Part Thirty Four
When they all descended the familiar marble stairs into the foyer, everyone left fairly quickly, leaving George and Karen standing outside on the steps smoking. George was waiting for Jo who would almost certainly want a lift home, and Karen was taking the opportunity of spending five minutes or so alone with George, not something they'd been able to do all day. "She made an impressive witness, your friend," George commented. "Meg did some group therapy sessions on G wing once. So, if she can handle Shell Dockley doing her best to throw a spanner in the works, then a couple of barristers and a judge is small fry." "Group therapy with some of G Wing's inhabitants sounds like playing with fire to me." Karen laughed. "You could say that," She said ruefully. "It was a bloody disaster. I was doing a Helen, trying to try something radical before I'd been in the job more than five minutes." "I think I'm beginning to like radical," George said, her voice deepening slightly with meaning. "So, you're not regretting it then?" Karen asked with a soft smile. "Good god, no," George replied without the slightest hint of hesitation. "I just wish I hadn't spent so many years thinking about it and not doing it." "I thought something similar when I first slept with Yvonne." "It's been so hard," George said, feeling thoroughly stupid. "Keeping how I feel out of my face all day." "So I noticed," Karen said fondly. "Your face is far more expressive than I think you realise sometimes." "I know," George said slightly scathingly. "That's why John can usually read my thoughts far too accurately. It's infuriating." "I like it," Said Karen, resting her left hand on George's shoulder and gently playing with a tendril of her hair. "Being able to decipher what you're thinking means that I'm far less likely to make any serious blunders." Once they'd both ditched their cigarettes, it felt almost instinctive for George to turn to face Karen, for her arms to reach up and go around Karen's neck, with Karen's fitting easily around George's waist. When their lips met, it felt like they'd been doing this all their lives. They had both taken a cursory look round to make sure they weren't being observed, but even George found herself not really caring if they were. They had been in each other's company all day, and they hadn't been able to touch once. But when the door opened not far from them, they instinctively sprang apart, George teetering on the edge of the top step for a fraction of a second until Karen reflexively flung an arm round her to stop her from falling. Their separating may have been fairly instantaneous, but it hadn't prevented Jo from witnessing the most gloriously gentle, though nonetheless passionate display of sexual attraction she'd seen in a long time. Not even Karen and Yvonne had ever looked like that. But then George had never ever been able to restrain her feelings in public, though Jo was used to a display of such feelings being one of anger, not one of happiness with a layer of lust only just below the surface. George and Jo simply stared at each other, Jo seeing the flushed guilt of discovery in George's face, and George the wide-eyed speechlessness of shock on Jo's. Eventually clearing her throat, Karen said to George, "I need to check on my wing. So I'll see you tomorrow." As she walked down the steps and towards her car, she heard George's voice behind her. "Coward," George called after her, a broad grin lighting up her face. "Oh," Said Karen, turning round to look up at her. "And who do you suppose is going to have to bear the brunt of John's combined disapproval and protective zeal? I am." "Ah, yes, point taken," George said hurriedly, realising that she definitely had the easier end of the deal.
When Karen's car had gone, George turned back to Jo, realising that she was about to have a conversation that she'd wanted to prepare for. But here she was, and it was up to her to make the first move. Lighting two cigarettes, she handed one to Jo who still couldn't take her eyes off the spot where George and Karen had been standing. When George handed her the cigarette, Jo took a grateful drag, the brief, very disturbing thought occurring to her that George's lips had touched the end of the cigarette for her to light it, and that she had seen those lips connecting so caressingly with Karen's. Jo shied away from this moment of introspection that was just too weird to contemplate. George knew she ought to say something, but for the life of her she couldn't find even the beginnings of a sentence. "You look incredibly guilty," Jo said quietly, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "I feel like I'm fifteen again and have been caught doing something utterly unspeakable," George said, a slight stammer revealing her nervousness. "And I'm being forcefully reminded of the saying that you learn something new every day. I'm assuming Karen is who you were talking about in the car this morning?" "Yes," George replied, keeping her gaze averted from Jo, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "And from what Karen said, I'll assume that John doesn't know either." "No, he doesn't, and I'd like it to stay that way, at least for a little while. Jo, you can't tell him," She added, looking suddenly horrified. "Please, you mustn't." "Calm down," Jo said soothingly, laying a hand on George's shoulder. "This isn't my story to tell. I'm staying well out of this one. But you will have to tell him." "I know. I just need some time to get my head around it first. I think I want to find out where it's going, if it's going anywhere, before I blow the top off that volcano of endless, thoroughly irritating curiosity." "What I actually came out here to find you for," Said Jo, seeing that George needed to return to safer ground. "Was because I need you to tap your ex-client who works for area management." "What on earth for?" George asked, grateful for the temporary reprieve. "I could do with laying my hands on a copy of Di Barker's personnel file." "Why?" Asked George, never one to give up the fight too easily. "After Di Barker was on the stand, Nikki, Helen and Crystal came to see me, and filled in an awful lot of gaps that I could have done with knowing about beforehand. I'm thinking of trying to recall her to the witness box. From everything they said, it's pretty clear that she had a reason for making Fenner out to be a model officer and for standing for the prosecution of his killer. Let's just say that I think she owed him one." Looking thoughtful, George smoked the rest of her cigarette in silence. "A hunch is all well and good," George said eventually. "But I'd need a fairly concrete reason for calling in that particular favour." George was only goading Jo. She knew that she would get her the file, no matter what it took, but she wanted to make Jo justify her request by spelling out her plan of attack, to give it an airing that might uncover any possible holes. But she hadn't banked on Jo's response. "How's this for concrete?" Jo said, an utterly wicked grin creasing her face. "Your making use of your dubious contacts, might just buy my silence on your most recent acquisition." For the briefest of moments, George looked completely stunned. But recovering her composure like lightning, she said, "I'm impressed, Mrs. Mills. That might almost have come from me. It seems my influence is at last having some effect. I will be only too pleased to commit blackmail on your behalf."
