Part One Hundred And Seventy Eight
On the Monday evening, Karen was sitting at her desk, finding anything remotely dull and tedious to do, so that she wouldn't have to go home. Going home to an empty flat was something she just didn't want to do. She knew it was ridiculous, Ross having not lived at home for years before he died, but the emptiness was far too big a reminder of what she'd lost. But she felt so tired, her limbs almost weighing her down, yet whenever she tried to sleep, she would spend the whole night tossing and turning. Nikki had been trying to persuade her to take some time off, but time to think wasn't what Karen wanted right now. Time to think, meant time to dwell on what she could have done, on all the times she'd refused to give him money. When she heard the knock on her door, she looked up hopefully, anything resembling a distraction from her thoughts being a welcome intrusion these days. It was Nikki, which now Karen came to think about it, wasn't all that much of a surprise. Nikki had taken it into her head to keep checking up on Karen, because she could see her gradually disintegrating.
"You shouldn't still be here, you know," Nikki said gently, when she saw that Karen was still sitting at the computer. "I could say the same about you," Karen said mildly, knowing Nikki meant well, however irritating her concern might be. "It's after eight," She said, glancing at her watch. "You should be at home with Helen by now." "And you'd have George to go home to if only you'd let her in," Nikki said quietly, and immediately regretted it. "Is that right?" Karen said carefully, just about managing to keep a lid on her anger. "Karen, you can't go on like this," Nikki said, still trying to chisel away at Karen's brittle armour. "Really," Karen replied, the bitter edge of depression giving her words the texture of flint. "Let me ask you something," She continued. "Is my work suffering in any way?" "No, but your health is..." "Thank you," Karen cut her off mid answer. "So, let's just leave it at that, shall we?" "I'm clearly not getting anywhere," Said Nikki determinedly. "So I'll find someone who might be able to knock some sense into you." Before Karen could object, Nikki had walked out.
George was sitting at her dining-room table, with John seated opposite her, both going through the civil case George was due to begin prosecuting the week after. "Oh, come on, John," She was saying. "We both know Legover, and we know he'll throw this out of court at the earliest opportunity." "And if I were in his shoes, I might do the same," John countered back, always willing to play devil's, or in this case, judge's advocate if she wanted to work out her strategy in advance. He wouldn't have dreamt of doing this if he'd been about to hear the case, but as he wasn't, it wouldn't do George any harm to have a little refresher tutoring. "You need to have the rulings you intend to use, thoroughly worked out and learnt parrot fashion in advance. You remember the Diana Hulsey case? One of your arguments for trying to force me into recusing myself, ended up shooting you in the foot because you hadn't done your homework properly." "Yes, sir," George quipped back with a grin. "Do you want me to go through your argument with you, or not?" He asked slightly sternly. "Yes, of course I do," she said seriously. "Well then, if Legover or the defence tries to throw this out of court, refer to this, this and this," He said, holding up three photocopied extracts of Halsbury's Laws. "And if either one tries to push for an adjournment, which I'm assuming your client won't want because your clients never do, use these," gesturing to yet more printed pages. "But you must, must, must know them backwards. That's what brought you down in the Diana Hulsey case. You can't just pick a relevant quote and hope that the judge you're before isn't familiar with the authority. You've got to painstakingly read, learn and inwardly digest every word, so that if, for some reason there is a hole in your argument, you'll discover it before you get into court." "Message received and understood," George said seriously, knowing he was right, but still loathed to admit it, even after all these years. "You could have done with a spell as my pupil," John said teasingly. "It didn't do Jo any harm." "Oh, really," Said George a little scathingly. "I doubt Jo would see it like that." "We're all right now," He protested. "Yes, maybe, but only after a good few years of heartache, most of it Jo's." "I still say that a year or so of my teaching would have done you the world of good." "I've had enough years of your particular kind of teaching to last me a lifetime," she said with a broad smile. She was about to continue speaking when the phone rang. Stretching out a hand to the cordless that lay somewhere under a stack of papers, she was surprised to see what looked like the number for Larkhall on the display.
