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| Cleanup Time - The Nikki Wade Retrial; Bad Girls Judge John Deed crossover fic | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 22 2007, 07:08 AM (13,903 Views) | |
| richard | Aug 22 2007, 07:08 AM Post #1 |
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Shed Productions made the original Bad Girl element of the characters, wrote the stories, and have full copyright to them. I am using these characters simply for non-profit, entertainment value. Likewise I am giving credits to G F Newman who wrote the Judge John Deed copyrighted characters and storylines via BBC Productions in this cross over fiction. I wish to give credits to Norfolkpoodle and her barrister brother for her invaluable assistance in constructing the legal background which inspired this fic. I would likewise give credits to the Bad Girl Annex Site for help with chronology from their ‘Timelines’ piece –also to William Shakespeare for the loan of lines from ‘The Merchant of Venice.’. I am happy to accept comment, but am not looking for any criticism (negative or positive) either publicly or privately--only general encouragement Scene One The atmosphere within the hallowed walls of the Lord Chancellor’s Department was always cool and restrained. After all, it was built of ancient stone to reflect the true majesty of law and only the select few could pass by the doorman. The lucky few could stroll down wide corridors and high ceilings and past ancient portraits of past judges of renown, which were hung on the walls in gilt frames. Everything about the establishment spoke of an elevated and refined consciousness, of continuity back through the ages. Outside the building, Sky dishes may sprout in all their modern vulgarity and increased numbers of motorized vehicles create their cacophonous noise across the land but the catacombs of the Lord Chancellor’s Department keeps them removed. The only significant changes that had taken place in the department were the introduction of computers where needed and the odd portable television that was hidden away in a corner. For all that veneer of ancient civilization, the department was very well attuned to the demands of the state. It had developed the art to a fine degree in allowing the judiciary the belief that they were free thinking citizens while at the same time, they had that sixth sense in terms of where their public duty lay. Somehow, the findings of the judges managed not to rock the boat. It was not unassisted by the fact that they had all gone to the same schools and universities, cheek by jowl with future politicians and captains of industry. To say that strings were pulled would be far too crude – it was just that they had an automatic instinct for the greater good of the country. Behind the self-deprecating manner, those who had their hands on the machinery of government had a steely grasp of power and were determined just where to draw the line. They could also draw on the network of who’s who in order to head off trouble. . The problem was that in modern times, there was a steady decline of deference towards the natural betters and an awkward tendency for troublemakers to ask awkward questions that were better left unasked. The trouble with liberal thought was that, inevitably, some high-minded people took it seriously, not just as a plaything of Hampstead intellectuals. That spirit turned up in the most unexpected of places and it was this that kept the establishment jumpy when all it asked for was that they should continue to steer the Ship of State in their own time honoured way. Two custodians of the ancient order were now conferring in a comfortably appointed office. The taller man was slightly built, smartly dressed with a veneer of a patrician manner. He viewed the world through suspicious eyes but secretly regretted that he hadn’t the strength of personality that he wanted. In his effort to come over as dominating, he suspected that he only appeared as petulant. His position gave him no problems in exercising his authority on those below him. They knew just how revengeful the man could be. It was those over whom he held no sanctions that spelled potential trouble such as the judiciary and barristers. While they could be an argumentative, hopelessly individualistic lot, he was able to get along with them with a certain discreet charm while he tolerated their idiosyncrasies. At least, this applied to the majority of them…. “So how do you consider the Wade appeal will go,” a very tense Sir Ian asked of his sidekick, Lawrence James. “Huntley is a safe pair of hands. He can be relied upon to do what is necessary for the greater good. Besides, Frobisher is our man who is conducting the prosecution. He is very confident of the outcome.” His colleague was of Jamaican descent who had successfully erased every trace of his origins except for the colour of his skin. In his enthusiasm to be assimilated into the grateful, outstretched arms of the British ruling class, his zealousness was noteworthy along with the fact that his suit was just that bit shinier and more immaculate than Sir Ian’s. He spoke in a deep harsh tone of voice as befitting the circuit administrator with total power over the destinies of the functionaries