Part One Hundred and Twenty Two
"Have you seriously considered that George may be heading for a serious breakdown?" Jo asked, straight out of the blue as she served the meal for the two of them at her house.
John was completely unprepared for this as he felt that going to Jo's to spend the night with her represented his striving for the safe, for the normal, for the familiar side of life which at this moment he wanted to get back to. The front of the mews house was built of the sort of rose red brickwork which seemed to grow out of the earth of Old England and the flower garden round the back spoke of the sort of care and nurturing which he needed right now. It was not just the carnal pleasure of nights spent in Jo's bed which he had so forcibly denied at the PCC hearing as Jo was his best friend. John glanced out of the back window and the view represented a three dimensional version of a painting of an English country garden, so perfect, everything in its place. In the foreground, a couple of large sturdy hollyhocks waved in the wind while first a brilliant autumn sunshine and then dark clouds illuminated then darkly shaded the world outside.
"Nonsense, Jo. You saw her at Legover's - I mean Monty Everard's party. She was the very life and soul of the party."
"Careful, John. One of these days, you'll say that in public and there may be a part of you who secretly wants to be found out like the bad school boy," Jo grinned, perceptibly lifting the veil on a side of him that secretly asks for trouble while loudly proclaiming that he acted out of his principles.
"Seriously, John, I don't agree with you about George," Jo's blunt rejoinder as she pursued the main point caused John to raise his eyebrows. He wanted to come to Jo's for some peace and quiet from the turbulence of his life. "It's quite possible for anyone who won't or can't admit some deep-seated problem to go to extraordinary lengths to pretend normality at social functions and keep that mask on their face. Take my father, for instance, who was a past master at the art of that particular performance."
"I remember him well, poor fellow and hearing from you about his alcohol problem." John's voice melted in sympathy.
"My father was an alcoholic," Corrected Jo who had long since learnt to apply that clinical and ruthlessly defining word to the accumulated past memories. "That is only one form of addiction, you know."
"You've made your point," John cut in with a touch of impatience at Jo stating the obvious. "But you know very well that the person who is best able to help is their nearest and dearest. There are too many barriers, too many hurts for me to be able to help George as my ex-wife."
"Addict or otherwise, the only person who can help themselves is that person. Other people around can help out at the most. I'll drop it, john, but let me tell you that I spent an evening at George's and it showed quite another side to what you see on the surface."
Jo secretly smiled to herself at the way she had pushed her point that little bit further while apparently doing what he wanted.
John turned away to make a cup of coffee for them both as she felt that they were getting into this conversation too deeply. It was a habit of his when he felt uncomfortable.
"Why are we discussing George on this occasion when I am with you. I should be telling you how beautiful, how intelligent and level headed you are," The honeyed words rolled off his tongue.
Typical John thought Jo, with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. When he's really cornered, he gets out of a tricky situation by being an outrageous flirt. When she thought about it, she remembered a reprobate friend of Mark who used to be around here a lot. When Mark was about fourteen, he took up with this impetuous slightly older friend who dominated him a little too much for his liking. The two of them got into all sorts of adolescent scrapes and Jo remembered getting infuriated beyond all reason when she tried to impose a measure of order on them. She hadn't got any time with the sort of older generation cliches like, 'well, they are only lads' as she had to come home from a hard day's work at court. For a reason which she couldn't explain at the time, she reserved the greater force of her anger at her own son while this other lad always got off lightly and it was only later that she realised that it was the same sort of little boy/bad boy appeal which had held her back. She was mightily relieved when Mark broke up this friendship as he had had enough of him and went on to become again, the steadily working Mark whom she knew today. It was just as well that it happened as Mark was becoming more and more independent these days which left her with more room for herself, or at least mixed the opportunities of freedom with the perils of which life choices she had now yet to make. When she thought about it, this lad and john had a lot in common except that John Deed was a High court judge and a paragon of virtue in the public arena.