"George, it's Nikki," She said when George answered. "Oh, hello," George said with a smile. "How are you?" "I'm fine, but Karen isn't. That's why I phoned you." "What's happened?" George suddenly looked incredibly worried. "Nothing, as yet," Said Nikki, trying to calm her down. "But if she keeps going on like she is, she's going to work herself into the ground, and I've got absolutely no idea how to stop her." "The short answer," George said slowly. "Is that you can't. You know Karen almost as well as I do, and you know that when she's determined to do something, nothing or nobody will get in her way." "But I can't just leave it like this," Nikki insisted. "She's just about keeping on top of the job, but she's exhausted." George took a moment to stare thoughtfully at the enormous tome of Halsbury's Laws, which she'd been using as a paperweight whilst working in the garden earlier. "Nikki, if Karen won't listen to you or to Helen or Yvonne, I really can't promise that she'll listen to me." "Apart from the Judge," Nikki replied. "I don't know who else might be strong enough to make an impression. She's got to start listening to someone." "Well, John's here, but I suspect Karen wouldn't give him the time of day right now for exactly the same reason as she won't want to listen to Helen." "So, will you try?" Nikki asked, praying that George would agree. "Of course," George said with a rush of feeling. "I'll do my best, I'm just not sure that my interference will be all that welcome. But," She said, straightening her shoulders and stiffening her resolve. "Karen hasn't yet come up against my version of stubbornness. If I can't make her take a good, long look at what she's doing to herself, then nothing will." "Thank you," Nikki said in relieved acceptance. "Is she still at work?" "Yeah, that's where I'm calling you from." "Right, I'm on my way," She said, getting to her feet. "Will you come down to the gate lodge to let me in? The closer I can get without Karen being aware of my presence, the better."
When Nikki had hung up, John said, "Precisely what are you planning to do?" "To persuade her to come back here, to give her something to eat, and to let her sleep for as long as possible. I'd say that was a start, wouldn't you?" "That's what I've always done for you when you've been on course for self-destruction," He observed. "Where do you think I got the idea from?" She said over her shoulder as she went to find her car keys. "Is she really not letting you get close to her?" John asked. "No, not in the slightest," George replied as she returned to the lounge for her handbag. "And until now, I haven't known what in the world I can do. But if I've got anything to do with it, Karen will not, under any circumstances, be going anywhere near work for the rest of this week. I'm working at home for the next few days, so I can make sure she doesn't." "You do realise that it might turn into a battle of wills." "And living with you for nine years gave me no end of practice," Was George's curt rejoinder. "Do you want me to stay or go?" George stood and contemplated him. "Stay," She finally said after reaching her conclusion. "Karen might not want to hear a word from you on her emotional welfare, but I think she'll stand to be in the same room as you. Besides, you haven't finished putting me in my place regarding my choice of authorities." As she walked out of the front door, John couldn't help but smile. He loved seeing that spark of determination and sheer stubbornness in George, when it was directed at someone else that is. But she'd been right in what she'd said to Nikki, if George couldn't break through Karen's defences, no one could.
After phoning George, Nikki went down to the gate lodge to wait for her. She tapped her foot in impatient nervousness, and just hoped that Karen wouldn't sack or demote her for this. When George's car pulled swiftly into the car park, Nikki went forward to meet her. "She'll kill me for doing this," Nikki said as George walked towards her. "As long as she doesn't attempt to kill herself," George said matter-of-factly. "We're both quite capable of dealing with a verbal slap on the wrist." "You don't seriously think she would, do you?" Nikki asked as they walked through the gate lodge. "Right now," Replied George. "I'd say anything's possible." Nikki jerked a hand in Ken's direction to let him know George didn't need to be signed in. They walked quietly up to Karen's office, nothing needing to be said. When they reached the last gate, Nikki let George through and then locked it behind her. George gave her a smile in lieu of a thank you, and walked quietly towards the closed door of Karen's office.
