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Culture of Conscience, Richard; Bad Girls / Judge John Deed (5th)
Topic Started: Oct 12 2010, 04:52 PM (5,873 Views)
richard
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Scene Forty-Six



George felt momentarily disorientated when she woke up in the dark. She couldn't see straight as her eyelids took a lot of separating. Besides, her mouth tasted dry and she felt dehydrated, as if she had been at the all time party. Her thoughts and memories were like broken pieces of china, of memories of feelings that butted up uncomfortably against each other making no particular sense. Finally she recalled fragments of conversations that she could piece together of her getting more and more angry and drunk. She'd presumed that she must have finally conked out and ended up in some bed or other. The trouble was she couldn't feel Alice's familiar long black hair with her searching fingertips . There was something wrong. She turned over slightly, still trying to make out her surroundings and finally, she realised that there must be a man's body lying next to her.

"What the hell?" George exclaimed to herself and the man rolled over in bed and murmured something indecipherable. George sank back her first thought being in a weird kind of fashion that everything was all right, it was only John. This brought her up short as she didn't want to work out what that thought meant. Gradually, she started to piece together the evidence of what on earth had led to this extraordinary situation and realised that, in a crazed kind of way, it made sense. She sank back in bed and refused to make a move until she had her morning cup of tea. She definitely wanted an element of normality in her life as much as she'd ever felt that way.

They finally got up, switched the harsh light on and retrieved their scattered clothing in as dignified fashion as possible. In a strange way, long forgotten memories of their married life surfaced at this point making this intimate moment of dressing feel perfectly natural. She might have gone into a blind panic but didn't. She certainly appreciated him making them a morning cup of tea. She smiled with pure pleasure as she savoured the drink. They both felt pretty exhausted and wiped out at this early hour and in a little while lay back together in the settee. Her first resolution of the day was that she wanted to get back with Alice and make the obvious changes in their relationship. Perhaps good might come of the madness of last night. She sensed that John felt exactly the same way. Now they could have a sensible discussion and not indulge in the sort of blazing rows that had punctuated the final disintegration of their marriage.

"It might be a frightfully stupid question to ask but what did finally happen last night? I know I got drunk and ranted to you about Alice," George asked, screwing up her eyes as the merciless daylight assaulted them.

John hesitated a moment as he knew that George knew him of old and only the simple truth would work. However, it was his choice how to get there by stages. He wasn't sure how much George would recall of last night as he'd never known her get that drunk before..

"You recall asking me to pour you one more drink and making a roundabout sexual proposition?" John questioned softly. George shuddered. She did recall saying that in a moment of bravado when it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

"You knocked back a large dry Martini, demanded more so I poured you the last of the bottle you drank that night and you passed out in the armchair."

George nodded slowly with evident relief. That tallied with her fragmented perceptions and she could recall when Jo Mills had done exactly the same thing only an officious junior had taken sneak photographs of them. She felt a little guilty that she'd rubbed her face in the scandal as it had broken. However, that level of guilt was infinitely preferable to what might have been in her case. For his part, John recalled that whatever urges that had started to rise up in him were extinguished when George crashed out. She was obviously in distress so it came second nature to him to lift her up, carry her to his bed and make sure she was safe for the night.

"You know, John that last night was a crazy one off but our friendship will last whatever comes our way," she said tentatively.

"I accept what you say. I've got used to letting you do what you want with your life, certainly ever since Nikki and Helen took me in hand. Don't forget, I slept in their flat and the only difference was that I ended up on their sofa and I was sober. I'm returning their compliment to me."

"Bless you John," George said, all the natural warmth in her personality flowing out of her, her repertoire of mannerisms cast aside. He'd been incredibly nice in covering up for her acute embarrassment."You are a friend in a million."

"That's what I'm here for," John said. He didn't say that there but for that final slug of alcohol she'd knocked back, his maturity and morality would have sorely tried. He thought that Alice should realise that she's a lucky woman.. "I suppose you want to make your exit to mend your relationship with Alice?"

"You guess perfectly correctly. I really do have to make a move though I can see there might be a problem in sneaking out and I take it you will help me. There's just one thing, John Deed,"George said, pointing her finger at John "If I get caught by the local morals Gestapo, I will hold you personally responsible."

"Nearly like the old times," John pretended to say ruefully, deceiving George not at all. "The only difference was that I used to have to climb out the window and shin down the ivy back in our youth."

"You are addicted to risk and you do it superbly. You were so romantic," George retorted, a broad smirk on her face before her expression became more serious and contemplative. "Still that was then and this is now. I'll airbrush out one or two details about last night when I talk to Alice. As Oscar Wilde said, a little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal."

It was 6 in the morning, a cold dark wet day outside and John was thankful that this winter weather kept at bay early morning joggers amongst the judiciary, one of whom had once spotted a very hung over Jo Mills wearing dark glasses as she stumbled back to her car. This time, they carried their shoes as they padded barefoot down the corridor, down the staircase and out through the front doors. George sat down on the front step and slipped on her high heels while John tied up his laces. There must have been grey clouds hanging low overhead if they could see them judging by the rain falling down steadily. It would have been just another depressing winter morning but both John and George felt curiously light of spirit, as only the low wattage automatic outside light cast .

"Thanks John for listening to me. You must forgive me for unloading all my woes on you. This time around, I must admit that you have behaved like a perfect gentleman."

"That's a new one on me," John replied, resisting the temptation to laugh heartily.

"You've changed, John Deed. If you were like you used to be, I would never have come round last night but this cannot be repeated. You understand?"

"Perfectly," John said with perfect sincerity, George smiled, kissed him on the lips and ran the fifty yards in the direction of her car, the rain not dampening her spirits for a moment. She knew she would somehow deal with her return to Alice, the car journey enabling her transition to female consort if both wanted it.

*******

George let herself into her house which seemed strangely quiet. It was before Alice was due to rise, George thought to herself but she thought that Alice might have cleared off somewhere else. Gathering her strength of purpose together, she walked quietly towards the bedroom and opened the door. There was Alice's familiar shape curled under the duvet, her long black hair trailing across the pillow. A half empty whisky bottle and glass lay on the bedside table in the half light. George hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do, to slip into bed with Alice which seemed hypocritical or wait for Alice to wake up. Luckily, the problem was solved for her.

"Is that really you, George?" came a sleepy indistinct voice from the mound.

"Yes it is, darling," George found herself saying and adding in a conventional fashion."It's a quarter past six."

"Then come into bed with me but don't talk right now."

George slipped off her clothes and slid in behind Alice, a part of her getting spiritually used to the feel of her. George really had to draw the mental curtain on last night if only they could talk their way through the situation. Something had burst apart between the two of them and George had the inkling that Alice wanted to mend fences as much as she did, judging by the way she placed George's hand against her breast. .

"I don't think I'm going into work today, George. I’m going to phone in sick. I feel really hungover In any case, there's nothing in there that won't wait," Alice suddenly said out of a long sleepy silence.

"If you want to Alice, I'm not indispensable. I'll do the same. Want a coffee," George said lightly as they skirted round the delicate prospect of talking things over.

It wasn't till nine o clock than, by some unspoken process, they slipped into their dressing gowns and made their way into the living room. Even the pale light hurt their eyes.

"You might think where on earth was I all last night?" George said as her wary eyes weighed up just what Alice was thinking. "You've every right to wonder, if you still care." .

"I have never been unfaithful to you if that's what you're thinking at least physically," Alice said in an uncertain fashion. "I don't think I've been emotionally all there for you. Somehow I don't blame you for being angry. I didn't understand what you were doing."

"I was at John's. I got incredibly drunk and passed out. He put me up for the night. He's a friend in need," George said abruptly when Alice placed her finger over George's lip.

"I don't need you to tell me any more. It sounds crazy but it was better that he was looking after you than anyone else. What I want to know is am I forgiven?"

"Of course," George said simply and from the heart. She crossed the space that had separated them together with their guarded conversation and settled herself alongside Alice. Their lips met and their mouths opened for each other. Neither of them tasted that good but, in the grand scheme of things, that was the last thing that mattered. They wrapped their arms around each other and exulted in the feel of each others bodies. They felt that they'd both come home from some long crazy journey and Alice's gorgeous body felt so good to her. Finally, George lay the full length of the settee against Alice, her arms wound round each other. Outside, the rain rattled against the living room window but they didn't care.

"Alice, we have to talk,"George said gently. "If I stretch my imagination far enough, I can see why you'd want to think that there isn't anyone that can't be saved, no matter how dysfunctional. It's part of your job and that's why we're different. I'm there to make the best of my client's case so that he or she will win. Beating the other barrister in court is my stock in trade and I made myself a lot of money taking on very highly paid civil cases, mostly for wealthy entrepreneurs. I've gone away from that more towards your world, a very idealistic one which I admire. At the end of the day, I have my limits and I do make the sort of judgments you fight shy of."

"All right George," Alice admitted, tenderly running her fingers around George's shapely fingers. "I suppose I have a weakness for lame ducks and I haven't properly dealt with the hold that Becky had on me. She knew only too well. I thought I was trying to do right by her in a platonic fashion. I know now that you were perfectly justified in the way you behaved last night and I mean everything."

George extracted one of her hands and tenderly stroked Alice's cheek. She knew that Alice was saying in her tactful way that she knew that George had slept with John but that, for once, burying the past when both of them worked at it. The saying, least said, soonest mended that had gone against her training as a social worker seemed to take on a new mysterious wisdom. Both went on to conclude that being restrained and British would be their salvation from themselves. It seemed that curiously enough, Alice's solitary alcohol fuelled musings and her own equally alcohol fuelled outbursts had moved their thinking and put them back into the same area of existence.

"I hear what you're saying but you have to understand that if someone doesn't want to save herself, she won't be saved. Karen was knocking back the whisky like nobody's business as she was facing a jail sentence possibly in the same prison where she was wing governor. Sally-Anne had been raped by that animal Gossard, driven out of her job and was addicted to tranquillisers but when the lifeline was offered, they each grabbed at it and got strong. Becky hasn't had kind of life threatening experiences and hasn't their strength. What's worse is that she's an addictive game player, even more than she's an alcoholic. You have to finally let go."

Alice didn't say a word. Everything George had said was true. She'd made wordy promises to George in the past and they'd come to nothing. She gathered George in her arms and tenderly held the woman she'd loved. At last they'd found each other again








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Scene Forty-Seven


Nikki was highly aware of the frosty silence that existed between Helen and her father that their visit a year or so back had underlined when she'd experienced for the first time the man's chilly uncharitable nature. Nevertheless, she respected Helen's tough self-reliant nature that cut herself off from whatever he thought of her. She couldn't help wondering that the man was a prospective grandfather but knew nothing about it but she was the last person to want Helen to beat herself up about it. She appreciated the fact that she had 'adopted' her own parents whose unique brand of flexible conservatism was good enough for her.

So it was that they set off to drive down to her parents for a weekend visit. It was something that came impulsively into their minds when they fancied a bit of country pleasures away from the pell mell rush of the metropolis. When Nikki's parent's hospitality and encouragement was added into the equation, they didn't need to think twice, knowing how amenable they were to a phone call in advance to ensure Nikki's brother wasn't around."

"You're really enjoying driving the car while I'm sticking out to here," Helen sharply observed as she adopted the increasingly straight-backed walk down the path to adapt to her changing shape

"But of course," grinned Nikki, gallantly handling their luggage."I've always been a keen driver and that was the first thing I got under my belt when I moved up to London. Nowadays, I'm happy to talk car stuff to my dad who, even at his age, has just bought a sporty Grey Audi."

"Don't I know it," smiled back Helen. "I'm strictly functional when it comes to cars. I consulted Which magazine to make sure I get value for money but you and your dad go for the look of the thing and all sorts of stuff like horse power and how many seconds it takes to get to sixty miles an hour. You tend to drive that way if I let you."

"I used to go on family outings, stuck in the back seat and I remember as a kid liking the way dad drove. Of course, my brother used to get carsick but I didn't. It always embarrassed him," Nikki said carelessly as she let the clutch out and twisted the steering to clear the four by four waggon parked in front.


They pulled into the drive, feeling in a nicely relaxed mood only to spot a black Jaguar parked in the drive next to the grey Audi, Helen raised her eyebrows and saw Nikki visibly tense as she drew her own conclusions. If there was one residual instinct their years at Larkhall Prison had left them with, it was to be prepared for trouble. Sure enough, they emerged into the living room and Nikki's brother John was in the middle of an argument with his father.

"I left you a message a week ago that we'd be coming down for the day and that is that,"John said in petulant tones. "It's too bad that Nikki's in the way."

"Now hold on a minute," Nikki interjected in controlled but forceful tones. "I phoned a couple of days ago and I'm absolutely sure that dad would never have agreed to us coming down if you'd got in first. I'd have left it a week or so if I'd been asked to."

"If you ask me, this sounds like a put-up job," chimed in Helen whose obvious advanced state of pregnancy drew a disapproving glare from John. He had vaguely heard about this latest titbit of scandal but to be confronted with it in the flesh upset his sensibilities.

"I think that we'll just have to make the most of the situation and just muck in," Nikki's father cut in with a determined effort of will, his steely tones exerting his powers of command to the maximum. "I'm not going to shove either of you out the door just to make peace.It's also up to your mother who's got an unexpectedly large catering job on her hands and I don't want her being put upon any more than I want it."

"Helen and I will help out if mum doesn't mind us cluttering up the kitchen. I can see Jill's got her hands full with the kids," Nikki replied promptly, as the sounds of excited children's voices floated in through the back window of the living room. John was slower off the mark and, feeling the weight of opinion being mobilised, turned red in the face but shut up.

Nikki's mother entered the room at this moment and heard her husband pass the baton over to her.

"I'll manage the dinner."

The dinner ended up as one of those oppressively polite, chilly affairs which Nikki remembered only too well on one of her family's 'off' days, when her parents had felt obliged to inculcate the traditional values of their community on their children. Sitting at the very same rectangular mahogany table with the white lace tablecloth and handling the same silver service where she had sat as a little girl, dark memories threatened to overwhelm her with gloom. She looked at her sister in law, Jill Wade, constantly fussing over the table manners of her two offspring that she saw how the worst side of her upbringing was eagerly replicated by his brother and Jill's meek acceptance. It wasn't till she met her parent's eyes when she realised that they were no more happy with the situation than she and Helen were. She suddenly noticed how her father dusted off the forgotten bookshelf his selection of more irreverent stories of his naval career and how she'd never heard them before.

"Dad, I never knew that you were such a breaker of rules.Behind that conservative mask you've really been a bit of a rebel all along,"Nikki said at last before taking another spoonful of home made trifle.

"I've always had a mind of my own but I feel more confident as I grow older to express it. You ask anyone who's been in the forces long enough and of all the orders ever given, there are those which beg to be dodged or outright ignored if you really want to serve our country.It's part of unwritten history, something I didn't used to own up to," chuckled her father.

"Surely, you brought me up to believe that rules are there for a reason. It's something we've passed on to our children," John interjected, hyperconscious of what his children might be picking up on.

"I've come to believe that rules are there for the guidance of wise men and the obedience of fools,"said Nikki's father with great aplomb.

Nikki burst into a spontaneous round of applause at this brilliant shaft of reason which encapsulated the facets of her own personality and Helen laughed out loud. Smiling, Nikki's father inclined his head while her mother looked on fondly. While Jill tried to get her head around the complicated obscurity, John reddened.

