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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 (13,913 Views) | |
| richard | Sep 11 2007, 07:10 AM Post #46 |
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This next part shows the flipside of a parent daughter relationship at Christmastime and a short, sharp contrast with Larkhall Scene Eleven The run up to Christmas was a less problematic affair for John. The one area of agreement between John and George in the bitter fallout of their divorce many years ago was over Charlie’s upbringing. They had agreed that John would bring up Charlie since there was more of a rapport between the two of them than Charlie ever had with George. For all George’s blustering confidence and mastery of the social occasion, she found herself strangely inexpressive and inarticulate when it came to the needs of a child. Typically, John’s ‘new age’ ways made him the ideal modern parent, much to Joe Channing’s chagrin and he disagreed with John about his novel idea of parenting as much as anything else. If Joe Channing had his way, Charlie would have gone to the finest public school instead of the local comprehensive that he contemptuously nicknamed the ‘cess pit.’ Likewise she would have gone to either Oxford or Cambridge instead of that fearful concrete and glass construction that was Sussex University. Paradoxically, despite Joe Channing’s gloomy prognostications for her future, his granddaughter was his granddaughter and, when he had the chance, he spoiled her outrageously. What helped Charlie’s upbringing was that, no matter how John quarrelled with George and Joe, all three of them had that knack of somehow uniting where it mattered. She accepted that her mother kept her distance and grew up to view her father as somehow all-powerful and godlike in his professional duties and tolerantly accepting of his frailties in his private life. As a result, Charlie was a normal carefree law student who was home for the Christmas vacation. “Did you have a good night out?” John enquired as a very sleepy looking Charlie slid in to her accustomed chair for a late breakfast. She was very grateful that bacon and eggs weren’t waiting for her, as her stomach would have protested. “I met some of the guys and we did a pub crawl. I wished I hadn’t now.” She poured herself a black coffee, no sugar to see if the world might look brighter. It didn’t though. She nibbled tentatively at a half slice of buttered toast. “Aha, the price we pay for pleasure, Charlie. Would I be foolish to suggest that the lesson is now well learnt?” “Hardly that, dad. I’m a student. It’s just that I can’t afford to go out till New Year’s Eve. That doesn’t matter as all my friends are also broke.” “So I’ll be sharing your company for the next few days.” John took for granted the unpredictable comings and goings of his daughter with complete imperturbability. He was, after all, an upholder of liberal beliefs. “That suits me fine. I could do with the quiet life for a bit.” In Charlie’s eyes, she could safely lie back and take life easy. Christmas was a period when her normal taste in TV went out the window and she could indulge herself in kid’s television because, well, it was Christmas. It was a time of Christmas presents, Christmas trees and decorations, and all that corny stuff and eating and drinking under her father’s more indulgent eye than normal. “Grandad will be coming round on Boxing Day.” Charlie’s face lit up at the news. She knew that there was a temporary armistice in the normal tense atmosphere between the two men and that it centred on her. She could bask in the affection both of them held for her and granddad, like his father, was immortal in the strength of spirit within him. “You know that your mother will be coming round today, minus Lover Boy.” Charlie’s face fell at the thought. Maybe it had seemed logical for her father to bring her up but she had piled up so many resentments for her mother who had seemingly abandoned her. Her name for her mother ‘the Ice Maiden” was one that her father heartily disapproved of. She could never work out how her father could overlook something so obvious about her. “Must she?” “She is your mother, Charlie. I know that she loves you in her own way.” “She has a funny way of showing it,” muttered Charlie rebelliously.” I’m not sure I’ll be around when she comes round.” “Charlie, you know that your mother has an immaculate taste in Christmas presents. You simply can’t exploit that shamelessly and give nothing in return. The only thing that is asked for is your time and civil behaviour.” “It’s only given out of guilt.” “I can’t remember you ever turning your nose up at her choice of presents. Maybe she does feel guilty but she is to be pitied for that and not criticized. What was decided for your upbringing years ago was the one instance of your mother and I getting together and deciding unselfishly what was best for you. It is a lot easier for all concerned for her to come over rather than go and visit her.” “So you don’t have to see Neil. What’s the difference?” “Simply that I am not related to him in any way and, while your mother and I are legally divorced, you never truly break the ties where a child is concerned. Your mother and I both know that to be a fact without saying it.” “Well, she’d better come over and get it done with,” Charlie concluded grumpily. She knew that there was no way out of this unwelcome situation so she should face it as best as she could. The weekend before Christmas for Neil Haughton