When they were in the car and George had started the engine, the CD she'd been listening too that morning began automatically. Remembering the sheer romantic quality of some of the lyrics she'd been singing with such abandon that morning, George blushed scarlet and switched it off in disgust. Realising what she'd been thinking, Jo just smiled. As George pulled out in to the stream of rush hour traffic, she dug her address book out of the glove compartment and asked Jo to find Alison Warner's number. When Jo had read it out to her, and George had put the number into her mobile, they waited as George was rerouted through the vast internal workings of area management. George drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the disembodied voice of Mrs. Warner's secretary asked her to hold. With George having the phone on hands free because she was driving, Jo felt like a fly on the wall, a mere observer of one of George's most ruthless tactics. When Mrs. Warner finally put in an appearance, George engaged her in some initial small talk, clearly to lull her into a false sense of security. "So what can I do for you, George?" Alison Warner's suspicious voice finally asked. "Making light conversation with ex-clients isn't something I suspect you go in for just on a whim." "I need a favour," George replied cutting to the chase. "Does this concern Larkhall Prison again?" "The very same," George drawled, briefly wondering if she'd underestimated this woman. "I need the personnel file of one Diane Barker. I believe she is one of Larkhall's prison officers." "And is there a remotely good reason why I should exceed to your request?" Mrs. Warner asked icily. "It wasn't so long ago that you wanted not just the personnel files of three of Larkhall's officers, including the governing governor's no less, but the prison files of three of its inmates." "That was eighteen months ago," George said mildly, keeping her cool whilst Mrs. Warner was clearly riled. "And I'm hardly asking you to commit a major indiscretion." "George, you are asking me to illegally copy a private personnel file of one of Larkhall's officers. You are further asking me to either fax or e-mail a copy of this file to, I'm assuming, your home address. If it's that important to you, why not just get a court order?" Thirty fifteen to Mrs. Warner, George thought in slight admiration, but she hadn't finished yet. "A court order means that the prosecution will know about it, and that isn't something I'm prepared to put up with," George said, the ice now creeping back into her tone. "Let me put this another way. Not long after the last trial involving Larkhall prison, I was presented with the makings of a case against area management, a civil case that would have cost the prison service half a million in costs alone, to say nothing of eventual compensation. For reasons I choose not to reveal to you, this case was put on hold. If Diane Barker's complete and untampered with personnel file is not waiting either on my fax or in my e-mail box when I get home, I may be forced to resurrect this case. A calamity I feel you can hardly afford, seeing as your personal handling of a few specific events left a lot to be desired. Does that make my position clear?" There was a long, sonorous silence. "Can we get one thing straight?" Alison Warner eventually asked. "By all means," George replied, sounding genial again. "If I send you a copy of this file, are we quits? Or are you going to use the threat of this case you say you have, every time you want something involving the prison service?" "Well now, I can't possibly know if I'll need to resort to such methods again, now can I." "Can you give me some proof that you do actually have the makings of a case against us?" "How does the escape of three inmates, and the fact that I have enough evidence to prove that you didn't investigate it thoroughly do you, together with the fact that you were well and truly fooled by the very officer who orchestrated the escape of Michelle Dockley, Daniella Blood and Sharon Wiley. Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity?" "Plenty," Alison Warner replied dully. "Why are you doing this George? Why the sudden interest in Larkhall Prison and one of its officers?" "Suffice it to say that it's for a good cause. Let me have this file, and you might for once see some justice done." After another long silence, Mrs. Warner said, "Fine. Diane Barker's personnel file will be faxed to you forthwith." Not waiting for a response, Mrs. Warner terminated the call.
"Game, set and match to me, I think," George said, glancing quickly over at Jo to gage her response. "Yes," Jo said, looking slightly flabbergasted. "So I see." "I do realise that blackmail is ever so slightly unprofessional, but very occasionally it does get results that couldn't otherwise be achieved so successfully." "Oh, I'm not complaining," Jo said in an effort to reassure George. "I just know that I couldn't do it, that's all." George grinned wickedly. "Yes, well, that's probably because I am perfectly capable of behaving like a complete and total bitch when it suits me. You wouldn't be you, Jo, if you could do what I just did. It's not in your nature, and that isn't a bad thing." They were silent for a while as George weaved her way in and out of the endless stream of rain-spattered cars. Now that George had done what Jo had asked, George found herself returning to the feeling of nervous anticipation of the difficult conversation that was looming on the horizon as a source of embarrassment and stress. "I'm sorry, Jo," She said suddenly, knowing she had to get this out of the way before anything else. "I didn't mean you to find out like that." Realising that George had returned to the subject of Karen, mainly by the uncomfortable look on her face, Jo briefly laid a hand over George's, which was resting on the gear stick and said reassuringly, "George, you've got absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I won't deny that it was a shock, but that's mainly because I didn't know you were that way inclined. It surprised me that you were kissing a woman, not that the woman was Karen, if that makes any sense." "Why?" George asked, her nervousness immediately abating in favour of curiosity. "Let's just say that a few little details have now been explained." "Like what?" George asked as they turned in to her street. "Over the last year, you've felt incredibly guilty about the way you verbally ripped in to Karen when we thought she might have killed Fenner." George was surprised. "Was it really that obvious?" "Yes," Jo said quietly. "You almost always asked after Karen when you knew I'd been to Larkhall, and Karen usually asked after you, yet the two of you hadn't had any communication with each other, at least none that I knew of. When I asked you to be in court, and you said that it would be quite odd, seeing Karen again, you had a wistful little smile on your face that I couldn't explain at the time." "I can see I'm going to have to watch myself around you," George said ruefully as they got out of the car. "You're far too observant for your own good."