It was later on that that conflict broke out again between Nikki and John just when the party were sitting in the living room, enjoying yet another round of tea and biscuits while a shaft of sunlight struggled to break through the solid grey clouds and blistering gusts of wind.Being trapped inside with this sporadic conflict gave no space for escape.

"That's enough from the two of you," Nikki's father interjected sternly, trying his best not to show favouritism. Nikki suddenly reached her conclusion, the accumulation of rows down the years coming into sharp focus, not least at the aftermath of trials that she and Helen had taken part in and he was the solicitor on the wrong side as usual.

"Dad, suppose John and I go into the dining room," put in Nikki with all the quiet , purposeful strength that lay within her. "You've been fair in arbitrating between the two of us and I respect you for that but I think John and I need to finally sort out our differences in another room.If we don't do it now, there'll never be another chance like this."

"I don't think," Nikki's father started to say but stopped when his wife laid a hand on his sleeve.

"I brought you both into this world so I'm telling you to do it," she said. Helen said nothing as she knew it was Nikki's fight and Jill had been too dominated by John for years to be capable of independent action.

Nikki strode forward with a purposeful tread followed by John's uncertain steps. He'd never been in a situation where his parents hadn't intervened and it threw him.


"Let's sit down," Nikki said, gesturing to the table after shutting the door behind her.

"You and I have been arguing all our lives since we were kids," Nikki started, trying to fight down her temper that boiled away like a high pressure boiler under lockdown. “Since I left home, it only got worse and, yes, I did cause the family problems bigtime in landing social disgrace on everyone. There's a lot I didn't see, didn't know about when I headed off to London but now it's different. Helen and I are respectable and you have to deal with it."

"Respectable?" shouted John, not believing his ears. "You and that woman are having that baby of yours in an unnatural fashion. Goodness knows what you're doing for the family reputation."

"I said respectable, John and I mean it. I'm a rising star in the Howard league for Penal Reform with judges and barristers who are personal friends of Helen and I. We want to settle down and have a family and we'll be good mothers. Our parents, bless them, accept everything about us. You're the only fly in the ointment."

"My values are what's made me and I don't deviate from them for one moment," John said with stiff-necked pride trying to keep the unmanly tremble out of his voice. Every time he argued with his sister, he got emotional and he knew how bad that was for him.

"Do you know, that's the first thing you've ever said that I agree with," Nikki said in tones of utter wonder. "It's easy to see what you're doing and we've fought cat and dog about the superficialities, my unconventional lifestyle, getting imprisoned, getting hitched to Helen, having a baby together. It's the why that interests me, that I want to know about everything."

"You ask too many questions,"John said dismissively while Nikki laughed out loud.

"It's like this John. You want so much to be the man of the family, always in command, always making decisions, dominant, masterful, successful and following in our father's footsteps. What you don't want to admit is that I'm more like our father than you'll ever be. You know how much we see eye to eye and you can't take it. We challenge each other and at the same time he's learnt to accept me as I am. He knows how I can deal with things, that I've had it hard and persevered against the odds. You've had the twenty years that I've been away to establish your position and you've abjectly failed."

"Why you........," John started to say but Nikki stopped him.

"Don't get physical with me or you'll live to regret it,"Nikki retorted, her brown eyes flaring with anger as John saw how menacing his sister could be once she'd shed her normal good manners. He couldn't help thinking what had happened to that policeman. Tension flared up in this monument to suburban respectability, the white lace tablecloth, the china cabinet, the bureau with framed photographs of a young Nikki, a young John, Nikki and Helen, John and his family and their father in a black blazer and Old School Tie and their mother in a flowered dress. For one second, Nikki felt as if she was in a dingy corridor in Larkhall Prison. Then the moment passed.

"Why don't you stop fighting the situation," Nikki said at last in a softer voice as she sensed the coiled up tensions and insecurities that was her brother. "I suspect you've got enough real problems in your life and you don't talk about it in the same way that I'd talk to Helen. You've got Jill there for a start."

"She's always expected me to be the provider. If I can't do that, I've failed," John said, revealing in one flash the frightened little boy she'd always seen in him. She knew he'd done a poor job in a series of high profile trials and Brian Cantwell, for one, showed more respect to her than to him. It was always the way.

"You'll have to stop being Mr Middle England," Nikki said softly, looking him right in the eye. "It screws people up so they can't talk and the more they can't talk, the more they get screwed up.You have to change your ways like our parents have. It's your only hope."

Right now, John had the horrible sensation that he was going to burst into tears. That was unmanly but it started to dawn on him that he'd been living a life of quiet desperation, in a lonely crowd. It started to dawn on him that he'd been taking out frustrations on his sister, feelings he couldn't admit to. Perhaps it was the case that no one really knew him apart from his sister. At that moment, there was a feeling of utter silence as the chattering voices inside his head were finally stilled. Only the sounds of Helen talking with his parents, his own his children playing outside with his wife could be heard at a distance away from him which perhaps could be crossed. Nikki looked on and passed him a glance at the dining room door that could be opened if he chose to.


******


DCI Taylor didn't let the grass grow under her feet now that her girlfriend had given her information of absolutely certain and specific quality. Once she'd obtained full details of the drugs dealer, it was easy enough to trace the change of address and it firmly located the move to a reputable 'Garden of eden' village where the locals organised 'bring and buy' fetes and the staple stimulant of choice was a pot of tea and home made cakes at the local tea shop. It was a place where retired Middle England bought houses to savour the rural splendours and like minded younger element travelled up to London. A distinguished female barrister was a long term resident who added some tone to the neighbourhood along with an accountant or two. The village did not attract the nouveaux riche set who found the tranquillity of the countryside much too tame. The locals struggled as best as they could as rising house prices threatened to squeeze them out of existence. The village had its small council estate which, fortunately, had toned in with the neighbourhood as the uniform looking houses had their hollyhocks and roses growing outside in profusion. Only a few local yobs made any kind of noise and the one council tenant that looked anyway out of the ordinary kept herself to herself, apart from the motorbike that periodically disturbed the peace and quiet. However, while a certain amount of loud music could be heard, all in all, the locals told the very inquisitive DCI Taylor that the newcomer fitted into the village reasonably well. All these stories from the knowledgeable owner of the local store told DCI Taylor everything she wanted to know.

The only conundrum that DCI Taylor wanted to get to the bottom of was why on earth this barrister had anything to do with this drugs dealer. She was spotted going up to the house in question as often as she could manage and was stopping overnight. DCI Taylor scrutinized the criminal records of this dealer who had knocked around with the East End drugs operations for a number of years but had no boyfriends or romantic interests. The dealer was known to have close friendships with a number of women over the years as she moved from flat to flat. DCI drew the conclusion obvious to her but not to the men who had compiled these records. She wasn't born into the criminal fraternity but had been a struggling rock musician for a number of years before commercial calculation had told her that more money could be made from retailing drugs than an uncertain living going from club to pub around Britain. The career transition was comparatively easy once she'd thought about it and the last time she'd been busted, she'd talked her way out of trouble. This was shortly before she headed out of town and decided to operate from the suburbs and it was only now that she'd been spotted.

DCI Taylor smoked her last cigarette of the day before making up her mind what to do about seeing how the barrister fitted in to the situation before organising the bust to catch her red-handed. One innocent possibility had already crossed her mind but she had to be sure of her facts. In the meantime, surveillance teams were carrying out observations to fine tune their knowledge of this dealer's modus operandi.
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GG72
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Richard I've been reading this on 3 sites and I'm glad to see Alice and George get things settled. and maybe Nikki and her Brother. :clap
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Hi GG72. Nice to see you on this board and thanks for keeping up with my fic. Hope you like this next George Kristine scene.

...................................................................................................................................


Scene Forty-Eight



Oh, you baby," Kristine exclaimed, laughing as Jules backed away from the much smaller black dog who immediately bared his teeth in anger. They were walking on the green across the road from the court, once John and Jo's favourite meeting place in happier times. She sensed that Jules was hiding behind her skirts and bent down to comfort the animal. The owner was a little apologetic for his pet's behaviour and she intervened in her kindly fashion.
"Don't worry, It's not your dog's fault. For such a large dog, he is a big softie, aren't you Jules. Just a big softie."

Kristine ruffled the dog's ears, let him do his business and made her way back to the courtroom where she wanted to see John and George in action.This was a private research project which claimed her very active curiosity.


Kristine made her way into the foyer and came up against the security barrier where she was stopped by a pushy minor official.
"But why do you want to sit in on a court hearing? I mean, you're blind."

Kristine drew herself up to her full height, counted to ten and then let fly in her most imperious tones..
"If you must know, I have ears to hear with and a brain that I can think with, both better than you can. Here's my personal ID for the University of London library where I lecture in education studies while studying for a PhD in a combined doctorate of Education and Criminology. I wish to sit in at a sample court hearing as part of my personal research. Is there anything I need to make clearer so that even you can understand?"

Behind her, she heard that uniquely aristocratic voice laugh in such a way that inspired delicious fantasies inside Kristine's very active imagination.

"Even if I hadn't seen Jules, I'd know that voice anywhere. Kristine, it's such a pleasure to come across you again."

As George kissed Kristine on her cheek, the official wished he could tuck his head inside his stiff white shirt and blushed, enabling Kristine to pass through a special turnstile and metal detector. He was not going to risk the additional wrath of Ms Channing whose scary reputation walked abroad the corridors of the Old Bailey. He knew when to give up.

George linked her arm in Kristine's purely as a practical measure to guide her friend to her destination as they walked across the black and white tiled floor.Kristine wasn't complaining at George taking control in this fashion.

"Are you really doing this research work? It doesn't matter if you aren't as there's open access to the visitor's gallery," George asked with a wicked sideways conspiratorial look on her face.

"If both you and John are appearing in court, perhaps I can stretch a point," Kristine confessed to a peal of laughter in reply as they walked on to the base of the staircase to the visitor's gallery. George brought them to a halt at this point.

"I have to go to my client and solicitor but perhaps we could have lunch together if you've got time," George sweetly asked Kristine. How could she refuse?

Kristine made her way up the grand sweep of the staircase and comfortably ensconced herself on the very front row. There before her she sensed the theatre of justice below her, the players just starting to make their place, judging by the way her ears picked out whispering sounds below her. Finally, she could hear George exchanging words with what was technically called her instructing solicitor but the voice of the male barrister was unimpressive by contrast. Suddenly, a double thump announced John Deed's entrance and the usher read out the technicalities to the various parties.Jules moved from the seat her mistress had designated for him to occupy, neatly taking advantage of the need for silence. It was at that moment that John saw Jules face peeking through the rails of the gallery and Kristine sitting studiously. He repressed a smile with great difficulty and moved into the introduction in his melodious tones.

At the moment while George was waiting her turn to speak, she was feeling as calm and relaxed as she could do while her most immediate focus was on the trial. She'd gone out to Chix on Saturday night with Alice and danced the night away with her, her eyes not leaving her lover's slim form and the beauty of her face for one minute. When they could dance slowly, they wound themselves round each other, kissing each other passionately in a way that drew friendly comment.

"It's lovely seeing you both around.We haven't seen you for awhile, " Sally Anne had said as the two women strolled up to them, out of breath and tousled looking and linking hands together in a romantic, loving fashion.

"We haven't been out for a few weeks and we wanted to meet our friends and let our hair down,"Alice said in a rush of out of breath words, leaning against George lovingly.

"We've spent our spare time reminding ourselves just why even I'm a frightful romantic," George said with a mischievous glint in her eye and a broad smile showing her perfect white teeth, "though don't expect me to read Mills and Boon books. I have my standards, you know."

"And I've been learning at work just where to draw the line so I'm not Lady Bountiful to those who play games with me," Alice said with a look of satisfaction on her face. "It's helped both of us."

George saw Sally-Anne look in Alice's direction with a look of profound satisfaction. She thought that Alice was referring to some private conversation about their recent troubles but she didn't care. Nothing within her circle of friends could now do her any harm and they all long since received her hard won trust.

As John delivered his preliminary introductions, it struck him how good he felt about himself. Despite the emotional knockback he had suffered when Jo Mills had dumped him in favour of another woman, he was coming out of that swamp of despondency and spreading his wings again. This was partly because he had grown up in these last few years to become less intellectually proud and hence more secure in himself. Not only was he in the presence of two women whom he had slept with but he was proud to say that they were true friends of his. Like Nikki and Helen, they were not afraid to speak their minds to him and he could handle their uncomfortable truths knowing that they cared about him in their different ways.He positively revelled in the intellectual interchange and having his flexibility of thinking being kept up to the mark.

In the meantime Kristine's hearing engaged with her mental imaginary map of the courtroom and picked out a barrister called Brian Cantwell who lead off the prosecution case with his razor edged consonants. He finally introduced a policeman called DI Sullivan whose blustering tones immediately told her what an incompetent he was. He laid great stress on the fact that his client had no alibi and on his guilty manner, not altogether to Brian Cantwell's approval or so Kristine's judgement on voice timbre told her.

"DI Sullivan, we meet again," George's opening sally curled round Kristine's consciousness as so sexy and powerful at the same time. "Let's start with a crucial piece of evidence. You claim that my client was at the scene of the crime because you very conveniently happened to be on duty like the good policeman you are."

"There's no cause to doubt my word unless I have to provide my own alibi like some common criminal," blustered D I Sullivan, his cheeks red as his anger caught fire.

"But I am not doubting your words as to where you are. I'm just setting the scene. Do not accuse yourself unnecessarily. At the time of the incident concerned, there was no moon, was there not?"

"It wasn't very bright. However, I'm used to seeing in the dark."

"Like cat's eyes, I'm sure," George retorted sarcastically. "I refer you to item B6 in the bundle of evidence that the streetlamp in your immediate vicinity was out of action. Can I have your observation on this?"

"There was general lighting from off-licences, Chinese takeaways, other lights up and down the street. Conditions weren't good but they were good enough for me with my experience on the beat. I know who I saw."

"Or rather who you wanted to see," corrected George in icy tones. "I'll leave it to the jury just how a reliable witness you are before I move onto another point. Just to be quite clear, you state in your evidence that you saw my client pick a fight with the deceased and finally lunge at him with a series of overarm stabs. Do you have any comment on this?"

"That's what I saw, speaking as an experienced professional," DI Sullivan retorted, with the air of really putting one over this toffee-nosed, sarcy barrister.

"Would you be interested to know that my client is left handed?" George asked, with a smooth rejoinder.

"There are plenty of us around," DI Sullivan said in surly tones while a broad smile spread across George's face.

"I have no more questions," George concluded, leaving a puzzled DI Sullivan to take his place at the wings of the court.

George's first witness for the defence was a pathologist Dr Edward Graceman, notable for his studious manner and his curious habit of laying one palm against another as he gave evidence.

"Let us turn to your pathologist's report, Dr Graceman - item D3 in the bundle of evidence. In short, it gives the cause of death as a multiple stab wound to the left torso, the point of entry angled down by twenty degrees by a serrated knife the lacerations being on the left hand side of the body.Does this not strike you as rather curious?"

"I know the point you're getting at and I told the investigating officer of this. This crime could only have been committed by a right handed man."

George turned around very shamelessly to the court with a broad smile and looked up at John Deed who was watching the proceedings with amusement

"My Lord, I have a submission to make in the absence of the jury."

"I think I know what's coming," John dryly noted to a discomforted Brian Cantwell and a very buoyant George Channing. Up in the gallery, Kristine restrained herself with difficulty from cheering out loud.She was in seventh heaven

"I submit there is no case to answer. The 'evidence' from DI Sullivan isn't worth the air it's breathed upon and the pathology evidence confirms without doubt that my client cannot possibly have committed the crime. Therefore he was exactly where he says he was spending the evening in watching football on the television," George said in rapid yet precise tones.

