Part Eighty-Four
When everyone had gone, Jo privately thought that she ought to have taken advantage of the cluster of leaving people in order to leave herself. On her way out with the others, George had briefly touched her shoulder and asked if she was coming. Jo had said that she was staying, but now she wished she hadn't. The only explanation she could give for her rash decision was that she was tired, stressed, and that she simply wanted a hug from her favourite man.
John and Jo sat and looked at each other, Jo experiencing a feeling of shame at what she had done on Monday, and John feeling a distinct sense of guilt that he'd slept with Connie. "Well, that was a debacle and a half," John said with a sigh of weariness. "It was certainly unexpected," Jo agreed ruefully. Getting up from behind his desk, John walked over to her, and gently pulled her to her feet. Jo rose only too willingly, needing the warmth and comfort of his embrace as much as she had the scotch the other evening. John held her, feeling her body steadily begin to relax in his grasp. He gently rubbed her shoulders and softly kissed her cheek. "Are you all right?" He asked into her hair, though knowing she wasn't. "I am now," She said with her face against his shoulder. Putting her slightly back from him, he scrutinized her face, and saw that there were tears in her eyes. "It's not all that bad, is it?" He asked, drawing her back against him. His kind words only strove to bring far more tears to the fore, making her shake with the grief that she had tried to suppress since Monday. John let her cry, seeing that this was something she had needed to do for some time now. He murmured fond words of comfort to her, occasionally running his fingers through her hair. Gently encouraging Jo in the direction of the sofa, John forcefully buried the sickening wave of disgust at what he had willingly done on that sofa this time yesterday. Jo was his priority now, not wallowing in self-pity because he'd been well and truly caught with his pants down. They sat where he and Connie had lain, while he tried to soothe away Jo's torment.
When she looked to be beginning to calm down, John tentatively asked, "Is this about what happened on Monday?" Gazing into his kind, concerned face, Jo saw no criticism, no disapproval at what she had done. "Did George tell you?" She asked dismally, wishing that George could have kept it to herself. "You forget that I can always see you from where I sit," He told her, bypassing her actual question. "When I saw you on Tuesday morning, you looked exactly the same as you did after Jason Powell died." John was referring to that other time she had become far too drunk. "I know it sounds stupid," She said, digging for a tissue in her handbag. "But I really didn't mean to do it. I just kept finding other things to do, probably so that I wouldn't have to think about the case and what was coming the next day." "When I came to find you on Monday," John said very carefully. "You and George were arguing. What was that all about?" "When Barbara was first arrested, and after I'd first been to see her, George tentatively tried to warn me about how difficult I would probably find this case to be. That's why she virtually insisted on acting as my junior. She took on the vast majority of the legwork, recruiting witnesses, finding out about any possible bad publicity involving the witnesses, you name it. She knew that I wanted to be able to concentrate on Barbara, so that's what she enabled me to do. I didn't want to need her help, not at first, and when she initially suggested working with me, I wasn't very nice about it. But there's honestly no way I could have put this case together so successfully without her. I never thought I would come to say this about George, but she's managed to build a rapport with some of our witnesses, that I know this time I really couldn't have achieved. Kay, Zubin, Tom, they've all talked to George far more than they ever have to me. She's gained their trust, made them share confidences with her that I don't think I could have extracted so easily. She even managed to persuade Yvonne to track down and warn off, a prostitute whom Zubin used to visit on a regular basis." John grinned. "Typical," He said ruefully, his comment meant for both George and for Yvonne. "But you really shouldn't be telling me things like that," He added, the trial protocol intruding on his thoughts as usual. "If you're going to sit there and split hairs, John," Jo said disgustedly. "Then I'll leave now." "I'd really rather you stayed," John replied quietly, his gaze soft on hers.
