there was an edge of steel in his tones as he finished.
"I refuse to comment on the matter," Sir Ian replied but his eyes looked away from John's. "Surely from what you are saying, it may go against the woman in question that she has delayed pressing charges. You know that the CPS are not keen in taking up cases where the odds are stacked against the plaintiff."
"That is as it may be," John answered, acknowledging that he had hit upon a potential weakness in the case. "All I am asking for, Ian, is that the case is allowed to stand or fall on its merits and that if as a result of the court case, Mr Grayling does not emerge in a very good light, he takes responsibilities for any shady dealings which he initiated and that you remain in the background."
John fought very hard to remain at his calmest and most controlled and to suppress the anger boiling up in him. God forbid that he has to make a habit of cajoling this corrupt man with arguments partly stolen from Sir Ian's repertoire. His instincts told him how potentially corrupting this was. He remained poker faced throughout this tussle of wills. From long training,
It came second nature to not let his face show his emotions which inadvertently caused him problems in personal matters but in this case, served his purposes well.
Sir Ian looked warily at John and considered his position, he owed Neil no especial favours though a policy of 'you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours' had enabled his influence to spread far outside the narrow bureaucratic limits of his department. It was the cement that held time honoured British institutions together against the threat of the barbarian hordes .
"I'll do as you suggest, John. But I trust that this might be the start of a more harmonious relationship between the two of us. We haven't exactly seen eye to eye in the past," Sir Ian responded as he reluctantly acquiesced to John but he saw the opportunity to drive a bargain in return.
John said nothing. This was an obvious trap and he knew himself too well to consider it remotely possible that he would be a good boy in future and please his masters. That ran against the habits of a lifetime.
"While we are speaking so frankly, John, is there any truth in the rumours that you are having an affair with Ms Channing?" Sir Ian asked smugly. "Neil Haughton thinks that you are."
"None whatsoever, Ian. You must know how paranoid and insecure politicians are. You know me better than that. Well," and John looked at his watch in an exaggerated theatrical gesture, "I must not hold you up from your work any more. I hope that I have not taken up too much of your time."
"Anytime you care to drop in, John, you know where I am," Sir Ian responded in icy unwelcoming tones. Somehow, he felt he was wheedled into conceding more than he got in return from this Deed character.
John shut the door behind him and his feet took him with uplifted spirits towards the blue skies and fresh air away from the nest of intrigue and double dealing that served the Attorney General and the impartial administration of law and order.