When the Time Comes (ARC)

by Adele O'Neill

  ‘Take your time, Sarah, I understand how difficult this time must be for you.’ Lucinda says encouragingly, playing up on the drama.

  ‘Jennifer Buckley was my friend.’ She pauses for a sympathy-inducing second, the sniffle added for affect. ‘I’ve known her pretty much all my life, since we were five.’ She clears her throat making a dramatic show of composing herself for the assembled crowd. ‘We’ve been in each other’s lives since then, right up until she…’ She raises her hand in the air, the gesture evoking just the right amount of response from Lucinda.

  ‘Take your time,’ Lucinda says again.

  ‘Sorry, yes, what I was saying is… right up until she wasn’t,’ she lets her voice trial off into the dense air that surrounds us. ‘Jenny was my best friend… there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She was an only child and so was I, so we decided very early on to be each other’s sisters. Look out for each other.’

  ‘And did you?’ Lucinda pauses and throws her eyes towards the court reporter making sure that nothing she says is missed. ‘Did you look out for Jenny?’

  ‘Yes, always.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘In every way,’ she answers sharply as though Lucinda’s question is a veiled insult. ‘I was her friend, godmother to her two children, Abbie and Josh, I accompanied her on all her hospital visits, everything, whatever it took.’

  ‘And professionally?’

  ‘And yes, professionally,’ it takes Sarah a moment to follow Lucinda’s line of questions. ‘Yes, as her solicitor, I looked after her affairs.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, I tried to make sure her affairs were in order… you know so that when she… that the kids—’

  ‘Your godchildren?’ Lucinda interjects.

  ‘Yes, Abbie and Josh,’ her eyes flicker to them in the gallery and even though I try and tell myself to resist the urge to look too, I turn around. Josh’s head is buried in his chest. ‘I tried… Jenny wanted,’ she takes another sip of water, recognising that her words are getting stuck and when she clears her throat she continues. ‘Jenny wanted to make sure they would be provided for after she was gone.’ She says and I stare at her willing her to look my way, to look me in the eye but she doesn’t. She’s not that brave. She knows I know what she said about me and the accusations she made about whether or not I’d look after my children when Jenny was gone.

  ‘Ms Barry,’ Lucinda’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I shake my head to refocus on what’s going on, ‘you say you tried, what do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, I was always talking to Jenny about getting her affairs in order so that when…’ she pauses again and it’s becoming irritating. I never understood how she and Jenny were friends, nothing about them is the same. Jenny was a resilient, trailblazing woman who was sharp and bright and never afraid of a challenge, Sarah is anything but.

  ‘When what, Sarah?’ Lucinda’s words are direct, brief.

  ‘When the time came,’ she says softly, succinctly as though she’s delivering the final monologue in a Shakespearean play.

  ‘Like an enduring power of attorney?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And could you state for the court what a power of attorney does?’

  ‘A power of attorney allows for a specially appointed person to take actions on the person's behalf if she is incapacitated through illness, among other things.’

  ‘And did you succeed in registering Jennifer’s power of attorney?’

  ‘Yes, well, yes and no.’ She stretches her hand and picks a stray strand of her hair and hooks it back behind her ear. ‘Jenny and I had discussed her will on many an occasion. We discussed how the children would be looked after when she was gone and we had started the process but hadn’t had a chance to complete it, she thought she still had time.’

  ‘So, in a professional capacity you were charged by Jennifer to execute her instructions to register her will and act as a power of attorney for her, should her circumstances in the future require it?’ Lucinda questions.

  ‘Yes,’ she adds. ‘We had many conversations about the legalities connected with her estate. Who would have power of attorney over her care in the event that she wouldn’t be able to make a decision for herself and how the children would be provided for after she was gone.’ Sarah says. I inhale slowly to calm the bile that’s rising up my throat and burning my insides, she’s making herself out to be a martyr for Jenny and Jenny would have hated it.

  ‘And did Ms Buckley appoint a power of attorney before she died?’