As they entered the house, they could hear the fax machine in George's office churning out page after page of Di Barker's employment history. Jo put her briefcase down in the hall, and George went to make them a cup of tea. "That psychiatrist friend of Karen's did very well today," George commented as she poured boiling water over teabags and retrieved milk from the fridge. "Yes, she did. But I wish John would stop taking over. I swear he asked almost as many questions as I did this morning. If he misses the cut and thrust of questioning witnesses, then he should go back to being a barrister." Handing Jo a mug of tea, George led the way to her office, on the opposite side of the hall to the lounge. Switching on the overhead light, George said, "Jo, you should know by now that John has always liked to have his cake and eat it." George moved over to the fax machine and began collecting the sheets of paper together. They sat down on the sofa under the window, where John and George had begun their evening of loving, on the night after George's enforced visit to Larkhall. As the fax machine produced yet more and more paper, Jo and George began leafing through what they already had. Jo liked this room, its cluttered and well-lived in appearance making some of the tension begin to seep out of her. George clearly spent a considerable amount of her time in here, and Jo found herself briefly thinking that in spite of George's rise in professional status over the years, this room had probably always been a replica of the one George must have had as a law student. Most of what they had was fairly normal, fairly unhelpful, but when the fax machine had tired itself out, throwing out the last page to flutter on to the top of George's enormous antique desk, Jo glanced at it and knew she'd found what she was looking for. "Look at this," She said to George, directing her to a transcript of the conversation Helen had attached to Di's written warning over the mislabeled drugs tests. "This is how she referred to her mother." George's response to Di's brutal and to the point words that "All her life was a stinking piss test," were, "Get her to say something like that in court and you're home and dry." "Not long after she was given that written warning by Helen," Jo filled in. "Her mother supposedly had a bad fall at home, one which, funnily enough, Fenner helped her to sort out." George's eyes became round with comprehension. "So," She said, the pieces slotting nicely together. "You think she might have beaten up her mother, that Fenner helped her cover it up, and that this trial was Di Barker's way of repaying the debt." "Going by the record of the conversation that resulted in her being given a written warning by Helen, coupled with everything else I was told about her, yes, I'd say that's pretty much what happened." "You're going to have to be careful with this, Jo," George said seriously. "Go in all guns blazing, and you'll have a civil action hanging over you quicker than I can say slander." "Oh, no," Jo said earnestly. "I'm going to reel her in with the softly softly approach." "That's if you can get her back in to the witness box, and you do realise that if you're successful in getting Neumann Mason-Alan to agree with you, that he's going to want his own crack of the whip." "Well, fine. He's got to come up with a reason for recalling any of my witnesses, which he can't." "No, but he would have every reason in the book for calling Karen to the stand. If I were him, that's exactly what I would do. There's been far too much said about Karen during this trial one way and another, and if he's got an ounce of sense in that thick head of his, he'll have been biding his time, keeping the possibility of calling Karen in reserve if things weren't going too well for him. As it is, I'll bet you this year's salary that if you don't try to recall Di Barker, Neumann will ask to call Karen, and if you do ask to recall Di Barker, then he'll use Karen's appearance as a bargaining tool." "You've really thought this out, haven't you," Jo said in slight wonderment. "I've so far had six days in the gallery, watching you pull off a bloody miracle, to come up with thoughts like that. Being up there, it means that you can see both sides of the battle. All I've needed to do is to watch Neumann's face when you're questioning either his or your own witnesses. His facial expressions are as transparent as mine. If something's going in his favour, then you can tell, and if it's going the other way, it's even easier. Everything Lauren said about Karen on Thursday, I could see him mentally chalking it up as something he wanted to remember. That's when his wanting to call her as a witness occurred to me." Jo was about to comment on this, when the phone rang. Picking up the cordless from the desk, George saw that it was John's number and when she answered, switched the phone on to hands free so that Jo could speak to him too if she wanted. But whilst John and George chatted amiably enough for a little while, Jo stayed silent, so that John remained unaware of her presence. "George," he said eventually as she'd thought he might. "Can I see you tonight?" "No, darling, I'm sorry, but I'm busy this evening." "Is whatever it is so important?" "Yes!" George said in mock outrage. "Are you seeing this new lover you wouldn't tell me about last week?" George couldn't help blushing. "No, as it happens, I'm not, but the answer's still no." "Please, George," He attempted to cajole which made Jo smile. "John, don't sulk, it's frightfully unattractive." Sitting next to her, Jo was shaking with silent laughter, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip so as not to let out a sound. "But Jo isn't speaking to me," John said, still blissfully unaware of Jo's presence. "And have you asked yourself why?" George asked. "Jo's cross with me for supposedly always having the upper hand. I don't mean too, that's just how it's always been." George suddenly felt like this was something she shouldn't be hearing. "You shouldn't really be telling me this, John. But I think you need to look at why Jo thinks you always have the upper hand, whether that's in bed or out of it." When John said, "Perhaps you're right," George could feel Jo relax, clearly relieved that they'd stopped talking about her. "So, are you sure I can't persuade you to postpone the ever so important thing you seem bent upon doing tonight?" John asked, returning to his former endeavour. "John," George said slightly regretfully. "I'm not particularly eager to repeat the disaster that was last week. I just need some space, that's all." When John had gone, George put the cordless back on the desk and said, "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know John would start talking about you." "Oh, no need," Jo said lightly. "He didn't say anything I don't already know." "Jo, what's happening with you two?" George asked gently. "We've slipped in to a bit of a rut, that's all. It'll sort itself out with some straight talking. I'm sick of John always having the professional, or sexual, upper hand, and he doesn't know any other way to be."
