Jo had driven up to Norwich to attend the Human Rights conference, a subject dear to her heart. She had spent Friday evening, walking round the delightful medieval part of the East Anglian clad northern town and sitting awhile in the pleasant park at the base of the square shaped castle. The scent of flowers wafted by as did all sense of time now that she was temporarily removed from her daily cares. Everywhere was all very civilised including the old-fashioned conference centre, which, like the rest of the town, politely sidestepped the modern trend to the flash and ostentatious. She bumped into Claire Walker in reception and delightedly exchanged conversation. Going to a conference was a very hit and miss affair as it was never clear just who you might be stuck with for the weekend or, preferably, to renew old acquaintance. Claire was the ideal companion, calm and restful and someone whose mere presence rubbed off on her. She naturally asked after Helen and Nikki and the other members of the orchestra. In the bar that night, the conversation in the group that gathered was a thoroughly congenial mixture of discussion amongst the more liberal minded members of the legal profession interspersed with discussion of classical music sparked by the reputation that had spread round the legal profession of that memorable performance of "The Creation." Jo hadn't received a phone call from John or George that night but supposed that it was their tactful way of giving her space to enjoy the conference to the fullest.
She had arrived on the Wednesday, but now it was Saturday, and the conference was finally drawing to a close. The morning session had been led off brilliantly with an international speaker who lectured from the much-maligned European Commission. In his slightly accented German accent, he analysed present trends most precisely and made Jo feel that she had, along with many of her compatriots, been insular in her preoccupations. The session had broken up for the slow moving coffee queue and Jo had just perched her cup and saucer precariously when the mobile rang. There was something insistent in its tone and, smiling tolerantly, she noticed to no particular surprise that it was John's number, which had come up.
"This is an unexpected pleasure, John. To be gone so short a time, it makes a woman feel wanted." Jo's silky tones made Claire smile back at her.
John's heart sank into his expensive black shoes. He had been scarred by the fiercely passionate way in which Helen by her accusation of being a stickler for the law at the expense of not caring. He knew that Jo, for all her years of legal training, was likely to react in a similar fashion.
"I regret that I'm not making a purely social call, Jo. I wish it were otherwise. I have some bad news to pass on."
The noise in the refreshment area had built up so that Jo was compelled to put her half-drunk cup down on the nearby table, put one hand over one ear and jam the earpiece into the other. The vague trace of the shared vocal enthusiasms was on one side. On the other, inside her, a feeling of dread started to spread through Jo to hear his tone of voice.
"There simply isn't an easy way to break the news, Jo. Brace yourself for this one. I have to tell you that Karen's son has committed suicide."
Even while Jo felt herself go cold with total shock and horror, a strange instinct prompted Jo to notice the audible wince in John's voice as that most ugly of words passed his lips.
"Oh God, John. When did this all happen? How?"
"Yesterday afternoon. I've been round with George at Karen's to help look after her," John added hastily. "Karen has been totally broken up in her own way, you know what she is like. This has been the first time I've had a chance to do anything as George has accompanied Karen to the clinic……."
"What clinic?" Jo cried out in horror.
"Regrettably, Karen's son has been suffering from a heroin addiction and was diagnosed
HIV. Helen had no choice but to admit him for inpatient treatment- to no effect."
Jo could not get her head round this as it had all come like a bolt out of the blue. She felt immediately misplaced amongst all the enthusiastic hope for abstract justice. Her silence was torture for John who was hanging on the phone for some sort of reaction, any kind of reaction.
"Please say something, Jo," John's almost pleading voice cut through that gap in Jo's senses between her hearing, her understanding and her voice. Outside, a little way opposite, Claire could tell immediately that there was something wrong but she hadn't a clue what it was. It concerned her that someone as composed as Jo could turn white with shock.
"What about Karen? She needs all her friends to be round her at a moment like this," Jo called out emotionally. Her sense of duty to be with someone who was bound to be hurting overrode everything at this moment.
"Luckily she has George with her at present. Otherwise I don't know what she would do as she has no family as far as I am aware. We ought to take one step at a time, Jo."
Jo paused for a few seconds when a final question popped into her mind, which rushed straight out into words.
"How long have you known about this?"
What could he say at this moment but the truth? He winced as he spoke.
"About two months…..I was given this information in confidence. I had to obey the law against what I felt. Please understand."
Those words rocked Jo to her foundations. She nearly collapsed in shock but some instinct made her thought veer way off track towards the immediately practical.
"Are you telling me to stay on at this conference, John?" Jo demanded of John abruptly.
"I don't feel capable of advising anyone to do anything right now. It makes my own wisdom seem and feel totally inadequate," John said in a low, rueful voice that did not say much for his own self-esteem. He dare not venture an explanation as to how he came to hear of the news. At a moment of tragedy like this, it hardly mattered and Jo wasn't asking.
"I'll phone you later," Jo said abruptly. Instantly she sought out the one unoccupied plastic hardback chair in the hall. Claire raised her eyebrows in concern but held back while Jo tried to recover from the shock leaning her head against the back of the wall. Of course, she had to stumble her way back into the hall and concentrate as best she could. It was just her style. On the other end of the phone, John closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled long deep breaths of air. He needed more than a little time to rest before the next phone call.
