Scene Two

Jo Mills was even deader to the world than Claire was. Everything in her life had been so tightly focused in on the trial. It might be said that all roads lead to Rome but all trains of thought focussed in relentlessly on the task that must be accomplished. This trial wasn't just a legally intense and complicated matter where she had to outwit the opposition by second guessing his game plan. What was far more at stake was that the very 'rules of the game' could be changed like lightning due to behind the scenes political interference. It was like a three-dimensional game of chess. The only constant factor in these battles and her only hope was in John's strength and, as she found at very short notice, in that very remarkable and quick witted woman who was her client. Somehow, everything had come together that day, as it needed to. As she lay in bed, she couldn't believe that the trial was over. Logically, she could let her mind run free and take it easy but she knew from experience that it would take some time for her mind to stop racing and she could seize the time for some tranquillity in her life. She needed these spaces in her life to refresh herself for her next case.

****

The digs had that discreet refined atmosphere where meals were laid out for those with time to contemplate the day. A long table, set with a starched white tablecloth, gave scope for those members of the judiciary to socialize and make small talk.

On this Saturday morning, John made a late appearance at the digs, looking very pale and blinking at the sunlight, which hurt his eyes. He wavered before picking a quiet corner to sit and shortly after, Monty made an appearance. John's tired eyes took in the welcome fact that his wife, Vera, wasn't with him. The sight of her bright pink suit would have been hard for his eyes and her loud opinionated voice would have been quite too much for him, let alone her inane bigoted opinions.

"I'll never drink again, Monty." John murmured. "It really doesn't suit me."

"What you want," grinned Monty understandingly," is to avoid giving in to temptations and also suffering the kickback the next day."

"You're surely not a puritan killjoy in thinking that pain and penitence must follow pleasures," groaned John.

"Nonsense, I'm just being pragmatic about it," boomed Monty more heartily than John would have liked. "The chances are that you're not a regular drinker so that celebrating on Joe's lethally enjoyable malt whisky meant that you were on a bender. You have to train up on regular drinking so that you can enjoy a special celebration and not regret it the next day."

John grinned at Monty's honest explanation of the pleasure principle in contrast to the miserable mineral water morality of the current political clique in control. Certainly, he had heartily enjoyed last night. He recalled the feel of being amongst the circle of armchairs, gathered round and the comforting sensation that he didn't have to go anywhere. Joseph Channing was left to dispense regular top ups and he, Monty and Joseph felt like brothers in arms, having won a glorious victory. The large armchair in Joseph's chambers encompassed him and made him feel incredibly grounded and certain of his place in the world. Monty was right, of course, in saying that John wasn't a practiced drinker but he did enjoy getting fuzzy at the edges but at the same time, their conversation wasn't some meaningless drunken ramble. All of then had that delicious feeling of fulfillment about them, that they had truly done what they had been destined for. The only fly in the ointment was that his head didn't feel so good and he wished that he could get back to that heightened feeling of normality and purpose.

"You're right, Monty. It's just that I envy you right now."

"Try this Alka Seltzer and plenty of water." Monty kindly offered.

John reached eagerly for the tablets, the water gourd and a glass and barely let them fizz their power into the plain water before he drained the glass.

"Do you want to read the morning papers, John?"

"Will they make me feel any better?"

"Well, we've had the honour of being flayed alive in print along with Nikki Wade. We really are Public Enemy Number One,"grinned Monty. As much has his limited senses let him, John was glad that Monty was not the slightest bit worried by the prospect.

"By the way, I gather that you had a long conversation with her," he added with a conspiratorial smile.

"I had an extraordinarily intimate conversation with Nikki in full knowledge that she is homosexual and there isn't the slightest possibility that any intimacy would be anything more than strictly platonic. I mean it, Monty." John insisted quietly.

"For once, I've misjudged the situation, John. I have heard many stories of your brand of charm and how far it gets you with the fairer sex. I remember the French judge at that Conference who I was pursuing for three days only you turned up," Monty replied in even tones, without malice.

"She is an extraordinarily intelligent, gifted and above all, compassionate woman who will go far in life. I'll deeply treasure the memory of the conversation. I can tell you we did better than we knew in finally throwing off the shackles that have held her back," John observed slowly with a faraway look in his eyes.

Monty could tell that there was a wealth of meaning and feeling that John was hiding behind. He wanted to help him out as a friend yet hesitated in forcing a confidence. He was of the old school after all and was uncomfortable with naked emotions on display. He settled for a tentative approach and coughed nervously.