and George Channing was a very formal affair. Their opulent house was a testimonial to George’s good taste, which her partner was far too busily engaged in public affairs to be involved with in any detail. The long brocaded curtains that were tied neatly back and pale greenish, slightly patterned wallpaper were details, which she had overseen in every detail. “You must wear that new dress I bought you. It cost a fortune but it will show the others that we are people of consequence.” The formal smile on George’s face graciously acknowledged the compliment. “I will later on but I need to visit Charlie and exchange Christmas presents. Duty calls, you know.” “You know that we have the reception to go to. We absolutely must allow enough time to be ready.” George knew that very well and Neil Haughton’s proud emphasis on the word ‘the’ marked it as the exercise in mutual self-congratulation of the inner circle of the political ‘movers and shakers’ that decided the destiny of the country. She knew very well how nervous Neil was of time spend in the Deed’s company, as she referred to him. As a result, George drove up to John’s flat, more inwardly flustered than she let on and her makeup was that much more elaborate. She had always set a great store on appearance but it didn’t conceal how jumpy she felt. It always made her more tactless and more prickly than normal. After the round of greetings and maternal and paternal commonplaces, George found herself saying these words to her great surprise as onlooker. “Neil is taking me to a fantastic party today of the great and the good. I shall wear my finest dress.” “I would have more fun visiting my father’s council house in Birmingham if he were still alive,” muttered John in retaliation, contemptuous of her shallowness while Charlie rolled her eyes at her mother. “I suppose your impoverished background gives you street credibility in the circles you mix in.” “It is a fact of my life that I am not ashamed to want to conceal it. I accept myself, warts and all. Perhaps it has given me more backbone than some of my contemporaries.” It was a curious fact of John Deed’s persona that while he had mimicked the languid public school accents to perfection, he stood apart from the contemporaries who had grown with him. In his earlier years, he was known behind his back as the ‘baker’s boy’ but this had given him his boldness and pugnacity. “Parents,” Charlie proclaimed loudly above the growing hubbub.” It is Christmas day, or nearly.” “I apologise, Charlie. It was unforgivable.” In the sudden hush, John had been the first to collect his wits while George’s mouth remained open, the next taunt on her lips, unspoken. Even in moments of contrition, her mind raged, that infuriating man is somehow being dominant. “Darling,” George said with that aristocratic drawl and wide smile which encapsulated her to Charlie for good or bad.” I’m sorry that we have been in horrid moods. I hope that your studies are going well but, remember that you only have one life so make the most of it.” “I’ll remember,” Charlie said tonelessly, conscious how far away her vague well-intentioned words were from her world. “Perhaps I can offer you a drink,” John offered in neutral tones. For Charlie’s sake, he didn’t want the Christmas memory of her mother to be yet another tasteless row and her flouncing off in a rage. “That would be nice, John,” she answered. Charlie stood aside as an onlooker and her eyes weren’t deceived by appearances. The run up to Christmas at Larkhall was no different than any other year. The Julies got the miniscule Christmas tree and arranged the baubles on the straggling silver foil branches, at least those that hadn’t cracked on them. Denny and Yvonne looked on. This was Christmas as normal. The only thing they had to look forward to was the screws serving them Christmas dinner and how much it choked them to do it. |
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| Jeanna | Sep 11 2007, 07:17 PM Post #47 |
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I said SIT IN THAT CHAIR
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I hugely enjoyed that. How authentically british. Well...of course. <G> I'm glad I've seen Martin Shaw in some things in the u.s. I can hear his tone in that dialogue spot on. |
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H&N Music Vid by me and ekny Something To Talk About YouTube My BG Music Vids On YouTube My vids You Tube removed Click Here OR HERE BAM for Beginners BAM Channel | |
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| richard | Sep 11 2007, 08:09 PM Post #48 |
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That's fantastic praise, Jeanna. Thanks ever so much for that one.
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| Cassandra | Sep 12 2007, 04:01 AM Post #49 |
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Thanks for another two great updates, Richard. ![]() Nikki's reunion with her parents was realistically awkward yet touching. I liked the idea that it was her parents who made the first move of reconciliation after seeing her 'freedom' speech. And in contrast, playing 'Happy Families' in the Deed household at Christmastime. |
![]() 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 | Sep 12 2007, 04:28 PM Post #50 |
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A very apt comment, Cassandra, of the contrasting scenes and also the BG quote. I'm glad both that the first scene came off so well and of your interest in the John Deed characters.
