When Helen drew up in the carpark of the Old Bailey on the tuesday afternoon, she wondered if she really was doing the right thing. Her heart was so heavy with the decision she had to make, and she couldn't do that without first seeking some advice, both from the legal point of view, and from that of a friend. She wasn't about to shatter Karen's entire life without going through every avenue of possibility first. But she couldn't possibly leave it like this any longer. Karen needed to know, yet legally, Helen wasn't allowed to tell her. Only the judge could provide her with the answers, only he might be able to point her in the right direction.
Walking through the swing doors into the marble tiled foyer, she felt a certain sense of displacement. The last time she'd been here, it had been a blustery day in mid January. They'd all been here for Lauren's verdict, all sitting or standing united in the public gallery. But now here she was, on her own, and on a mission of mercy. But where did she try and find a high court judge. She'd come after the end of the afternoon's session, knowing that he probably would have been in court before this, but where did she go now. "Excuse me," Someone said to her. "Can I help you? You look a bit lost." It was Coope, and she'd seen Helen standing in the foyer, looking as if she didn't know where to go next. "Where might I find Mr. Justice Deed?" Helen asked, relieved that this woman had accosted her. "I'm Mr. Justice Deed's clerk," Coope told her. "Is it important, only when I left him, he was relaxing over a cup of tea." "It's very important," Helen replied quietly, thinking that she could have done with a secretary like this when she was working under Simon Stubberfield. "Then come upstairs with me, and I'll ask him if he'll see you," Coope told her, wondering if this was about to prove the beginning in yet another of John's female fiascoes. Helen followed Coope up the wide, marble staircase, and along the corridor to John's chambers. "Who shall I say wishes to see him?" Coope asked. "Helen Stewart," Helen said, accidentally slipping back into the use of her former name. Asking her to wait, Coope put her head round the door, to see John feeding Mimi a discrete biscuit. John was surprised to hear that Helen wanted to see him, and always inspired by a mystery, he asked Coope to show her in.
When Helen walked into his chambers, she was pleasantly surprised at the surroundings. John had been sitting at his desk, drinking a cup of tea and reading the paper, but when he saw her he rose to his feet. "This is a nice surprise," He said, holding out his hand to shake hers. Helen's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you for seeing me," She replied, not entirely knowing where to start. "I thought your name was Wade these days," He said, remembering back to when they'd been introduced at the Lauren Atkins trial. "It is," Helen told him. "But even after three years, I'm still not used to saying it, and most people seem to know me better as Helen Stewart." "Would you like some tea?" He asked her, after telling a very inquisitive Coope that she could go home. Knowing that she could really do with something far stronger than tea, Helen nevertheless accepted, sitting down on one end of the sofa. Sensing someone new, who might also prove to be a soft touch, Mimi approached Helen, and sat gazing up at her, with the wide, sorrowful eyes that Helen suspected John could also adopt when necessary. After pouring her a cup from the pot on the coffee table and refilling his own, John sat down on the other end of the sofa. He could feel the tension resonating in every fibre of her being. Why she was here, he couldn't possibly imagine, but whatever it was, it was incredibly serious.
