Claire Walker felt that the technicolour, colour film that she'd been living had been suddenly switched off and a drab black and white version took its place. She might have expected it from the strong hint from Jim Patterson that 'her crusading days would be over after Friday' but she was so caught up in the drama of the trial. After the brief meeting had been called on Monday morning and a distinctly tepid round of applause greeted her success, the full force of these sentiments did their best to dampen her spirits.
"You know Claire that your Nikki Wade case has really put our firm on the map and we're all grateful to you but you must remember that we work as a team. There's no place here for individual glory seeking and after such a high profile case, you must expect to pick up the more run of the mill cases. I'll give credit where it's due but you must let other members of the firm have their chance of fame," Jim Patterson said, smiling with everything but his eyes as he delivered the mixed verbal bouquet of roses and brambles.
Cynically, Claire's inner ear unscrambled the meaning to read it like this.
"You know, we really didn't expect your case to turn out that way. The result was a sheer fluke. You've put the noses out of joint of the older colleagues and we don't care for a young upstart like you. You'll be pushed back to doing the dull mundane cases and let the old guard have the chance to preen themselves again. The pecking order must be restored."
"Till the next time, Jim. You never know what's round the corner," she sweetly smiled, not letting any of them get the impression that they had got at her. "Talent will win out, Jim " was what she was really getting at. Their frozen smiles told her that they hadn't mistaken her meaning.
Sure enough, the normal overfull in tray of conveyancing cases and minor litigation awaited her. Her secretary was ever so sweet as normal and tended to mother her.
"Honestly, Claire, I can't do anything about the backlog of work. I've done as much as I can but they'll still need your approval."
Claire looked affectionately at her secretary and realized that she had one certain ally whose support was unconditional, not because she was her secretary but that Claire was naturally considerate and thoughtful. Her gaze then travelled onwards to the files before her. At least, she thought, that if she was doing mundane work, it was organized mundane work. She had no choice but the thought at the back of her head remained, that somehow she wasn't destined for a quiet life but she would be dogged by conflict. She didn't need to look for trouble to find it.
She reflected resentfully on Jim bloody Patterson. It was obvious that he was of the old school who resented her. First of all, she was young. For another, she didn't subscribe to his self centred cynicism and his controlling attitudes and for a third, she was a woman. It had taken her some time to draw this conclusion but she had carefully excluded every other possibility and it was in line with his secretive, oblique personality. Above all else, a career woman was a threat to his sense of security.
*******
"So how are things going in your line of work?" Helen asked her lightly enough though her eyes noted the generous measure of vodka and lemonade that Claire poured for herself. The low lights of the living room cast a gentle glow of the small intimate group of people. It was the weekend and the time they could relax.
"Oh, it's back to the real world for me. I ought to have expected it."
"So what's unreal about finally proving that I was not only morally but legally innocent in taking out Gossard? After all, this is the sort of trial the law is supposed to be about? Every idea I picked up when I was growing up was about the even handed scales of justice. I mean, forget about me, it was the situation. That couldn't be more important. It means that another woman in the same situation won't have to go through what I did."
"There's something traditional about you, Nikki." Peter observed in response to the dark haired woman's passionate declaration.
"That's a new one on me, Peter."
"I don't mean that you're a closet conservative, Nikki. It's just that you take the professions of society a few decades back totally seriously, that you see very well where it falls down in reality and especially in recent years. That's why you can become the most relentless critic and rebel of what you see around her that's wrong. From what I've heard of your time at Larkhall, that's surely what made you most critical."
A slow smile spread across Nikki's face as she savoured the full flavour of Peter's astute remark. No wonder Claire married him, she thought to herself affectionately.
"Flattering and highly insightful though you undoubtedly are, Peter, we're missing something. It looks as if you've got a lot on your mind, Claire."
"Oh, It's nothing much," Claire protested feebly.
"Come on, spit it out. It must be work related. I can't imagine either of you having problems on the home front, " urged Nikki gently to Peter's intense relief. He had tried to intervene in his gentlemanly fashion and had failed.
"I suppose I don't have any choice," sighed Claire, the decision having been taken out of her hands." You're persistent enough, Nikki and I know Helen of old who's bound to get on my case."
"Don't speak because you have to, Claire. Do it because you want to. Remember that a problem shared is a problem halved. An outsider can help if you're too close to the situation."
"All right," Claire said more decisively, her last reservations fading away thanks to Helen's kindness." It all centers on Jim bloody Patterson, the senior solicitor in the practice. In his eyes, I've got away with two high profile cases that he thought hadn't got a cat's chance in hell of succeeding. Your second appeal is the last straw and he's determined to keep me down to run of the mill stuff. My future is slow death by boredom."
Claire was always very quiet and restrained in her manner and the way she let rip her emotions came over as raw naked emotion. The hearts of the three other people in the room went out to her.
"Jesus, Claire…….." said Nikki softly, her voice tailing away in disbelief. "I can't believe you're going through so much shit."
"Wait a minute, Claire. Just how good a solicitor are you? I remember dealing with you in Nikki's two appeals and in finding Sally Anne in the first place. Would any other solicitor have done a good job as you did, especially this Jim Patterson?" intervened Helen.
