Monty studied his friend John with interest as he came into the dining area of the judge's digs with a happy smile on his was a quiet tranquil evening and the atmosphere seemed right for some leisurely conversation.
"Your presence was missed last night. Vera was at her most inquisitive and I could have done without her noiasy speculations," he remarked drily.
"I apologise for not being available as a distraction but this is for your ears only. I accompanied Kristine Thorne at a lecture she delivered at Oxford and I spent last night with her as well."
"I'm impressed. You've been seeing quite a bit of her recently," Monty replied, keeping his tone light.
"I've known her on and off for years but these last few days have put things onto a different footing," John answered smiling.
"I've heard about her for some time but I've never seen her. You must introduce her to me so long as I can keep Vera away. Something tells me they wouldn't get on," Monty found himself saying and the words hung in the air. They'd never talked like this about John's conquests and John smiled gratefully at this public validation.
Coope directed one of her meaning glances at John as he strode into his chambers, still feeling bright and breezy and humming a favourite tune. This look brought him up short.
"You have something to say Coope?" he enquired.
"I have though I don't think you're going to like it," she said in her most soothing tones. That means it's really bad news, he thought as he gestured to her to continue.
"Word around the POLES- people of low esteem," Coope said carefully, alluding to the acronym that some ignorant judges like Jackson's son called personal assistants and chambers clerks," that the Attorney General is planning on a top age limit on judges to encourage a younger, more in touch judiciary- their words not mine."
John could not believe his ears and struggled to find suitable words to express his feelings. it did not cross John's mind to doubt the accuracy of the information as her sources of intelligence reached far and wide.
"How old?" he asked in choked tones.
"Sixty-two," answered Coope in the same level tones as before.
"By God, they won't be allowed to get away with this," stormed John, his face turning red with anger and his body movements turning violent." Conveniently, judges of my persuasion are the same age as me while that wretched Jackson and his clique are younger...by the way, where did your information come from if you don't mind me asking?"
"From the attorney General's PA. I'll get a photocopy of the letter which should fall off the back of a photocopier with any luck. My niece is covering for the regular PA before being moved to Aylesbury,"Coope replied serenely.
"Coope, you are outrageous," John exclaimed as the outrageous hgumour of the situation struck knew Sir alan's PA of old as a vetry starchy buttoned-up woman who no doubt had a portrait of Margaret Thatcher in her living room.
"I learnt from the master," Coope answewred with a wide grin on her face and in the tone of her voice.
With great difficulty, John restrained his impulses by starting to read through the trial papers for his next trial while Coope nipped out of the room. With a smile of satisfaction, she produced a white sheet of paper from out of a brown envelope for John's attention as if a rabbit out of a hat. With a sigh of satisfaction, John scanned it quickly and picked up the phone to make a series of phone calls. The natural interchange of conversations caused this lunchtime in joseph Channing's chambers to be pencilled in as the council of war.
"You keep your ears close to the ground in the meantime Coope," John said in easy tones. Now that the meetuing was fixed, John was easier in his mind. Everything was ready.
In the meantime, John had finished working his way through the murder trial which was nothing out of the ordinary. It enabled a portion of his mind to detach itself and mull over the issue closest to his heart.
"How come Sir Alan was so careless in leaving the letter about so that your niece could find it just when she happened to be there?" he wondered aloud
"I really don't know judge," Coope answered slowly. The thought hadn't crossed her mind.
"In the last few months, Sir Alan has gone out of his way to be conciliatory to me and disillusioned with his lot in life. A few years ago, he'd defend the establishment to his dying breath but now it isn't to his interest," John considered meditatively, speaking half to himself.
"Perhaps someone put him up to it or forced him to do it," Coope answered, breaking
into his musings.
"Then that leaves Haughton or the Prime Minister or both. In revenge for what...? The strike we organised years ago against Haughton's attempt to restrict the power of judges," John continued as he thought aloud.
"They couldn't be that vindictive," Coope answered.
"Don't you believe it. They're so used to getting their own way so that on the one occasion they don't, they hoard the grudge unto the third or fourth generations. Anyway, once more into the breach, dear friends," John concluded, his sombre mood giving way to careless satisfaction.
Once in Joseph Channing's chambers, the circle of conspirators indulged in a quick shot of malt whisky before getting down to business.
"I don't think we need to belabour the point that this vile scheme is designed to put out to pasture the legal opposition of judges in the prime of our lives to clear the way for ambitious third-raters like Jackson and his clique," Joseph Channing led off in disgusted tones to be greeted by a chorus of assent.
"but why this damnfool idea? Even by the low standards of this government, they are being spectacularly inept. Where are our replacements coming from? Straight from the Job Centre?" Monty chipped in derisively.
"Perhaps this is part of an act of government hara kiri. Let's face it, they are such a quarrelling band of cuthroats that they've lost all sense of practicality. They don't even conceal their sniping," Joseph pursued, finishing on a contemptuous note.
"You mean each other as well as the rest of the country?" interjected John mildly.
"What about Lawrence James and his sidekick, Tim Smithson? Are they a part of this farcical conspiracy? There's more than this than meets the eye. I suggest that a delegation of us confront Sir Alan at the first opportunity but not to act precipitately," Joseph Channing concluded before reaching for the phone.
So it was that the three leading lights of the brethren trooped off to the Lord Chancellor's office after securing a surprisingly early lunchtime appointment without the normal attempt to procrastinate and obstruct.
"I get the curious feeling that the revolution has taken place and nobody's told us," murmured Monty on a dreamy summer's day that added to the feelings of unreality.
"This may be an intermission before the establishment seeks to plant its foot on the country's collective neck. Let's make hay while the sun shines." John responded in darker tones.