They left this topic of conversation for some time, whilst they cooked and ate a light meal, both women at ease in the other's company, a state of being that couldn't have even been suggested two years previously. After George had put the plates in the dishwasher, she opened a bottle of white wine and poured them both a glass. When they had taken their accustomed seats in the lounge, George at the right hand end of the sofa, and Jo in the armchair at right angles to the fireplace, Jo lit a cigarette and said, "So, tell me about Karen." Lighting her own cigarette, George began. "It really begins before Karen. I've always known that I found other women attractive, I'd just never done anything about it before. I don't really know why, other than the fact that Daddy would have a fit and probably disown me. John didn't even know about it, well, not until fairly recently, the night after my imposed visit to Larkhall to be exact. You know what he's like, if he wants an answer to a question, he gets it at any cost. I didn't want him to know, but he virtually dragged it out of me. I wanted to have just one thing about myself that he didn't know, but that wasn't to be. When I clashed swords with Karen in court, it was incredible. She didn't give a damn that I was a barrister, she just gave as good as she got. You've got no idea just how erotic sparring with someone really is. When I accused Karen of killing Fenner, the way she fought back was wonderful. But, as usual, I took that too far. I felt terrible for the way I'd intruded on her personal space, and for accusing her of doing something so horrific. So, I sent her an e-mail to apologise. I didn't hear from her again until I saw her in court last Monday. I would have been there even if you hadn't asked me to be. It was too good an opportunity to miss. Karen, also being far too observant for her own good, asked me why I'd really been at court. So, I told her. She was surprised, but seemed to like it. I went out for dinner with her last Wednesday, which was possibly the most enlightening meal I've ever had in my life. Karen said that if she hadn't been trying to keep herself out of prison, forming the case against Fenner and finishing with Yvonne, she wouldn't have waited until now to ask me out for dinner. So, there you are." "What happened with John last week that was so disastrous?" Jo had unknowingly put two and two together and had well and truly made four. George took a sip of her wine. "After Karen left on Wednesday night, John came to see me." George looked slightly away from Jo at this point. "I wasn't sure if I wanted Karen to stay, so she didn't, and whilst she couldn't possibly have been nicer to me about that, I was furious with myself." "George," Jo said quietly. "Being afraid of trying something new isn't anything to be angry about." "I know that really, I'm just not used to it. I wasn't expecting John to put in an appearance, and if he'd arrived half an hour earlier, Karen would still have been here. I thought sleeping with him might get rid of some of my anger, but it didn't. It dawned on me half way through that I didn't want to be in bed with John, but that I wanted to be in bed with Karen, and that sort of took any possible enjoyment out of it. I'm sorry," She said, thinking that she'd definitely said too much. "You didn't want to hear all that." "I think what you said to John is right," Jo replied. "You do need some space, space to find out where this is going with Karen." "Right," George said decisively. "Enough about me. What are we going to do about you and John?" "I don't think there's anything to be done about me and John," Jo said miserably. "He's never going to change, and I certainly can't make him." "Jo, tell me to sod off and mind my own business if this is too personal, but what is it really about John that you're unhappy with?" Jo tried to find a satisfactory way of saying how she did feel, but it seemed that only the basic facts would suffice. "I've always been professionally inferior to John, and there isn't really anything I can do about that at the moment, and that only occasionally gets in the way. But I'm sick of also feeling sexually inferior." "Who says you are?" George asked gently. "It's obvious," Jo insisted. "I will never be remotely sexually equal to John, or you, and I'm reminded of that every time I sleep with him." To George's dismay, tears rose to Jo's eyes and began flowing down her cheeks, clearly showing that this was not a recent concern, and that the stress of the trial had brought it to the fore. "Oh, Jo," George said, feeling the pain and the abundant lack of self-confidence that had prompted the tears. Getting to her feet, George walked over to Jo, and sat snugly down in the armchair next to her. This slightly incongruous piece of furniture could comfortably though somewhat intimately seat both herself and John, so it could easily accommodate her and Jo. "I'm sorry," Jo said as George put her arms round her. "I feel so stupid, and you're so happy, which is wonderful to see, believe me. But I just wish I had it in me to be a better lover." Jo's body was rigid and tense in George's arms. She tried to choose her words carefully. "Jo, this is more to do with how you feel about yourself than how you feel about John, isn't it." "I hate it, George, I hate feeling so, so sexually inadequate." "Jo, listen to me," George said, trying to calm her down. "It isn't always good with me and John, you know. I'm not quite the sexual success you seem to think I am, and whatever does take place between me and John isn't anywhere near as unconventional as you might think." Jo looked unconvinced. "Jo, you need to stop assuming that I always enjoy everything John does for me, because it isn't all that unusual for me not too. Yes, I might like to try something new once in a while, though that's part of my sex life I seem to have left behind in recent years. You could say that finally getting around to sleeping with Karen this weekend was partly to do with that. What you need to understand about John, is that the majority of the pleasure he receives from making love, isn't necessarily what a woman can or does do for him, but what he can do for her. If you enjoy it, and he knows you enjoy it, that can often be all that matters to John. You know what he's like, John's philosophy has always been to bring a woman to shuddering submission as many times as possible before he thinks about himself. John has an enormous amount of love for you, and giving pleasure is the only way he really knows how to show it." "So you don't think he's likely to get bored of me?" Jo asked, her tears having mostly dried. "No," George said firmly. "Darling, if John was bored of you, he wouldn't still be sleeping with you, I know that much. After Charlie was born, and any time after that when I went through my periodic phases of self-loathing, I wouldn't have enjoyed bed even if I'd had the most skilful lover on the planet. That's why John went looking elsewhere, not because he didn't enjoy what I did for him, but because I wasn't enjoying whatever he did for me. It didn't occur to me to even think of faking it in those days, though sometimes I wish I had. So, whilst you might think your sex life with John is pretty conventional, at least you don't disappoint him on a fairly regular basis." "You don't disappoint him," Said Jo in astonishment. "Yes, he worries about you, but that's because he loves you and because he doesn't ever want you to become as low and as thin as you were a year ago. We both worry about you when you occasionally stop eating, which we are both usually aware of, though you don't always know it, and John will be happy for you, when he gets over the shock." "Jo, no matter what happens with Karen, I don't want to put a stop to what I have with John. I won't ever stop loving him, and I don't think I could do without him. Does that sound terrible?" "No, of course not," Jo said gently. "I don't ever want to go back to the way things were before we began living the way we are. I really don't think I could live with that level of uncertainty again. George, I need you to help me love John, because we both know that one woman will never be enough for him." They sat still and silent for some time, George with her arms around Jo, and Jo with an arm around George's shoulders. They were both deeply touched by what the other had said, and both needed a little time to digest it. Eventually, George gave Jo one last squeeze and detached herself, moving back to sit on the sofa and taking a mouthful of wine. "So," Jo said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "Come on then, satisfy my curiosity. What's it like, sleeping with a woman?" George broke in to a soft, sexy smile. "It's utterly incredible," Was all she could say at first. "It feels so emotionally intimate that if it didn't work, it would be a disaster. Turning a man on is really quite simple when you think about it, but doing the same for a woman is a challenge. If you know what you like yourself, and are prepared to contemplate giving what you normally receive, you're half way there. You should try it some time." "I don't think you'll ever find me doing that," Jo said with a broad grin.
An hour or so later when a cab arrived for Jo, they stood on the doorstep, Jo's arms going around George, and George fondly returning the hug. "I wouldn't have given you away to John, you know," Jo said as they briefly held each other close. "And I would have got you that file," George responded, the two remarks seeming to affirm the friendship that had been built up over the months, and which was growing ever deeper. What they had was too important to both of them, it was something worth maintaining at almost any cost.