When Karen heard the controlled but authoritative knock on her door, she at first thought it must be Nikki again. But that wasn't Nikki's knock. If she didn't know better, she would have wondered if it was Grayling. "Come in," she called, turning half away from the computer to see who would enter. When George opened the door and moved into the room, Karen stared at her with a mixture of surprise, irritation, and resigned acceptance progressing across her face. George could see in an instant that Karen wasn't pleased to see her, but she wasn't going to stop now. "This is a surprise," Karen commented lamely, noticeably not saying whether it was a nice one or not. "Did Nikki ask you to come and stop me working?" "Yes, she did," George said neutrally, walking over to the desk. "She's worried about you, as am I, and as is just about everyone who knows you." Now really taking the plunge, she walked round to Karen's side of the desk and simply stood next to her chair. "I'm just dealing with this in the way I know best," Karen said quietly. "But it isn't working, is it," George stated gently. "And do you have any better suggestions?" Karen asked bitterly, showing George that the cracks were even more visible than they'd been a few days ago. "I might have, if only you'd talk to me." Karen took a breath to speak, and stopped when she realised that George was right. "It's not quite that simple," She said regretfully. "I know," George said softly. "You are after all talking to one who has, in the past, hidden things even from John." Perching on the edge of the desk, George looked Karen straight in the eye. She did look terrible, with dark circles under her eyes and with her forehead marred with lines of stress and tiredness. "Doesn't look that good, does it," Karen said, interpreting her glance. "Darling, come home with me," George suggested. "You are clearly working yourself into the ground, and I can't just sit here and watch. Come back with me, have something to eat, and go to sleep." "Sleeping isn't all that successful these days," Karen said quietly, and George caught the full force of the strain it was for Karen to keep maintaining her outer professional exterior. "We can sort that out, for tonight at least," George said confidently. "I don't keep a bottle of sleeping tablets in my bathroom cabinet for nothing, and right now, sleep is what you need above everything else." Karen suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cry, to clasp this beautiful, loving woman to her and to howl her eyes out. George was being so wonderful to her, when she, Karen, had been such a cow to live with lately. Standing up, she drew George off the desk and into her arms. They simply stood, holding each other desperately close, closer than they'd been for nearly a fortnight. Karen laid her tired, drawn face against George's soft, beautiful one. "Come on," George said after a while. "Switch off the computer and leave your bars behind for a while." Giving her a small smile, Karen did as she was asked. As they walked through the endless maze of corridors and Karen let them through one gate after another, George said, "I hope you don't mind, but John will probably still be at home when we get there. He was helping me with a case." "Are you sure you want me there if you've got company?" "Not that kind of company," George said to reassure her. "It's not the right time for that kind of company. He was just helping me with a case I've got to prosecute next week." "No, I don't mind, as long as I won't get in the way." "You won't. He's probably written the opening speech for me by now."
They were quiet in the car, Karen lost in the work she'd left unfinished, and George painfully aware that Karen was only half there. "If I'm staying," Karen said into the silence. "Can we drop in at my flat so I can get some clothes?" "Yes, of course," George said, turning off the road they were on. "George, I'm not sure that this is such a good idea," Karen said as they approached her flat. "I'm not very good company at the moment." "No one's saying you have to be," George replied, pulling up in Karen's driveway. "As things stand, I'll be perfectly happy if you stay alive and vaguely sane. Whether you're good company or not really isn't important." "I'm not about to go the same way as my son," Karen said quietly, a little taken aback at George's perceptiveness. "And I'd rather be far more certain of that than I am at the moment," George said seriously, having realised that only a blunt approach was going to penetrate. "Darling, I haven't wanted to let you out of my sight for the last couple of weeks," She continued, her tone becoming gentler. "But I've tried to keep my distance, because I know that opening up to anyone, especially someone you're sexually involved with, just isn't your way of doing things. But you need to let me help you, even if it's only to let me take you home with me, to stop you from staring at the four walls with nothing to distract you." Again, Karen felt the almost crushing weight of the tears that she couldn't seem to allow herself to shed. It touched her greatly that George was being so honest with her. Everyone, Nikki and Yvonne included, had trodden very delicately around her lately. But here was George, telling her how it was, and pleading with Karen to be allowed to help her. Karen briefly wondered if this was because George had been there herself. She knew that at times, things did get pretty bad for George, the anorexia occasionally taking over every other aspect of her life. So, maybe she did know how it felt to feel so empty, that getting out of bed in the morning seemed pointless. "I don't deserve you," she said as their arms instinctively reached out for each other. "Remember at the end of April, when I was going through one of my phases of self-destruct?" George replied, leaning forward to gently place her lips on Karen's. "When I haven't eaten for a week, and barely maintained an adequate intake before that, with the only functioning part of my brain being work-related, believe me, the balance is well and truly even." "Stay here," Karen said, giving George one final kiss. "And I'll be back in a minute." She didn't want George to see how untidy her flat was. She'd neglected a lot in the last couple of weeks, and she didn't want anyone to know about it. But when she was back in the car, they drove quietly across London to George's house, both feeling slightly happier with the situation.