  ‘She asked me to be her power of attorney – we had many conversations on it, and we were due to formalise the paperwork in July.’

  ‘Can you describe the process for the court?’

  ‘Well, we had a statement from her doctors verifying that she was of sound mind and understood the effect of creating the power. That, I think was dated the 30th of April.’ Lucinda hands documents to the registrar who in turn delivers it to the judge. ‘We also had a solicitor, an independent one from a different firm, verifying that she was of sound mind and understood the effect of creating the power, dated the 1st of May.’

  ‘2018?’

  ‘Yes, 2018 and then we had the same solicitor verify that Jenny was not under any duress or influence to create the power of attorney.’ Does duress by an overbearing best friend not count?

  ‘So why wasn’t the registration completed?’

  ‘There was one document outstanding, it was her statement of understanding. She was scheduled to complete it in June – on the 18th of June.’

  ‘And why didn’t she?’ Lucinda’s words are pointed, her intentions clear. She wants the trial to focus on the plans that Jenny made and intended to keep, therefore rendering mine or should I say the defences argument that Jenny took her own life, untrue.

  ‘Jenny didn’t complete the document because…’ My heart races when Sarah looks at me, her hatred for me is dripping out through her eyes. She blames me, she wants my children to blame me, she wants the court to blame me, fuck’s sake, she wants the world to blame me and she’ll stop at nothing until it’s done. ‘Because, by the time the appointment that had been scheduled by Jenny to do so came around… she was already dead.’

  ‘Thank you, Ms Barry.’ Lucinda says and I cower lower in my seat with the weight of everyone’s eyes on my back. Lucinda’s strategy is working. Reasonable doubt of the defence’s argument has been cast.

  ‘And knowing what you know of Jennifer, was she the type to make plans that she knew she couldn’t keep?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Sarah says.

  Lucinda takes a deep breath, runs her eyes slowly through the jury focusing on each of them individually making sure the answer Sarah gave has seeped into their consciousness.

  ‘And Ms Barry, could you clarify for the court, as the paperwork and necessary registrations were not completed before Jennifer’s untimely death, who is, or who are the beneficiaries of Jennifer Buckley’s estate?’ Lucinda lowers her voice a decibel now confident that she’s caught the jury on her hook.

  ‘Liam Buckley is,’ Sarah says quietly.

  ‘Sorry, Sarah, could you repeat that for the court.’

  ‘I said,’ she leans forward to the microphone and lifts her eyes a fraction towards the jury, ‘Liam is,’ she says again, ‘Mr Liam Buckley is now the sole beneficiary to Jennifer Buckley’s estate.’

  ‘Thank you, Sarah,’ she looks in the direction of Mr Justice O’ Brien, ‘no further questions.’ She swishes her cloak behind her like a peacock and perches on the chair behind her bench. She doesn’t even glance at William when he stands.

  ‘Ms Barry, in your capacity as a solicitor, what percentage of your time is spent with clients drawing up wills and preparing power of attorneys?

  ‘I’d say…’ She hesitates, trying to calculate a percentage quickly in her head. You can tell by the perplexed expression that she doesn’t have an answer read
y. On non-court days, I usually take between four and six client appointments and I would estimate approximately half of those are will-related.’

  ‘How many court days do you have per week?’

  ‘Usually one, its Wednesday in our district.’

  ‘So, four days by let’s say… two clients a day. Is it fair to say that you see an average of eight clients a week who are with you to prepare a will or deal with a power of attorney registration.’

  ‘Yes,’ her answer is immediate.

  ‘And of the eight clients a week, how many of those complete the process?’

  ‘I don’t… I don’t know exactly, I don’t have exact figures for that.’

  ‘Okay, can you answer then… do all your clients complete the process, once they’ve begun.’

  ‘Um, no, not all. Some of them change their mind.’

  ‘Is it safe to say that these clients you refer to change their mind of their own free will?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Thank you Ms Barry, nothing further.’

  13.

