Life changes and people change with life, John mused, as he studied the letter in his hand, which had cordially invited him to lecture at the judge's seminar at Warwick. He had utterly immersed himself in Barbara Mills trial and over the weekend and had basked in the pure relief that he and Monty had not had to deal with a guilty verdict. Still feeling good about himself, he had been promptly plunged into the psychological centrifuge of the therapy session. Helen had severely disorientated him by praising the good he had done at the trial and had gone on to awake far too many unpleasant feelings about himself than he could safely deal with. Now, he was going to be taken away from the normal constraints of his life into the sea of possibilities that lecturing away from home offered up. The familiar and habitual feelings of excitement started to well up in him as it had, so many times before.
A swirl of memories floated dreamily past his mind's eye as he held the piece of paper in his hand and he stared into the distance. Conferences and lecturing away from home both held the same illicit pleasures that only those who took part in them knew ever existed. It was the chance of extra curricular activities that provided half the attraction. Inside the conference hall or the lecture theatre, he earnestly dedicated himself to the task in hand at least as much as anyone but outside the allotted hours, all sort of delicious temptations opened up to those gifted with the arts of sexual attractiveness. The beauty of these occasions away from home, he had judicially concluded, was that it satisfied both sides of his personality, the public and the private. Yes, he remembered that charming French judge who Monty Everard was boring to death until one glance from his appealing blue eyes ensnared her so that they sneaked off from the convivial, drinks laden party to her bedroom. That memory and other memories started to make him feel good about himself and his lips curved as his eyes looked inwards.
Suddenly, his senses were assaulted by the dark memory of last October's Howard League for Penal Reform's annual conference. He had acted no differently that time, except that he had slept with Karen who was also his friend and got far more than he bargained for. He shuddered at the memory. If there was any one event in his life that caused him to abandon his pride and seek therapy, finally stripped of all mental reservations and get out clauses, this was it. And yet he was proposing to revisit that area of his existence, which had brought him so much pleasure and yet proved to be his total undoing. "Why do you keep on sleeping with women who are, let's face it, of absolutely no consequence to you, when you have two beautiful, loving, supportive women, who would give you everything you wanted if you only asked?" Helen's direct words and intense stare jumped into his mind and brought him up short. It served notice on him that he could no longer coast through life on old habits but that intense scrutiny for the truth must needs be turned inwards on himself, both in therapy and outside it. It forced him uncharacteristically to think of those who were closest to him at the point when duty would shortly separate himself from them. Once that thought was planted in his mind, his attention inevitably zeroed in on George. He knew enough to know that he had good reason to worry about George but not enough to know what it was about. Inspiration came to him to seek out Jo and try and find the answer. Uncharacteristically, he threw together the contents of his suitcase in rapid order and set out in his car to find out the truth if he possibly could.
The doorbell rang at Jo's flat and she was surprised to see a slightly disheveled John outside. It was unlike him to not phone her up first but she let John in.
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Jo queried.
"Part business, part pleasure." John answered shortly in a distracted fashion. "I'm going
on my periodic pilgrimage to Warwick to infect the up and coming judges of tomorrow
with my hopelessly liberal ideas. I wonder why they let me loose there"
"In the eyes of Sir Ian, it is probably the lesser of two evils. You can't be a standing
menace to them in two places at the same time. If he doesn't send you to Warwick, you'll
get your hands on a trial he wants a 'safe pair of hands' to handle." Jo commented with a
dry smile.
She hesitated for a minute as John made no reply and added, more statement than
question with a soft smile on her face.
"You didn't come to see me just about you going to Warwick, did you"
John sighed, removed his overcoat and slumped into a sofa.
"You're right, I didn't. I wanted to talk to you about George. I'm worried about her"
Jo pricked up her ears at the terseness in his tone.
"What's the problem, John"
"The worst thing is that I don't know. I went to see her last Friday and she's not her
normal self. She seemed tired and worn out and there's something preying on her
mind"
"I've not noticed anything." Jo interrupted hastily and defensively. Ingrained in her was
the expectation that she would pick up on the subtle nuances of speech and mannerism.
She might think that this quality was necessary as a barrister, both in dealing with a client
who is less than forthcoming and in cross examination in court. The reality was that she
subscribed unthinkingly to the particular form of feminine pride that a woman should be
especially well versed in picking up on these nuances and knowing details of human life
around her. It irked her that the person concerned should be George, of all people whom
she was especially close to. John smiled in that open handed way to excuse Jo's
ignorance, which only served to wind her up. She knew that look. Eventually, he sorted
out the words to say in his mind. It was a severely edited highlight of the conversation but
it was as accurate as far as it went.
"My precise words to her were that I just wished that she would talk to me and the
answer was and I quote 'I can't, not yet, anyway.' Now I wanted to ask you what on earth
it might mean because blessed if I know. I just thought you might be able to shed some
light on a matter which is totally beyond me"
"Did she say anything else"
"Only that she wasn't pregnant. I didn't wish to pursue the matter any further"
Jo's look of intense concentration revealed her attempt to fathom the puzzle. Her starting
point was the same as John's but she gave up in despair.
"I can't help you on this, John." She admitted frankly." Quite frankly, George has been
the strong one throughout the trial, especially when it has got to me on occasions and I've
tended to wind down a bit too much with a drink or three"
John looked sharply at Jo's suspicious euphemism. He remembered the time when Jo had
visited him at his digs and Jo had knocked back a succession of large whiskies in between
denouncing him furiously over the conduct of the Jason Powell hearing. In contrast, he
had never had the need to drink in excess any more than he had followed the teenage
lemming tendency to smoke cigarettes to assert his identity.
"Can you keep an eye on George while I'm away, Jo. It would ease my mind to know
that both of you, who are most dear to me, will be taken care of"
The words tumbled out of John's mouth as the idea first hit him. It was the first time that
it had occurred to him to think of his responsibilities while he was away.
"Of course, John." Jo answered softly, a soft glow in her eyes. She was touched by John's
totally disinterested concern for George." I can't promise that I'll get anywhere but if I
can get to the bottom of this puzzle, I will."
Hours later, Jo lay on her back with John in the heat of sexual passion in her dimly lit bedroom. Even as John was inside her, gradually taking her up to the climax that she knew would come, there was different feel about the way that he made love with her. If she could see clearly enough, she was sure she could see a real tenderness in his eyes. Of course, he was the most expert male lover she could think of but this was apt to be a camouflage behind which he could hide his feelings for her. Her fingertips ruffled his hair and delicately traced a pattern down his back. She knew that tomorrow, he would be gone but she was surer of his presence around her than she used to be, even with that silver tongue that could lay on the courtly compliments with a trowel. All this evening, he had said nothing about not straying off the straight and narrow as he had done in the past but, by some instinct, she never pressed the point. She didn't need to. Tonight was different and she knew that wherever George was, that she felt the same. Her tongue slid inside John's in a delicious coming together of the two of them. It did not exclude the third or why else would John have been so concerned about her as Jo was also?