When George opened the front door, she called to John. "In here," Was his response, from the room George used as her home office. "I was bored, so I started writing your opening speech." "I said he would, didn't I," George said, fondly rolling her eyes. Karen left her overnight bag in the hall, and they went to see what John was doing, George immediately moving over to the computer, and Karen standing in the doorway watching them. "Not a bad start," George commented after reading what was on the screen. "And that's what I get for doing you a favour," He said in mock disgust. "You enjoy it really," George affirmed. "Pulling a case of mine to pieces allows you to step back into the ring for a while." "And do you agree with this?" John asked, turning to face Karen. "This is you we're talking about, John," Karen said quietly with the ghost of a smile. "Quite," Said George, always thankful to have another opinion to back her up where John was concerned. "So, how hungry are the pair of you?" Karen contemplated the thought. "Not hugely," She replied. "That depends what's on offer," John said, hedging his bets. "Home made Bolognese out of the freezer." "If it's your Bolognese, then I'm definitely hungry," He said with a smile. "Is Mimi still out in the garden?" George asked as she moved towards the kitchen. "She was, last time I looked," Confirmed John. After saying this, he got up from the computer and walked across the room to stand in front of Karen. They just looked at each other. They hadn't spoken for over a fortnight, because Karen had been immersing herself in work to blot out the pain, and John, like everyone else, had been receiving a distinct vibe telling him to keep his distance. But John, in the same way as Helen, had a reason to give Karen as much space as she wanted. They had both known about Ross's drug problem before he'd died, Ross having been one of Helen's patients. Karen hadn't ever specifically blamed either of them for not having told her about it, but it had given both of them a reason for being particularly wary of her need for space. "Are you all right?" John asked quietly, immediately feeling an urge to kick himself for the inanity of the question. "Not really," Karen replied just as quietly, not quite knowing what to say to this type of enquiry. "Karen," John began, feeling very much out of his depth. "I...I am so sorry." "Don't," Karen pleaded quietly. "But Karen, I..." Karen held up a hand. "I mean it, John," She said interrupting him. "I haven't got the energy to fight with anyone, least of all you or Helen. So please, don't make me feel even more guilty than I already do." It cut John to the core to hear her talk like this. She had nothing in the world to feel guilty about, but he knew that saying this wasn't going to make it any better. Putting out his arms, he gently pulled her to him, holding her closer than she'd let him since the night Ross had died. He softly kissed her cheek, feeling an immense surge of protectiveness towards her. "Well, at least that's one thing sorted out this evening," George said from the doorway of the dining room. They both looked round at her. "Did you do this on purpose?" Karen asked knowingly, as they both put out an arm towards her. "Well, let's just say that when Nikki phoned me, it occurred to me that forcing you two to at least be polite to each other for a while, wouldn't be such a bad thing." When she moved into their outstretched arms, they all held each other close. "I'm sorry I've been so difficult to get anywhere near recently," Karen said, feeling an enormous amount of comfort and support coming from both of them. John flashed a smile in George's direction. "You're not as difficult as some I've known," He said conspiratorially. "Oh, thank you, Darling," George said, correctly interpreting his meaning. "And you've got absolutely nothing to be sorry for," She said seriously, gently kissing her. John had obviously seen them kiss each other before, but not at quite such close quarters. When he realised that he was about to find this scene far too disturbingly erotic, he detached himself from them, trailed his hand wanderingly across George's back at waist level, and walked towards the kitchen. "Do either of you want a glass of wine?" He asked over his shoulder. "Yes please," George replied, momentarily releasing Karen's lips. "Not for me," Karen said. "Or I'll be asleep before I've sampled your, er, Bolognese," She finished in an undertone to George. George's eyes widened, this being the first time Karen had made any sexual suggestion since Ross had died. "Whilst that thought is extremely tempting," She said between kisses. "Anything remotely erotic is well and truly off the agenda." "Actually, that's probably a good thing," Said Karen with a soft smile. "Because right now, I'd probably fall asleep half way through."