When they all descended the familiar marble stairs into the foyer, everyone left fairly quickly, leaving George and Karen standing outside on the steps smoking. George was waiting for Jo who would almost certainly want a lift home, and Karen was taking the opportunity of spending five minutes or so alone with George, not something they'd been able to do all day. "She made an impressive witness, your friend," George commented. "Meg did some group therapy sessions on G wing once. So, if she can handle Shell Dockley doing her best to throw a spanner in the works, then a couple of barristers and a judge is small fry." "Group therapy with some of G Wing's inhabitants sounds like playing with fire to me." Karen laughed. "You could say that," She said ruefully. "It was a bloody disaster. I was doing a Helen, trying to try something radical before I'd been in the job more than five minutes." "I think I'm beginning to like radical," George said, her voice deepening slightly with meaning. "So, you're not regretting it then?" Karen asked with a soft smile. "Good god, no," George replied without the slightest hint of hesitation. "I just wish I hadn't spent so many years thinking about it and not doing it." "I thought something similar when I first slept with Yvonne." "It's been so hard," George said, feeling thoroughly stupid. "Keeping how I feel out of my face all day." "So I noticed," Karen said fondly. "Your face is far more expressive than I think you realise sometimes." "I know," George said slightly scathingly. "That's why John can usually read my thoughts far too accurately. It's infuriating." "I like it," Said Karen, resting her left hand on George's shoulder and gently playing with a tendril of her hair. "Being able to decipher what you're thinking means that I'm far less likely to make any serious blunders." Once they'd both ditched their cigarettes, it felt almost instinctive for George to turn to face Karen, for her arms to reach up and go around Karen's neck, with Karen's fitting easily around George's waist. When their lips met, it felt like they'd been doing this all their lives. They had both taken a cursory look round to make sure they weren't being observed, but even George found herself not really caring if they were. They had been in each other's company all day, and they hadn't been able to touch once. But when the door opened not far from them, they instinctively sprang apart, George teetering on the edge of the top step for a fraction of a second until Karen reflexively flung an arm round her to stop her from falling. Their separating may have been fairly instantaneous, but it hadn't prevented Jo from witnessing the most gloriously gentle, though nonetheless passionate display of sexual attraction she'd seen in a long time. Not even Karen and Yvonne had ever looked like that. But then George had never ever been able to restrain her feelings in public, though Jo was used to a display of such feelings being one of anger, not one of happiness with a layer of lust only just below the surface. George and Jo simply stared at each other, Jo seeing the flushed guilt of discovery in George's face, and George the wide-eyed speechlessness of shock on Jo's. Eventually clearing her throat, Karen said to George, "I need to check on my wing. So I'll see you tomorrow." As she walked down the steps and towards her car, she heard George's voice behind her. "Coward," George called after her, a broad grin lighting up her face. "Oh," Said Karen, turning round to look up at her. "And who do you suppose is going to have to bear the brunt of John's combined disapproval and protective zeal? I am." "Ah, yes, point taken," George said hurriedly, realising that she definitely had the easier end of the deal.
When Karen's car had gone, George turned back to Jo, realising that she was about to have a conversation that she'd wanted to prepare for. But here she was, and it was up to her to make the first move. Lighting two cigarettes, she handed one to Jo who still couldn't take her eyes off the spot where George and Karen had been standing. When George handed her the cigarette, Jo took a grateful drag, the brief, very disturbing thought occurring to her that George's lips had touched the end of the cigarette for her to light it, and that she had seen those lips connecting so caressingly with Karen's. Jo shied away from this moment of introspection that was just too weird to contemplate. George knew she ought to say something, but for the life of her she couldn't find even the beginnings of a sentence. "You look incredibly guilty," Jo said quietly, a smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "I feel like I'm fifteen again and have been caught doing something utterly unspeakable," George said, a slight stammer revealing her nervousness. "And I'm being forcefully reminded of the saying that you learn something new every day. I'm assuming Karen is who you were talking about in the car this morning?" "Yes," George replied, keeping her gaze averted from Jo, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "And from what Karen said, I'll assume that John doesn't know either." "No, he doesn't, and I'd like it to stay that way, at least for a little while. Jo, you can't tell him," She added, looking suddenly horrified. "Please, you mustn't." "Calm down," Jo said soothingly, laying a hand on George's shoulder. "This isn't my story to tell. I'm staying well out of this one. But you will have to tell him." "I know. I just need some time to get my head around it first. I think I want to find out where it's going, if it's going anywhere, before I blow the top off that volcano of endless, thoroughly irritating curiosity." "What I actually came out here to find you for," Said Jo, seeing that George needed to return to safer ground. "Was because I need you to tap your ex-client who works for area management." "What on earth for?" George asked, grateful for the temporary reprieve. "I could do with laying my hands on a copy of Di Barker's personnel file." "Why?" Asked George, never one to give up the fight too easily. "After Di Barker was on the stand, Nikki, Helen and Crystal came to see me, and filled in an awful lot of gaps that I could have done with knowing about beforehand. I'm thinking of trying to recall her to the witness box. From everything they said, it's pretty clear that she had a reason for making Fenner out to be a model officer and for standing for the prosecution of his killer. Let's just say that I think she owed him one." Looking thoughtful, George smoked the rest of her cigarette in silence. "A hunch is all well and good," George said eventually. "But I'd need a fairly concrete reason for calling in that particular favour." George was only goading Jo. She knew that she would get her the file, no matter what it took, but she wanted to make Jo justify her request by spelling out her plan of attack, to give it an airing that might uncover any possible holes. But she hadn't banked on Jo's response. "How's this for concrete?" Jo said, an utterly wicked grin creasing her face. "Your making use of your dubious contacts, might just buy my silence on your most recent acquisition." For the briefest of moments, George looked completely stunned. But recovering her composure like lightning, she said, "I'm impressed, Mrs. Mills. That might almost have come from me. It seems my influence is at last having some effect. I will be only too pleased to commit blackmail on your behalf."
