Eventually, John took his leave from Karen to make his leisurely way back to his digs. He drove very sedately back to his digs and his mood was subdued and thoughtful. He quietly let himself in. made himself a cup of tea and sipped it gradually while he lay back in his favourite armchair and surveyed the length of the dining table as it slanted away from him. That view of the length of the room always pleased him, especially when the summer sun brightened up the room. It made it easier for him to contemplate his present situation.
He had never before conceived that his sexual experiences over the years had any consequences over the years except from the very painful and 'one off' experience of when he had made Jo pregnant and that fateful day when he had driven her to have a termination. That memory was one which he had succeeded in blotting out from his conscious memory apart from when it stole its way into his dreams when his spirits were low and his defences were down. There had been so many women in his life and pleasurable experiences as part of a journey in his life, which had been a life affirming confirmation of whoever he was supposed to be. The morning after, he had felt sexually replete as he sprawled contentedly in a tangle of the quilt as he lay on his back. He had presumed that the nameless, faceless blondes felt the same way as he did. Being younger than he was, single and fancy free as far as he was aware, he supposed that they were as agreeable for his departure as he was. In that second, as he walked out that particular door, they were frozen in time. They did not exist beyond that point and somehow, there were no untoward consequences. The saying 'je ne regrette rien' could have summed up his attitude to his experiences over the years. It had become more of a habit in his life than he had cared to contemplate and had carried on up until the point when he became as bound as any legal contract to his three-way relationship. He thought he had behaved impeccably months ago when Jo had broached that very unconventional idea. After all, he had freely given his consent.
Karen's stern, precise clinical treatise had shaken his equilibrium as much as George's hurt anger and Jo's seething rage. She was a friend, after all, and he had been accustomed to his male friends in expressing opinions on impersonal matters with a certain reticence. What further unsettled him was the mobilisation of facts in an area of learning in which she was his superior. This forced him against his will to acknowledge that there was no one who was his intellectual superior. The events of tonight had been an unpalatable lesson that not even he was impregnable.
Unusually for his habits, he helped himself to a large measure of spirits and lay back in contemplation. He had to give ground on this matter as Karen's pitiless logic was framed in terms of real friendship, for his sake as much as for George and Jo and finally herself. That was a sentiment that he could appreciate however unpalatable the message. Perhaps he needed to rethink his ideas a little. It was just that if he were confronted with an image of himself, which he did not like to look at. It was fortunate that the conversation had eventually shifted away from that awkward topic onto safer areas, or so he had first thought. A sharp sense of mingled pity and guilt was next to come to the surface as he remembered that he knew something about Karen's life that Karen herself did not know. He knew that he was naturally inquisitive and that went with his profession. For the first time in his life, he had come into possession of knowledge that he wished that he would sooner not have come by and he was sure that Joe Channing felt likewise. For all their august red robes and emblems of a high and ancient calling, that did not give them universal wisdom. At that moment of laying the problem before the older man, which revealed that Joe himself had similar moments of self-doubt. He sensed that grim events were being played out in Karen's son's life all the time that he led his own parallel existence. He felt impotent as he was utterly unable to influence what was going on, only to watch and wait for who knows what. It was not like him to entrust his destiny to any external force, presence or being but this time, he was compelled to in exactly the same relentless way that he was being forced to examine the consequences of one ill advised impulsive decision. Who knows but one day Karen would come to him for comfort and support and he vowed that if that should happen, he would behave as unselfishly to Karen as she had behaved to him. Truly, sound advice from a good friend could wear the strangest disguises.
Suddenly, a verbal collage of accusing words whirled round his senses, alternating between George's hurt anger and Jo's seething controlled rage "….you wouldn't have screwed some random tart…….""…………..it would be nice to know precisely what you find attractive these days……." "………….do you know what Chlamydia does, John…..""………..oh really, so why did you do it…….?" In this moment when he was at his most tired from a hard week's work and when past events were cruelly forced back into the present, untypically his memory haunted him. Neither George nor Jo should deny that what he had said in his self-defence was not factually correct but that it fell short of the situation that he was starting to see through their eyes. This was most disagreeable, or to put it more accurately, more haunting. It challenged the very basis of who he thought he was.