of his court staff. “And what about Ms Chambers who is conducting the defence? A loose cannon if ever there is one like our own Mrs. Mills. ” Sir Ian demanded snappishly, with the deliberate emphasis of an angry bee on the title. “My source of information is that the original verdict is sound. The original statement to the police is utterly damning.” “Maybe.” The silence that hung heavy on the room wasn’t a comfortable one despite all the positive sentiments expressed. Each of them had that sneaking suspicion that Marian Chambers had something up her sleeve. The fact that the notorious lesbian cop killer had engaged the services of a young female solicitor who must have some eye to her future career and, still more, engaged the services of that particular barrister, made them feel that not everything was as it should be. For all their imperious dominance of the legal system, they both had the feeling that the future was threatening to slip out of their hands. For control freaks like them, this was a primal fear. “It could have been worse, Sir Ian. The case has been kept out of the hands of Deed. Imagine what mischief he could make.” Sir Ian shuddered. That man was the biggest thorn in his flesh and occasionally came into view into his nightmares. Despite his humble beginnings, he had had chance of the best of educations and yet he had become a complete maverick. He was a crusading liberal whom a mischievous fate must have played a practical joke on the Lord Chancellor’s Department in bestowing on him his exceptional talents. John Deed had an enquiring mind and an ability to nose out the truth. He had that knack of producing startlingly original judgments, as if he were producing a rabbit out of a hat. He had made his name as a brilliant barrister and, in these meritocratic modern times, his abilities could not be denied by the establishment so that his recent promotion as a High Court judge had some merit. What the establishment could not forgive was that, as soon as he achieved this elevation, he used his position to hand down judgments that were at best, idiosyncratic and at worst, verging on treasonable. The worst thing about it was that very few of his cases had been overturned at the Court of Appeal. It seemed that the devil looked after his own. “…….and Mrs. Mills as defence barrister.” “Enough,” snapped Sir Ian.” It is quite bad enough that we have to contend with Ms Chambers’ busy bodying ways without wishing real ill fortune on ourselves. To dwell on it tempts face. We can but hope.” Sir Ian sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Before him was that image of Deed looking at him with that knack of thinly veiled contempt and rebuffing every attempt to bring him into line. If he threatened Deed, the man just laughed in his face. If he attempted to appeal to his sense of reason, the man impudently spun the conversation off in an unexpected direction. The worst of it was that he had exacted exemplary damages in a couple of cases against wealth creators whose friendship was immensely valued by the government. The man never had that sense of discretion, but on the other hand, seemed to positively revel in his recklessness. . At that precise moment that Nikki Wade was transported in the large shiny black prison car, nervously contemplating taking her stand in court. The streets of London whizzed past her in a blur. All she could focus her mind on was that Claire Walker was at the other end of the journey, no matter how frightening the vast bulk of the Old Bailey was. She just had to be strong in herself. She had to blot out of her mind that lowering presence of that evil bastard Fenner at her side, to pretend that he didn’t exist. She clung to the crumb of satisfaction that she’d always faced him out and, who knows, would be rid of him. She was not to know that the establishment was no more certain of their chances than she was of hers. In particular, all the hard slog that Helen had exerted over the past months had secretly made Sir Ian and Lawrence James nervous and unsure of themselves, as it wasn’t supposed to happen that the case got as far as an appeal. Something had gone wrong somewhere. The implacable wall of the establishment was not as rock solid as it appeared to be. Neil Haughton, the smooth upwardly mobile newly appointed Home Secretary whose most passionate speeches were always on sale to the highest bidder, casually drifted by to talk to Sir Ian for no particular reason, or so he said. “How did she slip past the Home Office’s guard? As I hear it, some eager beaver petitioned the Home Office who put no obstacles in the way of a retrial.” Sir Ian asked in even tones. Inwardly, he was fuming as his understanding was that it would have been absurdly simple for them to block off that particular approach. “My predecessor granted Ms Wade leave to appeal.” Neil Haughton responded, an artificial grin pasted on his face that didn’t really convince. Sir Ian looked stonily into the distance. Typical politician he thought. “Left to me, I would have left her there to rot. I believe in law and order, being tough on crime,” he added eagerly, already slipping into Party Political Broadcast mode of talking, his arms outstretched.” After all, we can’t allow our bobbies on the beat