"We shall see," Joseph concluded in determined fashion as he accosted the starchy PA in firm tones. They were the Three Musketeeers, drawing their swords once again in the name of liberty.
.
"Morning," John grinned cheekily at the startled face that appeared before him. She hadn't realised that Joseph Channing would be part of a delegation and the three men comandeered the armchairs. Meanwhile, Joseph Channing's sharp brain was analysiong Sir Alan's manner which wasn't giving much away.
"I was not aware that I'd be faced with a delegation," he said in stiff, patrician tones.
"I'll come straight to the point Alan. I have it on the best authority that plans are afoot to pension off the oldest and brightest judges. Monty and John come with me as delegates from the brethren to protest in the strongest of terms. They are also ensuring I won't do something I'd regret and you'd regret a damn sight more than me," Joseph growled, his forceful anger being directed straight for the jugular.
"Where did you get this information from?" Sir Alan asked faintly, combing his white hair back which was a sure sign of nerves. Was this man playing some kind of pantomime, the three opponents wondered but joseph patted his inside jacket meaningfully to press the point.
"So you don't deny it?" John interjected mildly. He'd been impressed by Joseph's 'take no prisoners, style and qwas happy to play backup.
Sir Alan's eyes opened wide. The game was up and he opted for the delicate gavotte of the strategic retreat.
"So if I were to consult with your delegation for your views on the matter, that might be the best way forward. It was only a draft consultation document?"
"Our answer's simple. Withdraw it utterly. We can carry as long as we see fit to do so," Joseph glared. He knew Sir Alan would blow with whichever way the prevailing wind would take him. He and his friends wwere made of sterner stuff.
At this moment, Lawrence James and Ian Smithson trooped into the crowded room and looked askance at the crowd scene. They sensed danger from the anger radiating from the judges who suspected that this precious pair of villains had a hand in this business.
"We are waiting for an answer Alan," cut in Monty."Doubtless Lawrence James and Ian Smithson would be interested that this unpleasantness doesn't spread further. We judges are dangerous men as we have demonstrated in the past."
"Oh very well. I did think the idea was foolish in the first place and the demands on the court show no signs of abating," Sir Alan snapped pettishly, feeling the iron hand of blackmail being laid across him in a cause he didn't really believe in.
"My Lord," protested Lawrence James only to be silenced by a killing glare from the trapped man. The three seated men grinned in satisfaction at the success of their commando raid.
Besides being bright and sociable with Niamh and Rose and everyone around them, Michael was asking Cassie and Roisin serious questions and the two women knew that they had to answer the questions as honestly as they could. They felt shyly proud of themselves that Michael was receptive and soaked up everything that was said. He had started reading newsdpapers and brought home a friend of his that the two women had remembered from a few years back. They knew that Michael would inevitably get into teenage courtships in the future but resolved to stick with the situation while their world had stabilized.
Suddenly, Michael started taking an intense interest in the local paper for a few minutes before discarding it with a disappointed expression on his face. On the third day, his face lit up and studied the middle pages intently. He made a desultory attempt, in Roisin's eyes, to leaf through further pages but he kept drifting back to the middle section. Finally, he left it open and strolled out into the garden with as shy backwards glance at Roisin. She put two and two together and gestured to cassie to come over. There it was, a contribution in the letters section.
"I am writing to inform you that I don't agree that children shouldn't be brought up by lesbian or gay people. My name is [name redacted] and I am a child with lesbian parents. I have got a little sister called [name redacted] for short and I have got two mums, one is called [name redacted] and the other is called [name redacted]. I have been brought up perfectly well so I don't see any point in you saying that. Me and some of my other friends agree that you can be brought up by anyone who will love you and care for you and make sure you're happy.
Yours sincerely,
Name Witheld"
When Michael came back into the living room, the two women saw his eyes were downcast which wasn't now his usual self. They sensed that he was abnormally tense and waiting
"Michael, is this your letter. If it is, it's brilliant and so brave and grown up of you," Roisin exclaimed. Niamh caught on what was going on and, after reading it, she jumped arouind the room enthusiastically. She'd become more extrovert since she and Michael had become friends again.
"You don't think it's childish and kind of naff," Michael said, looking uncomfortable as he wasn't sure he was worthy of praise. After reading it in print, he wasn't sure if it came out right even if it fwelt right as he wrote it.
"Michael, you've set yourself the difficult task in telling sad people out there who pick on those who they see as different that it's perfectly OK. You've put it that no one can seriously argue with you especially if all they can do is call yopu silly names. It's great, kid. Tell you what, we'll show this to Helen and Nikki if you want. They are kind and intelligent," Cassie said softly and kindly, her big blue eyes fixing Michael's. Sheepishly, he nodded his head.
Time crawled by infinitely painfully for Michael until Nikki and Helen popped round with Rose as they often did so these days. They wore interested smiles on their faces and swooped down on the newspaper. Both women took care to avoid breezing through the letter as they sensed the care and soul searching that went into writing this letter especially when Helen had gone through a parallel move when she'd been older than Michael now was.
"This letter is great. It's so pure and misses nothing out. I couldn't add anything to it or put it better," Nikki said, her big soulful eyes engaging with Michael's. "Me too," echoed Helen. The lad now felt a little happily silly and pleased with himself. This was what he had secretly wanted, that sense of validation in this world.
"You look out for yourself at school and afterwards. You certainly deserve to ," added Helen compassionately. He felt the weight of her concern for him but accepted it gratefully, as if from an older and wiser friend.
"If I know them, they already know about me. If I don't, it's none of their business," Michael said sturdily He reached this conclusion on his own. He's smarter than I was when I was his age, Roisin thought gratefully to himself.