Suddenly he noticed the piece of scrap paper that had appeared in his hand, something which he had unconsciously been crumpling as he had been immersed deep in thought. The same room was there before him, much as it had been since he had entered it. He threw it in the direction of the wastepaper bin but it just missed its destination. He would have to apologise for his bad behaviour and make the decision that was being forced on him entirely his own. It was only just that he should. He would see Jo first and then George. There was no rhyme or reason as to his choice, it was just random instinct. But what could he say to her? He felt as if he were going to debase himself, to swallow that pride which was such a driving force of his whole personality. He would have to be a supplicant with no mitigating case to present.
He looked at his watch. Had it been so long that he was lost in contemplation? He didn't realise that his deep brooding could take so long and take it out of him. He had not had the easiest of weeks, he conceded to himself but he was forced to admit that there was more to the situation than he had first concluded. He resolved to sleep on the matter.
The next day, it was a hot summer day and he slept in late as he lay in a half dream, half wakeful state of mind. He needed that rest which he normally denied to himself. The sash windows were part open and they lent a soothing fresh breath of air to take the edge off the heat, which he appreciated. When he was ready to get up, he was curiously refreshed, with a purpose in his life. For the rest of the weekend, he had a quiet, almost ascetic existence of perusing the trial papers for the directions finding hearing, which was set for the Monday. The listings sheets indicated that, fortunately, neither Jo nor George would be appearing before him. Instead, the dull and plodding Neumann Mason-Alan and the more fiery though reactionary Brian Cantwell were appearing before him, acting out their ritual moves including asking leading questions and letting their prejudices show. He could handle both of them though since the performance of 'The Creation' their once barbed exchanges had mellowed down to more of a muted ritual. If he couldn't handle them, he smiled ruefully, he must be slipping. Of more concern was the lunchtime break when he made his way back to his chambers and picked out his mobile and nervously punched out the familiar number.
A friendly voice intoned in her familiar voice in a way that wasn't quite the human being on the other end, the product of new technology which addressed a human being wanting contact by a pre recorded voice.
"This is Jo Mills. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you."
"Hello, it's John. I really want to talk to you and make up for my bad behaviour……." He could hear his voice stiffen as the last words came out of his mouth. "Please phone me. If you see fit to meet me, I'll see you wherever you choose."
The deed was done, he said to himself. All he has to do is to maintain his resolution and let the words choose themselves. He did not exactly know what he was going to say but trusted to whatever in life he trusted to.
As he intoned the formula to bring both parties back at a date, which suited both Cantwell and Mason-Alan and the respective attendant solicitors, the court usher noted the court record book and laid claim to the courtroom for that slot in time. Such mechanics are easy in contrast to what is required in private life. He smiled briefly, closed the court and went back to his chambers to lie down and take it easy.
All at once, the jangle of his mobile disturbed the silence of his chambers.
"It's Jo," Said that very real voice of Jo. "I've got your message and I'll see you in chambers in half an hour. It's as good a place as any. So long as you know that you've got a lot of explaining to do."
"As bad as that?"
Jo's keen hearing detected the distinct undertone of fear in his attempted debonair response. I know you, John Deed, better than you think I do. She smiled briefly to herself but she was only making it light. There was a real sense of anger and betrayal and she was not sure on what she was going to say. It all depended on the way John was going to behave.
The time passed slower than he was accustomed as if the second hand on the wall clock was being dragged back and he became a little apprehensive, not that Jo wouldn't turn up but what she would say when she did. This was an experience that was new to him, as his self-assurance with women from an early age had not even allowed himself to ever ask either question of himself. Presently, there was a knock at the door and within seconds, Jo was standing inside the room, her lips pursed and her face expressionless.
"I've said it before, John, that you phone me and I come running."
"This time, I anticipate that matters will be a little different." There was a slight nervous laugh to accompany his reply that was new to both of them. "Take a seat, Jo."
"Such formality after knowing you so long," Jo's teasingly arch tones held an undertone of meaning and was clearly playing with him. This made him feel more uncomfortable than ever.
"Let's come to the point, Jo."
"This must be a first," Jo cut back, unconsciously borrowing a phrase from Nikki that she had overheard once. It had that cutting quality that suited her mood right now.
