Part One Hundred And Fifteen
On the Friday morning, Karen sat at her desk, feeling a tingling sense of anticipation. She knew that she probably shouldn't be feeling like this, but the knowledge that in a few hours time, she would be doing something as normal as having dinner with someone who was fast becoming a very good friend, was amazing. After all that had gone on over the last two months, and especially the last two weeks, she needed to do something normal, something random, something that couldn't possibly bring her any more trouble. Ever since the beginning of Ritchie and Snowball's trial, and her getting together with Yvonne, Karen realised that she hadn't really spent any time with anyone who didn't in some way have any connection with her job. Yvonne, despite all the wonderful times they'd had together, had once been part of her job. But to do something as normal as have dinner with someone who wasn't in the least connected with what she did every day, that would be good. John had made her feel safe the other day when she'd cried on his shoulder. A minute part of her was thoroughly ashamed at having done that with him, but the rest of her knew that it didn't matter. Maybe this was one male friend she could have without having to keep up any kind of an act. She was mulling this over, whilst twirling a biro between her fingers, when a sound from her computer told her she had mail. Swiveling the chair round to face the screen, she read the message that had landed in her in-box.
From: Georgia.Channing@sopwithandpartners.co.uk
To: Karen.Betts@larkhall.hmprisonservice.gov.uk
Date: October 17th 2003.
Subject: Apology
Karen,
I feel I owe you an explanation, as to why I assumed you were responsible for James Fenner's murder. First of all, let me say that I should never have jumped to such a conclusion. Having read and discussed with you everything that James Fenner put you through, it struck me as perfectly understandable that you might have had quite enough and wanted rid of him. When I spent those few hours with you, as my punishment for contempt of court, I saw a different side to you. I saw the confident, emotionally and professionally strong, utterly together side of you that had absolutely no problem in keeping Fenner in his place. I have never ever doubted anything you've said as regards what Fenner did to you, but seeing the amount of anger you displayed when you tore a strip off him for disobeying an order, set my belief in you in concrete. As has been revealed by the transcript of your conversation with Jo, and by some of the things you've said or not said to me, it's pretty obvious that you haven't even begun to deal with what Fenner did to you. This has almost certainly been exacerbated by the fact that you've had to work with him day in day out. When I heard that he'd been killed, I think I simply put all these conclusions together, and assumed that everything had finally got to you. I clearly should have known better, because you are far stronger than that. Unlike me, you don't lose control on a regular basis. I think I was so angry with you on Monday, because I felt slightly betrayed that you hadn't trusted me enough to tell me, which I do know sounds utterly ridiculous. However, you stood up to my barrage incredibly well, and I have to say that I was quietly impressed. This brings me to the other matter on which I owe you an apology. I had absolutely no idea that my method of attempting to wear you down would have frightened you the way it did. Had I spared a thought to how you might take what was clearly an intrusion of your personal space, I would never have done what I did. I'm sorry for introducing yet one more stress factor in to what was already an extremely fraught situation.
Now, what I am about to say may appear to be unduly intrusive and presumptuous. I suspect you have managed to work out for yourself that John is attracted to you. If you should ever find yourself being pursued by John, I would advise you to steer clear. Emotionally, he will hurt you, as he has hurt every other woman he's ever known. I would simply urge you not to attempt to get too close to him. Just, please, be careful.
If you should ever require my help in the future, you know where to find me.
Good luck,
George
Karen read the message through three times. She hadn't expected anything remotely like this from George, and she felt incredibly touched. In the small amount of time that Karen had got to know George, she had realised that George wasn't one for apologising for anything. It must have taken a great deal of effort for her to do this. George hadn't owed her an explanation of any sort, yet she'd still felt the need to provide one. Clicking on the icon for Reply, Karen sent the following message.
From: Karen.Betts@larkhall.hmprisonservice.gov.uk
To: Georgia.Channing@sopwithandpartners.co.uk
Date: October 17th 2003.
Subject: Re: Apology
George,
Apology well and truly accepted, though it really wasn't necessary. I wanted to tell you, I really did. You all but managed to drag it out of me when you saw me the day after it happened. But for obvious reasons, you know why I couldn't. You're right, I haven't really begun to deal with what Fenner did to me, but maybe now that he's gone I can. If the situation hadn't been quite so grave, I'd have thoroughly enjoyed sparring with you the way I did. In an odd kind of way, it gave me an outlet, a way to get rid of some of the tension that had been building up ever since I found out he was dead. As for my reaction to your very insistent questioning, please don't worry about it. Yes, I did feel briefly threatened, which I know was completely irrational. But I think I know you well enough, to know that you would never have made me feel like that intentionally.
Regarding what you said about John, warning received and understood.
No hard feelings,
Karen
Clicking on Send, Karen felt that this was certainly one matter that had been satisfactorily dealt with. She'd liked George, the mixture of arrogance, poise and sensitivity making her one of the most interesting people Karen had ever met. George was a quandary, a puzzle, something she would have liked the chance to work out and understand. Also, Karen knew enough to realise that George's warning had been given with the best intentions, and whilst she had some slight inkling of what may take place between herself and John tonight, Karen wasn't about to dismiss the well-chosen words entirely.