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| richard | Sep 13 2007, 04:27 PM Post #51 |
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This scene is a definite pointer for the future which I hope you'll all enjoy. .................................................................................................................. Scene Twelve The day after New Year’s Day was when the nation had to creak back into the gear and the mellowness to gradually fade as reality came back. For John, it meant a new set of battles to be fought. For Claire and Jo Mills alike, they had another high profile case and a new client to represent. For Neil Haughton, it meant picking up the tab for the extravagance of last Christmas with hardly a murmur. At Larkhall Prison, it meant business as usual, bangers and eggs for breakfast, sunny side up. Old enmities could be safely resumed, the establishment’s desire for power remained unceasing and awake throughout Christmas and the never-ending stream of work poured on top of them all. For Helen and Nikki their combination of a honeymoon and Christmas would give way to a more purposeful start to their new year. The alarm clock woke them up to tell them that they weren’t fated to cuddle up to each other for as long as they liked but to switch on to the new year. “I really hate the thought of going back to work, especially after the best Christmas in my life,” murmured Helen sleepily, stretching her body. Nikki leant over to caress her and kiss her on her lips.” “Call me eccentric, darling but I kind of love the thought of getting out into the world. A year ago, all I had to look forward to was Bodybag knocking on my cell door. Of course I wouldn’t say no to another day’s holiday.” Helen grinned with understanding of Nikki’s work ethic and reluctantly slid out of bed. As Nikki was getting dressed after her dry observation, she saw a thoughtful expression on Helen’s face and rightly concluded that there was more than met the eye. “What’s up, Helen?” Helen collected her thoughts to get them in the right order and then spoke. She had had time over Christmas to reappraise the one part of life, which she felt needed to be brought up to date with the rest of it. “I’ve always thought that you must have been a lesbian all your life but there must have been some time in your life when you had to ‘come out’ to those around you.” Nikki’s soulful eyes looked into Helen’s and slipped her arm round her shoulder. In the short period of time before Christmas, she had developed that consciousness of the ticking clock. In retrospect, she could now understand and empathize with the many occasions when Helen had been compelled to tell her ‘Gotta go’, giving her notice that their precious stolen moments of intimacy would end. “You’re not just talking about my past but you at work?” Helen nodded her head, her large eyes being the windows direct to her soul. “I know the time has come to set them straight but I don’t know just how to put it. Anything I come up with sounds nervous and apologetic for something that I’m proud of. Do I say something like ‘Look here, just in case you’re all gossiping to me, I’m a lesbian and I’m living with another woman in a happy committed relationship. Just look upon me as just the same as a happily married woman and treat me the same as any other boss.’” Nikki’s eyes opened wide and a whole souled smile spread across her face. Helen had scored a bull’s eye and had most directly spoken out loud her commitment to her. “Is that the simple and honest truth as to how you feel?” “Of course it is.” “Then why don’t you tell them just that? It sounds pretty good to me. It lays it on the line. They might not like it but they have to accept it and you. If they give up, then they just might lighten up and then you’ve won.” A wide smile spread across Helen’s face as the dawning awareness of the simple effectiveness of such words swept away her doubts and fears. “You could say that you’ve had boyfriends in the past just in case you need any ‘straight cred,’” put in Nikki. Helen laughed out loud. Since they had lived together, she was struck by Nikki’s frequent shafts of sparkling wit and gentle irony. “I’ll hold that one in reserve. You don’t know just how narrow-minded and censorious they are. They get easily confused.” “Don’t tell me about it. I’m having extreme difficulty in getting them to get some of their tiny minds to think that, no I’m not into Take That, whoever they are.” “You will tell me sometime about how it was when you were a kid? It would help me to have something to compare with.” “Definitely,” Nikki said with deliberate emphasis. She could see how important it was to Helen.” Come on, let’s go or we’ll both be late.” Reassured by the promise, Helen grinned to herself, grabbed her handbag and followed the enthusiastic Nikki out the door. Donald Frobisher had crept in to his place of work, the worse for wear after the New Year and his unsteady eye lighted upon the file on top of the pile. “Good grief,” he muttered to himself,” I could do without a high profile case. I suppose the CPS think that if I once failed, I may as well fail again.” So deep in thought was he that he never noticed the silently opening door and the inaudible tread of highly polished shoes approaching him. “You underrate yourself, Donald,” came the faintly smarmy Old Etonian tone of voice from somewhere behind him.” We need a barrister with the appropriate killer instinct. We think that you’re our man.” “That’s very decent of you, Sir Ian,” came the reply in a more confident tone.” I’m just getting over the New Year’s festivities. I’ll be as right as rain in a little while when I’ve worked it off.” “You know that you’ll be up against Deed…..” “…..Good God….” “And, of course, his sidekick, Mrs Mills. You should treat this as a challenge and wipe the floor with the pair of them……” “A pair of bleeding heart liberals.” Donald Frobisher said with growing malice.” I’ll have to get myself in fighting trim and not give either of them an inch.” Sir Ian