"I don't want to be intrusive but I'm interested in what happened. This stays strictly confidential."

"You mean Vera as well?"

"Especially from Vera. She has no sense of discretion whatsoever," pronounced Monty firmly in response to that sharp, inquisitive look.

"I was in a verbal scrap with Sir Ian, Lawrence James and George who were throwing the collective rattle out of the pram and blaming it all on me…"

"The damned cheek," interjected Monty, which elicited a smile in response.

"……when Nikki chimed in at just the right moment. She'd left her handbag in the witness box you know. The battle royal that took place was splendid and, together, we drove them headlong. After that, my curiosity was roused and I wanted to talk to her, to find out what she was like. Well, I certainly got more than I bargained for…..she has exactly the same sense of justice that I have. The similarity is extraordinary. You feel that there aren't any barriers and you can talk the same language. Above all, she asks good questions and you have no problems in just going with the flow."

Monty was fascinated to see the various moods flicker over John's face as he spoke in a meditative abstracted fashion. By some miracle, his headache must have receded to the edges of his consciousness or else he had remarkable self-control.

"That's only fair as the three of us certainly asked her a fair few questions," came Monty's slightly lighthearted response. That prompted a rush of words from the other man completely stripped of his normal suave self-control.

"There's more to that, she has that uncanny ability to look into my soul. She sees my strengths and weaknesses but I know that, for once in my life, I need have no fear of being seen for who and what I am. She's incredibly kind hearted. She even invited me to pop round if I ever wanted to."

"Nice idea, John but that might be a bit impractical," observed Monty slightly stiffly. In truth, he felt embarrassed though he couldn't say why.

A silence hung on the air on that bright spring morning. The sunbeams hurt John's eyes and so he didn't answer Monty. His eyes flitted every which way until they fastened on the newspaper that Monty had laid on the side.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" John suddenly exclaimed in loud hearty tones.

'Trial outrage- lesbian cop killer given a clean ticket.""In an astounding display of judicial perverseness, Nikki Wade who killed a policeman in cold blood four years ago was given a clean slate. There may be a do gooding element that has crept its way into the judiciary but their ill thought out liberalism is not wanted by public opinion who want justice for the victims of crime, especially the grieving widow of the dead policeman. Public opinion has tolerated the eccentricities of judges of England parading around in their wigs and robes and their eccentric sense of justice but this verdict is surely asking for a bill in parliament to restrict their powers. Sources close to the Home Secretary complained that Ms Wade was judicially having her cake and eating it and should have been grateful for the act of mercy, which gave her freedom at the original appeal hearing. Judges should remember that this is the twenty first century and they cannot do as they please. ……………."

At that point, John threw the paper to one side derisively and turned to remark to Monty.

"This is the government's childish temper tantrum and all because it couldn't get its own way. In a few days time, the press will find another hate figure to tar and feather at the stake."

"That's all very true, John but we may have bitten off more than we can chew."

"Well, we could always go on strike, Monty." John spoke half jokingly." That would show them."

"That will be the day," Monty laughed." Mind you, it would clog up the wheels of justice pretty effectively. Who would they get to take our place? Can you imagine Lawrence James with his shaky ideas of justice coming up before such unruly barristers as Jo Mills? He would be taken to pieces."

"Ah well, I don't suppose it will come to that," mused John as they toyed with this interesting abstraction, as if it were a debate over an abstruse point of law.

"I suppose we shall have to get used to Sir Ian scowling at us for the next three months and I don't suppose the next luncheon will go with a swing if we're there and Haughton

turns up. I suppose he'll forgive and forget, eventually. He can't hold a grudge that long, surely."

"Don't you believe it, Monty," John warned. "The man hoards grudges like others hoard precious silver. He is a power junkie and hates to be deprived of his fix."

"In which case, why on earth does George stay with him? I would have thought she would have better taste."

"Why indeed? I suppose he makes a good trophy partner. He's successful and it gets her into the sort of circles where she can show off her expensive taste in dresses," John answered in hesitant tones, for once not sounding convinced by his own reasoning.

"Yes, but what I can't imagine is them in bed together?"

John closed his eyes and shuddered at the prospect. The image that was conjured up was totally grotesque and one he did not want to dwell over. His hangover headache threatened to return with a vengeance.

"Let's not ruin our appetite by speculating on Houghton's sexual habits, if he has any. Let's enjoy this hearty breakfast and celebrate our famous victory."

Monty grinned at John's jest. He was hungry and ready to tuck in to his breakfast even if John still looked a little queasy.