"How's Nikki getting on with Prison service training?" John asked, wanting to put her at her ease before she told him why she was really here. "Oh, she's fine, in her second week of it now." "I had the pleasure of personally delivering the success of her interview to those it would most annoy," He said, with a relish in his tone that made her smile. "The prison service won't know what's hit them," Helen said philosophically. "Nikki was responsible for at least two sit-ins while I was there, so she's not afraid of speaking up for anyone." John smiled. "Ah," He said with a certain amount of self-pride. "I did a fair amount of that during my youth, and I've maintained the reputation of maverick trouble causer ever since." Then, turning serious again, he said, "Helen, why are you really here?" "It's about Karen," She astonished him by saying. "I need some legal advice, because I know something that I think she badly needs to know, but that I think I am bound by law not to tell her. George is obviously far too close, and because of the nature of the knowledge I have, I don't think Jo would be able to remain detached enough, to keep it to herself if that became necessary. So, I've come to you, because I'm hoping that you can tell me what I should do, whilst staying a little more emotionally detached from the situation." "Jo would tell you that this is one of my specialities," John said bleakly. "What's happened?" "Two months ago, Karen's son started coming to see me as a patient. I work part time as a psychologist at and NHS psychotherapy clinic, and part time as a psychologist for an NHS drugs rehab clinic. Ross Betts has been coming to see me, for help with drug addiction." John sat perfectly still, allowing the information he'd just received to filter properly through the recesses of his brain. "And you're sure she doesn't know?" He asked, knowing that if Karen had known, he would have been the first to hear about it. "She has absolutely no idea," Helen said regretfully. "I've tried to persuade him to tell her, but he's not having any of it. I've talked to Karen a couple of times recently, and she just thinks he's staying out of her way, doing the must do my own thing, must be independent except when it comes to money thing, that she says he's been doing since he turned fourteen." John couldn't help but smile. "My daughter's the same, and she's twenty five in a couple of weeks. At nineteen, she started committing minor offences all in the name of animal rights, and even though she's now at Bar school, I suspect she will never quite grow out of it." "Has she ever been caught?" Helen asked bluntly, intrigued by a girl who could do this, in spite of both her parents being members of the legal fraternity, though Helen suspected that might be why she did it. "No, but only by luck and ingenuity," He said ruefully. "Ross is twenty one, twenty two, something like that, isn't he." "He's twenty two some time this week, a Gemini to the core." "So's George, in some of her more argumentative moments," John said with a smile. "However, as Ross is over eighteen, no, you certainly cannot break the promise of patient confidentiality. He does, as they say, have the right to remain silent, which is altogether unfortunate." "What the hell do I do, Judge?" She asked, unconsciously slipping into the name Coope had always given him. "Helen, you must also remain silent," He told her gently. "There is absolutely no choice about this." "And what if this was your child, Judge? Would you want to be kept in the dark about something like this?" At John's poker faced expression, she added, "And don't give me that old line of, your daughter is too intelligent to get into drugs. I hear that from parents all the time, even when their son or daughter has the most promising career ahead of them. So, I repeat, wouldn't you want to know about something like this?" "Helen, one thing you must understand about the law, is that there is virtually no room for emotional involvement." "Is that why you did it?" She asked, her lilting, Scottish accent and her penetrating gaze, nailing him to the spot. "That might almost have come from Jo," He said with a laugh, thinking that Ross Betts must have some determination in him not to give into her digging. "However much I might agree with you, and think that yes, Karen certainly does need to know about this, you have come to me for legal advice, and that is exactly what I'm giving you. Ross Betts has a right to patient confidentiality, just as you and I do." "But Karen's my friend," Helen insisted vehemently. "She's your friend." "I know," John said quietly. "Which is why keeping this from her, is one of the hardest things I will ever have to do. Apart from Jo, Karen is the closest friend I've ever had, and if it were possible, I would do anything I could to prevent her from being hurt. But I can't, not this time, and neither can you. However, that isn't going to stop me from seeking some advice of my own. The brethren of judges might sit in sovereignty over a court of law, but that doesn't mean we know all the answers, though I fear that there can only be one answer in this case. Leave it with me, and I will let you know my decision in a couple of days. You did the right thing in bringing this to me, but in another way, I wish I didn't know. But why come and tell me now?" "Until this week, Ross has only been an out-patient at the clinic, because he thought he could cope on the outside, but nothing has been remotely successful. So, the last time I saw him, I managed to persuade him that in-patient treatment was the only option he had left, if he ever wanted to get clean. He does want to get better, he just doesn't have the willpower to do it. What isn't helping him to see that he's got something to get better for, is that he's also HIV positive, and I'm certain Karen doesn't know about that either." "Because of the drugs?" John asked, wondering just how this could get any worse. "I assume so. He thinks Karen won't want anything to do with him after this, which we both know isn't true. He's so...so angry with her." "What for?" "For being a single parent most of his life, for the fact he never knew his father, for the fact that she couldn't always afford to be at home to look after him, but that she could afford for someone else to do it. He thinks that she always put her career first, but then, Nikki used to accuse me of doing exactly the same thing." "What's it like for you, to know that Nikki will be going back to the place that gave you so much grief?" John asked, inevitably curious on this point. "I wasn't sure at first," She admitted. "I didn't want her going back there under any circumstances. I think I thought that even though Fenner's dead, his influence would still be there. So, because Nikki obviously wanted to go for this job, I went and laid a few ghosts, good and bad. When I was in Karen's office, I saw a picture of Ross on her desk. He looked so healthy, so alive, that it shocked me. In his face, he looks quite like her, but that's all the resemblance that's left after months of shoving god knows what into his system. I nearly told her then and there when I saw that." "It's probably better that you didn't," John said quietly, knowing that he would have had exactly the same urge in her position. "Thank you, for hearing me out," Helen said to him. "It's been something of a relief, just to tell somebody about it." "Does anyone else know?" "No, not even Nikki. She hates it whenever I keep anything big from her, because it reminds her of all the problems we had when she was in Larkhall." "What was that like, working in a prison and having an affair with an inmate?" He asked, desperately wanting to satisfy his curiosity. "Pretty much like a judge having an affair with a barrister or two," Helen said dryly, not in the least offended. "Touché," He said with a broad smile, thinking that here was yet another woman in whom the legal profession had sadly lost an opportunity.