The evening being warm, though definitely threatening rain, George left the French windows open, letting in the soft, August breeze, and meaning that Mimi could wander in and out as they ate. Knowing that she was working at home for the rest of this week, George couldn't quite face moving all her papers off the dining-room table, so they ate in the kitchen. She heated up some fresh pasta to go with the Bolognese, briefly wondering just how much Karen had been eating recently. Karen wasn't especially hungry, but made a concerted effort to eat a vaguely healthy amount to please John and George. After years of having to avoid the critical gaze of too many people, George made no comment when Karen left almost half of what George had given her. As if realising Karen's plight, Mimi sat down next to her chair, gazing mournfully up at her, and occasionally plucking at Karen's knee with a fluffy front paw. "I don't think you'd like Bolognese," Karen said to her with a smile. John laughed. "She'll try anything once, but I'd rather you didn't encourage her to beg at the table." When Karen ignored and continued to ignore the little Whippet, she turned her attention to John, giving him her huge, sorrowful eyes that had won him over on many occasions. But it seemed that tonight, he wasn't remotely willing to put up with her antics. Flicking her smartly on the end of her tiny pink nose, he said, "You don't beg at the table, Mimi, you know better," In exactly the same manner as he might use on a recalcitrant barrister. "He'll feed her if he thinks no one's looking," George said with a wink at Karen. "Oh, I know," She agreed. "I've seen him do it." "So," He argued. "She's got to learn when it's acceptable to ask and when it isn't." "John," George said in disgust. "Mimi is a dog, not a child." "Doesn't mean she can't learn," He persisted. When they'd finished eating and Karen began collecting the plates together, George said, "I'll do that. Go and sit down." "Actually, if you don't mind, I'm going to go and have a bath," Karen replied. "I've spent so much time in that place recently that I think it's quite literally getting under my skin." When she'd collected her bag from the hall and gone upstairs, John and George did the washing up between them. "Do you think she's all right?" John asked, his hands immersed in soapy water. "No, she's not anything like all right. At least when I was that emotionally unstable I'd take quite a lot of it out on you." "Don't I remember it," John interjected with a wry smile. George playfully flicked him with the tea towel. "But Karen isn't doing that. Well, not yet anyway." Then, after a pause, she added, "I think I'm finally realising just what a juggling act you were forced to perform all those years ago." George's words knocking him slightly askew, he remained silent until they'd finished the washing up. Then, taking the tea towel from her to dry his hands, he said, "Sometimes it felt as though you did want me to listen, and at others that you didn't. The trick was interpreting how you felt when you couldn't put it into words. It took me all those years with you, to learn that words aren't always good enough to express how one feels." "I'm sorry you had to put up with everything you did from me," She said quietly. "We both put up with an awful lot from each other," He reminded her gently, putting his arms round her and kissing her. "So I'd say we're probably quits." They'd often stood like this in this particular room, the stone flagged floor under their feet, after dinner necessities often having led to far more pleasurable pursuits. This thought must have occurred to George as she stood there, enfolded in his arms, her lips tangled deliciously with his, because she suddenly pushed him away, a flush of slight arousal clear in her face. "Please don't," She said, backing away from him. "Or I'll want what I can't have." "You always did want it more when you couldn't have it," John said, smirking at her. "And before this three-way thing started, that's exactly what you were like with Jo, "George countered back.
Karen lay upstairs in the large marble bath in George's en suite, the warm, scented water lapping around her, gently easing some of the physical wear and tear from her body. If only her soul could be cured so easily, she thought. She'd put some soft music on in the bedroom, allowing the mixture of sound, smell and touch to begin to relax her. She still wasn't entirely sure what she was doing here, making George take time away from her work, and from John. As the music and the water lapped around her senses, Karen began to see the downside of relaxing. Until now, keeping herself going, working all the hours she could, had meant that she wouldn't be in any danger of emotionally giving way to her grief. But now, now that she had been persuaded to abandon work for a little while and to concentrate on her own needs, it made her all too aware of the building constriction inside her, the force of grief begging to be let out.