John Deed had this remarkable ability to make conversation with Jo on one level and his thoughts to operate on quite a different level and also to arrange his personal relationships into a particular pattern. On periodic nights, he would pursue his amateur calling as a virtuoso violinist in a quintet which was kept rigidly distinct from anything in his daytime job, or as distinct until Jo Mills found out about it. Another part of him was given to the ancient art of fencing with his favourite sparring partner Roe Colmore which was a hobby which he had maintained from the public school he had attended. His base in the judge's digs gave him the facility to find the particular woman to whom he was attracted at that moment. Jo was his friend, sometime lover and someone, as she said repeatedly, kept her distance as she had come to know the sort of man he was.
It was his fixed habit, whenever he had casual sex, never to think of what that woman might be doing with her life the moment after he drove his car away from the woman's flat. After all, it was the influences on his generation that had played a part in his development. He had been a child of the sexual revolution that, with a fanfare of trumpets, blew the Last Post on the traditional concept of marriage. That had professed expectations that a man would eventually settle down with his childhood sweetheart, walk up the aisle together, bear children and live happily after. True, it might have been the case that the traditional wedding and the birth of the firstborn might be separated by somewhat less than the nine months that custom and biology dictated.
A generation was born into the heady atmosphere of sexual liberation when it became publicly accepted that the woman might not be backward in coming forward in the matters of sexual relationships. In his time at Oxford University, he started questioning the rationale behind the university, the first institution in his life, which he came to oppose. It was here where he learnt the true underlying meaning of the much-quoted lines of Shakespeare.
"Whether it is nobler in mind
To suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or by opposing, end them."
In common with like minded more intellectually precocious students who had the questioning mind that universities professed to encourage, he opted for the second alternative. When the bolder students proposed a sit in, he ardently joined the cause and found that the communal sleeping arrangements suited perfectly the more carnal side of his nature. John Deed took to this new culture like a duck to water and the fallout of this came many years later when he met and slept with many women who aimed to be as footloose and fancy free as he was. He understood that this was what they wanted as, after all, none of them had gone out of the way to contact him again after the first night. This proved conclusively to his mind that his view on casual sex coincided with theirs.
"It's a shame that the civil court case that George was preparing against the Prison Service area management has come to nothing. I suspect that when George started digging, more skeletons would come out the closet than there ever is in the Lord Chancellor's Department."
He mulled over the fact that he had broken the pattern of a lifetime in first of all, leaving a note, and secondly insisting on remaining friends with Karen Betts who was a singular woman who he genuinely liked and for whom he had real respect.
"It is indeed a pity as I would have liked to get to the bottom of the tissue of lies and corruption that has undoubtedly taken place. But, alas, it is not to be. I suspect, from my limited experience, that each prison is a closed off world from the public thoroughfare of life and who knows what could happen if, as I suspect, there is insufficient accountability."
He had no idea in what real way Karen would become if only a minor part of his life as a walk on part. Now he came to think of it, the idea of a female friend was something that was new in his life.
"You seemed very positive at the end when we questioned Karen Betts that she had nothing to do with Fenner's murder," Jo said with a slight smile. "It was very chivalrous of you to stand up for her against George's best prosecution attack."
He remembered saying to Charlie that, if only he could divide himself into several parts then each part of himself could enjoy a long term relationship with each of the women in his life that he had most in common with. Charlie laughed at his fantasy and suggested that next time, he engaged the services of a male therapist. That did not appeal to him as laying bare his emotions and innermost feelings was not the sort of thing he did with another man. They belonged to a different world marked out by the men he was closest to, who he fenced with, whom he played the violin with.
"Karen?" He said in his most nonchalant, dismissive tones. "I remember when she was first before me in chambers when she was a woman who I promised to do my utmost to put right the most appalling injustice. There is no ulterior motive and anyway, she was able to take care of herself under cross examination most capably. Now can you have the goodness to talk of matters that concern only ourselves in the precious time we have together."
Jo raised her eyebrows at the way he seemed a little rattled while John thought of that night of passion with that remarkable woman who had appeared as an alien in his mental landscape. He might have asked Karen to remain in touch purely as friends, but never would he forget the feel of her soft, utterly responsive body under his ministrations. He would honour his promise, and remain as only friends with her, but the memory of that night would give him something to dream about during those nights he was forced to spend alone at the digs.