to be shown such disrespect. How can the ordinary citizen feel safe in bed if such outrages are allowed to spread unchecked?” “Quite,” concluded Sir Ian.” The tension in the court wound itself tight as if it were an elastic band ready to snap, as the entire world seemed to focus in on the words that hovered on the lips of the Judge Huntley, ready to be spoken. The logic of the judgment demanded that it should happen but the words needed to be said, most of all for Nikki who tensely grasped the rail, her eyes wide open and staring. “Nicola Wade, you are free to go, ” pronounced Judge Huntley in grave tones. Donald Frobisher slumped down in his place and stared down at his sheaf of papers, now rendered suddenly obsolete. He knew that he was beaten when Ms Chambers had utterly overturned the credibility of the police. He also knew that he had won no popularity contests with the establishment and that his card would be marked. He slunk out of court while Nikki walked with legs of jelly down the staircase and held up only by the rapturous applause. At the bottom of the staircase, Claire and Marion were there to greet her. Trisha was especially excited and she supposed that she was destined to return to her old life. But somewhere out there was Helen, the one person who had made it possible, who had said goodbye to her with as many tears in her eyes as there were in Nikki’s. To the side of the gathering crowd and ignored by them, an expectant young man dressed in a sharp suit looked questioningly at Donald Frobisher as he stumbled towards him. “Bad result?” “Three years only for manslaughter and she’s done the time. She’s in the middle of the crowd over there ready to gloat to the press out there.” “This way. I’ll have to phone in the bad news right now. The press will make a meal of this.” At that very moment, Lawrence James picked up the phone. As a few brief words sounded in his ear, he reddened, clutched the mobile in his hand as if to break it and turned to Neil Haughton. “We lost.” “It’ll be on the news right now. Let’s hear the worst,” groaned Neil Haughton. Lawrence James clicked the remote control on the small portable TV and the screen showed the view down onto the steps of the Court of Appeal and a small group. The camera zoomed in on a tall woman with short hair dressed in black not looking as half as jubilant as they had expected and holding centre stage. “How does it feel like to be free?” “It goes without saying that I’m delighted to be set free…..Prison’s a terrible place. People don’t know the half of what goes on. There’s male officers employed on female residential wings, abusing vulnerable women. Anyway, I was one of the lucky few inside to get access to some real education and there’s one woman I want to thank for all that because she always believed in me no matter how bad things got. I owe her not only my freedom but my life.” In an unknown bar, tears streamed down Helen’s face as she saw through the television screen as Nikki poured out her heart to her. It was absolutely certain that Nikki would head off to her club to celebrate and she had to see her and talk to her. Precisely what she would say to her, she hadn’t the faintest idea. For once in her life, she was utterly incapable of planning the way ahead. At the Lord Chancellor’s Department, a stony silence reigned, flavoured with slight puzzlement. “The tabloids will crucify us.” Sir Ian said at length. ”I suppose some bleeding heart liberal will be satisfied- till the next time.” Neil Haughton said eventually. “You would have thought she would be grateful to get out and thank ‘British justice’ like they all do. She’s got a nerve to criticize our wonderful prison service. If you don’t want to do the time, don’t commit the crime, as they say.” Quite unconscious how his words echoed that of Shell Dockley he stomped off in disgust. His avaricious temperament had been long accustomed to winning whatever he set his mind on and was an especially bad loser. “Who on earth was that do-gooding woman she was talking about?” “I suppose we’ll never know. I suppose I had better get back to work. There’s nothing for us here. I suppose every judge in England will hear what’s happened.” Sir Ian exclaimed disgustedly. For once, the establishment grapevine was silent on the subject A few miles away, in a side street where passing cars flashed by, two women were locked in a passionate embrace. The smaller woman pressed the other up against a wall and her fingers were eagerly running through the other woman’s short-cropped hair. For them, time hung suspended and their lives were only just beginning. |
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| ali baba | Aug 22 2007, 07:42 AM Post #2 |
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Nice to see this posted Richard. Looks interesting, and has started at a good pace. |
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| Sashindu | Aug 22 2007, 01:14 PM Post #3 |
Sashindu
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I can tell already this is going to get very interesting. Very nice story. |
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| Cassandra | Aug 22 2007, 03:10 PM Post #4 |
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Great start to a story. Thanks!
