"We'd better meet up with George and Claire and be prepared to meet the press, Sally. That's the way it goes," Helen said in firm tones.
"Oh God, I never thought about that," Sally exclaimed in horror. "What do I say?"
"Babes, you will find that the words will come naturally," Trisha said in tones of pure affection.
"Thanks to you, there are other women out there who'll get fair treatment. Not much to ask for, is it? This is a big knock to the Gossards and Fenners of this world," commented Nikki in her laconic fashion. She stared coldly at her brother as he fleetingly passed her by. She'd somehow managed to overlook him right throughout the trial and that said everything about their severed relationship.
Trisha was looking all around her in the crowd that assembled for the number of cases that were due to take place in the various courtrooms and finally spotted George emerging into sight, a big grin on her face and conspicuously waving at them. Claire accompanied her, a big smile of satisfaction. Once again, Jim Patterson would be spitting feathers as, once again, the case would be a big triumph against the man's twisted and cynical prediction.
Sally rushed downstairs and flung her arms around first Claire and then George who were still wearing her white wig and gown, both symbols of her trade.
"You were fantastic, George. I can't believe that we've beaten them," Sally said in a breathless tone of voice.
"I'm only too proud to represent you, Sally. You were incredibly brave in standing up to that barrister. You were asked some nasty questions and handled them superbly."
Impulsively Nikki hugged first Claire and then George. Claire had been so dependable from her very first appeal while George had fulfilled all expectations. Helen and Trisha followed suit
"I have never felt so good in all my life." breathed George, a faraway look in her eyes. She looked like an appealing looking little girl at her birthday party, an excited look on her face. There was a curious innocence about her.
"So George, you have joined the rebellious sisterhood," suddenly sneered the most unwelcome voice that George could conceive, short of Neil Haughton. She knew that the spineless coward wouldn't come here. She supposed that one of his army of lackeys would do that for him.
"And why not?" George retaliated, furious that this man should spoil this magical moment.
"You have dug your own grave, professionally speaking," Donald Frobisher sneered at George." Your old clientele wouldn't touch you with a bargepole now.""Real talent can't be kept down. A mediocrity like yourself may brown nose his way up the backside of the establishment but you'll still fail when it comes to a case like this where I'll beat you every time," fired back George, her voice dripping with contempt.
"There's only space for one Jo Mills in the world."
"There is for the original George Channing. I wouldn't pretend to be a copy of anything. It's forty love to us, Jo has talked to me," George retaliated with the light of battle in her eyes.
"You go on and enjoy your so called triumph while you can."
"Don't worry. I will."
The other women laughed with delight at the fiery exchange and the short and sharp way, in which she sent the man packing. He had failed in his attempt to spoil the atmosphere but had enhanced it with a different spiritual flavour.
"You know George, you remind me of Nikki. I have special memories of her at her most combative," Helen said, a knowing look in her eyes.
"I shall take that as a high compliment. There are times when you have to say it like it is."
Out of the corner of her eye, Nikki noticed the red robed figure of Monty Everard pressing through the crowd and indicating in her direction with a beckoning forefinger. Nikki raised her eyebrows and Monty indicated that he wanted to catch up with her. While George chatted with Sally-Anne and Trisha, Helen also picked up on Monty's presence.
"You must be Nikki and Helen. On a personal note, I wanted to thank you for everything you did in looking after John when he came round to your flat. It was very decent of you both."
"You're very fond of him," Nikki said softly.
"We were very worried about him. He told us what you'd done for him and how you'd set him on his feet. We look out for each other, especially John who is our leader. I hope you understand."
"Perfectly," Helen chipped in with a dazzling smile, remembering the kindness that they had done for Nikki."We have the same system amongst our women friends."
Monty shuffled his feet awkwardly in this overflow of emotion even though he was obviously pleased. He suddenly shook Nikki and then Helen by the hand and indicated that he had to go elsewhere, nodding amiably at George in passing. Both women knew that protocol frowned on judges appearing to exhibit partiality and that they normally remained removed from the public arena after the court hearing.
"Got to keep John company. He's been behaving himself, for once," chuckled Monty, indicating John's presence somewhere in the crowd.
All at once, the group became aware of a confused wave of indistinct sound the other side of the front entrance.