"It is a first, Jo," John said with a slight tremor in his voice. "I know that I have some explaining to do."
"You can say that again, John. Okay, let's hear what you've got to say for yourself."
"First of all, I feel dreadful when I realised what I had done to both you and George…….."
"……and nearly Karen also…"
"I realise now why you were both so upset about the way that I went off the rails a bit. It happened at a bad time for me after having that almighty row with George. I felt that I wasn't loved."
There was a slightly woebegone look on John's face that called to a primeval comforting instinct within Jo to clasp him to her bosom like a child and say, there, there, I'll soothe all your troubles away. It came natural to her and women like her as emotional nurturers to follow this blind instinct, from her own sons and probably growing up as a girl. She couldn't put her finger on it, or set out the evidence but she knew that it was there. Somehow, some chance thought in her mind pulled her away from this train of thought. Even John's overwhelming charm, that infuriating ability to make her feel sorry for him did not quite work this time. She remembered George and Karen and felt that she owed them a debt to them 'not to go soft on John'. The moment she arranged those very last words in her mind was the finishing touch. Her arms which had been ready to reach out for John held back.
"A very good performance, John, but not quite good enough," she finally spoke in stern tones. "Let's look at the facts, the evidence and see where that leads us. That's what you trained me to do so many years ago."
John gulped. He was in for trouble and he knew it.
"You freely entered into an agreement with George and I that you would share a bed individually……" She spoke in an exaggerated legal tones to counteract the effect of John's bullshit and nearly added the phrase 'severally' but she wasn't ready to get into that contentious area. "You have kept your side of the agreement apart from one lapse which could have had serious consequences for us if George hadn't had quite by chance a smear test which immediately cast the finger of suspicion on you, quite rightly as it turned out. The worst part of the matter has been that none of us would have known that we were infected with Chlamydia for months if not years if it had not been for that chance event. Your feeble excuses have been to assume probably rightly that George and I are beyond the age of considering having any more children and that it is easily curable. That does not detract from the point that both of our health were at risk due to your irresponsibility. The fact that you have been ignorant of sexually transmitted diseases only makes you more blameworthy. At your age, you should have known better."
If John had felt uncomfortable during Karen's lecture, Jo's controlled incisive anger
made him feel as if an ice cold bucket of water was thrown over him with considerable force. He had received her hurt and anger before but this forceful, clinical dissection of his moral deficiencies was the most severe scorching lecture he had had in his life. When he was much younger, he had someway verbally wriggled his way out of his transgressions. His spectacular failure to do so this time had a cataclysmic effect.
"You know, I never realised how totally lethal you are in your summing up speeches in court," he murmured. It had always been someone else taking the fury, not him.
"I meant it to be this way. I told you once that you have an addiction and the only answer is tough love. For this reason, I'm not apologising for one syllable of what I've just said. Got that clear?"
"Abundantly."
It was unfortunate that a nervous habit made his word sound ironic. For once in his life, the very assured debonair man was stripped of his defences but it did not look that way to Jo.The pressure cooker finally blew apart and her feelings of hurt and anger came to the surface.
"You make absolutely sure that you stay on the wagon for the indefinite future. There are only so many chances that George and I will give you."
It was Jo's turn to cast off any layers of assumed roles and theatrical props. Her blue eyes were large, angry and riveted John's attention with her sheer anger. John looked into her. She meant it.
"I'm truly sorry to you and George. I mean every word I say. I couldn't bear to lose either of you as friends much less as lovers. I couldn't bear it."
Jo looked deep into John's soul. He had had a really bad scare and she believed his simply delivered words. At last she believed him.
"Just as long as you keep your word. Your word is all you've got, as you told Roe Colmore once."
John remembered those words he had uttered vividly. He had meant every word he had said. It shook him for those words to be turned round on him like lethal weapons.
"Am I forgiven?"
Jo shook her head in exasperation at that little boy look of his but the first real smile spread across her face.
"You are impossible, John. I won't forget but I'll forgive you on condition. You know what I mean. George and I don't want to lose you, that's all. "
John melted into Jo's arms. She had driven the toughest bargain in his life and he felt drained but curiously relieved at confessing all. He was relieved deep down at retrieving that false step in his life. It was just like him that the words had to be dragged out of him to say so.