Part Four
After leaving the prison, Jo went back to her office trying to assimilate everything she'd been told. She had taken copious notes during the interview with Barbara and as she nibbled at a sandwich at her desk, she typed them up into some semblance of order. This process would usually have allowed her thoughts to regroup after an interview with a client but not this time. No matter how much Jo tried to occupy herself with other clients, other meetings, and the endless streams of paperwork that the job entailed, her thoughts kept returning to that exercise yard, where she'd listened to one of the most heartrending stories of her career. Barbara was slowly coming apart at the seams, Jo had seen that, and it vaguely frightened her that it was up to her and her alone to make sure that Barbara could be put back together. That couldn't begin to happen until Barbara was free, one way or the other. She stayed at the office far later than usual that day, trying to catch up on the work she'd postponed because of the meeting with Barbara. She had wanted to give the other woman as much time as she needed, without having to worry about what waited for her back at the office, but now she was paying the price.
When at last she switched off her computer and stretched, she was astonished to see that it was after eight, the silence around her stating that virtually everyone else had left for the day. As she collected her things together, she realised that what she needed were the comforting arms and tender caresses of the gentler of her two lovers. What a strange thought, she mused to herself as she locked her office door, to think of oneself as having two lovers. The last month, of getting to know George in a way she never would have thought possible, had been utterly blissful in its own contented fashion, as Jo had gradually begun to abandon any lingering shyness she might have felt. She couldn't have asked for a more patient, more subtly guiding lover as she had found in George and this, combined with John's ever strong and reliable presence, was doing wonders for her. George had been very quiet for the first week or so after she'd returned from Spain, and both Jo and John had seen that all she really needed was space. She hadn't talked about the break up with Karen, in fact she'd barely even mentioned Karen in the subsequent weeks, but they both knew that this didn't mean she wasn't thinking about her. It was plain to see that George felt bitterly guilty for hurting Karen, and that before Karen and George resumed their friendship they needed some time apart, some time to get used to not being with each other in the way they had been before.
George wasn't at all surprised to see Jo late on the Wednesday evening because she knew that Jo had been to visit Barbara some time today. George had been righteously angry when Jo had told her about Barbara having been charged, but she had been forced to remind herself that Barbara had done something similar before. She would go and visit Barbara at some point and that would inevitably bring her into Karen's domain. She hadn't seen or spoken to Karen since they'd returned from Spain which was almost a month ago now. They had needed that time apart, she knew, but now she was beginning to think it was about time to clear the air between them. Well, perhaps a visit to Barbara might provide the perfect opportunity. She did want to see Karen, to make sure she was alright, and to get their friendship back onto a stable footing. She thought far too much of Karen to let their friendship disintegrate simply because they were no longer sleeping together. When she opened the door she could see that Jo looked weary, frazzled, and thoroughly out of sorts. "You look tired," George said as Jo moved into the hall. "I've been staring at a computer screen for most of the day," Jo replied, taking a great deal of comfort from George's embrace. "And I've been looking forward to this for hours." "I'm always eager to please, darling," George said with a smile. They exchanged a deep and lingering kiss. "Would you like a drink?" George asked when they eventually parted. "I could have done with one at lunchtime," Jo replied as they moved into the lounge. "How did it go?" George asked, pouring Jo a large scotch and herself a martini. "Not brilliantly," Jo said dejectedly, sinking down onto the sofa and lighting a cigarette.
Sitting down on the other end of the sofa, George asked, "what exactly has she been charged with?" "No less than murder, I'm afraid. Mainly, I think, as a result of her previous offence. Last time she was in prison, she did three years for manslaughter because she helped her terminally ill husband to die, and that's basically what she's been accused of this time. George, she reminded me so much of myself." "Oh, Jo, no," George protested, not wanting to think that Jo could ever have been in this position. "All the time she was talking to me, telling me everything about both her last two husbands, I kept thinking that such a thing could so easily have happened to me. The way she described what happened the last time, it was almost as if she was telling my story, not hers, with the only differing factor being that I didn't have to make that choice. I can't begin to contemplate what that must have done to her. I think that's why Henry killed himself, so that she wouldn't again be faced with the worst of all decisions." Jo knew she was rambling, but she simply couldn't prevent the words from rushing out, like the rapid flow of spring water, down the cragged rock face of her tortured soul. "Jo," George asked a little tentatively. "are you absolutely sure that that's what happened?" "Yes," Jo said without hesitation. "She said that not even for Henry, could she have contemplated going back to prison."