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![]() You can't control destiny ... but YOU can control this storyline ... by writing a para! HOTCHPOTCH - A Helen & Nikki Story with a difference (click to enter)
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| richard | Aug 22 2007, 04:15 PM Post #5 |
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Thanks ever so much, you guys, for the feedback as I got nervous about posting the first part of this story as I wondered just how many readers would know of Judge John Deed. Huge breath of relief. I would explain that I have done my best to deliberately write these latter characters from the standpoint of the first time reader / viewer rather than assume familiarity with them as in the case of the BG characters. There is a certain amount of background stuff which I hope those who do know the series feel that I have done justice to it. As each part is fairly long, I was going to post each part perhaps every 2 days if that is OK but I'm open to alternative suggestions. I chose 2 days as I know that people have busy lives and I don't want to rush things. If all readers will get as much enjoyment in reading this fic as I have in writing this, I'll be really happy and fulfilled. |
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| Cassandra | Aug 22 2007, 04:25 PM Post #6 |
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Every 2 days sounds good to me! But just go at the pace that suits you really! Look forward to the next update. |
![]() You can't control destiny ... but YOU can control this storyline ... by writing a para! HOTCHPOTCH - A Helen & Nikki Story with a difference (click to enter)
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| Nikkis Only Luvver | Aug 22 2007, 06:53 PM Post #7 |
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Hey Richard, good to see you posting on here. I like what I've read so far. Keep it coming mate
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| Emms | Aug 22 2007, 08:51 PM Post #8 |
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wow that was so great. I enjoyed it immensely. Thanks for writing this. |
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I registered at G Wing and all I got was this lousy tshirt. “After my time at Larkhall, I deserve to take it easy for a long, long while. I’ve been there, done it, and worn the bloody T-shirt..."~ Helen in: Unfinished Business by Richard | |
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| richard | Aug 23 2007, 05:01 PM Post #9 |
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It's great to see the encouragement- thanks Emms. To Cassandra, I have no problem in posting every 2 days as I've written the fic in advance and, hi Nikkis Only Lover, it's nice to see you again. |
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| richard | Aug 24 2007, 07:11 AM Post #10 |
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Scene Two Claire Walker was in a jubilant mood as she walked behind Nikki to the steps of the Court of Appeal and ,next to Marian Chambers, stood behind Nikki. She was conscious of the pressure that the other woman had been under, watching the trial being fought over her head. She couldn’t help noticing the way the prison officer next to her glower when the verdict was announced. Claire’s sympathies went out to her as the array of pressmen crowded in and the TV camera and sound gear pointed at them all. Mentally, she prayed that Nikki would have the presence of mind to pull together the words that needed saying at such an emotionally charged moment like this. Claire was overjoyed to witness how she gave an emotional speech that must surely have reached out into the disembodied space and into the millions of TV screens. It moved her that Nikki spoke so self deprecatingly of herself, how she denounced the iniquities of the prison system in trenchant terms and gave heartfelt thanks to a woman who could only have been Helen. But where was she, Claire wondered?. Even if Marian Chambers who had forcefully argued the case in the cut and thrust of court proceedings, a lot of the content went back to her investigations way back when. “I must be going, Claire as I’m exhausted. After today’s result, you’ll be my favourite solicitor for any high profile case that ends up my way.” “I’m really glad that everything went so well. It makes my job worth while that good has come out of this and that justice has been secured for Nikki.” Claire shook Marian’s hand. The barrister had been impressed by Nikki’s strength of character for the brief period that she had come across her. She reflected that this time, she wasn’t acting as a hired gun but for a case that had engaged her sympathies. Eventually, she moved away to hail a passing taxi. Claire hadn’t noticed how the crowd of well wishers had dispersed so quickly after congratulating a dazed looking Nikki. The blond haired woman had her arm round