"Isn't it customary to meet the press afterwards or am I missing something? I can hear them buzzing outside," cut in George. "You forget that I am new to the aftermath of trials where I am on the side of justice."
"You're right, George. We'd better go out and meet the press," Helen said, sticking to business. She decisively led the way out with firmness of manner as old prison officer habits died hard. The rest of the group filed out after her.
************
Events in the hierarchy of power moved like lightning once the outcome of the trial was known. The Home Office was like an ants nest that had been kicked over while the Lord Chancellor's Department was in chaos. The Attorney General, Sir Alan Peasemarsh was engaged in a lengthy phone call with the Cabinet Office, being the minister who was more closely aware of the anarchy that had broken loose in the Old Bailey that day yet it was the Home Office who had, through the Metropolitan Police, been at the source of all these troubles. The first Nikki Wade appeal had gone unexpectedly badly yet popular belief was that, the damage could be contained, as Ms Wade would float off into obscurity. The second trial was a nasty surprise, which had the nasty effect of resurrecting unwelcome headlines. The wretched woman had capably fended off the press questioning which had been designed to stitch her up. Worst of all was the utter public humiliation of the judges' strike. This latest fiasco of the corrupt police officer would undoubtedly stain the reputation of the Metropolitan Police on the basis that mud sticks. Worse still, the successions of reverses were setting up seismic shocks in the very structure of government itself. It was decided that some drastic damage limitation should take place. The instrument of government should not be entrusted to Sir Ian who was looking more and more like damaged goods but should be entrusted to Alan Peasemarsh, a white haired patrician on the old school."Ah Neil, I wanted to have an informal chat with you," he said in his normal unflappable tone of voice which concealed his anxiety."I have some fresh ideas that the PM might be interested in for the next session of parliament," Neil Haughton said with undimmed enthusiasm just like the archetypal second hand car salesman.
"So how are things going on the home front?" Alan Peasemarsh said, adroitly steering the conversation away. The execution should not be a hurried affair.
"Well, you know how it is. Home life gets sacrificed on the altar of public life. You know, sometimes it is such a squeeze to fit everything in twenty four hours."
"And of course, your constituents as well," Alan Peasemarsh commented with significantly raised eyebrow.
"My constituency secretary is a diamond and handles a lot of bread and butter issues," Neil Haughton spoke in the tones of discussing Jeeves the butler.
"Ah, that helps a lot," came the non-committal reply.
"So George isn't likely to come back to you?" Alan Peasemarsh said with a meaning look.
"A pity but there is a matter of irreconcilable differences. She can be very demanding and self-centred and has trouble in seeing the wider outlook. She has an appetite for making mischief. I'm not saying that she isn't a good barrister and I'm sure she will go far."
"She is a great loss to the government. A pity but life has to go on."
There was a pause in the conversation as both of them sipped from the Crown Derby teacups.
"I've been talking to the PM earlier on and he feels that there have to be some strategic realignments without leaving sight of our strategic goals."
"Of course we must be flexible in our approach."
"This means that the bill to restrict the power of judges must be dropped. It is not politically expedient right now."
Neil Haughton's jaw dropped by a mile. He was sure that it could be forced through the House of Commons with dissent only from the usual culprits. The press would surely favour it. "You can't mean it. I mean I have worked myself to the bone on it. It is something that I feel passionately about it." "Needs must when the devil drives," Alan Peasemarsh said in his usual imperturbable tone of voice, cynically noting the improbabilities in the man's protestations. "It is one of those unavoidable casualties of politics. Politics is the art of the possible and the government can't take another series of knocks as it has done. "I can't accept this as it. I owe this to my convictions. I must talk to the PM myself." "Better not, Neil or the bill won't be the only political casualty," replied the political mandarin pointedly.Neil Haughton immediately backtracked and stammered his apology. Even he knew when the game was up. Alan Peasemarsh made his polite excuses to move on elsewhere concealing one secret that he had maintained. Haughton didn't know it but in the next government reshuffle, he was due to return to the backbenches where he could spend more time with his proverbial family and constituents.