"I accept the submission. The prosecution case has collapsed utterly. Can we have the jury back in?"
Kristine couldn't wait for the jury to shuffle back into their places and John wasted no time in disposing of the case.

"Members of the jury, you can stay in your place.I am directing that you find the defendant not guilty. Can the foreman please stand. Gentleman and ladies of the jury, do you find Mr Redman guilty or not guilty of the charge of murder?”

“Not guilty, my lord.”

"I think this case is one where the investigating authorities have been 'barking up the wrong tree.' and more diligence and clear thinking would have avoided an innocent man being needlessly hounded while the guilty man goes about his daily business, unimpeded. Mr Redman, you are free to go."

Kristine waited for the very last words before making her way rapidly out of the visitor's gallery and down the staircase as fast as she dare go, Jules keeping the tension on his lead just right and was in time to intercept George as she came out of the court's back entrance.

"I trust your research material was up to standard," George said archly, an irresistable smile on her lips, her blue eyes twinkling.
"Do you have any idea of how sexy you are when you are arguing?" Kristine answered, a wide smile still on her face.
"You are a woman after my own heart though you know I am already spoken for."
"I shouldn't wonder," Kristine answered cheerfully, "May I buy you lunch?"
"Certainly but not around here. I'll drive you."

Kristine enjoyed driving in George's convertible even though she had the hood up. The forceful way she battled through the London traffic fitted her imperious nature. Presently, they found themselves in a pleasant cafe off the normal beat which was to both their satisfaction and which accommodated Jules comfortably under the table.

"I'm not keen on the pubs along the main street. They get so sweaty at lunchtime," confided George as they enjoyed a soft drink prior to the waiter bringing them their meal. Presently, George's mobile rang and a soft smile spread across her face when she saw the name flashing up on her screen. Kristine listened to the one way conversation with interest.

"Hi Alice. I've just come out of my court hearing. Needless to say, I trounced the opposition thanks mainly to that twit of a detective, the same one I took apart when Helen was on that absurd charge of breaking the Official Secrets Act. .I'm having lunch with that frightfully interesting female lecturer I met at that Howard League AGM.....I'm glad you're asserting yourself a bit with your clients. I know you can't be a quarter as ruthless with them as I am in court......If you're going to be home early, so will I, my darling."

Kristine loved the way George referred to her. She wondered not for the first time why people she met couldn't refer to her in such a casually sensitive fashion.

"I have to confess I came to watch both you and John in action, I mean in court,"Kristine said politely.

"So we are your joint favourites in the legal profession?"

"You and John seem really close," Kristine observed."I could tell from the way you interacted in court."

"It wasn't always like that. We used to have fearful rows as we were on opposite sides, politically speaking while Jo was forever in his chambers. We've become really good friends over time, especially when Alice and I had a rocky patch."

Everything about George screamed at Kristine that there was something she was dying to say but was reining herself in. She could feel the tension in her voice for a start.

"Is there something you want to talk to me about? I'm particularly good in keeping my mouth shut but if you don't want to talk, I don't mind."

"In for a penny, in for a pound," George said in an abstracted fashion, almost talking to herself before Kristine felt the other woman's attention directed at her. "I ought to add that I slept with John a week or so back. I go to a lesbian club called Chix but I can't talk with any of my friends there as it will put too much of a strain on loyalties there and I'm not sure if any of them understand that women can be attracted to men even though they know him for the noble deeds they've seen him perform in court. He's the great untouchable so they can worship him platonically from a distance."

"Take it easy George and take your time telling me about it,"Kristine said in the softest of tones.

Kristine's clear deliberate tones had their effect and George's story poured out in a rush as she relived that dreadfully traumatic time yet the night she slept with John left a warm glow in her heart. She knew above all else that this memory needed to be placed in a secure space for her to deal with and she should bear responsibility for the secret. She finally explained that, in not so many words that she and Alice had told each other the truth. Neither of them could afford any kind of irresponsible honesty that could break up their relationship as they both had way too much to lose. As George drew her story to a close, the meal they'd ordered suddenly arrived. They'd clean forgotten about it. George ordered a dry Martini each and they smiled knowingly at each other, this being their favourite drink.

"So you're not staying with Alice as a dutiful wife but because you love Alice and she loves you," Kristine asked after she took a mouthful of her dinner.

"That's it in a nutshell. I know only too well from bitter experience of John how infidelity can chip away at a relationship, bit by bit and we're not going to risk that again," George said in bleak tones as she tasted a morsel of the dinner.

"It's beyond my experience as I've told you before but it's obviously what you need out of life. Sleeping with friends, male and female, is hardly the romantic conception but it works for me even though it doesn't work for others, Nikki and Helen for instance,"Kristine observed, savouring the pleasure of someone else's cooking.

"John told me about the night you slept with him. He's talked to me about you and there really aren't that many women that have really impressed him.You're probably the only person I know who can give him a kick up the backside, intellectually speaking, and get away with it. Nikki's more tactful, the way she goes about it," laughed George, her appetite returning.

Kristine laughed loudly at George's witty observation. They ate and drank and chatted awhile while the clattering sounds and chatter of restaurant conversations continued but faded into the background. Suddenly, a sombre thought struck Kristine which gave her pause for thought.

"I wouldn't take anything further unless I'm sure of your blessing George." Kristine said tenderly, highly conscious of the years of experience that this really gorgeous woman and this highly attractive man had shared. She was painfully conscious of being a newcomer on the scene. George saw it all and wanted to repay Kristine for her kindness in listening to her.

“Neither you nor John needs my blessing for anything darling. What John needs is some TLC.I've always had my doubts if he could ever have got it from Jo and God knows where she is right now.I'm not sure if he'll ever settle down with another woman fulltime but I can tell that you are good for him. Temporary or permanent, does it matter?"

The restaurant stood still as this attractive, intelligent woman got to the heart of what Kristine's life was all about. In her experience, there were precious few who were capable of that and this added extra lustre to the mental image of how she saw George.



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CrashxBurn
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Another wonderful cross-over flawlessly executed. I love this storyline and I look forward to reading more if you choose to continue it (:
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richard
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Hey thanks, Crashxburn for picking up on my fic. No problems in carrying on with it as it has already been written as a complete fic.



Scene Forty-Nine


In all the trials John had ever conducted, he could remember only the occasional instance when he'd experienced real anxiety. Sometimes he'd been plagued by moral dilemmas where the cold consistency of the law ran against his own passionate ideals for justice when other judges would shelter behind the prescriptions of the law. The only other area for concern were the barristers who appeared before him, in particular the one time surefire guarantee of strife and conflict, Jo Mills and George Channing. Since the run of Larkhall Prison based trials had taken place, George in her inscrutable way had defected from the establishment and come over to his side in her own idiosyncratic fashion. All should have been sweetness and light as the three of them had been working together, that is until Jo had dumped him in favour of another woman.

John did his best to be correct and judicious in his handling of court proceedings but it was idle of him to deny that there were moments of frostiness in Jo's manner, that no matter how much she had spun off into a completely different orbit in her personal life, when it came time to appearing in court, she was stuck in the same subordinate mould as she'd ever been. What frustrated her most was when the situation forced John to be especially scrupulously fair-minded in the way he handled the trials which gave her no objective reason to argue with him. She could also see how he turned his head away from her and smiled at George's interventions, that Jo was no longer the "blue-eyed woman" in court trials, George was. Finally, Jo stomped off towards the locker room
which George could not avoid sharing with her.

"I wonder why you aren't up in John's chambers right now. I'm sure the trial will go your way,"muttered Jo peevishly.

"I might go to John's chambers if I feel like it. Why should I worry about being compromised? Alice isn't jealous of him in the slightest. As you know, I am accustomed to having my cake and eating it. In any case, John is quite smitten with Kristine Thorne, that very talented university lecturer who made her mark at the Howard League AGM,"George retorted, giving way to smirking temptation to wind Jo up as she always used to in the past.

"I wouldn't have thought that Ms Thorne is quite his type. She hasn't got the usual blond hair, blue eyed and long legs,"Jo replied dismissively.

"You know Jo, you shouldn't take out your anger and frustration against me.We're quite capable of being friends again if you let us. John isn't the shallow male chauvinist he once was,"observed George seriously, trying to engage the other woman's eye contact."I've spoken to Kristine at length. She's no more interested in exclusive relationships than John is but she is a good friend and I can see what John sees in her as much as he does. Your trouble is that you've made yourself the outcast for no good reason. It's all so unnecessary."

Jo ignored George's home truths, snapped shut the locker door and headed off back to her car for another evening with Mel who'd be waiting for her, except that once again the unspoken question of them living together was never raised.

******

In another part of the metropolis, Kristine had finished marking her last essay for the day and, having some spare time on her hands, resolved to visit Karen who, in her free and easy way, had suggested at the Howard League AGM that she pop round to see her and Beth some time. She'd visited her once and had a pleasant, relaxing time of it, Jules being made a fuss of by both women.

"Hi, it's Kristine," she said into her mobile,"I know you nurses are busy by definition but would it be all right if I pop round?"

Karen Betts had just had a difficult shift thanks to the hectoring behaviour of her unfavourite registrar, Jac Naylor who had heard of Karen's previous employment and somehow felt threatened by it. She had finished her last operation as Jac Naylor's disapproving expression came into sight.

"You're in luck, Kristine. I've finished my shift and Beth's at home already. I know we'd like your company. It's not as beth and I are going to strip each other naked and ravish each other," Karen said in amused tones, just loudly enough.

"That's great. Give me half an hour and I'll be round," Kristine enthused, making a mental note to ask the background of her friend's obviously theatrical performance. She liked Karen a lot for the way she couldn't give a damn about what empty-headed petty moralists thought of her.

Beth had rattled through her assignment which wasn't of a world-shattering nature as she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being sidelined..She had been the featured journalist on Nikki's expose of conditions in Larkhall Prison and Helen being found not guilty of breaking the Official Secrets Act. Her concisely written article on the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM ought to have featured on Page 8 but the editor 'spiked' her story and let some highly paid 'name' journalist pontificate on the state of the world about us and tell readers, relax folks, the powers that be will take care of everything. Beth studied from afar the more grey-haired male journalists who had specialized in foreign affairs and had really studied their craft and, more to the point, had built themselves an unassailable position from where they wrote theirt trenchant , hard-hitting criticisms. They were the sort of people she wished to emulate and when she bumped into them, they treated her kindly, praised her articles and glossed over her sexuality but unfortunately they weren't in her department. She was stuck with the younger, black suited, short-haired guys who were on the make and would cheerfully grind out hack work if it furthered their careers.

When she got the phone call from Karen about an unexpected guest, she was willing to defer her temptation to charm the very willing Karen into bed way before their bedtime because the compensation was Kristine's stimulating conversation.

"Darling, you're looking at the Independent's newest arts correspondent, signed, sealed and delivered."Beth said acidly when Kristine had arrived and she'd given her a glass of orange.

"That's totally scandalous on principle's sake," Karen said at last after her mouth had opened in shock.It gave Kristine a jolt, too. "Even if you have a hankering after the arts, I can't remember you ever saying you wanted a transfer off the political section."

"My editor told me this morning with no hint of this being in the offing. After I protested at the sales pitch he gave me, he dropped the phony niceties. It's really ironic when the women's movement fought for the term Ms to free women from being defined in terms of heterosexual marriage that it gets used aggressively by male chauvinist bosses against independent free-thinking women?" Beth wondered aloud as Karen hastily poured her a strong measure of scarcely diluted vodka. "I'm also lucky for the rampant macho male enthusiasm in the sports section or I'd be exiled there being set up to fail as sports bores me stiff."

"That's really horrible,"Kristine said sympathetically."I'm sure rebels like us have the same trouble everywhere, if this helps. I'm known as the young cantankerous upstart of dubious morals. As yet, they haven't worked how to get rid of me,"Kristine said, passing a cigarette in Karen's direction who lit up gratefully.

"It's just as well I'm tolerant to tobacco smoke. I've learnt to live with it,"Beth said lightly.

"There are compensations, darling. You know there are," Karen said, borrowing a bit of George's style which prompted general laughter. It was what all three women wanted, a sense of shared kinship whichever field they worked in. There was a lovely feeling of sororiality at its warmest and it pointed forward to a lovely convivial evening. Unhappily, it was not to be as the sounds of someone clumping up the stairs audibly zeroed in the direction of their front door. The knock on the door made Karen's body tense. she was sure her selfish son was here to ruin their evening. Sighing, she answered the door.

"Hi mum. I thought I'd pop round and see you. Long time no see and all that," he said with apparent inconsequence. Karen was not deceived.

"As you can see, Ross, I have company. Kristine's here because she phoned in advance
to ask if it was all right dfor her to come round. You get no special favours,"Karen pointed out firmly.

"It's different this time,"Ross sprang back with the gift of the gab. "I've got problems that can't wait, big problems. I owe people money. I hate to bother you but there's no one else I can turn to. You're my only hope."

For a second, Karen flashbacked to a different flat, when she was the trouser-suited wing governor at Larkhall Prison and she had to contend with Fenner's brand of self-pity. The similarity in the attempt to ensnare her emotions made her shudder inside. Although she'd told herself that she'd given up sympathy for worthless causes, for a few painful moments that seemed to last a lifetime, this primal son to mother call for help made her waver. Karen couldn't speak and Beth didn't feel right in making judgment where Karen lay silent. Kristine saw how the land lay and resolved to help her friends.

"I know you Ross Betts," she exclaimed in clear knowing tones, "I never forget a voice. I taught you education studies in your first year at university- or tried to."

Ross swivelled his head round and his worst nightmare appeared before his eyes, a strong-minded woman whose blindness struck down any hard luck stories who wouldn't wear any hard luck stories. Karen and Beth leaped at the opportunities offered to them.

"Tell us about my son's distinguished academic career," Karen said a touch sarcastically. "All I hear are vague nothings."

"Well, for a start, Ross had the mistaken idea that being a student was a licence to spend his loan money down the union bar. Above all, he couldn't grasp the elementary
principle I hammer home to my first years that, certainly, you can enjoy yourselves but you must schedule getting your work done even if it means burning the midnight oil in getting essays done at the last minute. In other words, you have to take responsibility. I plan my lectures and mark the essays in the same way. Ross' failure to learn this lesson was at the heart of all his so called emotional problems."

"So what sort of things did he get up to? I understand from George that her ex husband, the judge was as disreputable a student as any but got a first at Oxford,"weighed in Beth.

"My memory and sources of information are infallible,"proclaimed Kristine, watching the dishevelled young man squirming in his seat, wondering how far he'd gone down in the world and why. She could make a few accurate guesses.

Ross's worst nightmare engulfed him as his mother and his one time university lecturer all ruthlessly dissected his shortcomings, slotting together their separate knowledge of him. His mother's strong minded partner made it quite clear not to try any hard luck stories on her.

"But you worked hard at your schoolwork and got some decent A levels which got you into university?" Karen pursued, gazing through him and into the distance at the vision of the clean cut, fair-haired, blue-eyed youth whom she'd been proud of. an impossibly long time ago.

"I still imagined that dad would come home. I did all that stuff for him. Some hope," Ross said sullenly, looking Karen in the eye for the first time since she'd laid eyes on him again. For once, he was being honest even if what he said was repulsive. Hadn't she slaved a lifetime bringing him up while his spineless father cleared off at the first hint of difficulties.