smiled at the interesting thought that venom was the emotion capable of rousing the man to action and hoped that it would sustain him. He wished that there were more barristers like him, as he feared that the alien forces that threatened his power and position were seeping into the hitherto safe world of the judiciary. Claire Walker was one of the few who had come to relish the thought of John Deed conducting her next trial. Her role in court trials was always conjectural, depending on the particular barrister she worked for. Both professions seemed to attract particular character types and to perpetuate the styles of both professions. Claire was studious, quiet and methodical, all the hallmarks of a good solicitor but she wasn’t called to exhibit the theatrical flamboyant skills of a barrister. In the court trials themselves, she sat meekly back while two rival barristers clashed with oratorical thunder and fenced with sharp pointed thrusts. Only on occasion was her advice sought on a matter of detail in whispered asides. Some barrister’s egos were out of control to the point that she was virtually relegated to the position of being the barristers’ gofer and she endured such temporary professional relationships with as much fortitude that she could summon up. Marian Chambers was one of her favourite barristers who was kindly and courteous. Just before Christmas, she was told by her practice that she had moved to serve in the European Courts of Justice. She was given the name of a red hot barrister called Mrs Mills who had a passion for causes. When Claire heard this news, she regretted that she hadn’t taken the chance to go for a celebratory drink with her after the Nikki Wade appeal but she was tired out and Claire didn’t want to get between her and some much needed rest. She resolved to see what this Mrs Mills turned out like. By the sound of her name, she sounded very Middle England and Claire wasn’t sure that she would fit the bill but would see how she shaped up. For this reason, Claire had become acquainted with Jo Mills for the first time and the tall, slim blue-eyed woman shook her hand firmly. It was a good portent. “I am impressed with the file that you’ve put together. It looks as good as it can be. Of course, a lot will depends on what the prosecution comes up with. How do you think the witness will hold up in court?” “She’s genuine enough but she’s been badly shaken up by the ordeal. I’m not sure how she’ll hold up under hostile cross-examination. Who’s the other barrister?” “Donald Frobisher,’ said Jo shortly.” I shall have a battle royal on my hands. You must know his reputation.” “I got the full flavour of him at the Nikki Wade appeal. He was only crossing swords with Marian Chambers and that was enough.” A silence fell on the room as they started to visualize the future unfold before them. “You know the judge who we’ll be appearing before,” Jo suddenly asked with a mischievous smile on her face.” John Deed.” The blank look on Claire Walker’s face conveyed an obvious ignorance of John’s idiosyncrasies. “He’s different from every judge I’ve appeared beforehand. For a start, he’s a liberal and an idealist and won’t have any truck with letting the victim having her morals tried. For another, he will insist on asking very searching questions for both defence and prosecution. You will find him a completely different experience from any judge you’ve ever seen.” Normally, the judge sat back impassively on his throne with just a word or two of intervention apart from a measured summing up of the case. The fact that Jo spoke so warmly of John Deed overseeing her next trial registered very strongly with her. Claire was definitely intrigued |
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| zena | Sep 13 2007, 08:13 PM Post #52 |
I said SIT IN THAT CHAIR
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Great story Richard. Can't wait for more.
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| Emms | Sep 13 2007, 08:18 PM Post #53 |
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Really excellent chapter.
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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 | Sep 14 2007, 05:15 PM Post #54 |
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Thanks ever so, Zena and Emms. There's plenty more to come.
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| Cassandra | Sep 15 2007, 02:36 AM Post #55 |
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I'm definitely intrigued too! Great update, richard. |
![]() 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 | Sep 15 2007, 08:41 AM Post #56 |
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I've been dying to put this piece up. This is a preview of John Deed in action and I borrowed from an actual TV episode to show that 'the legal profession behaving badly' happened on TV. That episode had George calling Mr Arditi a 'spotty cybernerd' with splendid articulation. The other half is contrastingly emotional and follows on the earlier Nikki Trisha scene, Claire being the lynchpin. ...................................................................................................................... Scene Thirteen The following Friday gave Claire the opportunity to satisfy this curiosity about John Deed. As it happened, she found herself at the Old Bailey with time to kill and, checking the court listings saw his name in court number 5. She climbed the stairs and quietly slid into a spare gallery seat to watch the theatre below. As she took her seat, this commonly applied metaphor sprang very much to life as she had arrived in the middle of a dramatic altercation. A female barrister with shapely carved features and blond hair tucked up underneath the traditional wig was remonstrating at John Deed in very assured aristocratic tones and considerable force of personality. “My lord, I urge you to reconsider the matter. Lord Denning’s judgment is the higher authority.” John Deed smiled slightly and looked down at the barrister and delivered