When she'd scrubbed away the feeling of Larkhall, and had finally dragged herself out of the bath, she put on a plain cotton nightie and slid under the duvet on George's bed. It might be a summer evening, but her extreme tiredness had reduced her to shivers once she'd emerged from the warm water. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she saw that it was about a quarter past ten, meaning that she'd stayed in the bath for getting on for an hour. She couldn't be bothered to restart the CD when it reached its end, so she lay listening to the birds through the open window. She heard John leave not long after half past ten, with George mounting the stairs soon after. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be awake," George said, seeing that Karen wasn't remotely asleep. "Did you get your case sorted out?" Karen asked as George began removing her clothes. "Yes, just about. He does enjoy playing the role of tutor." Karen laughed. "Wasn't that how he met Jo?" "Yes, and I don't think she's ever entirely recovered," George said dryly as she walked towards the bathroom. Karen listened as George took a quick shower and cleaned her teeth, marveling at just how comforting these normal sounds could be, compared to the silence of an otherwise empty house or flat. When she too got into bed, Karen knew the moment had come for them to talk. "Have I been hell to be with lately?" She asked, though being fairly sure of the answer. "No, not really," George said carefully. "George, tact really doesn't suit you," Karen said with a tight smile. "The hardest thing is not knowing what I can possibly do to help you," George clarified. "And I know there's probably nothing I can say or do to make it easier, but that fact sometimes feels a little too apparent." "I'm sorry," Karen said, putting her arms round the woman who meant more to her than anyone else in the world. "Darling, you don't need to be sorry," George insisted gently. "Just, try not to push me away quite so much." They lay there for a while, simply holding each other and occasionally kissing. "And I'm sorry we haven't, made love, for quite a while." "Is that what you think this is about?" George asked, sitting up with a mixture of hurt and anger in both her face and voice. "No, of course not," Karen said placatingly. "It was just an observation, that's all." "Good," George said as she lay down again. "Because you mean far more to me than that." "I'm sorry I keep pushing you away," Karen said as the tears finally rose to her eyes. "It's just, there's part of me that doesn't want to burden you with everything I'm feeling, and another part of me that is well aware that for some wholly unfathomable reason, you are slipping away from me, and that you were even before this happened." For a brief, terrifying moment, George simply stared at her. How could Karen have worked this out? George had been aware for a while now that her relationship with Karen was gradually approaching its end, but she'd thought she'd been pretty successful in keeping this from Karen. But clearly, she didn't know the first thing about keeping something from someone as perceptive and intuitive as Karen. However, George realised that this wasn't the most pressing concern. Putting her arms round Karen, she held her, trying to soothe away the tears that she'd only ever seen twice before in her. "I'm sorry," Karen said as the frantic gasps racked her entire body. "I just hate feeling like this. I'm lucky if I can get more than a couple of hours sleep a night, and even then I keep dreaming about Ross. Yet when it comes to getting up in the morning, everything feels so heavy that it's an enormous effort just to get out of bed." "I think that's what depression does to you," George said, Karen's pain bringing a few tears to her own eyes. "And I know I'm pushing everyone away from me, but it's only because I don't know how to let them in." "Shh, I know," George said softly. "And I know that the last thing you want is to take some time out, because the more time you have, the more you'll be forced to think. But you're so exhausted that you won't be able to go on functioning if you don't." "I never wanted you to see me like this," Karen said after a while when she was beginning to calm down. "And I never wanted Jo to see me like that either," George told her. "The day I fainted in court, Jo managed to wring so many tears and so much disgust and self-loathing out of me, that I thought I couldn't possibly have any left." "How is it that things like that come in never ending supplies?" "Because when horrific things happen to you, or perfectly natural, normal things don't go quite according to plan, negative feelings are the easiest things in the world to keep regenerating. Jo told me something that weekend, something that I initially took with a pinch of salt. She said that it wasn't wrong to cry, it wasn't wrong to get angry, and that it wasn't wrong to need people." "They sound like pearls of wisdom," Karen said dryly, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table. "Yes, they might be. Jo thoroughly believes in that sentiment, but she doesn't always adhere to it." "There's a lot you and me need to talk about, isn't there," Karen said with an air of finality. "Yes," George said regretfully. "But not now, and not any time in the next few days. You might think I'm slipping away from you, but I'm not going that easily. At the moment, my greatest concern is you, which is why you are going to take some time off work, and why you are going to do absolutely nothing in the foreseeable future. Is that understood?" "It might not be quite that simple," Karen said, an immense feeling of affection washing over her for this beautiful, loving, and at times belligerently caustic woman who, even though she might be looking somewhere else, still cared a great deal for her. "It will be that simple, because it is what is going to happen," George said firmly. "I am not allowing you to work yourself into an early grave."