Leaning slightly forward, John kissed her, tasting the tea that they'd all been drinking since reconvening in chambers. Jo was soft, gentle, and extremely familiar. What had possessed him, he thought fleetingly, to engage in a sordid, degrading, and entirely unnecessary coupling with Connie Beauchamp? Here he was, cuddling his Jo, his lips tangling deliciously with hers, and with George out there somewhere, loving him just as much as Jo did. "I love you," He said when they finally came up for air. "I'm not so sure that you should," Jo replied bleakly. "I think I've loved you ever since I met you," John told her seriously. "So I'm not about to stop now, just because you got drunk in the middle of a trial. You've done it before, and it's possible that you'll do it again. It doesn't make you a bad person, Jo." "It frightens me that I did it barely without thinking. It was as though it was a natural impulse to do it." "What you need to try to do," John told her carefully. "Is to make sure it doesn't become instinctive." "I know," Jo said quietly. "It was certainly something of a relief that she could take over like that yesterday morning," She added with a slight smile. "Talking of George's approach to cross-examination," John said with a sudden thought. "Where on earth did she uncover all that evidence about Connie Beauchamp?" "I've got absolutely no idea," Jo said fondly. "She kept her cards very close to her chest with Connie. She didn't even tell me about most of what she pulled out of the air this morning, and I'm not even convinced that she used all she had on her."
When George descended the stairs after leaving Jo in chambers with John, she saw Karen, Yvonne and Helen waiting for her. "How did it go?" Helen asked when she reached them. "Didn't Nikki tell you?" George asked, lifting a hand to cover a yawn. "Of course she did," Yvonne said with a smile. "But you lot can change your minds at the merest whim." George laughed tiredly. "We'll continue as before, with the jury being told to disregard Sylvia's last couple of comments." "God knows what the stupid cow thought she was playing at," Said Yvonne in disgust. "Do you all fancy a cup of tea that hasn't come out of a machine?" George asked with sudden inspiration. "Court won't reconvene until tomorrow and I for one could do with a sit down." "You look knackered," Yvonne observed thoughtfully. "It's probably something to do with our lord and master giving me the run around," She said, moving towards the outside. But as she drove through the late afternoon traffic, she wondered just how long this lack of energy would last before she was forced to acknowledge its existence.
When the four of them reached her house, George wondered what had happened to Cassie and Roisin. "They had to pick the kids up from school," Yvonne informed her. They moved into the kitchen, still talking about the cock up Sylvia had made of probably her very last court appearance. "Never mind Sylvia," Helen said without thinking. "What was that all about this morning?" George hurriedly turned her eyes away, and stared fixedly at the kettle she was filling from the tap. "I was just sharpening a few claws, that's all," She said a little shakily, part of her wanting to share her torment with these three kind hearted women, and the rest of her wanting to hide from their all too penetrating gaze. But she could feel the rising tide of emotion that couldn't be suppressed forever. She tried to blink away the tears, feeling nothing but kindness and empathy coming from these three women, standing in her kitchen as though they really were her friends. Seeing her difficulty, Karen switched off the tap and handed the kettle to Yvonne to put back on its base, and whilst Yvonne opened cupboards in an attempt to locate mugs and teabags, Karen turned George to face her. Neither Karen nor George said a word to each other, their closeness of last year negating the need for actual words. All that concerned Karen at the moment was that for some reason, George was tired, strung out, and very upset. Coming over to where they stood, Helen laid a hand on George's shoulder. "What's happened?" She asked gently, but George didn't answer, couldn't answer, couldn't put into words how she'd felt on seeing John and Connie together. But Yvonne answered for her. "She caught the Judge having it away with Connie Beauchamp." "I did wonder," Karen said quietly, softly kissing George's cheek. "Not even you will sharpen claws like that for just anyone." "They looked so perfect together," George said through her tears. "I don't think I've ever seen a couple quite so well co-ordinated. In the fairly lengthy time it took her to put her clothes back on, I was given the pleasure of scrutinizing every inch of her, and I couldn't find one, single flaw." "You're not exactly over the hill, George," Helen assured her kindly. "I feel it sometimes," George said miserably. "Don't we all," Yvonne muttered darkly, retrieving some milk from the fridge. Taking their tea into the lounge, George and Karen sat on the sofa, and Yvonne and Helen sat in armchairs.