"Have you seriously considered that George may be heading for a serious breakdown?" Jo asked, straight out of the blue as she served the meal for the two of them at her house.
John was completely unprepared for this as he felt that going to Jo's to spend the night with her represented his striving for the safe, for the normal, for the familiar side of life which at this moment he wanted to get back to. The front of the mews house was built of the sort of rose red brickwork which seemed to grow out of the earth of Old England and the flower garden round the back spoke of the sort of care and nurturing which he needed right now. It was not just the carnal pleasure of nights spent in Jo's bed which he had so forcibly denied at the PCC hearing as Jo was his best friend. John glanced out of the back window and the view represented a three dimensional version of a painting of an English country garden, so perfect, everything in its place. In the foreground, a couple of large sturdy hollyhocks waved in the wind while first a brilliant autumn sunshine and then dark clouds illuminated then darkly shaded the world outside.
"Nonsense, Jo. You saw her at Legover's - I mean Monty Everard's party. She was the very life and soul of the party."
"Careful, John. One of these days, you'll say that in public and there may be a part of you who secretly wants to be found out like the bad school boy," Jo grinned, perceptibly lifting the veil on a side of him that secretly asks for trouble while loudly proclaiming that he acted out of his principles.
"Seriously, John, I don't agree with you about George," Jo's blunt rejoinder as she pursued the main point caused John to raise his eyebrows. He wanted to come to Jo's for some peace and quiet from the turbulence of his life. "It's quite possible for anyone who won't or can't admit some deep-seated problem to go to extraordinary lengths to pretend normality at social functions and keep that mask on their face. Take my father, for instance, who was a past master at the art of that particular performance."
"I remember him well, poor fellow and hearing from you about his alcohol problem." John's voice melted in sympathy.
"My father was an alcoholic," Corrected Jo who had long since learnt to apply that clinical and ruthlessly defining word to the accumulated past memories. "That is only one form of addiction, you know."
"You've made your point," John cut in with a touch of impatience at Jo stating the obvious. "But you know very well that the person who is best able to help is their nearest and dearest. There are too many barriers, too many hurts for me to be able to help George as my ex-wife."
"Addict or otherwise, the only person who can help themselves is that person. Other people around can help out at the most. I'll drop it, john, but let me tell you that I spent an evening at George's and it showed quite another side to what you see on the surface."
Jo secretly smiled to herself at the way she had pushed her point that little bit further while apparently doing what he wanted.
John turned away to make a cup of coffee for them both as she felt that they were getting into this conversation too deeply. It was a habit of his when he felt uncomfortable.
"Why are we discussing George on this occasion when I am with you. I should be telling you how beautiful, how intelligent and level headed you are," The honeyed words rolled off his tongue.
Typical John thought Jo, with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. When he's really cornered, he gets out of a tricky situation by being an outrageous flirt. When she thought about it, she remembered a reprobate friend of Mark who used to be around here a lot. When Mark was about fourteen, he took up with this impetuous slightly older friend who dominated him a little too much for his liking. The two of them got into all sorts of adolescent scrapes and Jo remembered getting infuriated beyond all reason when she tried to impose a measure of order on them. She hadn't got any time with the sort of older generation cliches like, 'well, they are only lads' as she had to come home from a hard day's work at court. For a reason which she couldn't explain at the time, she reserved the greater force of her anger at her own son while this other lad always got off lightly and it was only later that she realised that it was the same sort of little boy/bad boy appeal which had held her back. She was mightily relieved when Mark broke up this friendship as he had had enough of him and went on to become again, the steadily working Mark whom she knew today. It was just as well that it happened as Mark was becoming more and more independent these days which left her with more room for herself, or at least mixed the opportunities of freedom with the perils of which life choices she had now yet to make. When she thought about it, this lad and john had a lot in common except that John Deed was a High court judge and a paragon of virtue in the public arena.