"You've got everything so wrong Ross. You should do things for yourself and for those who do the hard graft in caring for you. Take me for example. I got myself out of the nightmare of that hit and run murder rap for me, not for my grandad and gran, not for Beth as I only got to know her the night of the acquittal, not for my friends though they certainly helped me and certainly not for you or your father. Beth's the same and I suspect Kristine is as well," Karen answered, the tone of her voice utterly certain and self-assured.

"So what do I have to do for you to help me? Do I have to crucify myself?" wailed Ross, trying his utmost to persuade her mother to help him out.

"Stop bullshitting for a start," Karen said curtly, looking her son steadily in his eyes.
"And clean up your act. It doesn't take rocket science to know what you're up to," chimed in Beth.
"And get yourself a job even if it's stacking shelves in Tescos. You set out to be the best shelf-stacker who walked the earth," concluded Kristine in steely tones.
"And maybe I might help out if you prove yourself. Got that Ross?"

Ross looked up at the three women standing in judgment over him. However harsh they sounded, this was the only lifeline there was. This was his moment of decision in his life.

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Ohhh... ok :) Well I look forward to reading more. I love how you can roll so many different story lines into the same fic without it feeling pinched. That takes talent.
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Thanks ever so much for the very nice compliment, CrashXBurn. Hope you and other readers enjoy this next scene.




....................................................................................................................................................................



Scene Fifty



Despite the overheated domesticity of Jo's lifestyle with Mel, Jo never forgot that she had a living to earn. Her problem was that conversations with her fellow professionals were at best stilted and non-committal and, at worst, jarred her sensibilities where John and George were concerned. She found it difficult to frame the words she wanted to say and what did come out was aggressive. It was moments like these that made her despair of her surroundings. She had suddenly come to feel that a certain false bonhomie had always oiled the wheels that turned the conversations at social gatherings and that, stripped of this pretense, everything grated on her which was why she'd had a run in with George.

When she thought about it back in the sanctuary of her office, all her troubles deemed to date back to the Howard League of Penal Reform AGM where she'd ended up in arguments that blew up from nowhere. She remembered how Kristine had disappeared with Karen and George in the break and how an instant friendship had started around her in the seminar group which seemed to freeze her out of the discussion. George's revelation that John had started an affair with Kristine put the seal on her suspicions and she felt duty bound to talk with John and explain to him that he was making a big mistake. She felt that she was best to advise him even though she was mystified as to what attracted him to her. She finally came to a resolution on this point after the first day into a new trial working opposite the slipshop Neumann Mason-Alan. His unfortunate tendency to ask leading questions drew the lion's share of John's more forceful directions while Jo stayed out of trouble. At the close of business, Jo passed him a note that she wished to see him about a private matter in chambers. When John received the crumpled piece of paper, he smiled briefly but remained concerned as to the purpose of this meeting. In turn, as Jo headed boldly in the direction of the judge's chambers, she smiled slightly at the thought that, this time the LCD spies wouldn't be watching her every move. In fact, now she came to think about it, they had displayed a curious disinclination to breathe down her neck despite the fact that it was an open secret amongst her peers.

In Jo's eyes, John received her with his customary politeness but with none of the warmth of the old days.There was something very controlled in his mannerism as he sat down in the armchair, indicating her place on the sofa.

"To what do I owe your company Jo? I must admit, I am intrigued."

"I thought we ought to talk and clear the air between us," Jo said abruptly. "I didn't explain myself very well when I finished our relationship."

"If it helps to get over any uncomfortableness, I can tell you that Kristine and George have filled in the gaps. I know that you're in a lesbian relationship with your old schoolfriend whom you've spoken to me about more than once."

The directness of John's reply took Jo aback.At the back of her mind, she was still used to the old circuitous John. The smouldering embers of her antagonisms took fire at once at Kristine's name.

"I'm so glad that a relative stranger is so well informed about my private life. I thought better of you, John Deed," Jo snapped sarcastically.

"Not to me she isn't," John said in calm, confident tones.

"Oh, so she's another of your sleeparounds. You have strange tastes," Jo sneered.

John took fire at Jo's attitude straightaway.Of all his qualities that had landed him in trouble, he'd never been ashamed of standing up for a friend and, most recently, he'd extended his loyalties to women whom he'd platonically admired. The one occasion he'd slept with Kristine didn't muddy the purity of his feelings.

"Jo, I have information for you," John said in steely tones. "You won't have known that Kristine and I got to know each other in the evening of the Howard League AGM. After you finished with me, I phoned Kristine as a friend to talk to and, yes, I later slept with her at her flat but she's in a completely different league from all my 'one night stands.'"

"Like how?You caught her eye, you charmed her into bed, you slept with her and cleared off the next day.Just how different is that?" challenged Jo after which she suddenly darted for the drinks cabinet, poured herself a large measure of whisky and downed it in one gulp.

"Bit difficult as she's blind," John retorted drily. Jo shut up and blushed. John gave it a little while before resuming his counter-attack.

"Because we've talked a hell of a lot to each other and she is one of the few women who can question everything I hold dear and see if it stands up to scrutiny and, underneath her tough exterior, is surprisingly compassionate and understanding at a time when I really wasn't at my best. My friendship with her isn't that different from my friendship with Nikki and Helen except, in their case, I see them as sisters."

"I still think you've got strange tastes," Jo insisted, suspecting that she might be pushing her luck a bit. "I've nothing against whatever woman you're consorting with.I'd be grateful if you didn't tell her all about our private life."

"So that's why you came to see me Jo. You have a problem with my friendship with Kristine. That's the reason why you came here. I can't see why you're bothered. There's nothing the LCD can object to and you're going your way and I'm going mine.That also solves the problems we have in court and even you coming to my chamber," John said triumphantly in loud tones, spreading his arms wide.

"You're the most infuriating man I've ever met,"Jo stormed, her blue eyes shooting flame and her fists clenched. "I don't know what I ever saw in you."

"For once, I'm looking beneath the outer layer, beneath the skin which is more than I normally did for you," John said in unusually quiet precise tones. It crossed his mind that, in this argument with Jo, he had nothing he could be reproached for.

The same realisation hit Jo with the force of a sledgehammer. On every other occasion, she'd been in a position, quite justifiably so, of moral superiority that this time wasn't there. She made the sound like an express train at high speed and doubled back towards the door. She slammed it behind her with considerable force, leaving John feeling concerned for Jo's state of mind but definitely not feeling guilty. It was a curiously liberating experience.

Coope discreetly entered the room a couple of minutes later and offered to make him a cup of tea. John gratefully accepted the offer. It was after he'd finished the cup of tea when George sidled into John's chambers, having waited for all the noise to die down. There was a free and easy aspect of their friendship that meant that she didn't phone up for an appointment.She kissed John on his cheek and wandered over to the drinks cabinet.

“You know, it does feel slightly strange having a drink with you in your chambers.” George said to John with a smirk on her face as she poured him a drink She very nearly added that it was a peculiar feeling to sit in the armchair, indulging in the kind of cosy chat where Jo Mills had once sat but she knew that would be unwise. She remembered the way she'd sarcastically accused both of them stitching up court cases here as a prelude or sequel to sleeping together.

“Your company is very stimulating and I'm in the peculiar position of not needing to watch out for the LCD spies. I can have my cake and eat it now your relationship with Alice is back on a sound footing,”John retorted with a twinkle in his eye.

The irony of the situation made George laugh. It was precisely her thought also.

“I had lunch the other day with Kristine. She is very charming, stimulating company and she makes me laugh as you do. You have done well to engage in an open relationship with her. I would guess that she's very choosy who she sleeps with.”

“It's strange how life changes. At one time, I thought that life had no more to offer me and now I feel at peace with myself,” observed John in a dreamy, philosophical vein, gazing towards the far horizons. George sensed this as a compliment equally to both herself and Kristine.

“I remember hearing of your attempt to go through therapy to finally commit yourself to Jo Mills. If only you could unlock the secret of your heart so you could give yourself to one woman only. Then you end up sleeping with your therapist. Only you could do that,” bantered George with a smirk on her face, her earlier heavy emphasis giving way to a droll conclusion.

“I hold up my hand to that,”John said with a wry smile, listening to his friend's very astute comments.

“Yes, that's not the only thing that holds up,” George drawled with a wicked smirk on her face. "You've finally discovered that for all these years you've been on the wrong tack altogether. You need a woman who is a match for you in every way, with quite as much of a wandering eye but who has a capacity for real friendship. You don't have to think about your infidelities any more than she does so everything is fine.”

This striking example of life's irony made John laugh loudly.


********


The stakeout on a certain slab-sided council house in a rural village was got under way as soon as DCI Taylor had made the arrangements. Fortunately, arrangements with the local council enabled easy and discreet access by a surveillance team to the boarded up local store on the end of the council estate. It was ideal as the top floor diagonally overlooked 8 Jubilee Close with its lack of house number and missing front gate. The It saved the dangerous necessity for an unmarked police car or an observation van to be parked on the road for no particular reason. The local police force who advised the drugs squad operatives advised that the locals were sharply observant of suspicious strangers which would work against them but the drugs courier under observation had taken pains to construct her alternate personality. However much the courier's wayward manner which had attracted much finger wagging disapproval, it had neatly distracted prying eyes from the real purpose of her activities.

It had to be said that the operatives heartily wished that their observations would bear fruit in short order. In order to be inconspicuous, their facilities were very sparse with only the shabby sofa in the front room. A portable camping style cooker had been surreptitiously moved upstairs into past the flaking paintwork of the staircase and plugged into what had been the back bedroom but was now completely bare of furniture. Worse still, the composition wooden boarding hadn't been removed except for a concealed observation slot offering a narrow field of vision. In short, the job demanded an infinite capacity for absorbing mind-numbing boredom yet at the same time, a capacity for suddenly snapping into gear and capturing evidence of their target, the drugs delivery which intelligence told them was due to come, give or take a day or so either way.

"At least that posh bird is on time," exclaimed the guy with fair short-cropped hair as he gulped down the last of the beefburger with mustard flavouring that his mate had just cooked up." There she is, trotting up the road waiting to spend the night with the Rock Queen just like this time yesterday evening."

"Is she really that naive to think that's why that tart's screwing her? Doesn't she know her game by now?" the second operative said as he glugged the contents of the electric kettle into two mugs with a spoonful of coffee and sugar at the bottom of them. This was the umpteenth mug of black coffee they'd drunk that day and both of them were feeling hyper from all the coffee they'd drunk. That was the only way they'd get through another wearing shift.

"There she is," exclaimed the man looking through the viewfinder. The classy woman he was scrutinising had shortish, wavy hair, alert features and wore jeans, trainers and a stylish shirt. She was pretty good looking though he said it himself. He could see the door flung wide open and the other woman wearing her trademark leather jacket laid her hungry hands on her and snogged her face off while the posh bird ran her hands through the other woman's dark hair. The spectacle was short-lived and the door was shut tight after them as, unseen, the man laughed at them.

"It might be fun for you, mate but that's not what we're earning our overtime for," the second operative said. "Once we clock the supplier, then we phone up control and the lads will do the rest and that's another job done."

So another day went by and it wasn't till the Monday shift when the same operative started calling out excitedly to his mate with the details of the delivery man who had called. He rattled out details of the van registration number, make and colour and where the stash was being taken and, sure enough, it wasn't into the shed where the motorbike was kept. It was inside the house. His mate gave the details to control and the trap was sprung. It was only an hour after the posh bird, looking less sleekly turned out than normal, had emerged from the house, blinked her eyes a number of times even on a dull December day and headed off down the close.


Mel was lying back in bed, feeling gloriously satisfied with herself. She'd locked away the delivery of smack and coke into the secure room and gone back to bed. She'd felt fantastic as she and Jo had spent the whole weekend ravishing each other, drinking and playing music. She thought lazily to herself that Jo had come a long way since they'd met up again and the prim and proper well dressed woman that had sat with her in the tea shop exchanging pleasantries had become the very sexual woman whose brilliant smile, dancing eyes and unashamed nakedness next to her made her want to possess every inch of her very well shaped body. She knew how good she looked to Mel as she found some reason to get out of bed and parade herself before her, something a million miles away from that the very inhibited woman who she first bumped into months before in the local shop. Yes indeed, Jo Mills was a real babe all right, hardly changed from all those years ago. Only that magical night they'd played that gig together in a pub told her that still waters ran deep where Jo Mills was concerned.

The only blot on the landscape where Mel was concerned was that Jo wanted them to live together. Mel smiled to herself in thinking just what a romantic Jo was which was very sweet of her but wasn't compatible with her lifestyle. She knew very well that, no matter how much Jo Mills wanted to recreate a dissolute adolescent lifestyle, she had to protect Jo from the knowledge of her real occupation. She knew very well that Jo would freak out if she knew the real truth so it was best that they spent as much time together that was compatible with her own lifestyle and Jo's own need to do her own thing. It was best for both of them, Mel considered. After putting this mental reverie to bed, Mel stretched herself lazily in bed and arched her back, being dressed only in her T shirt and knickers, her jeans and trainers having been cast on one side. She couldn't help the thought of her fingers stealing down her body to recreate in fantasy form the feel of Jo expertly bringing her to orgasm as she'd done last night.

It was just after she had come to a delicious climax when her pleasures were rudely interrupted by an almighty hammering sound on the door. In an instant, Mel was transfixed with fear as her blood froze in her veins. She felt horribly naked and helpless as she was absolutely certain that the Old Bill were about to bust her at last. Automatically, she tried to sling on her jeans but her legs snagged in the normally roughly amenable material. As she finally got her first leg in, the almighty hammering resounded through the house again. It was only when the wildly dishevelled woman finally stumbled to the bottom of the staircase when the resounding thump of the battering ram smashed the door back on its hinges and several alien looking shapes appeared, all kitted out in riot gear and visors. This was a major bust all right. What made her feel most helplessly afraid was that her smart tongue couldn't get her out of this hole, something she'd relied on all her life..

******

Jo had an averagely productive Monday which was good, considering the delightfully exhausting weekend she'd enjoyed. She was busy clearing up overdue matters in the morning and, in the afternoon she was starting to read the file for her upcoming trial. As was her habit on Monday mornings, she drank plenty of coffee to crank up her brain cells and was gracious enough to her secretary. At the end of the day, she felt satisfied by an industrious day's work and set off for home though she suspected that she had a similar job staring her in the face when she got home. It was just that she never got the time for dusting shelves and religiously hoovering the carpets.

She cooked herself a quick and easy dinner and cleared up after her. A thought popped into her mind to stroll down to Mel's place to thank her for her hospitality. A smile curved her lips as she hadn't anything to do at home in particular as her sons wouldn't be due down from staying with their university friends until this Thursday when she would have to remember how to be a mother again. She couldn't even begin to think what sort of Christmas she'd enjoy as the last three months since she'd bumped into Mel at the teashop had changed her out of all recognition- except that the same face as usual stared back at her from her bedroom mirror while changing out of her work suit.
Dressed in her more casual attire, she smiled to herself at the rain spitting down at her and, as she was about to round the corner to Mel's house, she pictured the front door opening and her girlfriend's welcoming smile, her invariable black leather jacket which exposed her tight black T-shirt and generous breasts and above all her outstretched arms into which she longed to be embraced by.

As she did round the corner, she encountered a very different sight indeed. Mel's house was as she'd always seen it but this time, there was something unpleasantly different. The unmistakeable sight of blue and white crime scene tape was wrapped around the front door and a police car was parked outside. Jo immediately got anxious and panicky and she broke into a run. Something bad had obviously happened to her lover,
she thought, but this was unimaginable as she wouldn't have an enemy in the world, not as she knew Mel. Finally dishevelled, out of breath and rain-splashed, she raced up to the solitary policeman on duty outside.

