Scene Thirty
George had spent the evening alone with a bottle of gin and tonic and weighed up the options. She could feel the undertow of attraction back to the safe and familiar but the other side of her was capable of being bored with the familiar. Another strand of thinking positively disliked being dictated as to what she should do and her capricious personality was quite capable of taking umbrage at being dictated to. Yet another serious strand in her makeup realized that she had been playacting in driving John and his disreputable friends down to the picket line even though she secretly had backed them. She found it hard to drop her guard that was all. Recent events backed her into a corner where she had to work out who she really was. In a crisis moment of being blackmailed, she was forced to confront herself and the world all around her. When she took a cool hard look at herself and weighed up the practicalities, she knew what she had to do and her smile widened to a grin when she realized that stuffed shirts like Ian acted in ways that had unexpected results. She took a swallow of gin and tonic and exhaled a cloud of smoke from the cigarette that dangled from her elegant fingers.
"Oh Ian, I thought it would be a good idea if we had a chat about that charming proposition you put to me the other day." Sir Ian viewed George between narrowed eyelids and was slightly disconcerted to see that George seemed in good spirits. It was either the manner of the sinner repenting and wishing to rejoin the forces of law and order again or else she was playing some devious game on him."Perhaps we should talk in private. It would be more prudent."
"Just as you wish, Ian."
While his heels trod portentiously along the flagstones of the Lord Chancellor's Department, George's high heels clicked daintily along as her skirt swirled. She spun round to face Sir Ian in his office and looked foursquare at him, a slight smile on the corners of her lips.
"I've thought long and hard about your very interesting proposition and considered that there was only one possible answer."
"And that is?" murmured Sir Ian, trying his best not to look over eager. He hoped his face looked suitably deadpan.
"I really consider that what I should do in the future is to …..carry on exactly the way I started. I'm carrying on in representing my client Sally Anne Howe in the way that I see fit. Sir Ian, I defy you."
George noted with amusement that Sir Ian's fingers became restless while unusually, his face reddened.
"It is a pity, George, because you will lose important friends. Your action will only be to the detriment of your career."
"In which case, there is really no need to prolong the conversation."
"No indeed," Sir Ian said through gritted teeth.
"See you around sometime," sang George before she swirled out the door leaving a trail behind of expensive perfume.
Sir Ian clenched his fists with exasperation and reached for the phone.
*****
A half hour later, Sir Ian and Lawrence James were in a particularly tense, tight-lipped mood as they considered their future strategy. Two cups of tea were lukewarm, heading for cold as they considered the options. "It looks as if we're stuck with the trial going ahead," reported Sir Ian." I've got Alan Peasemarsh and Neil Haughton both breathing down my neck. The price of them withdrawing their ridiculous bill is that I'm being hounded more than ever to deliver the 'right' verdict in sensitive cases. There is no more sensitive a case than this Howe case that's coming up in court soon. We're stuck between this infernal mischief maker, those Hampstead intellectuals who have latched onto the case, and the police baying 'no surrender.'" "So which judge should hear the case or more particular, which judge should be excluded." "John Deed is absolutely out of the question," Sir Ian decided at express speed. "We can't keep him away from all cases as there are many cases coming up for listing." "Could we arrange for him to consider a traffic violation?" sighed Sir Ian hopefully before reluctantly accepting the idea as a hopeless fantasy." I suppose not. I appreciate your concerns but I definitely want Deed kept away from this one." "What about Huntley?" "What makes matters infernally complicated is that the most rebellious judges have a positive appetite for contentious cases while the more politically acceptable judges are notoriously timid. Huntley is the obvious candidate but he hasn't got the stomach for it. Just remember it is one ex policewoman versus the entire Metropolitan police force. He is too indecisive. He needed both wingers to prod him into making up his mind in the first Wade appeal and they've since gone over to the enemy." "Could we not bring Judge Jackson out of retirement? His views are sound and he knows his own mind. He isn't afraid of bad publicity." Lawrence James ventured as a daring idea."It is a nice idea but the rules of retirement are strict. This one cannot be finagled. Besides, Jackson was too much the hanging judge type and it would backfire on us."
"What about Monty Everard?"
"Yes, that sounds like a good idea. While he's becoming infected with this subversive spirit, he's basically a good 'law and order' man who has had good relations with the police. He's the sort of typical fox hunting man or gives off that impression. Yes, he's the best choice we have right now."
"I suppose Frobisher is the obvious choice as barrister. It will give him his chance to redeem himself."
"Hmm. He must feel like the Ancient Mariner only that the albatross hanging round his neck has a nametag of 'Gossard.' Yes, let him do it," said Sir Ian spitefully.
******
"You might be interested to know that I have been given the Sally Anne Howe case," Monty said in matter of fact tones to John as they sat at the long breakfast table, complete with its starched white long tablecloth. He ran a sharp eye over John, having heard rumours of John going through an emotional crisis. What he saw was moderately reassuring.
"That's all right by me, Monty. I've received the mortgage fraud case, which suits me at the moment. I need to lose myself in some dry detailed case right now."