John Deed had this remarkable ability to make conversation with Jo on one level and his thoughts to operate on quite a different level and also to arrange his personal relationships into a particular pattern. On periodic nights, he would pursue his amateur calling as a virtuoso violinist in a quintet which was kept rigidly distinct from anything in his daytime job, or as distinct until Jo Mills found out about it. Another part of him was given to the ancient art of fencing with his favourite sparring partner Roe Colmore which was a hobby which he had maintained from the public school he had attended. His base in the judge's digs gave him the facility to find the particular woman to whom he was attracted at that moment. Jo was his friend, sometime lover and someone, as she said repeatedly, kept her distance as she had come to know the sort of man he was.
It was his fixed habit, whenever he had casual sex, never to think of what that woman might be doing with her life the moment after he drove his car away from the woman's flat. After all, it was the influences on his generation that had played a part in his development. He had been a child of the sexual revolution that, with a fanfare of trumpets, blew the Last Post on the traditional concept of marriage. That had professed expectations that a man would eventually settle down with his childhood sweetheart, walk up the aisle together, bear children and live happily after. True, it might have been the case that the traditional wedding and the birth of the firstborn might be separated by somewhat less than the nine months that custom and biology dictated.
A generation was born into the heady atmosphere of sexual liberation when it became publicly accepted that the woman might not be backward in coming forward in the matters of sexual relationships. In his time at Oxford University, he started questioning the rationale behind the university, the first institution in his life, which he came to oppose. It was here where he learnt the true underlying meaning of the much-quoted lines of Shakespeare.
"Whether it is nobler in mind
To suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or by opposing, end them."
In common with like minded more intellectually precocious students who had the questioning mind that universities professed to encourage, he opted for the second alternative. When the bolder students proposed a sit in, he ardently joined the cause and found that the communal sleeping arrangements suited perfectly the more carnal side of his nature. John Deed took to this new culture like a duck to water and the fallout of this came many years later when he met and slept with many women who aimed to be as footloose and fancy free as he was. He understood that this was what they wanted as, after all, none of them had gone out of the way to contact him again after the first night. This proved conclusively to his mind that his view on casual sex coincided with theirs.
"It's a shame that the civil court case that George was preparing against the Prison Service area management has come to nothing. I suspect that when George started digging, more skeletons would come out the closet than there ever is in the Lord Chancellor's Department."
He mulled over the fact that he had broken the pattern of a lifetime in first of all, leaving a note, and secondly insisting on remaining friends with Karen Betts who was a singular woman who he genuinely liked and for whom he had real respect.
"It is indeed a pity as I would have liked to get to the bottom of the tissue of lies and corruption that has undoubtedly taken place. But, alas, it is not to be. I suspect, from my limited experience, that each prison is a closed off world from the public thoroughfare of life and who knows what could happen if, as I suspect, there is insufficient accountability."
He had no idea in what real way Karen would become if only a minor part of his life as a walk on part. Now he came to think of it, the idea of a female friend was something that was new in his life.
"You seemed very positive at the end when we questioned Karen Betts that she had nothing to do with Fenner's murder," Jo said with a slight smile. "It was very chivalrous of you to stand up for her against George's best prosecution attack."
He remembered saying to Charlie that, if only he could divide himself into several parts then each part of himself could enjoy a long term relationship with each of the women in his life that he had most in common with. Charlie laughed at his fantasy and suggested that next time, he engaged the services of a male therapist. That did not appeal to him as laying bare his emotions and innermost feelings was not the sort of thing he did with another man. They belonged to a different world marked out by the men he was closest to, who he fenced with, whom he played the violin with.
"Karen?" He said in his most nonchalant, dismissive tones. "I remember when she was first before me in chambers when she was a woman who I promised to do my utmost to put right the most appalling injustice. There is no ulterior motive and anyway, she was able to take care of herself under cross examination most capably. Now can you have the goodness to talk of matters that concern only ourselves in the precious time we have together."
Jo raised her eyebrows at the way he seemed a little rattled while John thought of that night of passion with that remarkable woman who had appeared as an alien in his mental landscape. He might have asked Karen to remain in touch purely as friends, but never would he forget the feel of her soft, utterly responsive body under his ministrations. He would honour his promise, and remain as only friends with her, but the memory of that night would give him something to dream about during those nights he was forced to spend alone at the digs.