Having informed those who needed to know that she had a dentist appointment that afternoon, Karen switched off her computer at one thirty and made her way thankfully out of the prison. For two and a half days, she resolved not to think once about any inmate or officer, and woe-betide anyone who caused a disturbance that required her presence over the weekend. She wanted nothing to do with either Larkhall or any of its inhabitants. After having her hair cut, she went home, and lay in a sensually scented bath, listening to happy music and giving every inch of her body due care and attention in preparation for any possibility that the evening might provide. As she sipped from a glass of scotch on the rocks, which was perched on the corner of the bath, she thought about Yvonne. Should she, Karen, really be preparing herself for a possible seduction attempt by another person? No, probably not, but she tried to justify herself by thinking that some normality in her life might help her to make sense of the rest of it. She could hear the happy country music from her lounge, and it lightened her soul. Thinking about Yvonne wasn't going to do her any good right now. Yvonne didn't need to know about anything that may or may not happen with John, and in this case, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her in the least. After an hour of soaking in warm, aromatic bubbles, she finally felt fairly relaxed. Larkhall and all its pervading atmosphere had been thoroughly washed away, and she was forced to admit that she felt ready for anything. Drying off, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, critically examining her entire body. In spite of the serious lack of sleep she'd endured over the last couple of weeks, she was looking good. Her breasts were full and firm, her skin slightly flushed from the heat of the bath. Still standing in front of the mirror, she massaged skin food in to her torso, feeling the cream slide over her skin like a woman's delicate fingers. She couldn't help thinking that she made a pretty stunning sight, with her soft, supple skin, her long, endless legs, and every conceivable hair perpetually banished from her body. She moved to stand in front of the wardrobe, unable to decide on what to wear. Sexy but subtle was clearly the order of the day. This resulted in a smart black skirt, with a slit up the back to show off her still tanned legs. To accompany this, she selected the red silk shirt that had so inflamed Ritchie's passion all that time ago. She didn't know why she picked on the same clothes she'd worn for Ritchie Atkins, except that it was a private indication that she was clearly going up in the world. Standing again in front of the mirror, she applied her make up, also trying to keep the emphasis on subtle. When she was finally satisfied with her appearance, she splashed on some of her favourite perfume, and slipped her feet in to a pair of simple black high heels. Going in to the kitchen to rinse her whisky glass, she felt a thrill of excitement in wondering what the night would bring.
On the Friday morning, Karen sat at her desk, feeling a tingling sense of anticipation. She knew that she probably shouldn't be feeling like this, but the knowledge that in a few hours time, she would be doing something as normal as having dinner with someone who was fast becoming a very good friend, was amazing. After all that had gone on over the last two months, and especially the last two weeks, she needed to do something normal, something random, something that couldn't possibly bring her any more trouble. Ever since the beginning of Ritchie and Snowball's trial, and her getting together with Yvonne, Karen realised that she hadn't really spent any time with anyone who didn't in some way have any connection with her job. Yvonne, despite all the wonderful times they'd had together, had once been part of her job. But to do something as normal as have dinner with someone who wasn't in the least connected with what she did every day, that would be good. John had made her feel safe the other day when she'd cried on his shoulder. A minute part of her was thoroughly ashamed at having done that with him, but the rest of her knew that it didn't matter. Maybe this was one male friend she could have without having to keep up any kind of an act. She was mulling this over, whilst twirling a biro between her fingers, when a sound from her computer told her she had mail. Swiveling the chair round to face the screen, she read the message that had landed in her in-box.
From: Georgia.Channing@sopwithandpartners.co.uk
To: Karen.Betts@larkhall.hmprisonservice.gov.uk
Date: October 17th 2003.
Subject: Apology
Karen,
I feel I owe you an explanation, as to why I assumed you were responsible for James Fenner's murder. First of all, let me say that I should never have jumped to such a conclusion. Having read and discussed with you everything that James Fenner put you through, it struck me as perfectly understandable that you might have had quite enough and wanted rid of him. When I spent those few hours with you, as my punishment for contempt of court, I saw a different side to you. I saw the confident, emotionally and professionally strong, utterly together side of you that had absolutely no problem in keeping Fenner in his place. I have never ever doubted anything you've said as regards what Fenner did to you, but seeing the amount of anger you displayed when you tore a strip off him for disobeying an order, set my belief in you in concrete. As has been revealed by the transcript of your conversation with Jo, and by some of the things you've said or not said to me, it's pretty obvious that you haven't even begun to deal with what Fenner did to you. This has almost certainly been exacerbated by the fact that you've had to work with him day in day out. When I heard that he'd been killed, I think I simply put all these conclusions together, and assumed that everything had finally got to you. I clearly should have known better, because you are far stronger than that. Unlike me, you don't lose control on a regular basis. I think I was so angry with you on Monday, because I felt slightly betrayed that you hadn't trusted me enough to tell me, which I do know sounds utterly ridiculous. However, you stood up to my barrage incredibly well, and I have to say that I was quietly impressed. This brings me to the other matter on which I owe you an apology. I had absolutely no idea that my method of attempting to wear you down would have frightened you the way it did. Had I spared a thought to how you might take what was clearly an intrusion of your personal space, I would never have done what I did. I'm sorry for introducing yet one more stress factor in to what was already an extremely fraught situation.