Today was a typical warm summer day for Yvonne, the sort of day that she loved. As she had done in a succession of blissful, dreamy days, one after the other, she had risen early, bright eyed, and popped her swimming costume on. After a morning cup of tea on the terrace, she grabbed her towel and headed off down the steps to the swimming pool. The clear blue surface was only slightly broken up into wavelets and reflected back at her, making her feel fresh and whole as she approached it. The line of trees behind the pool conveyed that sense of privacy of a world, which was hers to do as she wished. Every day she was here, she blessed her fortune to be here instead of being stuck inside her house, much though she loved its many creature comforts. A howling winter's wind, outside, grey skies, a muddy garden and the pissing it down all day was really depressing and made her feel walled in. She was unquestionably a creature of the sun with a fiery but warm-hearted temperament, which went with her emotional make up. Her villa in Spain was her source of pleasure in itself as opposed to the status symbol that it represented for Charlie, which he could brag about to his friends.
She slipped into the pool with an expert plunge off the side of the pool and with powerful strokes, she propelled herself through the water, which splashed in her face and soaked her hair. This was the life, she thought, getting her body nicely toned up in a pleasurable way. Not for her, those sad people who plugged themselves into some running machine with some crap dance music pumping in their ears getting them to move like robots on some automatic running track, all lined up on some bleeding production line. She loved the feel of the water against her skin and the freedom that it represented while the blue sky arched overhead.
Once she had pleasantly worn herself out, she emerged from the pool to lie back on the recliner next to the pool. It didn't take too long for the sun to dry her skin and start to heat it up and slipped on her sunglasses and basked in the heat. By this time in summer her skin was always golden bronze and she felt good about herself. At the back of her mind, it wouldn't take long for Lauren to join her. Presently, the sun made her feel sleepy and lazy as she stared up into the perfect blue sky. This was her idea of heaven.
It was a habit of hers to carry her cordless phone around. The time when her Lauren was first held in remand at Larkhall made it a necessity. Her life had been one where she had learned to take bad news on the chin rather than hiding from it, from the shocking moment to when Lauren had announced that she had killed Fenner to her break up with Karen. She had received a lot of funny phone calls from Lauren to begin with until she had settled down. Now, any phone calls she received were at the very least, harmless. In this blessed out frame of mind, she lazily reached over her hand to the insistently beeping cordless and tried to focus her eyes on the name and number of the caller. With some pleasure, she realised that it was Karen. When John had informed her as to who it really was, she said,
"Well, well, judge, this is a pleasant surprise. Didn't think you could keep yourself away from me forever."
"Yvonne, I must apologise for not phoning you sooner," a rather agitated voice burst in abruptly with not a trace of those smooth talking ways she associated him with. "I've been very remiss of late."
This didn't make any bleeding sense, Yvonne wondered to herself.
"Yeah, yeah, judge, I get the message," She replied flippantly
"Yvonne, I really have to come to the point," John warned in blunter tones than he felt comfortable with. "Of course I like talking to you but I fear that I have some bad news that you should prepare yourself for."
John paused for that second while Yvonne jerked herself properly awake and sat up straight with a real feeling of growing anxiety.
"What are you getting at?"
"It's about Karen. I have to tell you that her son was found dead. I'm afraid that he had committed suicide."
"You've got to be joking. People don't just suddenly go and top themselves. It doesn't happen that way." The words shot out of Yvonne's mouth as she instinctively tried to fend off what her heart of hearts told her was inevitable. She hadn't meant to use such an ugly dismissive word that she had used often enough but that was part of her way of covering up. On the other end of the phone, John became even more nervous. He hadn't expected Yvonne to get to the point as quickly as this.
"I'm afraid that, unknown to Karen, her son had become seriously addicted to heroin and in the end, became an inpatient. On top of this, he had contracted HIV and he felt that he had no way out in life. I think he felt at the end that he had let his mother down."
John cursed himself for the clinical stiff way he was talking to Yvonne. Unpleasant feelings started to well up in him of how a small boy had felt let down when his mother had abandoned him and no one was telling him, or explaining anything to him except in these sort of very English inadequate words. It felt like the unpteenth time that he was telling this story and it was getting hard for him to get the words right.
"Don't forget, judge. I've been through this myself. Remember my son Ritchie?"
"I'm really sorry, Yvonne…." He started to tell her with a break in his voice to hear a hard edge in her voice. A bit of him was ashamed, uncomfortable at sounding so undignified and conflicted with his contrary desire to do the right thing, however badly he put it. Mercifully, Yvonne picked up on his feelings in his voice and, momentarily, she pulled herself together.
"Look here, this phone call don't make sense. Where's Karen?"
"I came over with George to look after her last night after she heard the news. She's gone with her to the clinic while I'm making myself feel as useful as I can feel by phoning those closest to Karen. I've just phoned Jo who has suitably cross examined me."
"Look here, judge, what do you want me to do?"
He heaved a sigh of relief that Yvonne was giving him a way out in dealing with a practical matter that he could handle better. He half suspected that she did that for that very reason having picked up his typical understated. You don't shoot the messenger if he brings bad news. Her voice sounded firmer, more reassuring and he felt that he could do with all the support that he could get right now.
"I don't want to put too much on you, but can you phone round Karen's friends. I spoke to Nikki earlier on and she knows already. I'll be here for when George and Karen get back."
"Tell Karen from me that I'll come round this afternoon but if she wants to talk to me, just ring. Good luck."
John felt incredibly touched at the way Yvonne's voice softened at the end. He knew that she could paint a picture so very well in her mind as to how events would unfold. He sank back in his armchair exhausted.
At the other end of the phone, Yvonne nearly dropped the cordless on the ground and finally dropped her coping act. She couldn't bleeding well cry down the phone at a man who was right in the middle of it and obviously struggling. Tears rolled down her face and she sobbed with grief, for Karen, for their shared loss and for herself. She looked up at the sun and despairingly asked why it was shining.