her shoulders when they went off in a taxi. The only other person who was left standing on the broad pavement was Sally Ann Howe. She had been in the witness gallery after giving evidence the day before and was in no hurry to leave. “I can’t thank you enough for giving evidence in court the other day, Sally. It made all the difference.” She didn’t speak right away. The emotion that had threatened to overcome her in court the other day seeped back into her expression and her eyes were edged with tears. She hastily dabbed a tissue at them. “Hey, it’s all over now. At least Gossard can’t do anymore damage from the grave he’s lying in. That’s one in the eye for him,” Claire started to say and stopped as the literal meaning crossed her mind. Sally Ann Howe gave a watery smile in reply before replying. “I’m afraid it isn’t over for me. Even after all this time, I get panic attacks from nowhere, for no reason…..except that I know that, at the back of it is Gossard. I had a good job, one which I believed in. I really thought that I was dong a good job out there out on the street and I thought that I had the support of my colleagues. Do you know what it was like to know how they betrayed me, every single one of them? I had nowhere to go to but out of the police force and I’ve still nowhere to go.” “Forgive me if it sounds trite but you must have friends, or family or a councillor. You must have someone to help you. You deserve it after all you’ve done for us.” Claire Walker never thought that her manner was very expressive of sympathy. She had known Helen a long time and felt that they were like chalk and cheese, Claire, the sensible level headed solicitor in the making and Helen’s Scottish passion in search of an ideal to attach herself to. She was gratified to see that her words did get through. “I’m just getting emotional. It’s just that getting back onto my feet is taking time, longer than I thought.” Claire was feeling tired but she thought that the least she should do was to offer to take the other woman for a drink somewhere. “Have you any plans to go anywhere else? I could do with going to the local Starbucks unless you prefer a pub. Do you want to join me?” The kind tone in Claire’s voice cheered up the other woman who was going through a peculiar emotional reaction to the build up in tension over the last few weeks, from the day when the date of the trial became engraved in her mind from when the witness summons was posted through her letter box. It had seemed as if she couldn’t think beyond the event and now the future was a blank sheet of paper. Her flat was a lonely enough place to go back to and the idea of going to a café sounded a good idea. She was conscious of how desperately short of money she was so that even going there was a luxury. Her smart pale blue suit normally hung in her wardrobe and was a relic of better days. Right now, this was a bright patch in her darkness. “I’d love to come. The Starbucks sounds fine.” Claire grinned led the way and it was obvious that she would know the convenient pubs and cafes in convenient walking distance. The two women rounded the corner and walked briskly up to the place in question. Soon, they were closeted in a convenient alcove at a time when the café wasn’t too crowded. “Well at least Nikki Wade getting free is a slap in the face to some of your ex colleagues if you can call them such,” Claire said cheerily. It was incumbent on her to shed a little light and company to the other woman. “Won’t it just,” Sally answered, with more self confidence and positive spirit than she had felt for a long time. “I hope that the misogynist bastards that I used to work with are choking on their pints of beer. It will really wind them up and serve them right.” “That goes the same for men like them everywhere,” agreed Clair.”Word will get round and it will worry a lot of organizations that they can’t get away with cover ups like this in future. At least this is something that I can see coming out of this case.” Sally leant her head back and stared into the distant horizon, outside her narrow constrained life. She might not get the chance to feel that way for long but, for now, she basked in the part of history that she’d taken part in while it was still vivid in her mind. “I remember when you first approached me,” Sally said at last in a more meditative tone of voice.”I felt strangulated, that there was so much injustice that I’d been through but I was helpless to do anything about it. I was just shut up at home, feeling miserable and depressed. When you first mentioned the idea of taking the stand in a court of law, I was terrified…..” “I could tell.” “….I felt, ridiculous though it might be, that I was asked to volunteer to face trial even though I knew that I was innocent. It was when you talked about Nikki Wade, a woman who came to the help of Gossard’s next victim after me. He did it even when he had all the reason in the world that she