his verdict in a mellow yet firm and unbreakable tone of voice. “Mrs Channing, you must know that there is no ranking in the court of appeal judgments. I have explained in full detail why the Scarman judgment is the preferable one. I would remind you that I have ruled on the matter.” Claire focused in closely on the man sitting up on high who happened to wear the traditional robes of office. The guy certainly has charisma. Judge Huntley came over as pale and anaemic in comparison with only his rank to bolster him. “My lord, I wish a short adjournment to take further advice from my client.” “Mrs Channing, you know very well that you have the opportunity to appeal the decision at the end of the hearing should it not go in favour of your client. Any objections to my rulings or any other matters of law can be brought up at the conclusion of this hearing.” “You’re not being fair to my client. It’s pure prejudice,” the woman snapped petulantly, pointing at him with her pen and forefinger. “If you seek to disrupt the progress of the court hearing, I’ll have you jailed for contempt.” The fair-haired woman glared upwards at the judge and promptly shut up. She had registered the hardening tone in John Deed’s voice and she dropped back down to her bench, frowning angrily. A fair haired, motherly woman silently came and sat next to Claire. She could have been taken to be one of the legions of Mrs Middle England except for the knowing twinkle in her eye and her alert manner. While Claire Walker’s mouth hung open in amazement, as she was unaccustomed to threats of imprisonment to such august personages, the other woman took everything blithely in her stride. “She always tries it on with the judge. She never wins no matter how hard she tries.” “Who is she?” “She’s Mrs Channing, the judge’s ex-wife. He once did jail her for contempt and wouldn’t let her back until she apologized. ” Claire grinned at the other woman. Jo Mills’ words came back to her mind and they became real before her very eyes. This judge was certainly exceptional and unusual. “Would it be true to say that you make your living grubbing round electronic dustbins for reject E mails, Mr Arditi?” George barrelled in, her voice dripping with patronizing contempt. She had bounced back from her narrow escape with hardly a backward look and not a thought of how perilously she had perched on the edge of ruin. “Firms employ us to retrieve deleted E mails. With the increasing trend towards electronic records instead of paper files, mistakes are inevitable and we are specialists in retrieving this data. Business is booming right now.” “Won’t the public advance in computer literacy tend to reduce your custom and tend to make your skills redundant?” John butted in to the obvious irritation of both barristers. Claire rubbed her eyes. This was the judge talking and, from her experience, judges didn’t intervene and ask searching questions. “The area that we work in is expanding all the time. Firms want computers to do more. It stands to reason that there is more room for things to go wrong.” “Are you employed to carry out espionage on other firms?” George Channing leapt in with lightning timing while John Deed’s mouth remained open, just beaten to the question. “Objection, my lord,” came the prompt reply from the other barrister. “And I agree. You know better than to ask leading and prejudicial questions, Mrs Channing.” “My apologies, my Lord. Let’s put it this way. Are there occasions when you are asked to retrieve E mails on behalf of your clients without the knowledge of companies with whom your client is in dispute?” “How can this be done? I would have thought, Mr Arditi that you would be required to make a formal approach to the USP provider. Can you clarify this point,” John chimed in. “Might I ask your lord that, while we are grateful for your legal wisdom, I was wondering if you intend to take over both the prosecution and the defence at the same time,” the defence barrister enquired wearily while George grinned slightly from behind her hand. “I think that Mr. Arditi would be well advised to answer both questions to expedite the hearings. I am merely allowing my desire for the truth to outrun normal procedures. Carry on, Mrs Channing.” Claire was fascinated to see the remarkable facility with which John Deed extricated himself from displaying any annoyance or embarrassment. He also possessed a restless intelligence and an endearing reluctance to be constrained by formalities. “Quite, my Lord.” George replied with a slightly acid touch. “It depends on the nature of the business. As it happens, I know of friends who work for Internet companies. They are able to give me all the information I need.” The defence barrister rolled his eyes up and gave the case up as lost. The evidence that might have proved that the waste company knowingly allowed pollutants to pour from their chimneys and cause a high concentration of cancers and birth malformations was likewise going up in smoke before his very eyes “I submit that the evidence of intercepted E mails be rules as inadmissible evidence and that they be stricken from the record. I also submit that there is no case to answer as it is also clear that there is no evidence that my clients had any guilty knowledge of the defendant’s unfortunate health problems which is clearly a statistical aberration.” George had promptly rushed in with a stream of syllables that rushed out of her mouth as quickly as she could articulate them. Aided by whispered asides by Coope, Claire had learned enough of the case by now to conclude why the case was now apparently dead in the water. “Not so fast, Mrs Channing. I am minded to consider the first part of your submission that the E-mails were illegally obtained and cannot be admitted as evidence. However, I am making a direction that all E mails in the period of time in issue will be retrieved from the USP provider and be made available to both defence and prosecution within forty-eight hours. I am determined to get to the bottom of the matter