by Neil Wild
Lisa looked down to think, and then up again. She put her elbows on the table, cupped her face in her hands and looked at him.
“Jonny Brakespeare, you want to know a lot.”
Brakespeare fidgeted slightly in his seat but said nothing.
“OK. Well I told you that Gordon and I had a brief fling. It was brief. It was my fault. He was a gorgeous man; he gave me a job and I looked up to him. In a way I suppose it was a crush; but I fell for him.
It hurt when he told me that it couldn’t go on, but I understood., I hadn’t sole rights over him, and I don’t even think it was the first time that he strayed from Annette. But we remained good friends; perhaps more than that because I could talk to him, like I can talk to you.”
She paused to see what reaction that drew from Brakespeare. She was rewarded with a nod and a smile.
“He would talk to me about his problems. I told him mine. He supported me in the office. I supported him.”
“Is that why Margaret disapproved of you, because you had more attention from him than she did?”
“I think so. Feminine jealousy. She’s all right now – did you notice.”
Again Brakespeare nodded.
“And that’s how it was until the end. Once he’d fallen ill Annette let me go and see him when she wasn’t there. I don’t think that there was any real love any more between them, but she was still fond of him. After all he is the father of her children. Now do you understand?”
She leant forward even more as she said it, eyes wide, drumming the message home. It was over.
“But how were you able to undergo such a transformation on the night of his death.”
Lisa sat back and looked at her hands.
“I suppose I had still been hoping beyond hope that – well something might happen. When you see someone every day it’s not easy to shake off your feelings, but deep down I knew that one day I would have to make the break.”
She looked up.
“Then you came along.”
Brakespeare showed his surprise.
“You let me become involved in David’s case far more than Gordon would have. You gave me the opportunity to use my initiative and see what I could do. I realised then that I could make it without Gordon. Then when he died. Well the door suddenly opened, and here I am.”
“This is the real you?”
“This is the real me.”
They were interrupted by the waitress bringing his second pint, and the bottle of wine. Brakespeare did not hesitate to attack the beer, while the waitress opened the wine bottle.
“Will you taste it?” The waitress asked as Brakespeare was in the middle of a gulp of beer. He gesticulated towards Lisa.
“No just pour it, please.” Lisa smiled at the waitress. When the waitress left she took a sip. “Mmmm, that’s nice. That’ll smooth things out.”
Lisa had laid her cards on the table. She was available. She was not hopping from one warm bed to another. That overcame Brakespeare’s scruples on that score. Could he be as frank with her? Should he tell her about Mel? What was he doing with Mel anyway? Was she his Kate? It had all seemed so exciting again when she had returned, but he had not seen her for four days, and to be honest with himself, with Lisa around, he did not really miss her – except at nights, and Lisa seemed to be indicating that that could change.
“Penny for them?” said Lisa, once again with her head cupped in her hands over the table.
He did not reply because the waitress now appeared with their meal, and the question hung unanswered.
Their easy conversation continued. They watched people walk by on the river bank and made critical comments as people watchers do; they talked about the people in the office in the way that staff gossip, and they shared a deep interest in trivia that people in a relationship do. Brakespeare finished his beer, and joined Lisa in the warm Spanish wine. He had forgotten that she must have had a drink at the reception because her manner changed from seductive to positively inviting. He felt the alcohol start to course in his blood. He could tell that this relationship was shortly going to be consummated. He was sure of that. He wanted her. She wanted him.
They finished their meal and Brakespeare turned down Lisa’s offer to pay half the bill.
They found themselves lurching their way down the stairs from the restaurant to the front entrance, and then with their arms around each other on the pavement. Lisa gazed up at Brakespeare dreamily, if a little dazedly.
“Whereto now, your place or mine?”
Brakespeare shook his head. “Not mine I’m afraid. One room in someone else’s house.”
“Me too” said Lisa. “let’s go back to the car.”
“Mustn’t drive” said Brakespeare.
“I didn’t mean that”. Replied Lisa.
“I know.” he said.
“What then?” she asked. He looked down at her and smiled tantalisingly.
“The office.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath.
“What a good idea, Mr. Brakespeare. We might even get some work done. I’ve got my keys.” she giggled. “Only don’t give me carpet burns.”
They didn’t say much to each other as they slowly weaved their up the hill to College Yard. Brakespeare was feeling definitely randy. Any scruples he might have about involvement with a member of staff had dissolved in the beer and wine. Mel was 75 miles away, out of sight and out of his mind. The bulge in his trousers demonstrated where his thoughts were. As they entered the yard, Brakespeare checked to see that it was empty of cars. He looked around nervously as Lisa unlocked the outer door.
“If anyone is in the office.”
“They won’t be.”
“No, but if anyone is, just say that we’ve come back to do some work.”
Lisa spluttered. ”What in our state?” As if to emphasise the point, she hiccupped.
“Hello”, called Brakespeare as they entered the hall, but there was no reply. “Make sure you lock the door behind us.” He instructed.
“Stop being an old woman, Jonny, we’re safe here.”
She locked the outer door and came into the hall. She said nothing but looked at him. Her eyes were dark and her nipples were pressed through her blouse.
Brakespeare walked towards her and took her in his arms. Her mouth was open.