When they were in the car and George had started the engine, the CD she'd been listening too that morning began automatically. Remembering the sheer romantic quality of some of the lyrics she'd been singing with such abandon that morning, George blushed scarlet and switched it off in disgust. Realising what she'd been thinking, Jo just smiled. As George pulled out in to the stream of rush hour traffic, she dug her address book out of the glove compartment and asked Jo to find Alison Warner's number. When Jo had read it out to her, and George had put the number into her mobile, they waited as George was rerouted through the vast internal workings of area management. George drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the disembodied voice of Mrs. Warner's secretary asked her to hold. With George having the phone on hands free because she was driving, Jo felt like a fly on the wall, a mere observer of one of George's most ruthless tactics. When Mrs. Warner finally put in an appearance, George engaged her in some initial small talk, clearly to lull her into a false sense of security. "So what can I do for you, George?" Alison Warner's suspicious voice finally asked. "Making light conversation with ex-clients isn't something I suspect you go in for just on a whim." "I need a favour," George replied cutting to the chase. "Does this concern Larkhall Prison again?" "The very same," George drawled, briefly wondering if she'd underestimated this woman. "I need the personnel file of one Diane Barker. I believe she is one of Larkhall's prison officers." "And is there a remotely good reason why I should exceed to your request?" Mrs. Warner asked icily. "It wasn't so long ago that you wanted not just the personnel files of three of Larkhall's officers, including the governing governor's no less, but the prison files of three of its inmates." "That was eighteen months ago," George said mildly, keeping her cool whilst Mrs. Warner was clearly riled. "And I'm hardly asking you to commit a major indiscretion." "George, you are asking me to illegally copy a private personnel file of one of Larkhall's officers. You are further asking me to either fax or e-mail a copy of this file to, I'm assuming, your home address. If it's that important to you, why not just get a court order?" Thirty fifteen to Mrs. Warner, George thought in slight admiration, but she hadn't finished yet. "A court order means that the prosecution will know about it, and that isn't something I'm prepared to put up with," George said, the ice now creeping back into her tone. "Let me put this another way. Not long after the last trial involving Larkhall prison, I was presented with the makings of a case against area management, a civil case that would have cost the prison service half a million in costs alone, to say nothing of eventual compensation. For reasons I choose not to reveal to you, this case was put on hold. If Diane Barker's complete and untampered with personnel file is not waiting either on my fax or in my e-mail box when I get home, I may be forced to resurrect this case. A calamity I feel you can hardly afford, seeing as your personal handling of a few specific events left a lot to be desired. Does that make my position clear?" There was a long, sonorous silence. "Can we get one thing straight?" Alison Warner eventually asked. "By all means," George replied, sounding genial again. "If I send you a copy of this file, are we quits? Or are you going to use the threat of this case you say you have, every time you want something involving the prison service?" "Well now, I can't possibly know if I'll need to resort to such methods again, now can I." "Can you give me some proof that you do actually have the makings of a case against us?" "How does the escape of three inmates, and the fact that I have enough evidence to prove that you didn't investigate it thoroughly do you, together with the fact that you were well and truly fooled by the very officer who orchestrated the escape of Michelle Dockley, Daniella Blood and Sharon Wiley. Is that enough to satisfy your curiosity?" "Plenty," Alison Warner replied dully. "Why are you doing this George? Why the sudden interest in Larkhall Prison and one of its officers?" "Suffice it to say that it's for a good cause. Let me have this file, and you might for once see some justice done." After another long silence, Mrs. Warner said, "Fine. Diane Barker's personnel file will be faxed to you forthwith." Not waiting for a response, Mrs. Warner terminated the call.
"Game, set and match to me, I think," George said, glancing quickly over at Jo to gage her response. "Yes," Jo said, looking slightly flabbergasted. "So I see." "I do realise that blackmail is ever so slightly unprofessional, but very occasionally it does get results that couldn't otherwise be achieved so successfully." "Oh, I'm not complaining," Jo said in an effort to reassure George. "I just know that I couldn't do it, that's all." George grinned wickedly. "Yes, well, that's probably because I am perfectly capable of behaving like a complete and total bitch when it suits me. You wouldn't be you, Jo, if you could do what I just did. It's not in your nature, and that isn't a bad thing." They were silent for a while as George weaved her way in and out of the endless stream of rain-spattered cars. Now that George had done what Jo had asked, George found herself returning to the feeling of nervous anticipation of the difficult conversation that was looming on the horizon as a source of embarrassment and stress. "I'm sorry, Jo," She said suddenly, knowing she had to get this out of the way before anything else. "I didn't mean you to find out like that." Realising that George had returned to the subject of Karen, mainly by the uncomfortable look on her face, Jo briefly laid a hand over George's, which was resting on the gear stick and said reassuringly, "George, you've got absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I won't deny that it was a shock, but that's mainly because I didn't know you were that way inclined. It surprised me that you were kissing a woman, not that the woman was Karen, if that makes any sense." "Why?" George asked, her nervousness immediately abating in favour of curiosity. "Let's just say that a few little details have now been explained." "Like what?" George asked as they turned in to her street. "Over the last year, you've felt incredibly guilty about the way you verbally ripped in to Karen when we thought she might have killed Fenner." George was surprised. "Was it really that obvious?" "Yes," Jo said quietly. "You almost always asked after Karen when you knew I'd been to Larkhall, and Karen usually asked after you, yet the two of you hadn't had any communication with each other, at least none that I knew of. When I asked you to be in court, and you said that it would be quite odd, seeing Karen again, you had a wistful little smile on your face that I couldn't explain at the time." "I can see I'm going to have to watch myself around you," George said ruefully as they got out of the car. "You're far too observant for your own good."