"What on earth has happened to Miss Bridges? Is she hurt? I'm a friend of hers," she gasped out with only a fraction of that cool sense of command she was used to display in cross examining a witness in court..

"This is an ongoing police investigation. I'm unable to give any information whatsoever.Do you know the tenant of this property?"

"Yes, I'm an old schoolfriend of hers," Jo said shakily, blindly reaching for the most convenient truth. "I come round here a lot to talk about the old days."

"In that case, we might want to speak to you. Can I have your name and address please," the policeman said, dropping his impersonal manner in favour of a distinct personal interest.

"I'm Mrs Josephine Mills of 15 Laurel Bank. I'd give you my card but I haven't got it with me right now. I'm a barrister, you know," Jo said, her breath coming in and out in short, jerky bursts. "I want to know if Miss Bridges is well enough to be talked to?"

The policeman thought carefully, struck by the majesty of this woman's profession and the need to handle things carefully. He was on guard to turn away local busybodies while the drugs squad were finishing turning the house upside down. This well brought up lady was clearly not in this league and was an anomaly in comparison with the major drugs bust and the sort of scum involved with drugs trafficking. This woman would be hauled in very soon for questioning when he'd phoned through to control and her concern was obviously genuine. He decided to give the bare minimum of information.

"She's well enough but won't be available for the moment. I'm not prepared to give any more information. You'd best contact the local police station if you want to know any more.I can't let you in, whoever you are or you'll be obstructing a police enquiry. You should know the gravity of the matter."

Jo's hands covered her face as she disconsolately stumbled away. Her world had brutally shifted on its axis. She wanted so much to see her darling Mel. In the meantime, the policeman phoned through to control. The message was bounced down the lines of communication to DCI Taylor, fresh from charging one Melanie Bridges with possession of a large quantity of class A drugs with intent to traffic them.She smiled with great satisfaction and resolved to drive out to the local police station where arrangements were made for Jo Mills to know more about the fate of her lover without her even trying.
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richard
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Scene Fifty-One




Half an hour later, a young policeman drove over to Mrs Mill's house, a nice old redbricked cottagy property in a terraced row. It was way off his usual beat except for visiting very occasional victims of crime. He knocked on Mrs Mills' smartly painted front door and on being admitted by a very jumpy woman, explained the reasons for his visit and he asked her to accompany him to the police station. He hadn't been told the purpose of his errand so he committed himself to nothing as to what she would discover. He took in his surroundings of a comfortable, well furnished house if slightly untidy. Mrs Mills immediately struck him favourably as a well to do, obviously educated and presentable looking woman who was obviously and genuinely highly distressed. She struck him as not the villain type.As he explained his purpose, Mrs Mills was torn between wanting to discover the truth and wanting to be left alone but she was grateful for the morsel of information about the accused that he did tell her. Underneath his official exterior, he was guardedly sorry for the distraught woman while not committing himself to figuring her out as either guilty or innocent. He did the humane thing to break the ice a bit and offered her a cigarette which she gratefully accepted. He waited for her to gather her mobile phone and necessary possessions in a distracted kind of fashion and escorted her to the car. She offered no resistance, being content to sit in the back of his car like a limp doll. As they raced through the darkened streets and he looked in his rear view mirror, he sensed that all life had drained out of her.

Sure enough, she was allowed to sit in the waiting room after the custody clerk booked her in and in the meantime, he advised Mrs Mills to obtain the services of a duty solicitor.

"Duty solicitor?" Jo Mills echoed the clerk in a vague fashion. "But I'm a high court barrister."

"One of the tricks of the trade is never to represent yourself. It seems different if you're the one facing questions," the custody clerk advised her in soft, clear tones.

The woman got her mobile phone out of her pocket and fiddled around with the list of names and numbers. Deciding who to ring looked to be a major decision while the custody clerk thought to himself that most people took the first name off the list of solicitors but he left her to it.

"John Deed here," he spoke automatically into his mobile phone as Jo's name bleeped for attention. Mimi, asleep and sprawled out on the hearth pricked up his ears.He was up in his bedroom wondering what improving activity he could devote himself to, possibly a Chopin concerto he'd neglected for a while.

"It's Jo Mills here," the jarringly broken voice came out of a different world, words emerging in fits and starts. "I'm held in the local police station and I'm advised to seek legal advice. My partner's house had been designated a crime scene, what about, I don't know. I'm due to be questioned. Normally, I can take care of such matters but I'm not in the frame of mind to look after myself."

"You give me the address and I'll be right over," John said in deliberately firm decisive tones designed to reassure her. The decision was instantaneous and didn't need second thoughts.

After an eternity though John had roared off into the night in his convertible, DCI Taylor had been brought up to speed on the latest developments including the name of Mrs Mills' legal representative, she called upon the young policeman to sit in on the interview. She collared one of the interview rooms with a fresh tape ready and waiting and waited for Mrs Mills to be escorted in. Immediately, DCI Taylor took the measure of the distraught Mrs Mills and the steely grey confidence of Judge Deed who immediately created an aura of controlled strength.

"First of all, I must ask you questions of the full extent of your relationship with Melanie Bridges," she said in not unfriendly tones.

The other woman looked flustered while the sharp-eyed DCI Taylor saw the judge wince almost imperceptibly.She stuck that in her memory bank for later.

"I, well, er, I knew her years ago from my first day at junior school together until sixth form when we had a disagreement about the rock band she was forming. We went our separate ways until, unbeknown to me, she'd moved into the same village I'd lived in for years. three months ago or so, we bumped into each other in the local store and everything started from there."

"What did you make of her when you first saw her?"

"She was dressed in this jeans and leather jacket getup and we resumed the close friendship we'd had as schoolchildren. It was marvellous seeing her again and we caught up on lost time."

"How can this be? We've interviewed Ms Bridges and she strikes me as being totally different from you," pursued DCI Taylor.

"We just seemed to click.We went to the local tea-shop I was the quiet demure one and she was the life and soul of the party.I've found that opposites can attract and in this case, it certainly did," Jo replied, beginning to find her feet and talking in a more philosophical vein.

"So how did the nature of your mutual attraction evolve?" pursued DCI Taylor gently as she started to sense at least part of the truth.

"As you grow up, sometimes you only let that part of you evolve that's nearest your upbringing," Jo stumbled in tortuous tones before gaining her bearings once again. "I'm a widow with two grown-up sons.I'm at the stage of my life where I've come round full circle and I can start to think of what I really want out of life as opposed to being a dutiful wife and mother."

"Please answer the questions, Mrs Mills. This is a reasonable question, isn't it judge," DCI Taylor gently but firmly corrected her. Jo blushed to be on the receiving end of a call to order and inwardly felt very uncomfortable.

"It isn't unreasonable but my client would appreciate knowing where this conversation is leading," John interjected quietly. So am I, he thought but he kept that to himself as this policewoman was behaving perfectly properly.

"All in good time. Nevertheless, if it makes it any easier, for two adult woman to engage in a loving relationship is perfectly acceptable and totally unremarkable in my book," DCI Taylor responded solemnly with a flicker of a glance at the judge.He got the drift of her remark, she noted.

"All right then, I went round increasingly often to her house to drink and play guitars together. I was on bass," Jo said in a rush of words. "It brought us closer together and sparked some kind of magic between us. Eventually, we made love one evening. This was like something I'd never experienced in my life before.....I eventually got to spend virtually all my free time at her place and we spent a lot of time in bed together. It was so exciting and a bit like forbidden fruit except that nobody was forbidding us. Mind you, I was in danger of burning the candles at both ends so I had to spend time at my house working and tidying up."

DCI Taylor noticed the look of pain in the judge's eye as Mrs Mills talked in such rhapsodical terms. She figured out that they'd been lovers once but she declined to raise the matter as not relevant.

"So how long have you been in a sexual relationship with Ms Bridges?"

Jo thought for a moment as she tried to compute the rush of exciting experiences in calendar form.

"I think we've been lovers for the past month."

"So would you say that you got to know Ms Bridges very intimately and I don't mean in the sexual sense. I have to be precise in how I phrase this question."

"I felt I knew her all my life," Jo said dreamily. The poor soul, DCI Taylor started to suspect that this woman is more naive than anything else and unlikely to be a guilty party to Ms Bridges' less than salubrious enterprises. The next set of questions would clinch it.

"Did you know what Ms Bridges did for a living?"

"I really don't know," Mrs Mills started to say very vaguely. The question had literally not crossed her mind before as she'd gone about her life with Mel in such a romantic haze. She assumed that Mel made her living somehow or other. "We didn't talk about such things."

"I think you might have found out something that my client doesn't know. If so, you are obliged to inform my client just why she has been brought to the police station to be questioned on such intimate, personal matters. As you say yourself, such relationships are perfectly legal," interjected the judge in crisp, confident and very local terms.The instant after he finished speaking, he knew that he'd committed a major blunder in asking a question that he didn't know the answer to. The moment of silence that hung in the air wasn't just police interview theatrics but the gravity of a bombshell that she decently hesitated in unleashing upon the unsuspecting Jo Mills. He had a sick feeling in his stomach.

"I have to tell you that Ms Bridges has been charged with possession of a large consignment of heroin and cocaine and with the intent to traffic class A drugs. I needn't tell you the gravity of the charge. That's why I was asking you detailed questions of the accused."

The news hit home with cataclysmic impact. Mrs Mills instantly burst into tears and tried to curl herself into a foetal ball while the judge took the poor woman into his arms. DCI Taylor felt horribly uncomfortable and impotent to intervene, letting the judge do the comforting with surprising tenderness. Though he was dressed in a smart blue suit, somehow she couldn't think of the man as a judge. He had too much instinctive sympathy as he led the broken woman out of the interview suite after DCI terminated the interview, clicking the tape recorder to a halt. Though the poor woman didn't know it at the moment, she was scratched from the investigation and possibly from the court trial.

**********


"You've done enough for me John," Jo said brokenly, tears still streaming down her face as they were allowed into a small cafeteria area. John had his arm round her shoulders and was still feeling emotionally overwhelmed for himself and for Jo. He couldn't erase the way he'd been dumped and this made for a dangerous emotional situation. "I've got to go somewhere but I don't know where, certainly not to my place."

"The only sanctuary I know for emotionally devastated members of the legal profession is Nikki and Helen's," John started to say shakily until such an off the wall started to make a vierd kind of sense. "Come to think of it, it's not such a bad idea and half-past eight isn't unreasonable. I've been there twice before and been looked after."

"Can you phone them? I'd be ever so grateful," Jo said, looking touchingly grateful. "I've had stupid arguments with them and, besides, I'm not up to it."


"Of course we can't judge," Helen's strong confident tones echoed reassuringly in John's ear to his huge relief after he'd given her a swift account of tonight's traumatic events. "We owe her bigtime and tell her to forget about our past arguments. We have a long time ago.Tell her to pack some essentials for the night and we'll be ready for you."

"Bless the pair of you," John said, audibly moved. In his eyes, they were the experts in such matters compared with whom he was an amateur. "We'll be over as soon as we can get over."



John checked his watch and it was a quarter to ten and he couldn't help thinking such a lot had happened that evening, including zooming from the police station to Jo's flat where she packed a nightcase and then on back to Nikki and Helen's flat. He sat in the comfortable armchair, taking in the lush colours of the flat and comfortable, reassuring atmosphere. he thought back nostalgically to when he'd twice crashed on the sofa for the night. There Jo sat being cradled in Nikki's arms while Helen stroked her hand. John noted that Helen's pregnancy was becoming pretty advanced and could see how the whole experience fitted her like a glove, a mature knowingness having evolved along the way. Jo had cried out her anguish from the bottom of her heart and his two friends had let it run and had gently soothed her. This was a more directly physical demonstration of the sort of comfort that they'd given John and he felt intensely proud to know them. He also felt a little guilty that he would have to leave shortly.

"Jo, in case I hadn't said it before, I'll be a true friend for you in whatever way you need," John said, an uncharacteristically audible tremble in his voice and his fist in front of his mouth.

"Thank you John," Jo said emotionally, still very weepy in her manner. "I've realised how I'd cast aside your friendship and how bitterly I've wronged you. I'm beginning to feel that I'm coming out of some kind of dark tunnel and how much your friendship matters to me."

"The true friends you've made along your way won't be lightly lost. I'm not the only one," John said gently.

"That's right," breathed Jo more easily as she turned to face John and blinked in the dawning light. "There's George for a start...."

".....and all our friends from Chix who know how you help the weak," added Helen brightly. "You, John and George all have a following, a fan club."

Jo laughed shortly at the kind compliment. She felt incredibly safe and secure right now. Tomorrow's prospects were a million miles away.

"I'll kiss you and say goodnight. I know you're in safe hands," John said tenderly, bending down to briefly embrace Jo and kiss her on her cheek. Both friends smiled approvingly at him before he turned towards the front hall.

Helen insisted in getting to her feet to show John out, it being something of an effort. She clicked on the hall light and they moved to the front door.

"Jo this time?" grinned Helen, a mischievous glint of amusement in her eyes.

"I can't tell you how much I thank you for your kindness. I know that you'll be far more capable of comforting Jo than I am. You're the experts in that field as I know very well," John said, his voice tinged with emotion as the hallway lights threw harsh shadows on them all.

"If you hadn't phoned and things had gone pear-shaped, we'd have been bloody angry with you. We'd have a bone to pick with you."

John smiled more easily, shook Helen's hand heartily and opened the front door. With a careless wave of his hand, he was gone feeling dog tired but easier in his heart than he'd felt for some time. It wasn't the renaissance of life's young love that he was experiencing but a lost friendship now found again.

****

In a faraway police cell, Mel did her best to settle down in the harsh light and the hard mattress. She hadn't changed out of her day clothes except for her trainers. She was utterly down in the dumps, reckoning that, unless she turned up a blinder of a story, she was well and truly in the shit. For once in her life, her body was stiff and lifeless with no thought of sexual desires. Somewhere out there, she figured out that Jo would find out sooner or later what had happened. Distant visions of the good times they'd shared floated past, as if seen through the wrong end of a telescope. It was too bad that she'd never told her about the one thing in her life that had got her busted but Jo would never have understood. However much she tried, she knew that Jo would never truly share with her the wild side of life.


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Scene Fifty-Two


Jo became hazily aware that she'd been sleeping peculiarly being forced to lie on her side because of a mountain that ran the length behind her back and her feet encountered a similar obstacle. Besides her bed was half the width of the double bed she'd spent half her life occupying. She felt suspended in a state of timelessness and, from the chinks of light peeking into the room she was in, Jo guessed that it was morning. Even this knowledge didn't prompt her her normal sense of time and of jobs she needed to undertake as she hadn't the slightest sense of whether this morning was weekend or weekday. Truth to tell, she felt as if she'd gone through a wringer, emotionally and physically, utterly lacking in any kind of energy. She was content to lie there in a vegetative state, numbly accepting the altered shape of her bed as it felt comforting as did what she could sense of her surroundings. Her throat was parched dry but she wasn't inclined to take her normal journey to the downstairs kitchen. She couldn't focus her eyes properly and all she was conscious of was a sense of rich colour which made her feel good. The fact that the interior of her house was furnished in subdued colours didn't matter as the essential fact was that the white quilt that covered her smelled fresh. Something about her situation told her that it might be dangerous to think too much.