After Helen had gone, John sat for a very long time, mulling over everything she'd said. God, what on earth could he do? He'd told Helen that he would be seeking advice of his own, and indeed he would, but he knew it was no use. Only if a mental health patient was sectioned, could the next of kin be informed against the patient's will. He knew that without question. But this was Karen, this was his friend, and not just any friend. There wasn't anything he couldn't tell Karen, nothing he needed to keep from her. He could see her in his mind's eye, the last time she'd been here to see him, not more than a week ago. She'd been tired, harassed, but to all intents and purposes happy. John didn't ask himself how she couldn't know about her son's drug addiction, because he knew that Charlie was just as capable of keeping some things from him. He could remember every curve of Karen's body, as though it had only been yesterday that he'd slept with her, instead of more than eighteen months ago. She'd been so beautiful, so responsive, that even now he found himself lusting after her. He could remember the way he'd hurt her, back in January, when he'd thrown such angry words at her about George. She'd maintained a stony silence after that until he'd apologised. But would he ever be able to apologise for this, he didn't know. This wasn't something said in the heat of the moment which, no matter how hurtful, could be forgiven and forgotten. This was him, withholding information about her son who desperately needed her. When he realised that he'd been sitting, staring into space for the last couple of hours, he pulled himself together, deciding that his chosen confidante must be home by now. Clipping a lead onto a delighted Mimi, John walked out to his car.
When he drew up in the broad gravel drive, in front of the enormous gothic monstrosity where George had spent her childhood, he saw that her father's Roll's was already there. When Sir Joseph Channing came to answer the door, he looked surprised to see John on his doorstep. "This must be serious, if you're voluntarily seeking my company of an evening," He said in greeting, to which John offered a half smile. "Can I come in?" He simply asked, not really in the mood for laughing. "Of course," Joe replied, seeing that something was badly wrong with his ex-son-in-law. As Mimi bounded forward to greet Joe's shaggy, old lurcher, John briefly spared a thought to wish that his life could be as simple as Mimi's. No pandering to the establishment, no pretending to like those he loathed, and no keeping confidences about things he would rather be unaware of. "Have you eaten?" Joe asked as they walked towards the kitchen. "Because my housekeeper left me a very good casserole." John wasn't sure that he did feel like eating, but he accepted some to be polite, and then realised how hungry he was. They sat at the scrubbed kitchen table, eating the delicious creation and drinking a very fruity Bordeaux with lots of body. Joe didn't attempt to ask John what the problem was for some time, but as their appetites diminished, he eventually raised the question. "John, you didn't come here, just to partake of my housekeeper's particularly excellent cooking." "It's about Karen, Karen Betts." "As in Karen Betts, Larkhall's Governor? As in the woman who has just introduced one of the most radical manoeuvres within the establishment, that I have ever had the misfortune to witness?" John smiled. "Yes, that Karen, the one who plays the viola next to Michael Nivin." "What about her? Don't tell me you really are having an affair with her after all, but then why would I be surprised. She's pretty, I'll give you that, but she's got a knack for falling into more trouble than you have. I've never read quite so much tabloid gossip about one woman, except perhaps the Duchess of York." "No, I'm not having an affair with her," John told him honestly, thinking that this really would have made things complicated between them all. "I'm glad to hear it," Joe said sonorously. "Because by the look of both you and my daughter a few weeks ago, it is blatantly obvious that you've somehow managed to wriggle your way back into her affections. So, what about Karen Betts?" "I, er, I came into some information this afternoon that morally, I think ought to be passed onto her, but which I know legally can't be." They'd moved into the sitting-room by this time, and Joe was lighting a cigarette. "I had a visit from someone whom I have come to know through Karen. She is a psychologist for a drugs rehab clinic. She came to tell me, that Karen's twenty-two-year-old son, has been receiving treatment for drug addiction." Joe smoked thoughtfully. "And Karen knows nothing about this?" "Nothing," John replied, knowing exactly what he was about to hear. "You absolutely can't tell her, John," Joe told him earnestly. "No matter how much you may feel you should, you can't. The law will not allow you to do so." "Then it's about time the law was changed," John said hotly. "How can that be right, Joe? How can it be right for a mother not to be told that her son is in serious need of her? What sort of twisted, ill-conceived logic is that." "It's the type of logic that allows us all the right to medical confidentiality, you know that," Joe replied quietly. "If he doesn't want her to know, then he has the right to expect that she isn't told, under any circumstances, besides those in which the law does permit a betrayal of such a confidence. You cannot override the law, John, none of us can." "I know," John said bitterly. "I just wanted to make sure." After a while, he added, "I feel culpable, as if I am increasing the hurt that she must and will feel when this comes out, because come out it eventually will. How do I keep something like that, from someone who is probably my closest friend after Jo Mills?" "You will keep it from her, John, because you must," Joe insisted quietly.