  2 Days Before Jenny Died

  Alex pulled out the white leather stool at the island and dragged herself on to it while hot, silent tears continued to weave their way down her cheeks across the fine lines of her face. The highlighter she had applied earlier that morning had long since worn off. Not one trace of a sparkle remained on her cheek bones and the signature dark brown mascara and equally dark brown liquid eyeliner she always wore, ran in streaks from the corners of her eyes. She pulled a sheet of kitchen paper from the stand to dry her face. It had been a little over an hour since Liam had left and while he had muttered I won’t be long or something to that effect, the lack of response to what she had said to him just before that did nothing to ease the sickness she felt in her stomach. I should never have fallen for a married man. He hadn’t answered her when she had said it and neither had she qualified it in return. Was it a moment of madness or a true reflection of her inner thoughts? Nothing made sense to her but then again, falling head over heels for a man who had been happy to cheat on his wife made no sense either.

  From the moment she had met him, she had been blindsided by Liam’s charm. She should have been stronger. She should have paid more attention to the signs. She should have paid more attention to Louise when her sister had first voiced her reservations. Jenny Buckley’s heart must have broken in two when Liam had left to be with her and her heart wrenched at the thought of the pain she might have caused. She balled up kitchen paper that she had lodged underneath her dripping nose. She was finished with crying, finished with feeling sorry for herself.

  Before Abbie had summoned Liam over to Oakley Drive, she had planned to sit down with him and rationally discuss how she was feeling about him moving back home to be with his family. She reached for her phone and dialled Louise.

  When Louise didn’t answer, she hung up knowing that as soon as the missed call was noticed, Louise would ring her back. She stretched her neck, pulled back her hair from her face, dumped the collection of kitchen paper she had been using for tissues and stood up. ‘Okay, Alexandra,’ she mimicked her sister’s tone, ‘you can sit here all night wallowing in what you could have done differently or you can get up off your arse and do something.’ Her usual resilience and toughness had abandoned her momentarily, but she planned on getting it back. There were so many questions swirling around her head and nothing would help her figure out the answers like a scalding hot shower with warm scented lather and refreshing water to wash it all away.

  She kicked off her runners, stepped out of her leggings and T-shirt, flung her knickers into the hamper by the door. Then she reached inside the cubicle to turn the water on before she unhooked her bra and dropped it in with the rest of the laundry in the hamper. By the time she stood in on the shower tray, the temperature had adjusted to a perfect heat, her clothes had all been squared away, her pyjamas and clean underwear had been splayed across the bed waiting for her and her running mascara and eyeliner had been wiped away with a makeup pad. When she was finished, dried and in her pyjamas, she’d call Louise again, bounce the situation off her and wait to hear what she had to say. She opened back the glass shower door and stepped onto the tray. There was no one that she trusted more than her sister and if there was any redemption to be had, Louise would be the woman to help her find it. Likewise, if she thought that Liam was up to no good, she’d tell her too. She was just stepping back out of the shower twenty minutes later when she heard her phone buzz on the clear glass shelf over the sink. She blinked clearing the foamy water from her eyes and wrapped herself in a bathrobe.

  ‘Hey,’ Louise spoke into the phone. When she had left Alex earlier, having both shared their usual Quays Café brunch, she had made her way back to the Garda station to catch up on all the paperwork that had mounted up. She had been so determined to clear her desk that she had placed her phone on silent and given the rest of the Friday evening shift instructions that she wasn’t to be disturbed. She was still at her desk having just dotted the last i and crossed her last t when she picked up her phone to check a date and noticed Alex’s missed call. ‘Sorry I missed you, I had left my phone on silent, what’s up?’ Louise folded over the flaps of the last file she was working on and placed it in the tray. Administration staff would be back in on Tuesday to upload it onto the system and with everything done and her in-tray cleared, she’d be on her way to Kilkenny by then. ‘I was just about to head home.’

  ‘Well,’ Alex had placed the call on speaker so she could wrap her hair in towel. ‘I, not less than an hour ago, told Liam that I should never have fallen for a married man.’