As she lay there, she was conscious of the murmur of two female voices, one with an attractive Scottish lilt, the other pleasant voice in Home Counties cadences. Something told her that she should be reassured by that presence. She'd supposed that she'd had guests round that night who'd stopped over and that was all right. She stretched herself briefly, curled herself up comfortably and drifted back into a semi dream state where she floated upon clouds and didn't have to hurry anymore. As a hard-working professional, that was an infinite comfort.

"Jo, do you want a morning cup of tea," the attractive Scottish voice softly spoke next to her ear while she lay where she was, looking up at the piercing blue sky.

"That would be wonderful. Milk and one sugar," she heard herself mumble and lay back in the tangible peace and quiet. She felt curiously disconnected from everything but this did not bother her. She wanted it that way for some obscure reason.

"Here's your cup of tea, Jo. I'll put it on the coffee table next to you," Helen said softly, looking tenderly down at the fair-haired woman who looked curiously childlike as she was curled under her quilt. One corner of the duvet was exposed, showing a white sock and a triangular patch of demin, being the visible part of the jeans Jo had slept in having finally conked out the previous night.

"Hey, you've got Christmas decorations up- and a Christmas tree, Helen,"Jo said croakily as she started to make sense of her surroundings. Her rusty memory creaked into gear as she realised that she'd slept at Nikki and Helen's flat for some reason. She turned herself round to look up and face the friendly woman who was wearing a fetching maternity smock.

"That's because it's two days to Christmas," Helen said in cheery tones, trying not to alarm her friend, for friend she definitely was.

"Bloody hell. I've done nothing for Christmas," Jo sighed, mouth open and sinking back on her pillow.

"A much overrated and overcommercialised occasion Jo, speaking as a daughter of the manse. If you take your sons out to a restaurant instead of slaving over a cooker for several hours, pop up the decorations same as last year, then there only remains the biggest present you can give is your friendship for those deserving of it," Helen said, very kindly making short work of the difficulties. The inner meanings weren't lost on Jo either.This was the start of a different way in living her life. There was nothing that couldn't ultimately be fixed. An image of a woman frantically and heedlessly rushing from work to a form of pleasure that had done her no good rose up before her eyes. She supposed that that was the way that her friends would have seen her. She felt as if she could feel the nerve endings in her toes after her leg had become amputated and knew that she would take time getting over her loss. One step at a time, she had told her recovering alcoholic of a father, and now she knew she would have to take her own medicine. She reached for that most traditionally British of things, a nice cup of tea.


"We're thinking of going to Chix tonight," Helen said brightly as they ate toast and marmalade at their dining room table. "I know you've got a lot to sort out but if you can, it might do you good." They had talked over more calmly the sequence of events, both practical and emotional, that had led to the appalling catastrophe last night.

"Not that we're trying to matchmake you," Nikki said hastily before delicately leading up to her proposal. "You've had a tough time of it. Except for Helen who's one lucky woman, every lesbian I know has had one ex-girlfriend once in her life who spells trouble. She makes you fall in love, you have the time of your life and then, when everything is absolutely perfect, it's wham bam, thank you ma'am as everything goes pear-shaped and it's not her fault of course. We just think you'd like some good company."

"It's a good idea if I can get everything organised. I can phone the office and take time off. Everything goes quiet before Christmas but I need to make some phone calls like you suggested. Before that, I need one extra strong black coffee and two sugar. I think I can get everything together. Needless to say, I'm not phoning after Ms Bridges," Jo concluded firmly.

Helen and Nikki watched with great interest as Jo made a rapid sequence of phone calls, starting with her office, her two sons, the restaurant local to her home and finally, a short affectionate phone conversation with a very relieved John, judging by the phone conversation.

"I've agreed with my sons that this Christmas will be unconventional but it will work," Jo pronounced enthusiastically. "All they ask for is that there's time to get back to watch the TV programmes they like. Come to think of it, I like them too. They're nice and comforting and traditional and somehow I want it that way. John sends you his love and appreciation for looking after me and he'd passed word onto George who's coming over tonight with us to Chix. Does that sound all right?"

The two women were touched by Jo's resilience, even though they suspected that this was her reaction to the surface shock and the reverberations would rumble on a long while. It also moved them how much Jo valued her opinion when once, she had been the expert professional and they were coming to them for help.

"But what shall I wear?" Jo said, latching onto this practical concern. "I really don't know what to wear."

"Just relax," Helen reassured her in soothing tones."We use a small boutique round the corner, not your impersonal clothes market, something you could do without right now. when we've been caught short like this, it never fails. It's off the beaten track and I've used it ever since I first came to London and Nikki swears by it.we'll come with you."

The last words were the clincher. Both women knew that Jo would be very jittery if she were thrust into the manically busy Oxford street area of London and would very likely seriously freak out. Jo let herself be led to the red Peugeot and sit in the back seat like the child she once was. The two women in the front felt comforting.

Sure enough, Jo emerged from the boutique, a brilliant smile on her face having chosen a simple black off the knee dress that leapt out at her. As she'd grabbed enough makeup in her frantic scurry round her flat the day before, she had a long leisurely get together. It enabled her to look and feel her best, not to say the soothing feel of the flat she'd been living in. Helen and Nikki made their appearances and Jo's eyes opened wide with wonder.

"You both look really good. I hope you don't mind me saying," Jo said a little nervously as she was beginning to realise the reality of the club she'd backed off from going to, on a number of occasions.This time, it would happen and it made her feel both nervous and excited at the same time.

"Wait till you see the others," Nikki laughed merrily as she led the way to the front door. "It is a sight for the eyes, artistically speaking."

As they drove along the darkened streets, the coloured lights of London streetlife flashed past before their eyes and the three women were impelled to laugh and chatter amongst themselves, Nikki and Helen being aware that the days of suddenly deciding to go out that evening were numbered.By contrast, this was an entirely new experience for Jo and she wondered just what new door was opening up to her in her life. She felt like a teenager going out for her first dance even if she was going to take it easy. When they got there, the circular 'Chix' sign smiled welcomingly down at them and they were drawn into the pulsing sounds of honey coated dance music and flashing lights that took Jo's breath away. She stared open mouthed as she took in the sight of all the dancing women swaying to the music. She zeroed in on one incredibly glamorous wearing low cut slinky dresses that showed a generous length of thigh and the next and then the next again.

"Come on Jo," laughed Nikki understandingly."We'll introduce you to our friends some of whom you'll know already." Dazedly, she mentally returned to her two friends as they flanked her, protectively. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a number of stylishly attractive women appeared out of the gloom, apparently waiting for them. Jo couldn't believe her eyes as the long haired blonde with a gorgeously revealing black skirt metamorphosized into Karen. Similarly, the cool blonde in a trouser suit became Trisha. Sally-Anne answered visually to the attractive brunette with hair pulled away from her face. The tall glamorous woman wearing leather trousers and skimpy white top suddenly focussed into Alice and finally the incredibly aristocratic woman in a flowing gown appeared out of nowhere as George. Karen introduced Jo to Beth, the one woman she wasn't sure of , the elegant woman with a dark bob cut and Jo recalled the sympathetic journalist outside the court at Helen's acquittal.Jo's mouth hung open to see them all magically transformed, all glowing in their beauty.

"My God, you all look so fantastic," stammered Jo ecstatically. "Am I so glad to see you. You are a sight for sore eyes."

"You're pretty good looking,Jo. It's the first time in all the time I've known you that you've ever ogled me. Still, you need a treat tonight and Alice understands how I bask in narcissistic attention," drawled George which drew a general round of laughter, Alice included.

"Come on, the first round is on me.In any case, I'm thirsty," Beth urged on everyone. Jo was the last to place her order and George looked on with raised eyebrows.

"I'm only hesitating as I've been drinking way too much for the last few months except for last night. I seriously wondered about having coke and ice," Jo explained apologetically.

"What about an alcoholic drink first and soft drinks after that?" suggested Trisha politely."I'm the joint owner of this club but I don't want to force customers to get plastered, Jo."

"We all want you to have a mellow time of it," put in Sally-Anne kindly."Some of us have been through tough times so we know what it's like."

Jo looked round at these kind-hearted women who so wished her well. She'd wondered up till then if she was seriously in danger of being an alcoholic but now knew that it was only the presence of someone else silently pushing her to put back the booze. That pressure and that presence was gone now.

"In that case, I'll have a whisky and soda," smiled Jo, feeling the glow of approval all around them.


"I saw you eyeing up all the women on the dance floor," grinned George at her friend as they sat at the tables beside the dance floor. "Of course, we're different as we're each taken.

"I want to take things easy. I mean no pressure," came Jo's smiling reply, secretly eyeing her friend's generous breasts. She'd mostly seen George neatly buttoned up in her starched white shirt, what she could see that her gown didn't cover. "I mean there's no harm in just looking, is there."

"It was different for George and I,"laughed Karen, accentuating her strongly defined cheekbones. "We'd both evolved to the point where we were ripe for Sapphic experience with a faithful lover. We've compared notes, you see.Still, it's as you say. You can hang around with any of us unless you decide differently. I know that Trisha and Sally-Anne have a club to run," she added, kindly giving the two restless women the cue to slide off discreetly to their duties.

As time went on, a few of the group slid off to the dance floor to dance the night away. The colours swirled round the dance hall in dreamy patterns and the music pumped out from the speakers at just the level to causes pulses to quicken as the latest dance sounds and bodies to gyrate in sheer physical pleasure. Alternatively, slower music caused couples to embrace, lock their arms round each others' bodies to to kiss each other slow and long. Nikki and Helen who had the occasional dance but mainly sat it out with Jo, spoke softly talking nostalgically about many pleasurable evenings in the past. Finally, it occurred to Jo to go to the toilet and Nikki pointed the way. They smiled to each other as they suspected that, after a few drinks, Jo considered a bit of discreet circulating on her own.

Jo zigzagged her way towards the edge of the dance floor and stopped. She felt so close to where the action was but memories flashed back to when she was in her teens to the rare occasions when she accompanied school friends when she was waiting to be picked up by some youth. She felt that history was repeating herself , being the awkward shy one and, this time, her lack of experience in these matters made her feel all fingers and thumbs. A part of her was wondering about returning to the security of the table where Helen and Nikki sat, who could feel their friend's insecurities run through their skins.

"You want me to dance with you?" Jo mouthed over the loud music as a laughing young lovely with friendly compassion in her tones and in her heart gestured with both hands for Jo to join in. She'd tried giving her subtle messages for a little while to this slim, good looking older woman who was clearly new to the scene and very nervous, wistfully looking at everyone else enjoying themselves but her. Finally,she thought she would see what gives, being single and unattached. Not believing her luck, Jo slipped into the rhythm of the music, tuning into the way her new friend was dancing and starting to feel good about herself. She had no problems with who she was just then- she was just having a dance with another woman whom she wanted to know better.

"I thought you'd told Jo just to have a mellow time of it, Sally-Anne," laughed Karen to the dark-haired woman whose wry grin was sufficient answer.Sally had heard that Jo had had a tough time of it and she blessed her luck that her first time with another woman had worked out so wonderfully.

"When do you break up for Christmas so you can be with your beloved? Surely even nurses must get some time off?" Sally joked in return.

"I've got a long shift tomorrow, Beth has some last deadlines to hit and when we get home tomorrow night, we're going to have a long delicious shower together and some really good sex together- and then have a late Christmas dinner together," Karen answered audibly licking her lips at the prospect and sneaking a peek at Jo and her new friend dancing together.

"I must admit I'm proud of this club," Sally said dreamily in a nostalgic haze. "It's not just a money making concern but it really does have the knack of bringing the ladies together. I can't believe it was less than two years ago that I first kissed Trisha on this very same dance floor."

"You're such a romantic, babes," her favourite voice in the whole wide world answered her from above and behind her. Sally leaned back in her chair as she felt her partner's hands settle lovingly on her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. The coloured lights flickered, the music continued to gently pulsate as the ladies luxuriated in the atmosphere of what was their home from home. In this safe haven, all things were possible.



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GG72
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So who did Jo meet up with? :getingroove
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richard
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HiGG72- nice to see you're keeping up with my fic and, hopefully, other readers.



....................................................................................................................................................................



Scene Fifty-Three


At last, the dawning of Christmas day announced the end of all the last minute dashing, the supermarket queues and the frantic scurrying round the shops of London town and way beyond as it finally petered out. So many people mentally drew up the drawbridge with supplies for the next week or so and the country temporarily gave way to a curious moneyless existence. The fabled “White Christmas” didn't come to pass but a curiously mellow feeling descended on them all like an invisible cloud.
*****
When Jo Mills' two children finally came home for on the evening before Christmas day, they had been greeted by an exhausted mother who had blitzed through putting the Christmas decorations up and wrapping all the presents, said 'hi mum' in the normal way and disappeared upstairs to hang out together until it was time for the evening meal. They entered the kitchen to lurk around the fridge and pantry to eye up the traditional Christmas dinner only to be given unexpected news.
“I've decided that we're going out for Christmas dinner,” she said in a determined voice. ”I've been up to my eyeballs in work and this year, I'm having a holiday from cooking.”
The two fair-haired lads looked disconsolately at each other and Mark acted as spokesman.
“But mum, it means all that dressing up for a smart restaurant. You know how fussy you are about that sort of thing,”Mark whined. Jo was ready for that one.
“This year will be different. I don't mind if you wear jeans and T-shirt or anything with in limits so long as we don't get chucked out. We're not on display and I'm going to loosen up. It's the Christmas cheer that matters.”
Mark and Tom exchanged glances, their mother looked as if she meant it. Mark made a counter offer.
“OK mum, I suppose we'll live with that. So long as we're back for 'The Great Escape” and we don't hang round waiting for you to talk to friends you bump into,” he said suspiciously.
“Give me your preferences for 'must see' television on the TV Times,” Jo said crisply being one step ahead of her sons,”and I'll work out a time around that for us to get served.”
The two lads agreed. It seemed too good to be true but Tom had one thing he wanted to mention.
“I wanted to ask you how come you've never been in during all last term. Tom and I have tried to phone up for a chat a number of times.”
“Since both of you have temporarily flown the coop until you both showed up, I've done the same and got a life of my own.” Jo said straight-faced. ”Two can play your game.” There was no answer to that one.

During afternoon TV when Mark and Tom were engrossed in watching “The Great Escape,” Jo's mobile bleeped and she took the call in the kitchen. It was Nikki. Jo smiled to herself at Nikki's audible curiosity about her mystery friend and she replied enthusiastically.
“You're a dark horse, Jo Mills. I didn't think you'd get out there on the dance floor and snap up Jane Lancaster in short order.”
“Hardly that,” Jo laughed.”We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and had a great time talking when she drove me back to my house. I did give her a goodnight kiss and I'm seeing her the day after Boxing Day. She's staying at her parents over Christmas. I don't know how it's happened but it's blown the nonsense with Mel Bridges right out of the water.”
“Oh and what sort of kiss did you give her?” Nikki asked slyly.
“A French one of course,”Jo said with calm insouciance. ”God, she's really good looking. I can't thank you enough for everything you and Helen did for me. Oh, I nearly forgot. Can I pick up my overnight stuff from your flat after Christmas?”
“When you meet your date or whenever suits,”retorted Nikki cheekily.
Jo signed off and returned as a dutiful mother to watch the film with her children.