"I did my job to the best of my ability. It was only what I expected of myself."
"Have you had any complaints about your work, especially from Marian and Jo?" pursued Helen, hearing that selfsame dedication to the job in hand. She recognized that same fatal strain of self-deprecation.
"Well, no."
"Jo strikes me as someone who doesn't suffer fools gladly. What about this guy? How do his clients think of him?"
"There aren't any complaints."
"As far as you know," added Helen with deadly logic." My experience is that those that are the most dishonest cover up the most. This is where their talents lie, in polishing up the nice shiny images of themselves for those gullible enough not to enquire. The reality of the situation is that you are intelligent, committed and hard working. You're likely to be a threat to him, because you're young and female but much more because you're smarter than him and he knows it. He'd sooner cut off his right arm rather than admit it, that's for sure."
"You're talking about Fenner as well, sweetheart."
"Yeah, I am. Birds of a feather," Helen retorted to Nikki's insight, her green eyes smouldering with anger.
"You just have to believe in yourself, Claire," urged Peter." You know very high-class barristers who know what you can do and want your services. They can't block you forever or they'll lose custom. No firm can afford to cut off their arm to spite their face."
Claire's tense skin and tight expression loosened up to these entreaties. Suddenly, she could look down at them as if from a bird's eye point of view. They were all right. A smile spread across her face and her tense posture relaxed as she lay back in her armchair.
"You're all right. I've just let things get on top of me," she said to the three anxious, concerned friends of hers, one of whom she was married to, looked anxiously at her. Suddenly, she was gradually eased out of her own private pit of depression and lack of self esteem and felt whole and part of the human race again. The three worried expressions came into sharper focus. She vowed to stick them out and to fight her corner.
******
John was at the dining table at the digs reading the Independent when the butler caught his eye.
"A Mrs. Channing to see you, my lord."
"Show her in," he said eagerly. His attentive ears had picked up rumours that, at last George had split from that dreadful home secretary and a free and unattached George offered personal advantages of the most delightful kind. Sure enough, she entered, a smile on her face, wearing her favourite off the knee dress that showed off her figure to the best advantage.
"I know very well, John, that your eyes are feasting on me. Doubtless, you are just itching to find out about the rumours concerning me."
"Of what?" came that oh so innocent voice and look in his baby blue eyes.
"Of me dumping Neil. That is perfectly true," said George flatly.
"Oh good. I can't believe my ears. It was the best decision you could ever have made in your life."
"Not that it means that I intend to drift back into your bed and share you with Francesca Rochester and God knows how many other women."
"Not counting Jo Mills."
"Oh, did I hear you mention Little Miss Oxfam?" drawled George archly, her most derisive insult being an insulting reference to Jo Mills' shopping habits and, as she saw it, her self righteousness. "I might change my mind in that case."
"I would be only too happy to commiserate with you and offer you every sympathy," John said silkily in his most enticing tones.
"In the comfort of your bed. You'll have to do better than that."
"Well, Lover Boy can't have been the most satisfying company, George. That alone would give you every reason to look elsewhere to where you would be more appreciated."
"Hmmn, I know very well what your form of appreciation is like. There are advantages…..and disadvantages…." teased George." I would sooner look around and take stock of my life and not jump into the first thing that catches my mind. It means, of course, that I cease to be the government's legal Miss Fixit and see what cases that I want to take on."
"And still pursue the money pot, George. I know what you're like."
"Not as much as you think you do," challenged George with a self-satisfied smile on her face." One effect of living with a New Labour politician and being a glamorous accessory, there to make polite small talk at parties. Being surrounded by self obsessed, self seeking men and women, provides excellent aversion therapy."
"Not that you didn't enjoy the glamorous dresses which I must say show you off so splendidly," joked John.
"Be serious John for once in your life. I am respected in my field as a talented barrister. When I'm in court, that's how I'm seen. Outside it, I've seen as high-class crumpet without an original idea of my own, whose talent is to soothe ruffled feathers. You know me, John, and you must see that there's more to me than that."
George's words were like a glass of cold water thrown in his face. He had expected to play up to her self- image of being materially obsessed and narcissistic. Instead, she let that alone and her reply was said totally without artifice. He could tell that the woman that he thought he'd known so well was acting outside her usual character.
"We've quarreled in the past but I love you as the mother of Charlie. We have that bond in common and always will."
"John darling, as flattering as your words are, I'm not talking about myself as Charlie's mother, Daddy's daughter or as your would be temporary lover. I'm talking about me, who I am in my own right. I want to get an idea of who and where I want to be. Though I have tastes for the most outrageous fashion accessories, that is not all I want to be. Is it so wrong to think in these terms? Do you have to drag it out of me though, I hate to admit it, some, I repeat, only some of your ideas weren't all that nonsensical?"
John stared open mouthed at George as the penny finally dropped. Both of then had lived their lives according to accepted rules of their relationship, whether in hardship or in conflict. For the first time ever, George was changing the rules and he'd been unaccountably slow to respond. True, she wasn't going sleep with him that night but a new intimacy was opening up before him. The possibilities were endless.