would be no more interested in him than I was……..” Clair Walker raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She was a tactful woman and could tell that now was the time for Sally to express all her feelings that had been bottled up in all those months of mental isolation, especially now that the trial was over. She would quietly let the train of thoughts wherever it would lead. “If I had only had had someone like Nikki around to step in, the same way that Trisha had, I wouldn’t be in the mess that I am. She got life for that and it was that realization which succeeded in doing something precious for me. It got me angry and fired up enough to do something useful with my life. I’m the only person around who knew what Gossard was really like. I couldn’t remain silent and I had to tell the truth where it would do most good.” Right then two large mugs of coffee were served. The sun shone brightly through the window and bathed the scene in a clear pure light. It seemed to heighten the feelings of peace and tranquillity around them. Just at that moment, a thought struck Claire. In the moment of celebration, she had clean forgotten her promise to let Helen know of the result. She remembered that sense of urgency in Helen’s voice in contacting her about Nikki’s appeal. “You don’t mind, Sally but there’s a phone call I must make. I must tell Helen what happened.” “Go ahead, Claire ” Sally said imperturbably. She took out her mobile and pressed the button. Helen was sure to have her mobile to hand as she always did. To her surprise, Helen took her time to pick up the call. “Hi Helen. I thought I’d phone and tell you of the brilliant news. The Appeal Court judges freed Nikki. They dropped it down to three years, which she’s already done. She’s out.” “Hi Claire. It’s lovely to hear from you. What a fantastic day it is. Everything in life is so wonderful.” Helen’s tone of voice sounded a bit muffled but her exuberance positively smiled down the phone. Claire couldn’t help but wonder why Helen wasn’t asking for a blow by blow account of the trial instead of this abstract enthusiasm. “Don’t you want to hear the details, Helen? You’re really letting your reputation down as the most inquisitive woman I’ve ever known in my life.” This time, there was the sound of giggling in the background and a shuffling sound. “I’ll let you into a little secret, Claire. As it happens, I’ve had a first hand account already. Nikki is right next to me now.” “Hi Claire, hope you’re out celebrating because we are,” sang out Nikki in that well known tone of voice. “I’m with Sally Ann Howe at the nearest Starbucks to the Court of Appeal.” “Sally Anne Howe, we love you.,” came a two part harmony chant.”You tell her that Claire,” Helen added. “I’ll make sure to pass the message on. Sally, Helen and Nikki want to tell you that they love you.” Claire responded firstly to Helen in amused tones and automatically turning away to talk to the woman sitting the other side of the coffee table. Sally flushed with pleasure in mattering so much in the grand scheme of things. “Can I let you into another little secret,” Helen said in a surprisingly coy tone of voice.” I’m not sure if I should tell you but as you are my oldest friend……” “Go on darling, tell her,” Nikki cut in, her drawling tone of voice being unmistakable. So was the sound of the kiss on Helen’s skin. “When I first came to you about appealing Nikki’s original sentence, I did it for the most transparent of motives. I strongly felt that there was a miscarriage of justice. It’s just that I have to confess that I, I mean we, stand to benefit personally.” Claire cut in on Helen’s nervous gabbling. She knew Helen of old. “I remember getting really worried for you that you were really serious about getting hitched to that waste of space, Sean Parr. He was nothing more than a minor public school smoothie. I see them every day in my job. If it means that you have at last found someone who’s decent and reliable who’ll treat you right, then you have my blessing.” “Thank you so much Claire. She certainly does that for me,” Helen admitted. On the other end of the phone, with her arm round Helen’s bare shoulders, Nikki couldn’t believe how much Helen was loosening up, even after making passionate love for hours and lying in a delirious haze of joyous love until the phone rang and Helen had reached across the crumpled duvet for the phone next to their double bed. What had promised to be an irritating interruption had turned out totally unexpectedly and had made her grin at Helen’s last statement. “ I won’t keep you from your party. I’ll keep in touch and visit you both. I’m really happy for you both,” Claire concluded tactfully. “She’s really happy for us both,” Helen repeated to Nikki with a look of Dawn’s Awakening on her face. Not only had she finally emerged from the tumult of the last few days, come out to be the woman she really wanted to be all along, she now received the precious present of public approval from her oldest friend. As Nikki wrapped her arms round Helen, Claire looked at Sally with a smile on her face. “I think you got the message that your help did more good than I expected.” The two women were only drinking an ordinary cup of coffee at a typical Starbucks but this drink of celebration was more precious than any champagne. Right then, life felt good to both women. |