After lighting a cigarette of her own, George took a deep drag and asked, "so, where do you go from here?" "I need to talk to the consultant who dealt with Henry's pain relief, and I possibly need to talk to the surgeon who declared his cancer as inoperable. That is, if the prosecution haven't already recruited her for their highly unworthy cause." "You're starting to sound like me," George said with a lopsided smile. "It's usually me who won't give the prosecuting establishment the time of day, not you." "The only reason Barbara has been charged is because the police can't accept that just because someone might have made a mistake on a previous occasion, they can't possibly have altered their ways in the meantime." "Helping someone to die is a little more than a mistake Jo," George commented carefully, seeing that all Jo's emotions were currently on red alert, as volatile as George herself on one of her bad days. "Maybe that's the point," Jo replied miserably, "in my capacity as an advocate of the law, I'm supposed to say that under no circumstances should anyone help another person to die, no matter how desperate the situation might be. Yet while I was listening to Barbara this morning, I couldn't help but think how brave she was. She put the ending of her husband's suffering above every other possible consideration. I suspect that the only thing that would have prevented her from doing the same thing again, was the absolute terror she has of being behind bars. I'm certain that's why Henry took the decision out of her hands, precisely because he didn't want her to go through it all again." "Darling, can I make a suggestion?" George said tentatively. "one that I don't think is going to go down very well." "I'm all ears," Jo said dryly, knowing that if George was even attempting to be tactful, she really wasn't going to like it. "I'm not really sure how to say this," George said carefully. "Because I have no desire whatsoever to insult you as a professional or as a woman, but I think that a little occasional assistance with this case wouldn't go amiss. As a result of the extreme similarity between this case and your previous situation, I think you are going to find it very difficult to remain as emotionally detached as you need to be." There was a long, very stony silence. "Darling, don't look at me like that," George said cajolingly. "you know that I'm saying it purely for your own good, because already I can see this case getting to you, far more than any case ever should." "I can't say I agree with you," Jo replied coldly. "I didn't think you would," George replied with a smile "I'm just asking you to think about it, that's all." "George, that's the whole point about a case like this," Jo said vehemently. "To become as emotionally involved as possible so that I can defend my client to the best of my ability. If I'm going to have any chance of convincing the jury of her innocence, I need to get across to them just how emotionally charged this situation was, and I can't do that whilst remaining as emotionally detached as civil law seems to allow you to be." "And what possible good would it do your client," George said disgustedly, now beginning to lose her cool in the face of Jo's rigidity, "if you completely crack up in the meantime?" "Well, I thank you for the vote of confidence," Jo said acidly. "Darling, I'm just concerned for you," George tried to explain. "I'm not likely to forget just how much the Diana Hulsey case tested your emotional well-being, even though it might have felt as though I didn't notice at the time, and as you said yourself, you are finding it hard to get away from the thought that this could so easily have been you." "Diana Hulsey was different," Jo replied stonily. "Yes, she was," George partly agreed with her. "And believe me, if her situation managed to creep under your armour so successfully, this will be ten times worse."
After taking a long swig of her drink, Jo said, "if, and only if, I decided to contemplate your suggestion, just who did you have in mind?" "You could do worse," George said carefully, knowing just how much derision this was going to be greeted with. "than to have me take on the role of your junior." "George," Jo said in astonishment, rather unflatteringly only just managing to prevent herself from laughing out loud. "criminal law is hardly your forte." "Thank you darling," George replied dryly. "but I'm hardly useless at it either." "Why?" Jo asked, determined to find any reason for refusing, "why this sudden urge to assist with Barbara's case?" "First because I don't want you to have to go through this alone, and second because Barbara is a friend and I want to help her as much as you do." "George, I need you to understand that I don't want to have to need your help, or anyone's help with this," Jo tried to explain her previous outburst. "I know you don't," George told her gently. "and you might not need it for all I know but maybe I want to take some of the burden away from you. That's not such a bad thing, is it?" "No, I suppose not," Jo replied miserably, feeling a little foolish at her stubbornness, "I get so territorial over a case like this that I don't want to let anyone else near it." "Would it help if I took on some of the donkey work and left you free to concentrate on Barbara?" "Yes, it might," Jo agreed grudgingly. "but you must ask Barbara yourself about this because I think she needs to feel in as much control of her destiny as possible, and I'm still not happy about it, but I can see that this is the only way I'm likely to get a quiet life." "You're learning, darling, you're learning," George said with a smirk, leaning forward to kiss her. Jo badly needed George's warm embrace, the delicious entanglement of their soft and pliable lips. She needed it to take her away from all the horrors of the day, to reaffirm that something good did exist in the midst of this upside-down world, where individuals were now guilty until proven innocent.