As they entered the house, they could hear the fax machine in George's office churning out page after page of Di Barker's employment history. Jo put her briefcase down in the hall, and George went to make them a cup of tea. "That psychiatrist friend of Karen's did very well today," George commented as she poured boiling water over teabags and retrieved milk from the fridge. "Yes, she did. But I wish John would stop taking over. I swear he asked almost as many questions as I did this morning. If he misses the cut and thrust of questioning witnesses, then he should go back to being a barrister." Handing Jo a mug of tea, George led the way to her office, on the opposite side of the hall to the lounge. Switching on the overhead light, George said, "Jo, you should know by now that John has always liked to have his cake and eat it." George moved over to the fax machine and began collecting the sheets of paper together. They sat down on the sofa under the window, where John and George had begun their evening of loving, on the night after George's enforced visit to Larkhall. As the fax machine produced yet more and more paper, Jo and George began leafing through what they already had. Jo liked this room, its cluttered and well-lived in appearance making some of the tension begin to seep out of her. George clearly spent a considerable amount of her time in here, and Jo found herself briefly thinking that in spite of George's rise in professional status over the years, this room had probably always been a replica of the one George must have had as a law student. Most of what they had was fairly normal, fairly unhelpful, but when the fax machine had tired itself out, throwing out the last page to flutter on to the top of George's enormous antique desk, Jo glanced at it and knew she'd found what she was looking for. "Look at this," She said to George, directing her to a transcript of the conversation Helen had attached to Di's written warning over the mislabeled drugs tests. "This is how she referred to her mother." George's response to Di's brutal and to the point words that "All her life was a stinking piss test," were, "Get her to say something like that in court and you're home and dry." "Not long after she was given that written warning by Helen," Jo filled in. "Her mother supposedly had a bad fall at home, one which, funnily enough, Fenner helped her to sort out." George's eyes became round with comprehension. "So," She said, the pieces slotting nicely together. "You think she might have beaten up her mother, that Fenner helped her cover it up, and that this trial was Di Barker's way of repaying the debt." "Going by the record of the conversation that resulted in her being given a written warning by Helen, coupled with everything else I was told about her, yes, I'd say that's pretty much what happened." "You're going to have to be careful with this, Jo," George said seriously. "Go in all guns blazing, and you'll have a civil action hanging over you quicker than I can say slander." "Oh, no," Jo said earnestly. "I'm going to reel her in with the softly softly approach." "That's if you can get her back in to the witness box, and you do realise that if you're successful in getting Neumann Mason-Alan to agree with you, that he's going to want his own crack of the whip." "Well, fine. He's got to come up with a reason for recalling any of my witnesses, which he can't." "No, but he would have every reason in the book for calling Karen to the stand. If I were him, that's exactly what I would do. There's been far too much said about Karen during this trial one way and another, and if he's got an ounce of sense in that thick head of his, he'll have been biding his time, keeping the possibility of calling Karen in reserve if things weren't going too well for him. As it is, I'll bet you this year's salary that if you don't try to recall Di Barker, Neumann will ask to call Karen, and if you do ask to recall Di Barker, then he'll use Karen's appearance as a bargaining tool." "You've really thought this out, haven't you," Jo said in slight wonderment. "I've so far had six days in the gallery, watching you pull off a bloody miracle, to come up with thoughts like that. Being up there, it means that you can see both sides of the battle. All I've needed to do is to watch Neumann's face when you're questioning either his or your own witnesses. His facial expressions are as transparent as mine. If something's going in his favour, then you can tell, and if it's going the other way, it's even easier. Everything Lauren said about Karen on Thursday, I could see him mentally chalking it up as something he wanted to remember. That's when his wanting to call her as a witness occurred to me." Jo was about to comment on this, when the phone rang. Picking up the cordless from the desk, George saw that it was John's number and when she answered, switched the phone on to hands free so that Jo could speak to him too if she wanted. But whilst John and George chatted amiably enough for a little while, Jo stayed silent, so that John remained unaware of her presence. "George," he said eventually as she'd thought he might. "Can I see you tonight?" "No, darling, I'm sorry, but I'm busy this evening." "Is whatever it is so important?" "Yes!" George said in mock outrage. "Are you seeing this new lover you wouldn't tell me about last week?" George couldn't help blushing. "No, as it happens, I'm not, but the answer's still no." "Please, George," He attempted to cajole which made Jo smile. "John, don't sulk, it's frightfully unattractive." Sitting next to her, Jo was shaking with silent laughter, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip so as not to let out a sound. "But Jo isn't speaking to me," John said, still blissfully unaware of Jo's presence. "And have you asked yourself why?" George asked. "Jo's cross with me for supposedly always having the upper hand. I don't mean too, that's just how it's always been." George suddenly felt like this was something she shouldn't be hearing. "You shouldn't really be telling me this, John. But I think you need to look at why Jo thinks you always have the upper hand, whether that's in bed or out of it." When John said, "Perhaps you're right," George could feel Jo relax, clearly relieved that they'd stopped talking about her. "So, are you sure I can't persuade you to postpone the ever so important thing you seem bent upon doing tonight?" John asked, returning to his former endeavour. "John," George said slightly regretfully. "I'm not particularly eager to repeat the disaster that was last week. I just need some space, that's all." When John had gone, George put the cordless back on the desk and said, "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know John would start talking about you." "Oh, no need," Jo said lightly. "He didn't say anything I don't already know." "Jo, what's happening with you two?" George asked gently. "We've slipped in to a bit of a rut, that's all. It'll sort itself out with some straight talking. I'm sick of John always having the professional, or sexual, upper hand, and he doesn't know any other way to be."