  ‘Okay?’ Louise answered the inflection at the end of the word encouraging Alex to continue.

  ‘And then he left to go over to Oakley Drive, leaving me here bawling my eyes out on my own.’

  ‘He just left you?’ Louise said incredulously.

  ‘He did, but… it was because Abbie rang him. She was upset, said that Josh stormed out after having a big blow-up with her saying that if their dad moved back in that he was moving out… and the reason she rang her dad was that she didn’t want to upset her mum.’ Alex explained, sliding into a sarcastic tone towards the end of the sentence. ‘It appears Liam didn’t want to upset her either.’

  ‘Look, just come over to the house, I’m on my way there now.’ The subtext was loud and clear to Louise. Liam had chosen the Buckleys over Alex and not for the first time either. ‘Stay with me tonight and we can figure out what to do next then.’ Louise pulled her jacket from the back of her chair, catching a glimpse of her rounded stomach in the darkened computer screen in front of her. ‘Or I could drive over and get you?’ she suggested. It was just before nine, the traffic would be clear and she would be at her door in ten minutes. She’d text Kelly about her plan when she got to her car.

  ‘I don’t know, I’ve just got out of the shower,’ Alex wiped a patch on the mirror to check her reflection. ‘I was going to just get into my jammies, collapse on the couch… and anyway, I want to see what he says, when he does come home.’

  ‘Okay.’ Louise wasn’t so sure. Considering that he was due to move out the next day anyway there was every possibility that he would stay at Oakley Drive altogether. She would have said it out loud but she didn’t want to upset Alex any more than she already was. She drew in a deep breath cautiously before she continued. ‘Look Alex, I know you don’t want to hear anything negative but I have a funny feeling about all this…’ She paused and reconsidered – maybe delving into the finer points of her feelings about Liam and her suspicions about his actions over the phone wasn’t the best of ideas. ‘I just wish you’d come over to the house, I don’t want to think of you on your own.’ She would never have left her crying alone like Liam had.

  ‘Don’t go all overprotective on me just yet.’ Alex smiled.

  ‘You know that I’d never let anyone hurt you and, neither would Kelly for that matter.’


  ‘I know but I think I need to hash this out with him. I can’t just disappear and I want to be here when he comes back so that we can talk about it properly, sort a few things out.’ She was conscious of sounding naïve.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ Louise asked. As far as she was concerned there was nothing to sort. He had made his choice. He had left her even though he knew she was upset. Alex would never be his priority, that much was clear.

  ‘Yes, Lou, I am. And honestly, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.’

  ‘Okay.’ Louise voice was soft, calming, ‘I know you’re fine but I also know that somewhere inside of you, hidden deep behind the sarcasm and folded carefully behind the wit, is a kind, compassionate soul that can be a little bit too trusting and I don’t want anyone, whether you love him or not, to take advantage of that.’

  ‘That makes two of us, then.’ Alex sniffed. ‘So much for all you need is love.’

  ‘Oh Alex,’ Louise could hear a wobble in her sister’s voice, the irony of the Beatles reference not lost on her. Liam, for their thirty-sixth birthday last year, had sent both of them to London, put them up in the Savoy Hotel and had bought them tickets to see Let It Be, the Beatles Musical in the theatre next door. What started as a game in London, where each of them would use any opportunity to work a Beatles song title into a conversation, had become somewhat of a tradition between them in the year since.

  ‘So even if you think he is a shit now, he did at one time in his life do something good, maybe?’ Alex was grasping to find some redemption for Liam and her relationship with him.

  ‘Maybe,’ Louise replied, forcing kindness into her voice. ‘So, will you please come over and we can talk more about it when you get here?’

  ‘No, Lou, but thank you, I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Well then, tomorrow?’ They had already made a tentative plan earlier that day at brunch but Louise wanted to make sure that she would come.

  ‘We’ll see.’ Alex answered and before she had a chance to say anything else she heard Liam’s key in the lock. ‘I think that’s Liam there now,’ she said.