and find out the truth come what may.” “But…” “If your client is innocent, he will have nothing to fear. Court is adjourned,” intoned John with impressive finality. He stared down the stony glare that George directed at him and those in the court started to gradually file out of the court. When Claire got down to the foyer, she was immersed in a large cavernous ornate hall, full of muffled sounds and people either criss crossing their way on urgent business or talking together in huddled groups. She could see one of them at a distance, where George Channing was explaining away at length the situation to her disgruntled client the full consequences of the ruling. The other barrister looked distinctly cheerful as his case was rescued at the last minute by this wayward and unpredictable judge. Claire looked at her watch and knew that it was time to get back to her office for her next client, Nikki Wade and so she headed off back to her office. The purpose of the call was the much more mundane matter of transferring the title deeds of the ‘Chix’ club to Trisha’s sole name. The matter was simple enough as Nikki explained to her on the phone. Claire could place the fair-haired woman who had flung her arms round Nikki at the conclusion of the appeal. She was beginning to sense that this transaction had complicated history at the back of it and that she should tread carefully. As soon as Nikki entered the room, Claire could see that she looked much fresher and much more outwardly self-possessed than when she has last seen her. Trisha looked pale and washed out by comparison. Sitting on the opposite side of her desk, she was immediately aware of the atmosphere of constrained politeness between the two of them. She dared not express some all purpose sympathy for fear that it would be misplaced so she broached the matter in hand in a gently businesslike fashion. “The transfer document is straight forward. All you have to do is for both of you to sign in the appropriate places. I take it that you know what the implications are.” “Oh yeah, both of us have worked out exactly what it means,” said Trisha in a weary, defeated tone of voice. “Trisha and I know that this will give her full financial independence and goes with a bank loan to buy my share out. Everything has been worked out very amicably. It doesn’t mean that we won’t stay friends,” Nikki said with a mixture of bright precision and a soothing undertone to soften the pill. “You have a new life, Nik. It’s only right that you get your chance and your share of what you put into building the club up to where it is now. You worked hard enough over the years but I know that it isn’t your scene any longer. We have to go our separate ways.” Nikki’s emotions were churning around beneath that bright smile. It was as if they were signing final divorce papers. The symbolism of the legal contract was all too plain and they were both being so nice about it. Memories of her shared past with Trisha made her feel strongly that she must not come out with well meaning nothings. She owed Trisha that much. “At least we can both trust Claire to draw up the contracts properly and be fair to both of us.” A watery smile spread across Trisha’s face. She felt far more comfortable with this quiet kindly woman whose good faith couldn’t be doubted. Her history proved that without doubt. She needed that area of certainty right now. “I wouldn’t be happy with some jumped up arrogant young man who thinks he knows everything. You were there for Nik and that means everything to us.” “Hardly that. I did what I could to help the proceedings along.” The two other women knew differently, of course. Her modest self-effacement gave them added confidence. A paralyzed stillness fell across the three of them, each temporarily unable to act. Someone had to make the first move, Nikki finally thought, rather than perpetually spin round in an endless cycle of words. It might as well be her as anyone. After all, her leadership skills had been polished up in the past few years, whatever the situation. She caught Claire’s eye, who passed the contract over to her. She took the document and read it carefully. It made sense to her once she allowed for the legalese. She added her signature carefully. “It’s like the end of a chapter, Trisha. I know that, after the last three years, you’ve made a total success of the club. It is effectively your club and my name on the deeds has only been there for old times sake and whatever I put into the club originally. It just has to be sorted out in a civilized practical fashion.” The other woman’s eyes filled with tears at Nikki’s attempt at polite gallantry. She dabbed a tissue to her eyes. It was somehow only while her thoughts free floated when distant memories came back to the surface. She remembered that the boot was on the other foot when she told Nikki that she had found someone else and that she had left Nikki helplessly alone and imprisoned without hope. Now she was the one who was left on her own. Nikki’s terms were fair, and wouldn’t bleed her dry. “You’re right, Nik. Pass the papers to me. After all, I’m the one with a head for business. This deal has got to be done properly.” Moving more decisively than she felt, Trisha put her signatures with a confident sprawling squiggle. She had to look for the future. There were a lot more parties, bright lights and drink to face. She may as well pretend to be confident. After all, it was what she did best and after all, she had choices in her life. “We’re still friends, Trisha.” Nikki said in a soft, gentle tone of voice. A whole kaleidoscope of emotions and memories swept through Trisha. Her experiences of ex- girlfriends had been of bitterness and rancour. Nikki was different. She’d always been different. “We’re still friends, Nik.” She offered her hand and Nikki shook her hand on the deal without hesitation. |
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| LahbibLover | Sep 15 2007, 04:06 PM Post #57 |
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I said SIT IN THAT CHAIR