They left this topic of conversation for some time, whilst they cooked and ate a light meal, both women at ease in the other's company, a state of being that couldn't have even been suggested two years previously. After George had put the plates in the dishwasher, she opened a bottle of white wine and poured them both a glass. When they had taken their accustomed seats in the lounge, George at the right hand end of the sofa, and Jo in the armchair at right angles to the fireplace, Jo lit a cigarette and said, "So, tell me about Karen." Lighting her own cigarette, George began. "It really begins before Karen. I've always known that I found other women attractive, I'd just never done anything about it before. I don't really know why, other than the fact that Daddy would have a fit and probably disown me. John didn't even know about it, well, not until fairly recently, the night after my imposed visit to Larkhall to be exact. You know what he's like, if he wants an answer to a question, he gets it at any cost. I didn't want him to know, but he virtually dragged it out of me. I wanted to have just one thing about myself that he didn't know, but that wasn't to be. When I clashed swords with Karen in court, it was incredible. She didn't give a damn that I was a barrister, she just gave as good as she got. You've got no idea just how erotic sparring with someone really is. When I accused Karen of killing Fenner, the way she fought back was wonderful. But, as usual, I took that too far. I felt terrible for the way I'd intruded on her personal space, and for accusing her of doing something so horrific. So, I sent her an e-mail to apologise. I didn't hear from her again until I saw her in court last Monday. I would have been there even if you hadn't asked me to be. It was too good an opportunity to miss. Karen, also being far too observant for her own good, asked me why I'd really been at court. So, I told her. She was surprised, but seemed to like it. I went out for dinner with her last Wednesday, which was possibly the most enlightening meal I've ever had in my life. Karen said that if she hadn't been trying to keep herself out of prison, forming the case against Fenner and finishing with Yvonne, she wouldn't have waited until now to ask me out for dinner. So, there you are." "What happened with John last week that was so disastrous?" Jo had unknowingly put two and two together and had well and truly made four. George took a sip of her wine. "After Karen left on Wednesday night, John came to see me." George looked slightly away from Jo at this point. "I wasn't sure if I wanted Karen to stay, so she didn't, and whilst she couldn't possibly have been nicer to me about that, I was furious with myself." "George," Jo said quietly. "Being afraid of trying something new isn't anything to be angry about." "I know that really, I'm just not used to it. I wasn't expecting John to put in an appearance, and if he'd arrived half an hour earlier, Karen would still have been here. I thought sleeping with him might get rid of some of my anger, but it didn't. It dawned on me half way through that I didn't want to be in bed with John, but that I wanted to be in bed with Karen, and that sort of took any possible enjoyment out of it. I'm sorry," She said, thinking that she'd definitely said too much. "You didn't want to hear all that." "I think what you said to John is right," Jo replied. "You do need some space, space to find out where this is going with Karen." "Right," George said decisively. "Enough about me. What are we going to do about you and John?" "I don't think there's anything to be done about me and John," Jo said miserably. "He's never going to change, and I certainly can't make him." "Jo, tell me to sod off and mind my own business if this is too personal, but what is it really about John that you're unhappy with?" Jo tried to find a satisfactory way of saying how she did feel, but it seemed that only the basic facts would suffice. "I've always been professionally inferior to John, and there isn't really anything I can do about that at the moment, and that only occasionally gets in the way. But I'm sick of also feeling sexually inferior." "Who says you are?" George asked gently. "It's obvious," Jo insisted. "I will never be remotely sexually equal to John, or you, and I'm reminded of that every time I sleep with him." To George's dismay, tears rose to Jo's eyes and began flowing down her cheeks, clearly showing that this was not a recent concern, and that the stress of the trial had brought it to the fore. "Oh, Jo," George said, feeling the pain and the abundant lack of self-confidence that had prompted the tears. Getting to her feet, George walked over to Jo, and sat snugly down in the armchair next to her. This slightly incongruous piece of furniture could comfortably though somewhat intimately seat both herself and John, so it could easily accommodate her and Jo. "I'm sorry," Jo said as George put her arms round her. "I feel so stupid, and you're so happy, which is wonderful to see, believe me. But I just wish I had it in me to be a better lover." Jo's body was rigid and tense in George's arms. She tried to choose her words carefully. "Jo, this is more to do with how you feel about yourself than how you feel about John, isn't it." "I hate it, George, I hate feeling so, so sexually inadequate." "Jo, listen to me," George said, trying to calm her down. "It isn't always good with me and John, you know. I'm not quite the sexual success you seem to think I am, and whatever does take place between me and John isn't anywhere near as unconventional as you might think." Jo looked unconvinced. "Jo, you need to stop assuming that I always enjoy everything John does for me, because it isn't all that unusual for me not too. Yes, I might like to try something new once in a while, though that's part of my sex life I seem to have left behind in recent years. You could say that finally getting around to sleeping with Karen this weekend was partly to do with that. What you need to understand about John, is that the majority of the pleasure he receives from making love, isn't necessarily what a woman can or does do for him, but what he can do for her. If you enjoy it, and he knows you enjoy it, that can often be all that matters to John. You know what he's like, John's philosophy has always been to bring a woman to shuddering submission as many times as possible before he thinks about himself. John has an enormous amount of love for you, and giving pleasure is the only way he really knows how to show it." "So you don't think he's likely to get bored of me?" Jo asked, her tears having mostly dried. "No," George said firmly. "Darling, if John was bored of you, he wouldn't still be sleeping with you, I know that much. After Charlie was born, and any time after that when I went through my periodic phases of self-loathing, I wouldn't have enjoyed bed even if I'd had the most skilful lover on the planet. That's why John went looking elsewhere, not because he didn't enjoy what I did for him, but because I wasn't enjoying whatever he did for me. It didn't occur to me to even think of faking it in those days, though sometimes I wish I had. So, whilst you might think your sex life with John is pretty conventional, at least you don't disappoint him on a fairly regular basis." "You don't disappoint him," Said Jo in astonishment. "Yes, he worries about you, but that's because he loves you and because he doesn't ever want you to become as low and as thin as you were a year ago. We both worry about you when you occasionally stop eating, which we are both usually aware of, though you don't always know it, and John will be happy for you, when he gets over the shock." "Jo, no matter what happens with Karen, I don't want to put a stop to what I have with John. I won't ever stop loving him, and I don't think I could do without him. Does that sound terrible?" "No, of course not," Jo said gently. "I don't ever want to go back to the way things were before we began living the way we are. I really don't think I could live with that level of uncertainty again. George, I need you to help me love John, because we both know that one woman will never be enough for him." They sat still and silent for some time, George with her arms around Jo, and Jo with an arm around George's shoulders. They were both deeply touched by what the other had said, and both needed a little time to digest it. Eventually, George gave Jo one last squeeze and detached herself, moving back to sit on the sofa and taking a mouthful of wine. "So," Jo said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "Come on then, satisfy my curiosity. What's it like, sleeping with a woman?" George broke in to a soft, sexy smile. "It's utterly incredible," Was all she could say at first. "It feels so emotionally intimate that if it didn't work, it would be a disaster. Turning a man on is really quite simple when you think about it, but doing the same for a woman is a challenge. If you know what you like yourself, and are prepared to contemplate giving what you normally receive, you're half way there. You should try it some time." "I don't think you'll ever find me doing that," Jo said with a broad grin.
An hour or so later when a cab arrived for Jo, they stood on the doorstep, Jo's arms going around George, and George fondly returning the hug. "I wouldn't have given you away to John, you know," Jo said as they briefly held each other close. "And I would have got you that file," George responded, the two remarks seeming to affirm the friendship that had been built up over the months, and which was growing ever deeper. What they had was too important to both of them, it was something worth maintaining at almost any cost.