One fixed point in John's life which gave him a measure of reassurance was his return to the judge's digs after a day in court. For a start, he'd got to like the faded nineteen thirties aesthetics, especially the dining room which was airy and spacious and the long formal dining table invited fellow judges to socialise in an unpressured fashion. The only fly in the ointment was Vera Everard's periodic visits but John had learnt to gently parry the woman's elephantine social skills and avoid being dragged into her schemes. He knew that she saw him as a bad influence on her husband but he was damned if it would deflect him from his purposes. Vera aside, John enjoyed the leisured conversations with whoever drifted into the room and the chance to read a newspaper in piece and quiet withouty being thought unsociable.
It amused him that his paths never crossed with Tim Jackson at the digs, the new leader of reactionary forces amongst the judges and young fogey incarnate, even though they resided at the same digs along with his followers. The grapevine told him that they gathered together at some pretentious cocktail bar after work along with Lawrence James and the new circuit administrator, Tim Smithson so they happened to dine after he and his friends had moved on elsewhere. It suited his purposes not to have to contend with their glowering presence even though it struck him as tytpically cowardly of them.
Over the last seven years, John found himself sharing company with Sir Ian Rochester from time to time. Ever since John had become a judge, the man had been a constant adversery as he'd done the government's dirty work in attacking him or Jo Mills and John had laughed in the man's face. What had changed their relationship was a memorable moment when he'd found the man sitting on a park bench, his head in his hands and going through a nervous breakdown. John had taken pity on the man and Sir Ian had responded so the connection was made. When Sir Ian took medical retirement from the civil service and went to work for a charity, this dissipated entirely any possible remaining causes for conflict. he announced this to John when he pasid the first of many friendly visits to his digs. This established a pattern where months might pass until suddenly, he appeared from out of the blue and was granted hospitality for old times sake.
So it was that he appeared one evening, wearing his habitual open-necked shirt and dark trousers being emblematic of a lifetime functionary who had learnt to cut loose a bit and be more comfortable with himself. John noticed that, as always, he was more relaxed in his manner than he used to be with less stress lines on his face. His whole approach was subtly different as he arrived without a trace of business agenda.
"Take a seat Ian," John offered genially."It's been a while since we've seen you. Your timing is good as Monty has just arrived."
The man approaching them grinned as Monty Everard, a fellow judge, arrived on his own with a copy of the Times under his arm.
"You're being very brave to buy a newspaper Monty. Even the Times has joined the national trend of portraying politics as soap opera. It is a state of affairs I deplore as it elevates the trivial and what is important is swept under the carpet."
"I couldn't agree with you more but old habits die hard," grinned Monty apologetically.
"It gives me peculiar feelings," ventured Sir Ian as John poured a fresh cup of tea for him."I read about powerful people whio I was closeted with for far too long and saw far too much of."
For the first time in years, John saw a faint twitch distort Sir Ian's expression and instantly felt sorry for the man. However much grief that he'd suffered over the years, he'd never internalised their distorted view of the world. Monty realised what his friend was thinking and also felt a little guilty.
"Perhaps I'll read it later on. Do we really want to conjure up more doom and gloom in the world than there naturally is?" he replied pacifically as he folded up the newspaper.
"No go ahead. I went through therapy a number of years ago and I should be able to read about my former cronies without it getting to me. It was first instinct speaking and isn't the right move. I like the idea of the three of us gaining some amusement at the so called leaders of our nation," interposed Sir Ian gently. His smile wasn't a forced reaction, John noted, but the man exercising the sort of spirit and strength of character that they respected him for. They knew about his mental illness and how he'd struggled back from the brink.
"If you're sure Ian," Monty asked and, after a pause, he started to unfold the nespaper and laid it out on the table while Sir Ian drank a refreshing cup of tea, a moment amongst friends that felt so British to him.
"You have to look at Page 4 or Page 5 for anything really important. Page one is about cheap sensationalism," John assured the other two is self-assured tones.
"You're wrong John," grinned Monty wickedly, pointing at the headlines on page one.
"James Purnell, Social Security Minister has just resigned over the principle of party leadership," added Sir Ian. A mischievous smile split his face in two, making him seem younger than his years. In the past, this mannerism was beyond him as he was too stiff and inflexible to let himself go.
"You know him? I can't keep up with them. I thought all politicians look the same," John observed with lordly disdain and a twinkle in his eye.
"Like civil servants? Well, perhaps you're right. I have the advantage over you as Purnell was a great friend of Neil Haughton. I've met them at various team building exercises. You can imagine the idea of of throwing together a jackall, a hyena and a leopard and see what they have in common," Sir Ian explained with vivid distaste, powerful imagery that showed his two friends how much he'd changed.
"From your specialised experience which you're deploying to good uses, perhaps you care to talk us through this news item," John asked his friend with kind-hearted respect.
Sir Ian realised that he was being called upon to speak with the peculiar authority of gamekeeper turned poacher and this kindness buoyed up his spirits to collect his thoughts together.
"This administration is really falling apart. It isn't just a petty spat but goes much deeper. You must know the warring spirits and competitive ego that makes a modern politician."
"And cowardice. Don't forget that Ian," interposed John gently.
