Part Eighty Six
Immediately court had adjourned, and after checking that Barbara was in the safe hands of Gina and Dominic, George took Jo home, seeing that she needed some plain and simple looking after. Jo didn't say a word as they drove to George's house, because she felt as though every shred of energy she'd had at the beginning of the day, had entirely drained away. "You did well today, darling," George told her as she opened the front door. "Let's hope it works," Jo said dryly. "Because I don't especially want to go through that again in a hurry." "Are you kidding?" George asked in surprise. "Brian was practically crying into his papers by the end of it. He might try and score a few points tomorrow, but already we've got him on the hop. So, if he wants to achieve anything at this stage, he'll be forced to jump rather high." Jo smiled, picturing the image of Brian Cantwell attempting to leapfrog over the front bench. "That's better," George told her, putting her arms round Jo and kissing her. "I've wanted to see that smile all day." "It feels like a very long time since I had you in my arms," Jo said softly into George's hair, also having noticed a slight reticence in her lately. George's body stiffened. "It's not a criticism, just an observation," Jo assured her. "I'm sorry," George said, feeling a little foolish. "I'm not sure what's wrong with me at the moment." This was a whopper of a lie, but Jo fortunately fell for it. "I think you've just forgotten how to relax," Jo said matter-of-factly. "Probably," George admitted tiredly. "Would you like me to help you relax?" Jo asked, looking deep into George's eyes, her meaning only too clear. "Oh, and just what would this form of relaxation involve?" George asked, her lips curving up into a smile. "I don't know," Jo said thoughtfully. "Though a hot bath and a glass of wine might be a good start." "Sounds wonderful," George groaned theatrically, thinking that some highly charged relaxation wouldn't do her any harm in the slightest.
When they were reclining side by side in the bath, with two glasses of Chablis to hand, Jo also began to let go of some of the stresses and strains that had crept up on her over this week. "I'm sorry that I've been so unprofessional this week," She said, after taking a sip from her glass. "What's important, Jo," George tried to reassure her. "Is that neither Barbara nor the court has noticed." "You've been looking out for me all week," Jo said gratefully. "When I can't help thinking that it's you who needs a bit of looking after." "Oh, I'm all right," George said, even sounding unconvinced to herself. "You've been arguing with John, haven't you," Jo said simply. "What makes you say that?" George asked her warily. "Oh, come on, George," Jo said disbelievingly. "What was your performance of yesterday morning all about if it wasn't a row you'd had with John. You nearly risked being banged up for contempt, again, and you haven't done that for a very long time." "It's not something I wish to discuss," George replied curtly, sounding almost formal in her response. "Which tells me that it's definitely something important," Jo pursued relentlessly. "Jo, you won't get this out of me for love nor money," George promised her. "So please, don't even try." "Why?" Jo asked, still sounding completely reasonable. "Because I said so," George replied firmly. "Subject closed." Knowing an immovable object when she saw one, Jo desisted in her probing. "And this was supposed to make both of us relax," Jo said ruefully. "It's all right," George said fondly, gently kissing her, and wanting to banish any hint of argument between them. "You're so beautiful," Jo said in wonder, as she traced the curve of George's right breast. "You're looking through rose tinted specs," George told her with a sardonic smile. "But the thought is appreciated." Their kisses were gentle, their hands soft as they moved over each other's skin. Their bodies were becoming so familiar to the other by now, that they each were learning their favoured pleasure points, making their loving almost second nature to them. When two sets of delicate fingers slid tenderly between legs, they both knew that this more than any verbal utterance was the most truthful expression of how they felt about each other. This tantalising of each other's bodies, the pure erotic pleasure they received from touching each other so intimately, was what gave them the private warmth and indulgence that didn't need to always involve John.
A good while later, when they were downstairs preparing a meal of chicken, rice and stir-fry, they heard a key turn in the front door. George had given Kay a spare key to her house so that she could come and go as she pleased while she was there. It was just after six, and when Kay appeared in the kitchen doorway, she looked tired but happy, almost high on pure excitement. "You look like you had a good day," George observed with a smile. "Yes, you could say that," Kay agreed, unable to suppress her own smile of pleasure. "How did it go in court?" She asked, realising that Jo's and George's day might have been anything but good. "Not too bad," Jo informed her. "Barbara did extremely well." After going upstairs to drop off her briefcase and to get changed, Kay rejoined them in the kitchen, sitting down at the scrubbed wood table. "So, what did you get up to that was quite so enlightening?" George asked, putting a plate of food down in front of her, as Jo refilled their glasses and poured one for Kay. "Well," Kay said, after taking a mouthful of food. "Tom came down to the morgue late this morning with some relatives, and he asked me whether or not I was busy this afternoon, and as I wasn't particularly, he asked me if I wanted to observe a heart and lung transplant that he would be performing if the organs arrived in time." "I take it you accepted," Jo said with a smile at Kay's exuberance. "Like a shot," Kay agreed. "It's far too many years since I was in an operating room, and I couldn't resist. Zubin was also there doing his stuff, as was the cardiothoracic registrar." "Will Curtis," George filled in for Jo's benefit. "He was the one who gave me so much dirt on Connie Beauchamp." "He's not the nicest man I've ever met," Kay said with a slight frown. "Insists on proving his own skill whilst refusing to learn from a higher authority. Anyway, when it came to putting in the new heart and lungs, Tom invited me to assist, which didn't please Mr. Curtis one bit. So, there I was, holding the new organs in place while Tom put in the stitches, and it felt incredible. Tom then allowed me to suture the intercostal muscles, saying that he wanted to see what I was made of." "Typical," George said with a laugh. "And I trust you showed him precisely what you are made of?" "I think so," Kay said a little abashed. "Then, when he began giving the internal massage to get the new heart beating properly, and to know that I'd been part of that, it gave me the biggest non-sexual high that I think I've ever had. It might have simply been that just for a while, I was allowed to step off my own world, and walk around in someone else's. But whatever it was, I'd do it again any day."
Smiling at her enthusiasm, Jo asked, "What made you go into forensic pathology in the first place?" "I wanted to find out everything that a person was able to tell me after death," Kay said simply. "When a person survives either a horrific injury or a debilitating illness, they usually have a voice. The only voice available to the dead is someone who does what I do. I interpret the words of the dead, because they cannot speak for themselves." "We could use that," George said thoughtfully. "When you're on the stand next week." "Has anyone else ever placed such a description on your profession?" Jo asked. Crunching on a piece of mange tout, Kay thought about this. Then her brain clicked back into action. It had been after the night that Chandonne had broken into her house, when she'd been staying with Anna. Being a psychiatrist, Anna Zenner had taken her through several afternoons or evenings of questions and answers, trying to provoke Kay into allowing herself to feel, instead of always forcing herself to think. "A psychiatrist friend of mine once told me, that I am the doctor who hears the dead, the doctor who sits at the bedside of the dead." "Remember that," George said in awe. "Because the jury will love every word of it." "Did this psychiatrist friend of yours have any other pearls we might use?" Jo asked, wishing that they could have had the services of this woman for Barbara. "We once talked about how I restrict the level of imagination I put into my work, because if I didn't, it would be far too easy for me to know what they felt at the point of death. Anna said that if I could possibly allow that imagination to take hold in front of a jury, to enable me to conjure up for them what a person may have thought and felt before their death, it would win the case for me every time." Taking a sip of her wine, Jo regarded Kay thoughtfully. "Do you think you could do that with this jury? Make them feel the agonising desperation that Henry Mills must have felt, in order to take his own life?" "I guess I could try," Kay said quietly. "Though it won't be very easy for your client to listen to."