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Wow, I was so excited when I realized I had two chapters to read on Saturday morning. Just want to say again how much I like your style of writing, very smooth and elegant. |
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| richard | Sep 16 2007, 10:00 AM Post #58 |
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Enhanced
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Hi Brenda (Lahbiblover). That compliment is certainly one I appreciate. Loads more to come. |
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| richard | Sep 17 2007, 07:21 AM Post #59 |
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Enhanced
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In introducing this forthcoming trial sequence, I borrowed from a John Deed episode called 'Rough Justice' which I hope I got right- some of the characters are original. It is intended to make a discreet commentary on the original Nikki Wade trial. Scene Fourteen It was Friday morning at the Old Bailey underneath leaden skies. Outside, an icy cold whipped down the London streets but the courtroom by contrast was the scene of heated exchanges. Right in the gallery sat an elderly man with the appearance and manner of a theatrical. Nobody questioned his presence there. The Alan Partridge trial was in full swing and Jo Mills had led Zoë Carson very sympathetically through her story. The girl could feel the barrister’s warm blue eyes and her comforting smile put some spirit into her but the time inevitably came when the other woman sat down. Zoë immediately felt like a deserted and abandoned child when Donald Frobisher rose to his feet. The smile on his face was not reassuring. “There are a number of points in your heart rending testimony that need clearing up, Miss Carson, points which my learned friend glossed over……” Zoë Carson looked as if she were a rabbit on the middle of the motorway trying to outstare the lights of the juggernaut bearing down on her. This was what she’d been dreading all this time. “….Perhaps the standards of the jury are not as modern as the world that you live in but is it normal to go to a bar you had never been to before where there was no one that you knew and choose to remain there?” “It wasn’t usual for me. I explained before how my mobile….” “That’s not the point. You had the choice of leaving the establishment and returning to whence you came, did you not?” “I suppose I did.” “So what purpose did you serve in such an apparently pointless activity?” “Not much at all like you say. That’s why I very nearly left the pub,” Zoë said softly with guileless eyes as the words sprang into her mind. Donald Frobisher was taken aback by the girl’s frank and innocent reply and could feel the jury laughing at him. His glasses slid slightly down his nose as he glared at the witness. “Isn’t it possible that you had another purpose, to ensnare the most likely looking lad that came your way for your own particular purposes?” “I don’t know what you mean,” the girl answered, looking bewildered and confused. She had trouble relating this suggestion to how she felt that night. “Come on. Miss Carson. I put it to you that you were lonely and looking for a one night stand.” “I can’t deny that I was lonely but I do have my standards.” “So you say, Miss Carson, so you say. Be that as it may, would it not be true to say that you were eager to chat up the defendant as soon as he entered the bar?” “It wasn’t quite like that.” “Come on, you are being asked a straightforward question to which there is a clear straightforward answer, either yes or no.” “You must answer the question, Miss Carson. It is a legitimate one to ask of you.” It was John Deed’s mild and regretful tone of voice that started to break Zoë Carson’s defences. He seemed to be almost fatherly and apologetic in his manner and that was the worst of it. “Yes, I suppose I wanted company. I didn’t want to…..” “That’s enough, Miss Carson. Let me ask another highly relevant question. How many boyfriends have you had in the last year?” “I’m not sure.” “The question is simple, is it one five, ten, fifteen, twenty, more than that.” “Objection my lord,” Jo Mills exclaimed loudly. She was in a white hot rage at seeing the witness being mercilessly browbeaten.” My learned counsel is seeking to somehow put the witness on trial to distract attention.” “I am merely seeking to probe the witness as to her veracity and reliability. The trial is one person’s word against another. Obviously the credibility of the witness is material. Under the Human Rights Act, I should be allowed to represent my client,” came the bland reply, complete with outstretched hands. Jo Mills silently fumed with anger, knowing that the other barrister had a case. John’s penetrating gaze fixed itself on both barristers as a sign to them to allow him time to reflect. “I’ll allow this line of questioning but mind you don’t stray too far, Mr. Frobisher or I’ll hit you like a ton of bricks.” “Are you directing me to go deliberately easy on the witness?” “Don’t push your luck, that’s all.” “I’ll repeat my question, how many boyfriends have you had this year?” “I’ve had three boyfriends, all lasting over a period of months.” “Can you count the men that you’ve been with altogether, Miss Carson?” “I…I don’t know,” she stammered and her words made her feel incredibly foolish. She wished that the earth beneath her feet would swallow her up. Her mouth was dry and her right hand clung to the witness stand that felt as if it were her coffin. “Let’s come to the events when you had a lift from the accused. If you really didn’t have consensual sex in mind with the accused, why didn’t you hire a taxi?” “Mr. Partridge kept insisting. He seemed responsible and genuine and he’d only had a couple of drinks.” “But you didn’t persist and get a taxi, Miss Carson. This lends suspicion to the jury that this was an indication that you weren’t really interested in going straight home. The night was still young.” “I really thought it