"That's good then," came the deliberately matter of fact response. Monty knew better than to pry into John's intimacies unless he was expressly asked to. John felt comfortable with the other man's solidity but felt enormously cleaned emotionally by his stay at Nikki and Helen's.
"Is there anything that strikes you that I should need to watch out for in the case?" Monty added in lowered tones even though the dining room was perfectly deserted.
'You'll get the usual political interference but you've come across that one with the Nikki Wade reappeal. You'll know what to look out for."
"I'm beginning to take that as read for nearly everything these days. Even a humble traffic violation case could inadvertently upset the tender sensibilities of the powers that be."
"It could be Lawrence James' younger brother for instance," observed John and both men, laughed heartily at the prospect, not knowing of Sir Ian's gloomy observations on the same hypothetical situation.
"There's just one thing I would do if I were in your shoes and that is to lay hold of the Nikki Wade trial papers. I have a gut feeling that they may be of significance."
"All three? Not many people have the drive and determination to take the British legal system to two rematches and come out on top. Is there any particular reason for your suggestion?"
"Just this. The natural focus has been on Nikki's guilt or innocence. When you consider how DC Gossard was the villain of the piece in that story and looms large in the trial you are about to oversee, then it is prudent to have all the cards you can lay your hands on."
"Seeing that you are advising me so strongly in this direction, I shall heed your advice," Monty pronounced just as traditional breakfast in the form of sausage, egg and baked beans arrived to start their day.
********
Now that the major decisions had been taken over the trial, George lay back and contemplated her situation. She had taken all the steps she could have done to protect her future and the trial was nicely in hand as much as it could possibly be. Her idea of trial preparation was not to wear herself to a frazzle about what might lie ahead of her, as she needed to have all her mental agility to hand. This case however promised to break new ground for her as, for once in life, she was doing what the pompously virtuous thought of as the 'right thing.' Instantly, she took back that thought as her clients Sally-Anne and Trisha actually did the right thing without calling attention to it. They were unconsciously virtuous and what impressed her was the conversation of like-minded women who were the best of friends. She had never had any time for ideas of 'the sisterhood' as she had to struggle hard enough on her own to achieve her present position of being a highly qualified barrister in civil cases.
Now she thought she ought to reconsider this idea as much as she reconsidered taking on this case. She was breaking the mould and she had to admit that she got as much illicit pleasure from this in all the areas of her life that she was changing. She came to the conclusion that she really liked the two women and envied them their obvious closeness with each other. At least they were free of the sort of man like Neil Haughton and Sir Ian Rochester. She shuddered at the thought of both of them, as clearly they were hollow creatures, without any substance or depth. By contrast, she thought tenderly of how Trisha and Sally-Anne spoke kindly of Helen and Nikki and of their life.
She had a moment of regret that somehow she was on the wrong side of a line in looking at a social scene that she had mild regrets that she would never be a part of. What was her alternative? The endless array, of stuffy social events, that was an inescapable part of the legal profession. The spectacle seemed shallow and insubstantial and only the prospect of verbally sparring with John had any attraction. Ah well, she sighed. It was a necessary part of her life and her position of being single again seemed a curious interregnum in her life for reasons she couldn't fathom. She knew well enough that when it came to the trial, she had to be in as cold and clinical a mood as she could summon up in order to do full justice to her case. Jo's naked emotionalism in court was not her way though it had only taken till recently not to mentally or verbally put Jo down for this. It was the way she was made, the same as John was.
******
Meanwhile Nikki, like Helen, let her life carry on as normal as the regular rhythms of the days propelled them ever onwards even while she knew that Sally Anne's trial was scheduled for Wednesday August 3rdand this date was marked in her diary. She was glad that she could busy herself in her job much as Helen could do in hers. Her work kept her satisfied.
The Friday before the trial, Nikki popped out on her lunch break to grab a sandwich from round the corner where she worked. It gave her the chance of getting some fresh air and gave her the pleasant satisfaction of being out on the streets, amongst the bustle of people on the move. She no longer felt the desperation to temporarily escape the shackles of her work as it used to be. As she strode purposefully back from the sandwich shop, she couldn't help looking across the busy street and a familiar figure could be seen walking rapidly the other way. It was her old friend, Tony.
'Hi Tony," Nikki hailed him from across the street in her carrying voice. Instantly, her heart sank. The monotone humming sounds of cars on the move drowned out her voice and, besides he was some distance away and walking quickly. She called out another couple of times, her feet somehow rooted to the spot and could see that the guy was in his own private world. This wasn't uncommon for city life but she felt frustrated and angry at circumstances causing a guy she had been friends with to fail to notice her. She couldn't in all fairness blame him personally.
Tony moved off rapidly down the street and Nikki gave up in despair of him catching her voice. She guessed by his manner that he was somehow getting on with his own life. She hoped that he would remember her kindly along with all those whom time and chance had separated from her life. It frustrated her that she couldn't make contact as it went against the grain.
She turned around and saw the same blank empty faces. She shrugged her shoulders and realised that, yes, she had to get back to work herself.