Now, what I am about to say may appear to be unduly intrusive and presumptuous. I suspect you have managed to work out for yourself that John is attracted to you. If you should ever find yourself being pursued by John, I would advise you to steer clear. Emotionally, he will hurt you, as he has hurt every other woman he's ever known. I would simply urge you not to attempt to get too close to him. Just, please, be careful.
If you should ever require my help in the future, you know where to find me.
Good luck,
George
Karen read the message through three times. She hadn't expected anything remotely like this from George, and she felt incredibly touched. In the small amount of time that Karen had got to know George, she had realised that George wasn't one for apologising for anything. It must have taken a great deal of effort for her to do this. George hadn't owed her an explanation of any sort, yet she'd still felt the need to provide one. Clicking on the icon for Reply, Karen sent the following message.
From: Karen.Betts@larkhall.hmprisonservice.gov.uk
To: Georgia.Channing@sopwithandpartners.co.uk
Date: October 17th 2003.
Subject: Re: Apology
George,
Apology well and truly accepted, though it really wasn't necessary. I wanted to tell you, I really did. You all but managed to drag it out of me when you saw me the day after it happened. But for obvious reasons, you know why I couldn't. You're right, I haven't really begun to deal with what Fenner did to me, but maybe now that he's gone I can. If the situation hadn't been quite so grave, I'd have thoroughly enjoyed sparring with you the way I did. In an odd kind of way, it gave me an outlet, a way to get rid of some of the tension that had been building up ever since I found out he was dead. As for my reaction to your very insistent questioning, please don't worry about it. Yes, I did feel briefly threatened, which I know was completely irrational. But I think I know you well enough, to know that you would never have made me feel like that intentionally.
Regarding what you said about John, warning received and understood.
No hard feelings,
Karen
Clicking on Send, Karen felt that this was certainly one matter that had been satisfactorily dealt with. She'd liked George, the mixture of arrogance, poise and sensitivity making her one of the most interesting people Karen had ever met. George was a quandary, a puzzle, something she would have liked the chance to work out and understand. Also, Karen knew enough to realise that George's warning had been given with the best intentions, and whilst she had some slight inkling of what may take place between herself and John tonight, Karen wasn't about to dismiss the well-chosen words entirely.
Having informed those who needed to know that she had a dentist appointment that afternoon, Karen switched off her computer at one thirty and made her way thankfully out of the prison. For two and a half days, she resolved not to think once about any inmate or officer, and woe-betide anyone who caused a disturbance that required her presence over the weekend. She wanted nothing to do with either Larkhall or any of its inhabitants. After having her hair cut, she went home, and lay in a sensually scented bath, listening to happy music and giving every inch of her body due care and attention in preparation for any possibility that the evening might provide. As she sipped from a glass of scotch on the rocks, which was perched on the corner of the bath, she thought about Yvonne. Should she, Karen, really be preparing herself for a possible seduction attempt by another person? No, probably not, but she tried to justify herself by thinking that some normality in her life might help her to make sense of the rest of it. She could hear the happy country music from her lounge, and it lightened her soul. Thinking about Yvonne wasn't going to do her any good right now. Yvonne didn't need to know about anything that may or may not happen with John, and in this case, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her in the least. After an hour of soaking in warm, aromatic bubbles, she finally felt fairly relaxed. Larkhall and all its pervading atmosphere had been thoroughly washed away, and she was forced to admit that she felt ready for anything. Drying off, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, critically examining her entire body. In spite of the serious lack of sleep she'd endured over the last couple of weeks, she was looking good. Her breasts were full and firm, her skin slightly flushed from the heat of the bath. Still standing in front of the mirror, she massaged skin food in to her torso, feeling the cream slide over her skin like a woman's delicate fingers. She couldn't help thinking that she made a pretty stunning sight, with her soft, supple skin, her long, endless legs, and every conceivable hair perpetually banished from her body. She moved to stand in front of the wardrobe, unable to decide on what to wear. Sexy but subtle was clearly the order of the day. This resulted in a smart black skirt, with a slit up the back to show off her still tanned legs. To accompany this, she selected the red silk shirt that had so inflamed Ritchie's passion all that time ago. She didn't know why she picked on the same clothes she'd worn for Ritchie Atkins, except that it was a private indication that she was clearly going up in the world. Standing again in front of the mirror, she applied her make up, also trying to keep the emphasis on subtle. When she was finally satisfied with her appearance, she splashed on some of her favourite perfume, and slipped her feet in to a pair of simple black high heels. Going in to the kitchen to rinse her whisky glass, she felt a thrill of excitement in wondering what the night would bring.