meant he was going to give me a lift home and nothing else. I assumed I was on his route home.” “Did he tell you that you were on his route home?” “Well, no actually. I just assumed I was.” “I put it to you that you ensnared this man into the situation for your own twisted reasons. The truth is that you’d do anything for sex.” “No, no.” Zoë cried out in denial, tears streaming down her face. This was nightmarish, far worse than she’d been warned to expect. It was as if she were being assaulted all over again, only with words. “Didn’t you just agree to sex with the accused and overdo it? You wanted sex with the man as you had done before. Your innocent routine is just a front and a tissue of lies.” “That’s enough,” roared John Deed, his face crimson with fury.” You are pushing your cross examination far beyond the bounds of human decency. I am directing that the last remarks be stricken from the record and that the witness is therefore not obliged to make any reply if she doesn’t want to.” Donald Frobisher flushed with anger at such a public reprimand. He hadn’t had much previous experience of John Deed and wasn’t used to being pulled up short in this way. All this time, the tension had been building up in Claire Walker as she had helplessly watched from the sidelines, her hands gripping the rail tightly. A warm flush of satisfaction swept through her system as John Deed’s display of mercy silenced the barrister. She knew beyond doubt that Nikki would heartily approve of John Deed. “No further questions,” Donald Frobisher muttered. “Do you wish to take a short break or a glass of water or both? You can if you want,” John offered in gentle comforting tones. “No, no. thanks judge. I might as well finish giving the evidence that I came here to do. I could do with the water though.” The muttered remarks drew an appreciative smile from John Deed for her spirit. “Do you wish to reexamine the witness, Mrs Mills?”John asked quietly. “Most definitely so,” Jo Mills responded, with that manner of being at last unchained and desirous of recovering as much ground as she could. What was most important was that the witness appeared at worst confused but, more importantly, that she was honest. She needed to build on that. “Miss Carson, I want to ask you questions to make it entirely clear why you acted as you did. Is it normal for you to accept lifts with perfect strangers? “Definitely not. This was a complete one off. I’ll never, never do that ever again.” “You mentioned that you had standards, a point that my learned counsel avoided pursuing. Could you elaborate on this?” “Well, I’ve never cheated on a boyfriend and I’ve always tried to make a go of relationships. I’ve just been unlucky in love, that’s all.” “Was there anything in Mr. Partridge’s manner that gave you the slightest doubt whatsoever that you were taking any risks in accepting the lift?” “Absolutely nothing at all. There was nothing about him that appeared creepy or dangerous whatsoever. He came over as the most perfect gentleman, a bit like someone out of a Jane Austin novel…..I remember doing her at school years ago.” “Someone out of a Jane Austin novel,” Jo repeated with evident relish, immensely grateful for such a telling a metaphor. ”No further questions. She is my final witness.” “You may leave the witness box, Miss Carson.” John Deed said softly and with evident sympathy.”I have another case this afternoon to conclude so it would be more convenient for the defendant to be ready first thing tomorrow. It will give you both time to organize your cases. Mr. Frobisher, I trust that the defendant will be ready on time.” The barrister duly nodded assent. “Court is adjourned till tomorrow,” intoned John. Claire Walker couldn’t wait to get out and meet the very shaken Miss Carson who had had such a gruelling morning. Her mother had an arm round her shoulder while tears streamed down her face. She waited patiently until Zoë cast an eye in her direction. “I made a right idiot of myself,” she muttered partly to herself.” I’ll never live it down.” “You were very brave to take the stand as you did. Some women back out at the last minute.” “I’m beginning to wish I had.” “If it helps you feel better, you did a fine job on the stand, really you did. The most important thing is that you came over as honest to a jury. That goes a long way. We’ll have our turn when Jo Mills gets to puts the defendant through the mincer. Verbally speaking of course.” Claire’s cheeriness drew a wan smile from Zoë and her mother. “I didn’t want my Zoë to suffer,” muttered her mother.” She didn’t deserve this.” “All I can say is that this may stop some other woman going through what you have. I know that it’s small comfort.” Claire felt inadequate in the face of the mother’s steady gaze, not knowing that she responded to her honesty. She preferred that than false comfort and gushing insincerities any day. “I hope you don’t mind if we leave but my daughter needs home and family round her.” “If both of you want to sit in the witness gallery, you can if you want. It does mean that you cannot conceivably be recalled as a witness. I’ll understand it if you choose not to but the choice is there.” “We wouldn’t want to make a promise we aren’t intending to keep. If we turn up, we turn up, that’s all.” “I understand.” “Give Mrs. Mills our best wishes for the rest of the trial. We’re grateful to her kindness.” “I’ll pass the message on to her.” Claire watched the two women fade into the hurly burly of the foyer. She sighed as mixed emotions washed over her and went in search of Jo Mills. There was bound to be more work to be done. |
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| Cassandra | Sep 18 2007, 06:10 AM Post #60 |
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Another two great updates, richard. Classic John Deed in action!
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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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Thanks ever so much for that one.





8:47 AM Jul 11