The other side of the phone, Helen laughed appreciatively at the news she gleaned from Nikki's side of the conversation. They knew the woman pretty well.
Behind them, Jo's overnight case was stowed in the one corner that wasn't occupied by a resplendent Christmas tree, artificial green branches glinting against the flashing white lights and coloured baubles. A pile of scrunched up Christmas paper lay on the ground and Christmas cards lined the mantelpiece. What meant most were the home-made sincere sentiments inscribed and cards from those who they'd been too busy to keep the proper contact they wanted.
“Tony Foster,” sighed Nikki with a touch of regret as she thought about her mate from her first job she'd done after leaving prison. They'd stuck together in bad times when they'd had a rough ride at work and he'd been a vital witness at Karen's trial. ”he's married now. Good on him. I forget to send him a card.”
“Why not send a belated Christmas card? Better late than never,” suggested Helen as she reached for another whisky flavoured liqueur chocolate. She'd been discreetly helping herself from the box and hoped that Nikki didn't notice.
“You greedy guts. You can't put that down on pregnancy food fads,” accused Nikki before her thoughts flitted from one topic to another. ”Just how do you get pissed on these chocolates. I will write to him, one of my growing number of male friends.”
Helen threw a cushion at Nikki's teasing. They were lying in the living room, having eaten their Christmas dinner and lazily resolving to leave the clearing up till later.
“Do you realise that this will be our last lazy Christmas. A year's time, we'll be surrounded by dirty nappies and our offspring demanding our attention. You don't have any regrets, sweetheart,” mused Helen with raised eyebrows.
“Absolutely none at all,” Nikki said in definite tones as she kissed her lover and lay down beside her in the half-light while Tori Amos's soft dulcet tones wove their way romantically around their happy home.

Many miles away, Nikki's parents came round to that time of year when they fulfilled their filial obligations. It had been a long established family tradition that their son John, daughter in law Jill and their two sons Edward and George came over on Christmas day to enjoy the traditional Christmas dinner at the dining table, not forgetting the Queen's Speech. Somehow, a chilly formality settled on the house and everyone stood around, making polite conversation. Even the children were more subdued than the elderly couple remembered children behaving. The presents were opened with a great deal of ceremony and general chatter from Jill as to which shops in Oxford Street she'd bought them. Nikki's parents heard the prattle with time honoured politeness though Mr Wade focussed his attention on the reprint of a stirring scene from the Battle of Trafalgar hanging over the fireplace. It came from his own parent's house and as a small boy, he'd studied every nuance with rapture. By contrast a light-hearted stimulating atmosphere accompanied Nikki and Helen when they came to visit. He couldn't wait to verbally spar with his intelligent, quick-witted daughter who brought a breath of fresh air into the house while Helen's presence especially induced a comfortable soothing atmosphere which his wife loved. There was something so resolutely normal about them both yet he felt that he'd lived very intensely in the short time they were there.
“My five year bonds are coming up for renewal, father,” John was saying in slow deliberate tones. ”I must confess I'm torn between reinvesting them as they are with accrued interest or to find some high yield shares to invest them. My best friend keeps urging me to take a chance, live dangerously.”
“You must decide as you see fit, John. You'll have far more contacts than I have, a retired naval captain,”Mr Wade said, his social self operating independently from his real feelings.
“A refill of sherry perhaps,”Mrs Wade intervened brightly to her husband's relief.
“I had forgotten,” Mr Wade said a little abruptly. ”I really ought to phone Nicola up and wish her a happy Christmas. I'll pass the phone over if you want to speak to her.”
Deliberately ignoring John's scowl of jealousy, Mr Wade moved rapidly over to the side table where the phone was placed. Bit by bit, he had become increasingly irked by his son's attitude which reminded him of a spoiled only child and he increasingly questioned his long standing policy of fair balance which felt increasingly hard to maintain. To his intense pleasure, his daughter's familiar tones answered the phone instead of their pre-recorded message.
“Hi dad. It's great to hear from you. I'm the only one conscious here as Helen's fallen asleep from too much Christmas dinner and too much booze,”Nikki's voice chirped away just when he most needed it.
“Are you sure that won't harm the baby or am I completely wrong?”Mr Wade asked slightly anxiously. Nikki spotted the parental concern a mile away and smiled warmly.
“Relax, dad, it's only smoking that Helen has to knock off. I'm now down to three cigarettes a day, smoking out in the garden complete with woolly hat, scarf and umbrella thanks to Helen. I'll have kicked the habit come the birth or I think I will.”
“I heard that. I'll hold you to it,” a very muffled voice sounded in Nikki's ear. The taller woman rolled her eyes skywards at being 'outed' making a verbal promise that she'd kept to herself, especially as Helen recovered enough to laugh loudly at her partner's mortification.
“What's it like your end, dad?” she replied, suspecting the worst.
“As you might expect. Your brother and his family are here,” Mr Wade said drily before switching to a more cheerful topic of conversation. “Look here, you and Helen must come down over the Christmas break. We can put you up in your old bedroom if travelling is difficult. If nothing else, you've got further to travel than John.”
“As bad as that?” Nikki asked, her voice laden with the sympathy she'd offer to any of her friends and her parents were already in that league.
“Something like that,” Mr Wade said cryptically, feeling her son's disapproval and Jill's empty prattle. Nikki was deeply moved by the way her parents obviously wanted them to come to the rescue and regretted that they weren't with them.
“Give us a date and we won't fail you,”she assured her father, all the strength of Wade family virtues suffused into her tones. It was as if twenty years of separation from her parents had not been so much been forgotten but had never existed.
“There speaks our favourite daughter-and Helen too,”Mr Wade spoke, as proud as punch and glaring daggers at that no good son of his. His wife looked on approvingly. Right then, the opening notes of the Sound of Music commenced on a TV that was temporarily not his as their traditional politeness was to let guests choose which programme to watch. Thus it was that Jill had commandeered the remote control just when The Cruel Sea, his favourite war film, was on the other channel and just waiting to be watched.

The streets of London were patrolled by a vigilant police force who were enforcing the equally traditional crack down on drunk drivers. Ros and Jenny's early morning shift was due to end at lunchtime to be replaced by the other shift and they'd done their bit. They had mixed attitudes to this part of their job. Partly they were contemptuous of idiots who didn't know better in ignoring all the warnings as they picked off foolish drunks who hadn't got the sense to be subtle about it, especially this time of day. They had also seen the darker consequences of such driving as innocent pedestrians and law abiding drivers were the victims of such stupidity. As Ros drove past Larkhall Prison, she clocked a motorist a few cars ahead of them who was clearly under the influences as he weaved in and out of the two lanes.
“We've another customer to read the riot act to,” Ros pointed out to her partner.”You'd better dig out another breathalyser to add to the pile.”
Jenny activated the flashing light and siren while Ros powered her car in a short, sharp arcing curve to jump ahead and cut across the line of progress of the offending vehicle. Sure enough, the driver got the hint and, armed with the majesty of the law, she strolled over to where the driver who had wound down the window and glared at her.
“Have you been drinking?”Ros asked politely enough.
I beg your pardon,”the man answered haughtily. It was a fatal mistake as he had rubbed her up the wrong way immediately.
“Can you tell me what you've had to drink in the last twenty-four hours. I have reason to believe you are driving with alcohol in excess of the prescribed amount,” Ros demanded sternly, her police hat wearing her emblem of authority. She took in the smartly dressed man whose white shirt and tie and whose manner made her think immediately of the archetypal bowler-hatted civil servant.
“Look here, I might have had a bit to drink but I know I'm under the limit. I have important business to finalise so I demand that you move your car out of my way.”
“Not until you agree to take a breathalyser test,” Ros retorted, firmly standing her ground. It's an offence to refuse to take a breathalyser test when asked to do so.
“Give it to me and let's have done with it,” the man replied grumpily, trying to sound as if the matter was of no consequence. In reality, he was desperately rerunning the impulse he'd suddenly surrendered to of suddenly downing a couple of whiskies in the pub round the corner after a night of steady drinking. For the first time, he is afraid of what a lowly minor official might do to him. He buries his head in his hands.

An hour after the police work has been done and the man has been processed after sitting endlessly on the hard, unforgiving police benches, Ros and Jenny couldn't help feeling scornful at these idiots who deserved more to be charged for being stupid than anything else. She'd raised her eyebrows at the glowering man who insisted at being called Sir, as if he deserved special treatment. They dodged past DI Sullivan who wasn't offering a Happy Christmas and smiled hastily at DI Martin who indulgently waved them off to the sort of destination that she would share with DCI Taylor.
“Bloody hell, thank God we're done at last,” Jenny sighed thankfully as they got into their squad car. Exchanging a mischievous glance at her partner, Jenny activated the siren and flashing lights while Ros gunned the accelerator. Wailing down the streets, they finally pulled up at their flat which they stumbled into.
“Bedtime for us for a long long while until we order a takeaway meal and crack open the booze,” Ros sighed as she took her partner's cap off and started unbuttoning her jacket. She was desperate for them to look and feel less uniform. The last few week's intensive shifts before Christmas meant that they had done little more than collapse into bed, totally knackered. Both women suddenly realised how they lusted after each other now that the tight restraints of their job were shaken free.
“We know we work insane hours so we shouldn't spend hours slaving over a red hot cooker,” Jenny agreed, planting a series of fierce kisses on her lover's neck and face. They left a trail of police issue clothing behind them as they headed for their bed before glorying in the delicious feel of unrestrained pleasures. They both felt they deserved it.

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GG72
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I've been reading this on 3 different sites get's a little confusing sometimes.
Edited by GG72, Jun 17 2012, 10:28 PM.
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richard
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Hi GG72- well done for tracking down the three sites and keeping up with my fic. Here's the second set of Christmas pieces.



....................................................................................................................................................................


Scene Fifty Four


Christmas was a comparatively low-key affair for a professional couple like Peter and Claire Walker who preferred to treat it that way. They weren't killjoy in their outlook but they saw it as a time to mellow out by themselves with good food and drink and use the rest of the Christmas break to visit their respective families. This year, they had got to know Paul Williams at the Howard League AGM. Peter had talked to him on the run up to Christmas and had found out that he was at a loose end and disconnected however acute his observations were on the commercialisation of Christmas.

Paul took a taxi so that he could drink comfortably and safely and, while he chatted companionably to the driver, he became aware of a two tone wailing sound from behind him and the expected flashing blue lights. Instantly the Asian taxi driver pulled his vehicle over to the side out of fear of authority and because his car was his livelihood. As the car flashed past, Paul thought he saw two female policewomen talking in an animated fashion and concluded that they had a lot to discuss about the criminal they were chasing. He was thankful that it wasn't him that he was after and instructed the driver on where in the street was best to stop.

“Hi Paul,” Claire greeted him in her friendliest fashion as he had come at a time when she'd put the tray of stuffing into the oven, fitting in the cramped space around the foil wrapped turkey, the roast potatoes starting to turn crisp and brown, the sausages sitting side by side and outside the oven, the carrots and brussel sprouts all peeled and suitably sliced. She kept half an eye on her watch but insisted on joining Peter in greeting their guest. ”What do you want to drink?”

“A whiskey and coke,” Paul replied with heartfelt joy. ”Thank God it's safe now to drink what with the police on the beat.”

“Take a seat in the front room and I'll fetch the drinks,” Peter offered with that intangible sense of working round his partner, something Paul picked up upon. He gestured the man into the front room in which stood the obligatory Christmas tree. It was a quietly decorated room and there were no flashy garishly coloured garlands but artistically arranged likes of twinkling white lights set against subdued shades. It had a curiously restful feel and the unwrapped presents were set neatly on the sideboard. It epitomized how quietly the couple went on with their lives.

“So even crusading fighters for prison justice have to take time off from their labours,” Claire asked Paul wittily. This was part of their light hearted banter which had developed after a hearty Christmas dinner and cracking open another bottle of wine.

“You know Helen of old or so I hear. You know how the psychology works,”Paul replied with that sense of authoritative knowledge behind him. Intimate talks with Nikki had not been in vain as Helen was a frequent topic of their conversations.

“Helen is one of the hardest working women I've ever known but she does like to party. You must know that Nikki suits her down to the ground. Between them, they'll be able to handle any remaining knocks that life throws at them.”

“Having children might not be an unmixed blessing. My problem is that I haven't the desire to carry on the family name etc. There is a choice in not having children,” Peter said, a touch defensively to Paul's sharp ear. There was no need to feel that way, he reasoned and thirties people were all under the same unconscious pressures, whether self induced or not, to conform to type.

“Helen and Nikki's friends at Chix would say the same no doubt from what Nikki says of them. It's a matter of life's choices and talking about choices, that child of theirs is going to have one hell of an upbringing,” Paul replied diplomatically.

“I propose a toast,” Claire intervened, popping her head round the corner from the kitchen she'd been tending. ”To Nikki and Helen's baby. Long life and happiness to them all.”

“Long life and happiness,” the three of then intones with heartfelt wishes amongst the comfortable, hard earned surroundings.

*******

Larkhall Prison at Christmas was a curious, disembodied state of mind. Nothing really changed from month to month except that, in wintertime, it was dark outside when the obligatory morning call came around when clanking sounds unlocked the prison cells. It was also likelier to be wet and windy outside during afternoon association and it didn't matter when the nights drew in as they were all inside by then. The only focus on the world, if you could call it that, was via the colour TV which reminded inmates of the Christmas shopping they could otherwise have been doing. What churned up peculiar emotions in the inmates was whenever the particular soap opera,”Eastenders” which was supposed to describe their lives and depicting the good times they could have been having down at the Queen Vic complete with booze and Christmas decorations- especially for genuine Eastenders like the Julies.

“Wasn't like that when we was on the outside,”Julie Saunders, hazily recalling distant memories. God, they'd spent a lifetime here, now they recalled

“Andy always came around with some hard luck story about how the boat hadn't come in this year, same as every year so I had to do all the Christmas shopping, cook the dinner and pay for it with me lying on my back with some punter up me,” Julie Johnson disconsolately replying. Through the haze of distant memories, her children were still little and innocent even though her Rhiannon had done time for shoplifting because the pimp she worked for had got her onto smack. She still wondered how her kids were getting on in the big wide world.

“There's a new inmate on remand, name of Mel Bridges . She's been done for smuggling drugs bigtime or so she says. Reckon she's a tough bitch by the look of her,”sneered Natalie Buxton, the very evil woman whom a perverse fate had granted her Olivia Newton-John style of innocent good looks.

“Well, that's better than being a nonce,” Julie Saunders retorted.

“I am not a nonce. I was fitted up. Still, this drugs pusher probably supplied your Rhiannon her first taste of smack,”Natalie Buxton fired back with an evil leer on her face while Julie Saunders restrained her friend from thumping Buxton. She wouldn't have a chance against her karate trained opponent.

It was at that moment that Mel Bridges emerged onto the wing. She felt nowhere near as tough inside as her leather jacket implied. She was feeling distinctly jittery and her main fear was that she'd meet women who were somehow connected to the drugs trade. She also knew that this prison was connected with Jo Mills through the trials she'd heard that Jo had represented. Most of all, she wanted that connection with Jo Mills kept a tight secret for as long as was possible.

She'd gone through a shattering invasion of her human dignity when she'd first had her personal possessions taken away from her, of being strip searched by some cold-eyed prison officer hiding disdainfully behind her prison uniform and sleeping in some really crummy communal cell. It reminded her of some rough dives she'd slept in during her days as a touring musician but the compensation for that was the high of performing on stage, being paid for her work and sleeping with some young lovely after the show. The aggressive women with whom she shared the cell radiated tension and fear in equal measures. When she came onto the wing, she could see the women eyeing her up as the new kid on the block, the sparsely decorated Christmas tree, the dingy drab yellow paintwork that hemmed her in and, as if to mock her, the glass ceiling in the arched roof as if to mock her predicament.