They sat in silence for a while, Joe smoking, and John occasionally sipping from the red in his glass. "Talking of Karen Betts," Joe eventually said, breaking in on John's bitter contemplation. "Precisely what is the nature of the relationship she has with my daughter?" John had been about to take a swig from his glass, but he replaced it back on the coffee table. Now here really was something he hadn't been expecting. That was two out of three things today, so what in god's name would be the third? "What makes you assume that there is any relationship between Karen and George, other than that of fellow musicians?" Joe Channing let out a roar of laughter, making John smile despite his own misgivings. "I never thought I would see the day," Joe said, lifting his glass as if in a toast. "When John Deed would attempt to be both tactful and delicate." "I am capable of it very occasionally, Joe," John said almost innocently. "The Lord Chancellor will be delighted to hear it," Joe said dryly, returning to his previously serious expression. "But I repeat, what is it that exists between my daughter, and the Governor of Larkhall prison?" "That isn't for me to tell you, Joe," John said regretfully, seeing that Joe had already worked it out for himself, but that he only wanted some sort of corroboration. "Yes," Joe said contemplatively. "Very good, confirming my suspicion, without betraying a confidence. Hmmm, very clever, I don't doubt." "George wouldn't want you to know something like that, Joe," John said carefully. "I am neither blind, nor stupid, John," Joe insisted vehemently. "Nor am I as naive and behind the times, as my daughter might prefer me to be." "What evidence do you have to validate your suspicion?" "From where I stand when I conduct, I can see every face in the orchestra, every single one. When George sang, in the first rehearsal we had, Karen Betts' face caught my eye. The only time I've ever seen any woman look quite so blissfully enchanted, was the day George married you. When she heard George begin to sing, Karen stopped playing for almost a page. That look wasn't simply one of musical appreciation, but an expression of something akin to love." "That can't be the only thing," John said fairly, thinking that Karen needed to be a little more careful. "Over the last few months, well, except for the last week or so in April, George has been happier than she has been for a long time. She's been as happy as she was during the first couple of years of your marriage. I don't think this is entirely due to you, because I am well aware that you've been back on the scene for a lot longer than a few months. There is very little that my daughter can successfully hide from me, though I know she would rather have this any other way." John remained silent for a while, wondering how he could prevent this from causing a rift between George and her father. "I knew I should never have sent her to boarding school," Joe said ruefully into the silence. "This wasn't caused by George going to a single sex school, Joe," John told him with a laugh. "Really," Joe said unconvincingly. "She didn't even do anything about it until January this year," John filled in. "It's something she's thought about, probably for most of her life, and all she's really doing now, is exploring that side of her." "And it doesn't bother you, that she's doing this with, another woman," He said, almost disgustedly. "Whilst she's quite clearly keeping your bed warm on a regular basis." "It took me a while to get used to it," John said after a moment's pause. "But George is happy, Joe. I will never want to stand in the way of that. Joe, it would only frighten and worry her, to know that you are aware of this." "Yes, I know," He said regretfully. "So, if she's happy, and not making things professionally difficult for herself, then I will of course leave well alone. I think that one of our finest viola players, is going to need my daughter in the coming months."