"Precisely so. It's taken me a long tiome to realise that arrogant men directing me to administer the execution of government directives are also too frightened to put their heads over the parapet and disagree with these same policies. I've learnt that bullies are really angry cowards," Sir Ian said stiffly, colouring slightly. His civil service analysis was bumping up against painful feelings and came out peculiarly mixed. The other two men saw this at once and John stepped into the breach.
"You had the courage to admit you needed help and walked away from the madness. You might not think of it that way Ian." The other man flushed with pleasure at this compliment.
"Thank you John. It was really nothing," he answered modestly and pausing before leading off into his thesis." You know that the new prime minister is a worse bully than his predecessor without his knack of getting a band of thieves to stick together. They know it as well and they're in a slow motion car crash waiting to happen. You might think that none of them have the force of personality to take charge of the situation but it goes deeper than that. Purnell thought the time was ripe to lead a challenge to the leadership but he's been double crossed by those who want to ensure themselves coming and going. At all times, they'll follow the rising star and they have no loyalty or principles."
"That sounds convincing. You know, some primeval instinct within me insists despite all the evidence before me that there's some concept of public service around," Monty ruefully responded.
"You know, I feel strangely removed from the battlefield," Sir Ian said, shaking his head dazedly."I do my best with my charity work these days. You meet a more decent type of person. I try and work for the best. It feels strange talking about matters of state after all these years. I know both of you'll keep on fighting..."
There was an emotional pause as the three of them were conscious of skirting around powerful emotions. They became conscious that dispassionate analysis had its limitations but they were men and weren't about to unload emotional language on each other's shoulders. Sometimes, it didn't need to be said though john was aware that this was the sort of thing that his old frriends Nikki and Helen did so well. He hadn't seen them in years.
"Have another cup of tea Ian," John finally found himself saying. It was his way of creating an emotional bond.
"It's interesting how times change. Ian is a decent fellow. A long time ago I'd have never said that. he's come a long way," observed Monty sympathetically after Sir Ian had aimiably made his way out of the door after a tasty meal and many cups of tea. John had seen that his friend was brimming over with warm emotions and couldn't help sensing that he was a little lonely and lost. It might be argued that it had a certain resonance for his own situation.
"Virtue should have its own rewards. He's certainly changed out of all recognition and for the better," he replied.
"I'm stuck with a marriage that I've long since thought of bailing out of," Monty continued with a grimace on his face as his train of thought came to him from out of the blue."However, when I think of the practicalities in cold blood, I can't face all the upheaval. Her solitary virtue is that she doesn't impose herself too much on me. It's only when she talks to me that I feel lonely."
Monty's sonorous final words reverberated off John's insides for a long split second and his gaze became temporarily vacant.
"I forget John. You're footloose and fancy free and don't have to suffer unendurable TV programmes in a sense of togetherness. You've cast odff your shackles," he added, chuckling in a gesture of male bonding.
"It sometimes isn't as easy as all that Monty. I have an open relationship with a remarkably talented woman, a university lecturer. She's quite as committed as I am into not being tied down by committments. Physically, she isn't my normal type," John explained in a fashion that mildly puzzled Monty but struck him as typical John.
"You mean long blonde hair and nice legs? Just consider how archetypal George Channing and Jo Mills are," laughed Monty knowingly.
"Kristine's auburn haired and statuesque and, in case I forgot to mention, she'd blind," answered John in unnassuming tones.
This took Monty completely aback as it was beyond his imagination to conceive of.
"She's about the the most extraordinarily intelligent woman I've met and proudly independent. It isn't surprising considering what she's achieved. She keeps me on my toes and she's very inventive in every way," John explained with patent sincerity.
A kaleidoscope of emotions swept through Monty as incomprehension and acceptance fought for mastery before he finally wove his way through the conundrum. It struck him in passing that John had never before talked about a woman in quite these sort of terms.
"I don't pretend to understand but she obviously sounds special and you think very highly of her. It also keeps you out of trouble with the LCD," Monty concluded with a slight laugh as he remembered the series of scrapes his friend's love life landed him in.
John omitted to mention that Kristine liked women as much as men. He knew that this was a concept too far for his friend. It prompted him to hazily recall when he could talk freely about the feelings inside him that he couldn't do with male friends. As it happens, Monty was thinking along parallel lines.
"Since we're walking down memory lane, I remember how we had the pleasure of the company of Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart. I've never forgotten how they came round to the digs and we split a bottle of whisky and had a really good conversation with charming company. We don't see them around any more," Monty said with a regretful air of good times past that could not be recalled.
"That brings back memories," John said in an understated fashion. Monty directed a sharp look at his friend, having got to know his ways over the years but he let John continue.
"I was very fond of them both and owe them a lot as true and loyal friends."
"was? Don't you see them anymore? You were always closest to them," pursued Monty. Around them, the fading light had the knack of smoothing out the visibility of facial expressions.
"Things happen. Life gets so busy and gets in the way of plans. People have their own paths in life no matter how much you want things otherwise."
"Just as you say," Monty answered in kindly tones. He couldn't see the expression on John's face it but his ears told him he'd hit a sensitive spot on his friend. He daren'd not pursue the matter further.
"I suppose we should figure out how the judge's bash is going to go," smiled John. Both men inwardly heaved a sigh of relief as talking about practical matters were easier to cope with. Thetre was a ready language to hand. .