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| Sashindu | Aug 24 2007, 10:45 AM Post #11 |
Sashindu
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Great update |
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| Cassandra | Aug 25 2007, 05:36 AM Post #12 |
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Thanks for a great update, richard! I love the different viewpoint. Yet you still got a touching update on Nikki & Helen! Look forward to more. |
![]() You can't control destiny ... but YOU can control this storyline ... by writing a para! HOTCHPOTCH - A Helen & Nikki Story with a difference (click to enter)
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| richard | Aug 25 2007, 05:32 PM Post #13 |
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Thanks for the feedback and especially the understanding of what this scene is about. Future scenes will gradually 'build' up the post Series 3 finale into a wider context. |
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| hopelessromantic | Aug 25 2007, 09:02 PM Post #14 |
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Have the lab run a CBC with differential an a chem pro plus stat
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ok this 2 day posting should not apply to weekends Richard lol post away not like there is any other updates to read
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>>>>>> BGEnhanced <<<<<< One cannot expect Congeniality when one does not exhibit Courtesy, Politenes and Impartiality. Courtesies of a small and trivial character are the ones which strike deepest in the grateful and appreciating heart... Henry Clay | |
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| richard | Aug 26 2007, 03:19 PM Post #15 |
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Here's the next piece which gives a third point of view about Nikki's appeal and more fully introduces John Deed before the storyline proper is pushed forwards . It shows him to be not the 'conventional' moral hero / heroine that Nikki is. I will be sending hopelessromantic a PM. ............................................................................................................. Scene Three Sir Ian’s guess was no less accurate than he feared. There was a curious clubbishness about the judges of whatever rank so that the strange collective term ‘the brethren’ was habitually used by them. It had connotations of an upper class club in Pall Mall and suggested an acute consciousness and pride in themselves. Of course, there were rows, intrigues and enmities fought amongst themselves as in any organization. There were some members, like John Deed, who were considered to be total reprobates, as John was both in his private life and as a socially conscious judge, but he was still a member of the club. Periodic social gatherings had their place in the scheme of things which officials of the Lord Chancellor’s Department and barristers attended and were fuelled by a certain fuzzy bonhomie and a certain measure of alcohol which maintained these bonds. At one time, they resembled a more elderly version of an Oxford or Cambridge gentlemen’s drinking club but, with the recent admission of women to the highest ranks of the legal profession, the system was flexible to accommodate newcomers as long as they conformed to the ethos of the ‘brethren’, which functioned like England’s unwritten constitution. In other words, the rules weren’t spelled out but everyone knew what they were. The consequence of such a close-knit association was that news and gossip made its way round the members far quicker than might be expected. That was the case when Jo Mills had got home to her pleasant brick built terraced cottage which was her home and that of her two adolescent sons, Tom and Mark. Widowed young, Jo was a slim built woman, short fair unruly hair and blue eyes that could blaze with the passions that she felt for justice. While her sons were up in their bedrooms, occupied, as adolescent boys will be, Jo was at the table idly studying the next set of court papers when her mobile rang. “It’s John here, may I pop over?” “Am I right to guess that you’re outside my flat already?” Jo sighed. Typical John. “I thought I would save you the trouble,” he blithely replied. Jo reached for the buzzer to let him in, accepting the inevitable and sure enough, he entered the flat quietly. On first glance, the man looked hardly the demonic figure Sir Ian’s fevered imaginings, being a little over average built and wearing