******
Sally Anne emerged onto the narrow pavement outside the Old Bailey flanked by Trisha on one side and Helen and Nikki on the other. Claire and George stood behind the other four women but still in camera shot. She was beginning to feel enormously empowered at surviving the rigours of the cross examination and George's very kindly praise, not given lightly, gave her that feeling of controlled power. It helped her disregard the constant flash bulbs exploding in her face and somehow to focus on her questioners.
"So what will you do with the money?"
"I honestly haven't thought of that. I'm not some pools winner who's going to spend, spend, spend. It will come in useful but the main point of the court case is that the Metropolitan Police are made to admit that they inflicted a massive wrong on me in not believing that that police officer DC Gossard had raped me. It will mightily deter them from acting out of expedience and to find some other sacrificial lamb," Sally Anne called out clearly.
"What about the damage this court case has done to the public standing of the Metropolitan Police?"
"They had plenty of time over the years to put the situation right but they didn't want to know. Those who don't want to know are the biggest accessories to wrong doing and have stood in the dock today. Their excuses for their actions don't even convince themselves. I wonder how they can sleep at nights."
Sally Anne seemed to rise out of herself as her scorn for the cheap question rolled back the interrogation. This was the equivalent of Frobisher without the wig and gown.
"So what will you do with the rest of your life? Are you going to hawk your story on prime time television?"
"I want to settle down quietly with my partner, Trisha who has stuck with me through thick and thin after the psychological damage done to me. I want to get my life back. I must thank my dear friends who have been so incredibly supportive of me. Lastly, I want to thank the professional brilliance of Claire Walker, my solicitor and George Channing, my barrister who I would like to think of also as friends."
Trisha smiled freely as she squeezed Sally Anne's hand as she spoke of Trisha. Babes, you sure have come a long way since the early days of you thinking of me as a friend to coming out as a lesbian on prime time news. There's so much more to you than I ever dreamed of when I first met you.
Claire, Nikki and Helen felt like relative veterans of appearing before the media while all this was new to George. They felt proud at the way that Sally Anne had stood up to the press, giving them no opening. Presently, the questions dried up as the answers didn't fit their pre-planned script and they gradually thinned out. The silence after they left was overwhelming.
"Where do we go now…I mean what do we do now?" Sally Anne asked vaguely, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. A wave of tiredness rolled over her and Trisha put a supporting arm round her.
"Let's go to the pub across the way," George said firmly. "It's the only one for miles around."
"I'll give you a hand to help Sally," Nikki volunteered. "I know how it feels."
George smiled fondly at the feelings of supportiveness that embraced Sally Anne and led the way. They found a quiet spot to rest while Helen offered to get in a round of coffees. Suddenly, George's mobile phone rang and she reached for it. A broad smile spread across her face as she realized who it was.
"I had to phone you, George, to say how wonderfully you performed today," rumbled Joseph Channing down the phone. "Monty's told me all about it and I know you well enough to fill in the gaps."
"I'm pleased not just how I did but also that Sally Anne Howe held up under some very tough questioning. It seemed that right was on our side."
"That's my daughter."
"I know we haven't always agreed about everything but at the end of the day, you always come round to my point of view," she declared imperiously, much to Helen's admiration. If only she could talk to her own father in the same fashion.
"Whatever you do in this world, you are my daughter and I will always support you."
"You mean, literally anything?" George enquired with a mysterious lilt in her voice.
"Definitely everything. Will I see you later on to talk about it properly?"
"That depends on how the post trial celebrations go on. I have my obligations you know."
Joseph chuckled down the phone at George's smirking tone of voice. George clicked off her mobile with a look of self-satisfaction on her face as the others gathered round and gave Sally Anne a chance to rest.
"I might have known that you would be at the pub celebrating," called a cool voice with a faint tone of amusement in it. It was Jo Mills. She shook George by the hand to congratulate her. The other women greeted her with affection and drew up a chair for her.
"You got a fine result today. I'm really proud of you."
"So it's my turn to play the good angel instead of the bad?" George riposted with a trace of her old manner.
"It's strange how people and situations change and in yes, definitely for the better. I became hopeful of you when you chucked that dreadful Home Secretary."
"You may think that I came round to your point of view. Whatever I have done, I have done it in my way."
"That is one thing about you that doesn't change," Jo said affectionately and George smiled more openly, demonstrating that her earlier banter was just play-acting.
All of them felt the friendly August sunshine and the soothing breezes as time passed.