*********

In their comfortable house, Maureen and Joy were padding about in their nighties, having indulged themselves in some much overdue lovemaking and slept in late, partly because of the ceaseless grind of months of hard work and responsibility. They'd learnt that the only way to save their sanity was to switch off the 'work' switch the moment they knocked off for their holidays. To start ruminating on reorganizations they might initiate, on investigations they were running was a sure recipe for madness. They reverted to the natural women that they were in their private lives.

“I swear to God, Joy why didn't we pay more attention to cookery classes when we were at school?”

“Because you'd already got a thing for uniforms and Cagney and Lacey were more fun to watch on TV than Fanny Craddock?” supposed Maureen very accurately as she pored over a rather neglected, rarely thumbed through cookery book.

“Women were supposed to be good at multitasking or so the magazines tell me but why the hell doesn't someone write a recipe book for making bog standard Christmas dinners?” Joy said with total exasperation as she dropped the last slightly inelegantly peeled potato into the saucepan which had patiently awaited it.

“You say the same thing every year, darling,” the slightly more patient woman explained as she poured the precisely measured amount of hot water into the bowl that contained stuffing mix.”You know we finally cobble together the Christmas dinner and forget all about how to make it for next year.”

“I've had enough,” snapped Joy at herself.”Give me a pen and writing pad and I'll do it.”

“Here it is darling,” Maureen said as she placed the items on the precariously small area and slid her arm around her lover. She knew everything would come out right in the end and they'd be wound round each other on the sofa, lovingly tight and watching anything but police crime dramas.

*******

“It's so lovely to see you,” Trisha exclaimed delightedly as Karen and Beth poled round at Trisha and Sally Anne's.”Sally's in the kitchen as she loves cooking Christmas dinner.”

“I am really the worst cook in existence. Being a journalist, I'm used to calling in on eating places around London. You name me anywhere and I'll pull it up- at least if my electronic friend is working properly,”Beth rattled away, kissing Trisha effusively on her cheek

“Your what? I thought such friends are for when you're horny and on your own,” joked Trisha deliberately taking it the wrong way. ”You've got Karen for that.”

“Yes well, there is that of course,” Beth said with a straight face ,”but I mean my mobile where I store all my important information. That has to be my walking office when I'm on the move.”

“And I'm really grateful for your hospitality if for no other reason to escape my scrounging son Ross who will no doubt be knocking on our front door as we speak,”Karen said tartly. ”He won't have figured out the names and addresses of our female friends. He's been very wary since he came round when Kristine was round and she led the three of us to shred his character, starting with his laziness and moral bullshit. She was his lecturer at uni and knows him inside out.”

“You think he's turning over a new leaf?” Trisha enquired, a layer of cynicism within her being unwilling to trust anyone who stepped over the line. She took this stance with ease, having long since squared with Nikki the way she'd apparently abandoned her to her fate in Larkhall.

“We'll see how he shapes up- after Christmas. He has a high bar to jump over and he's going to have to keep jumping before he gets an iota of trust from either me or Beth. She matters whether he likes it or not,” Karen pronounced grimly.

“I'll be through in a minute,” called out a clear voice in the kitchen from Sally-Anne who loved the whole paraphernalia of Christmas Day.

“Hey thanks Trisha, you know what my poison is,” called out Karen gaily as a glass of whisky and tonic was placed into her hands. Now that she only drank in any quantity when she went out, preferring a glass of wine in the comfort of her own home, the spirits that she used to drink to secure temporary oblivion in the face of her troubles was not her enemy anymore. She sipped the spirits but it was the company around her that warmed her up the most.



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Scene Fifty-Five



Charlie Deed's concerns as a politically minded student, were curiously inward looking on a personal level however much her political concerns were all-embracing. She always felt when she returned to the parental home that she'd been beamed down from outer space but the planet earth she'd returned bore no resemblance to the version she'd left a few months ago. As she was in her final year at uni, her order of priorities was buckling down to her studies, keeping up her socialising when she could as a good second preference while keeping up with news on the home front came a very bad third. She had just come down for the Christmas break and was in for several severe shocks which John thought judicious to drop on her during Christmas day when they were on their own.

gI expect George and Alice will be round on Boxing Day, same as last year- they are still together, aren't they?h Charlie asked distractedly, occupying the armchair from which she was insisting on watching The Sound of Music. Like her mother, she was quite capable of having it both ways and didn't see the need to justify herself.

gYou're quite right. They are a very devoted couple,hJohn replied promptly.

gSo how come you don't bring round female company now George is relaxed about who you take up with? I'm a big girl now, you know,hCharlie said in her attempt at mature sophistication, spoiling the effect with the box of Cadbury's Roses chocolates she kept dipping into.

gWho would you have in mind?h John ventured cautiously.

gThat's up to you. Jo for instance. The two of you could get on really well if you didn't misbehave yourself. You know what you're like,h Charlie said, turning her head round to face him,a big grin on her face. She never sensed what was about to befall her.

gAs a matter of fact, I've got a job for you. Can you hold the fort while I fetch Kristine Thorne? She's a college lecturer whom I've got to know recently and I've invited her over for the Boxing Day buffet.h

gCan't she get a taxi? They do run you know,h Charlie said, reservations mounting in her about her capacity to deal with the combination of her mother, her partner and grandfather without her father's solid sense of authority and diplomacy at the back of her.

gShe can but everyone else has the same idea. Besides, she's blind and has a guide dog to bring over,h John said in deliberately matter of fact tones.

gSo no Jo Mills,h Charlie said at last after shock had made her brain momentarily malfunctioned. Her father's choice of female company was a strange one to her.

gI'm afraid Jo and I aren't on the best of terms as she has terminated our relationship,hJohn said at a slow and deliberate pace.

gThat's nothing new,h scoffed Charlie, latching onto what she thought was familiar territory. hYou always end up getting back together eventually. It's like some old fashioned dance routine.h

John counted to five, cast his eyes skyward and prepared to drop the big one. There was no alternative but to lay out the facts in as calm and deliberate fashion as possible with more firmness in direction than in directing juries in ten trials put together.

gNot this time Charlie. She's had the bad fortune in being seduced by another woman with potentially serious consequences to herself. I cannot go into it as the whole thing's sub judice but I can assure you that while I continue to be a good friend to her, she has quite enough to cope with and she's at home with her children. One thing I must impress on you is not to talk about her in front of company. George is up to speed on the situation and that is all you need to know right now.h

Charlie's blue eyes stood out as if they were on stalks and her mouth hung open but she made no sound. The room was dead still and finally, John moved over to the drinks cabinet and poured out a stiff measure of vodka and a dash of lemonade. Wordlessly, he handed to to Charlie who downed it with one gulp. It took her a long time for her to start speaking again and The Sound of Music felt comfortably normal and conventional.


********

Joseph shook his head when George blithely told him of the arrangements with a degree of insouciant disregard for danger that Alice admired but knew she could never emulate. Last time, he'd been deputized to drop it on John that George would bring round her girlfriend round to John's on Boxing day while Charlie had dropped in from outer space and had found family relationships between her parents disturbingly cordial. Her views on Alice's presence had tested her modernity to the limit. This time, George had provided a new twist on the situation in stating that John would nip out and bring round some new female friend but it wasn't going to be Jo as he'd expected. George had worked overtime with her silver tongue in persuading him much against his wishes that Ms Kristine Thorne was a frightfully intelligent woman, brilliant company and, guess what, she's blind and she'd be bringing her guide dog as well.
gBlind?h sputtered Joseph in perfect bewilderment. hWhere does he pick up these women from? Will it be safe for her to come round? I mean, I thought houses had to be specially adapted. How on earth is she going to eat Christmas dinner? Is John going to spoon-feed her?h
gJust relax, daddy,h George spoke in amused tones knowing how absurdly nineteenth century he was. gJohn has offered to accept all responsibility for her. I guarantee that, having met the woman, everything's going to be all right. By any standards, she's really capable. Trust me.h
George got rapidly into full persuasion mode of talking, explaining just what Kristine could do but got the feeling it wasn't properly sinking in. She resorted to keeping it short and simple, talking in nannyish tones right at the end.
gWhatever you do daddy, don't put your foot in it with some ill judged remark like that. If you do insult her, I'll never forgive you and besides, you'll be living very dangerously.h
Joseph put down the phone and spent the evening muttering into his best malted whisky. Somehow, it didn't taste right. He finally thought over what George was saying and opted to reserve judgement. Whatever his daughter was, she wasn't a fool.
Christmas day arrangements started, Charlie being persuaded to get out of bed, presentably dressed before the guests arrived, the first of whom was Granddad who was irritatingly silent on recent startling developments.
gHappy Christmas, George. I'm glad as usual to see my favourite daughter and Alice, it's good to see you once again,h Joseph rumbled in his politest tones. George was dressed in one of her stunning flowing dresses, her hair elegantly pinned up while Alice wore her favourite black trousers and while lacy top which set off her beauty to perfection. Already Joseph was purring like a cat that had been tickled under his ear with so much female beauty around him. At the back of his mind, he was curious to see what to make of this Ms Kristine Thorne before finally committing himself to an enjoyable Christmas.

Finally, the sound of John's car could be picked out by several pairs of attentive ears and finally, John's voice intermingled with a clear attractive sounding female voice together with two barking dogs clearly enjoying their conversation. What took Joseph and Charlie aback was that, instead of the stereotypical blonde, a well built woman, with shortish auburn hair, a natural sense of presence, wearing a long but slightly floaty black skirt with cream spots, and a long tunic-style black top that is low enough to draw attention to her prominent breasts. In her left hand, she held a harness that was attached to a lively, frolicsome Labrador dog around whom Mimi bounded excitedly.
George being the most forward socialite, made all the introductions in her usual grand style. Kristine took to the crusty old gentleman but she had reservations about the undertone in Charlie Deed's voice, concluding that her perceived problem was that she was supplanting Jo Mills. It made her think of her own family situation as her mother had died when she was eleven and her father had remarried. However, she had not got on with her father ever since, and the less they saw of each other, the better they can tolerate each other. Her father has never been remotely proud of any of her achievements while John was clearly a million times different in this respect. She concluded that Charlie's problems were way different from her own.
gI take it, you don't get a chance to get out very often,h Charlie said in a conversation with her , eager to demonstrate her understanding of Kristine's unfortunate affliction and the difficult situation in which that life's accident had left her. hIt must be nice to see new surroundings once in a while.h
The audible hush that fell on the room had all the tension of five seconds before the bomb went off.. George, Alice and John had experienced their friend's forceful presence at the Howard League AGM, both in discussions and in socializing. Joseph had taken Kristine's measure, being rapidly impressed with her style. Finally, Kristine expressed her views with more than usually precise articulation
“}I know you are trying to be kind, Charlie but I've found that not being sighted is not quite the disadvantage that you might think. I teach Education Studies at the University of London and I'm pursuing a Ph.D. in a combined doctorate of Education and Criminology. I obtained a grade 8 in flute and singing at the age of eighteen. I went skiing three times whilst at a boarding school for blind and partially sighted pupils. I can go anywhere, do anything. I got a GCSE in catering and I'm told I'm a really good cook except I do wish that manufacturers would put labels on tins in Braille so I can tell what it is that I'm opening.h
Everyone burst out in appreciative laughter at the droll finale to Kristine's little exposition which had the right element of charm about it. Charlie's eyes opened wide at this stream of mind boggling revelations but didn't think to doubt the other woman her word. It broke the ice marvellously and was the signal for all of them to circulate round the buffet table and engage in free-flowing conversations.
gSit Jules,h Kristine commanded as he figured out who he thought the most vulnerable to his appealing doggy eyes and cute personality. Immediately, he trotted over to the corner , knowing that his mistress would provide for him. He knew that he was deprived of any chance of tasty droppings.
gI should have tried that when we were together John,h George said mischievously at John while Alice laughed. She felt relaxed and at home in this atmosphere of lively conversation that sparkled like the chilled Champagne on offer.
gYou are most impressively talented. You have come very far very quickly,h rumbled Joseph, admiring the woman's enterprise without thinking in the least to make any adjustments. Kristine picked up on this straightaway.
"You might think me contrary but looking back on my life I almost wish I'd done law at university and become a barrister instead. I didn't discover my almost obsessive interest in the law until I began researching prisons and prison education for my MA. Believe it or not, I actually found the civil procedure rules fascinating.h
gThat's really marvellous to hear,h Joseph said enthusiastically while George grinned in the background. hMy daughter George has made a highly successful and lucrative career in that field, not to mention her natural ability to drive hard bargains.h
gDaddy, I learnt that at a very early age as you should know,h retorted George, grinning. John certainly wondered to himself about the untapped potential in Kristine to be a barrister, having seen her ability to argue and comparing it to George's.
The group split up into a variety of interesting conversations based on a friendly interchange. It induced a stereo sense of tuning into one line of conversation with another fitting randomly in the background. Alice found herself closeted with Charlie Deed who had studied her on a number of occasions, remarking how human and pleasant her mother could now be as she'd drastically changed her circle of acquaintances.
gYou and mum seem to be getting on like a house on fire these days. Ifm grateful for that as it means that when I hook up with her, she is really good company these days.h
gDon't suppose that lesbian relationships are necessarily plain sailing, Charlie,hAlice quietly observed.
gI'm only judging on from what I've seen around me compared with my own unorthodox family,h Charlie said, faintly blushing. hMy last relationship was with my tutor at university. He's married and it ended up too much friction for me to deal with.h
gRelationships need to be worked on, Charlie. Lesbians have their exes and they can be no better than in the case of straight couples. From my observations, I've seen friends of mine haunted by them when they should have left well enough alone.h
Charlie readily absorbed this mature piece of observation and George smiled thankfully to herself at her partner's sense of discretion. There was a place for total candour in life but this was not one of them but this painfully won wisdom might help Charlie on her own path through life. George wasn't overfond of philosophising on life as she felt that Charlie had quite enough of a headstrong nature. This was coupled with her being a heart breaker, just like her mother as Daddy had said on more than one occasion.
gSo what's this I hear about Jo Mills?h Joseph inquired in a discreet private moment of John while Kristine was engrossed in an animated conversation with George. gI understand that she came close to being in a real pickle over this disreputable woman she picked up with. For once you are an entirely innocent party in the proceedings.h
John laughed heartily at Joseph's observation and it harked back to history which might almost be wreathed around by the mists of nostalgia, as if a book had been opened up of some notorious Regency character in an eighteenth century novel. Distance was being lent to this period in John's life by the way he was trying to do the right thing in his private life as much in his public life.
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions,h said John sympathetically of Jo. hShe meant well and Jo and I have a lot of tangled history behind us anyway.h Alice shuddered inside. If she hadn't pulled away from Becky, the same could have happened to her.
"You and George have come right- in your unorthodox way and so have our worthy friends Nikki Wade and Helen Stewart as they set off in life's journey that you, I and George have travelled,hJoseph said affectionately, warmed inside by a mellow feeling of nostalgia and malt whisky. They looked around at the comfortable feeling home, decorations glinting off the Christmas tree in the corner and Christmas cards lining the mantelpiece from many dear friends. The sharp-eared George picked up on this snatch of conversation and jumped in on it.
"I propose a toast, everyone,h she said in her clear, carrying way,hCharge your glasses. To Nikki and Helen and their family. Good health, fortune and happiness.h
These words caught the free-floating mood and everyone charged their glasses while the fine weather outside cast beams of slanting sunshine on the buffet food and the assembled company gathered around
gTo Nikki, Helen and their family,h the voices chorussed in various tones and harmonies, promising friendship across the miles that separated them only by distance.


THE END
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