a blue suit and open neck shirt. He was the sort of man whose looks became distinguished looking rather than ageing, being of trim build, shortish graying hair and a relatively unlined face. It wasn’t until the observer looked closely at the half smile on his face and his intense blue eyes that a flicker of his force of personality was noticeable, even in repose and away from his accustomed throne. Jo noticed a perceptible spring in his step as they exchanged pleasantries. He made his way to the armchair and Jo poured him a drink. “Something’s pleasing you,” observed Jo. “I’ve heard that the forces of reaction definitely stubbed their toe today and, for once, not of my doing,” John replied, in amused tones. “You mean the Nikki Wade appeal.” “Yeah, that’s the one. Coope filled me in on the details before I heard it from Michael Niven.” Jo grinned. Trust John to have two sources of information. John was referring to his personal assistant, the very resourceful Rita Cooper. “You know, I would like to have got my teeth into that case.” John said in a meditative fashion. “They wouldn’t dare have let you within a mile of the case,” exclaimed Jo, laughing at the prospect. “Not even as a ‘winger’?” John enquired with a misleadingly innocent expression on his face. While John Deed hadn’t the rank to preside over the case himself, the Court of Appeal featured as always two other judges of his rank to sit in on the case and to play a full part in the hearing and in behind the scenes deliberations. “You know very well, John, that your inquisitive mind couldn’t resist sticking your oar in, asking questions of the two barristers and even conducting your own investigation.” “Mmm, that’s not impossible.” “….just as in the same way you operate when I or any other barrister appear before you in court. It’s not just that your independence of mind that frightens the LCD so much.” “I always did think that there are weaknesses in the adversarial system that there is in place. It focusses on the gladiatorial contest rather than the search for the truth,” John replied with an utterly misleading look of innocence on his face and a studious expression in his voice. “They wanted Judge Huntley as a ‘nice safe pair of hands,’ and Donald Frobisher to represent the establishment. Marian Chambers was let in to give the impression of a ‘level playing field.’ It’s just that she acquitted herself rather better than they thought possible.” “She didn’t get all out of the case that a tenacious barrister could have extracted out of it,” replied John with an appreciative nod at the aptness of Jo’s observations. “I’m afraid it’s too late now. You have to let it go.” Despite John’s age, he had that restlessness often associated with adolescent enthusiasm in the most positive sense. Jo’s steady eye gradually wore down John’s expression of his boundless curiosity, one of his most striking features, but she knew that that thought wouldn’t be forgotten. “Well, Jo, since you don’t want to talk about this little intellectual exercise that has preoccupied me, why don’t you come away with me for a weekend break, That way, I promise not to talk about tiresome legal cases.” Jo rolled her eyes in despair. She had walked right into that and, even after all the years that she had known him, she should have been prepared for his knack of suddenly changing the tack of conversation towards the personal. She had had an affair with him years ago and they had remained close, both due to the nature of their work, their shared ideals and that magnetism that kept her working with him. “It won’t work, not when you are already skating on thin ice with your affair with Franchesca Rochester. She’s Sir Ian’s wife in case you had forgotten the fact. She’s danger enough as it is. If you two want to fall through the ice, that’s your affair. I would sooner keep our boundaries the way they are. I feel safer that way.” “These affairs don’t last. You know it, Jo.” “That’s not the point, John. You’ll never change, not after all these years.” “I can try.” “It’s quite enough that the LCD are breathing down my collar in their suspicions of a relationship between us, especially the way that cases go whenever I appear before you. You and I know that our consciences are clean but that’s not the way it looks. You, they can’t touch. Me they can take off the road.” John sat silent, an enigmatic half smile on his face. With his courage in the face of official disapproval and his strength of will to see justice done, he wasn’t best able to take advice, which ran counter to his inclinations. “Well, I propose a toast to the brave woman who has fought for her freedom. It’s just as well that there are people around with that strength of will.” Jo raised her glass willingly. She had no doubts as to the sincerity of his words which chimed very much with own her beliefs, just as they had always done. |
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8:47 AM Jul 11