"So, what're you going to do about John?" Yvonne asked as she lit a cigarette. In hearing Yvonne say his actual name, Karen had to forcefully suppress the thought that Yvonne had in fact slept with him, nearly a year ago now. "What can I do?" George said despairingly. "I used to think that having both me and Jo at his beck and call was his idea of heaven, but evidently not." "Have you got any idea why he does it?" Helen asked her, seeing this as a golden opportunity for finding out about John from somebody else's point of view. "Enormous insecurity complex, coupled with an addiction to sex," George said matter-of-factly. "I've tried my damnedest over the years to curb his leaning towards women who fuck first and think later, but so far, with no success. If I hadn't had the evidence of it thrust in my face, I could have got the anger out of my system and just accepted it, as I have on most of the other occasions over the years. But seeing them together like that, it was just a bit too much. It means that you suddenly discover what they really find attractive, which doesn't appear to be you any more." "He does love you, you know," Helen said into the resulting, pain-filled silence. "John would like to believe he still does," George said resignedly. "But I'm not sure that I do." "What about Jo?" Yvonne asked. "Jo doesn't know about Connie," George said firmly. "And for the sake of this trial, if nothing else, it absolutely has to stay that way." "I do admire your idea of plain and simple justice," Karen told her with a smile. "Pushing both John and Connie to the limits of their endurance. It was priceless." "Once I'd started," George said with a weak smile of her own. "I couldn't stop. Every word she uttered made me angrier and angrier, and when John began defending her honour, I was just about ready to scratch his eyes out with my own hands." "Yeah, I saw," Yvonne said with a smirk. "Charlie and one of his Rottweilers couldn't have done any better."
When George lifted a hand to cover yet another yawn of mental exhaustion, Karen turned her face towards her, scrutinizing it closely. "Have you stopped eating again?" She asked, before she could think better of it. "Not so as you'd notice," George replied, her body stiffening because she didn't particularly want this area of her imperfections to be broadcast to all and sundry. "I don't believe you," Karen said simply, for the moment forgetting that they had an audience. "George," Yvonne broke in gently. "Anyone could tell a mile off that you don't eat enough to keep a sparrow alive." "Really?" George replied a little bitterly. "Because I thought I covered it up quite well." "Oh, you do," Helen told her thoughtfully. "Almost too well." "It's nothing serious," George attempted to tell them. "I just find some cases more stressful than others," She added evasively. "Yeah, especially when you're working for two instead of one," Yvonne replied knowingly. "Occasionally perhaps," George said whilst trying not to meet Yvonne's eyes.
A good while later when the three of them had left, Karen drove purposefully back to the Old Bailey. Seeing George so vulnerable and feeling so worthless had made Karen extremely angry. John had no right to do this to George, no right whatsoever. Thankfully seeing that Jo's car was no longer in the car park, meaning that she had left for home, Karen parked, and walked back in through the heavy swing doors. All was quiet at this time of day, and she walked up the stairs with her shoes warning any hiding Judge of her forceful approach. Knocking on the door to John's chambers, she realised that this was what George had probably done, before walking in on him and Connie. When he bade her to enter, she swept in with the force of a whirlwind. "How could you do that to her?" She demanded of him as he rose from behind his desk. "I see that the grapevine's been doing its stuff," John commented dryly, winding Karen up even more. "Do you have any idea how hurt she is?" Karen demanded. "No, but I suspect that you're about to tell me," John replied, still sounding calm and thoroughly self-assured. "George loves you, John," Karen told him vehemently. "Yet every bloody opportunity you get, you try your damnedest to throw it all away. Was it absolutely necessary to do this to her?" "Oh, and it was so much better when I slept with you, wasn't it," He threw back at her, unwilling to put up with any more of this after the day he'd had. Karen's face went blank, keeping from him all the hurt and guilt of that night that she still couldn't quite part with. "No, it wasn't," She said in a tight, quiet voice that touched his heart. "That was ten times worse." Knowing that they'd both said quite enough, they remained quiet until they'd calmed down a fraction. "Did she ask you to come here?" John eventually asked, now sounding back in control of himself. "No," Karen admitted with a slight smile. "And she'd have a fit if she knew I had." "I do feel bad about sleeping with Connie," He told her, and she could see the guilt and worry for George shining out of his eyes. "Yes, I know you do," Karen replied tiredly. "And George really did a number on the pair of you this morning, didn't she." "I was almost proud of her," John was forced to admit. "But I doubt that it's got it out of her system, not by a long way."