His hands ran down her back to her tight buttocks, and then pushing her away he felt her breasts. They were not large, but full. He could hear her breathing heavily.
“Oh, Jonny,” and she tried to slip her hands down the waist band of his trousers.
“Come on, we can’t stay here.” Brakespeare broke off the embrace, and led her up the stairs towards his office.
“No, Jonny. No, not there.”
“What?”
She stared at him as if trying to pass a message with her eyes. She shook her head.
“Not in Gordon’s room.”
“Well we’ll have to use Ridley’s room.”
Lisa burst into a giggle. “That’s the most excitement that room will ever have had.”
“Keep away from the window.” Brakespeare ordered, and he walked to the wall on the left hand side of the window.
Lisa started to undo his trousers and they dropped to his ankles. He found the clip on the waist of her skirt and it soon fell to the floor. Quickly he pulled his briefs down and kicked them and the trousers off his feet. Lisa followed suit with her knickers and tights. They helped each other with their upper garments, and Brakespeare reached round her body to unclip her bra. Lisa submissively waited.
They both stood there naked. He looked down at her. She came towards him once more and opened her mouth, kissing him deeply and gently. She put her hands on his buttocks, digging her nails in, and pulled him close to her to that she could feel him pressed close to her.
Brakespeare broke free. “Sorry, we’ll have to stop.”
Lisa’s face fell. She looked down at his readiness. “What?”
“I need to pee.
” He was half laughing, half apologetic.
Lisa was not offended. The Minge Lane laugh burst forth again. “Well I could do with the washroom too, but I wasn’t going to say.” Again that saucy smile. “Pain and pleasure are very close together. ”
They left Ridley’s room laughing .
“Back in two shakes.”
“That’s a bad joke Jonny Brakespeare, but don’t be long.” She kissed him on the lips again, - a long, lingering kiss, “I want you.”
The men’s toilets were on the ground floor; a poky smelly cupboard under the stairs. Brakespeare went in and put on the light to illuminate the windowless room. The pressure on his bladder was now quite severe, as the two pints seemed anxious to depart with the encouragement of the wine. He stood in front of the toilet basin waiting for his erection to subside and the flow to start, when he heard the noise of someone unlocking the main door.
A bolt of fear shot through him and he stood still.
“Hello, anybody here? Jonny? Lisa?”
It was Mortimer’s voice.
His first instinct was to call out in reply, but the shock of hearing Mortimer’s voice cut through the alcohol. He realised that he was trapped. Worse than that Lisa was trapped. He prayed silently that she did not respond, even if she heard the call. Surely she wouldn’t come out of the toilet naked? Surely not.
He was now bursting to use the toilet and able to do so, but dare not because of the noise he was likely to make. He switched off the light as silently as he could and waited.
Mortimer’s footsteps mounted the stairs above him, and then moved along the corridor towards Brakespeare’s office. Oh God, that meant that he would pass Ridley’s room with their clothes lying on the floor. The footsteps did not stop at Ridley’s office but continued He heard his office door open – and then close.
The footsteps returned and Mortimer went back to his own office. He must have picked up the telephone because Brakespeare could hear the low murmur of conversation.
Cautiously he switched on the toilet light. He was in agony now. He had no alternative. He sat down on the toilet and as quietly as he could, aiming for the side of the toilet pan so as to make as little noise as possible, relieved himself.
It seemed to take ages, but so did Mortimer’s conversation with whoever he was talking to.
Eventually Mortimer’s voice stopped, and he heard him move out of his office. Still sitting on the toilet, he turned off the light.
‘Hope he doesn’t need a piss?’ he thought.
Mortimers footsteps came down the stairs. They stopped, and Brakespeare’s heart banged against his chest. Surely he was too young to die of a heart attack? Was Mortimer listening for a sound. Oh, Lisa keep quiet, please.
Lisa must have picked up his thoughts because there was complete silence in the office.
After what seemed to be the proverbial eternity, he heard Mortimer move towards the door, open it, and lock it behind him.
He couldn’t help it. A wave of hysteria hit him, and he sat on the toilet, half laughing, half crying with relief; the tears streaming down his face in the darkness.
Suddenly the toilet door opened, and the light came on.
A still naked Lisa took one look at the seated figure of Brakespeare, and collapsed; equally hysterical. The sight of her, doubled up but naked in the office only added to Brakespeare’s hysteria, and he broke wind, loudly and uncontrollably..
Many minutes passed before either of them could speak.
“Oh no, I can’t do this again.” gasped Lisa.
“You heard him?”
“Luckily I was in the middle of my wee, and stopped. I must have good pelvic muscles.”
She burst into laughter again. Brakespeare stood up and flushed the toilet. Lisa pulled herself together. They were both exhausted, but the sight of themselves standing in the corridor of the office half naked brought on continual waves of hysteria.
They slowly made their way up the stairs; still having to pause occasionally to laugh, and went back into Ridley’s room.
“Do you think that he knows we’re here?” asked Lisa.
“No, but why was he looking for us? Why look here?”
“It’s spooky.” said Lisa.
“Someone doesn’t want us to..?”
Lisa suddenly became serious. “Are you superstitious?”
“Only at times like this.”
“I think we ’d better get out. It’s not meant to happen, on tonight of all nights.” She said soberly. “Anyway you seem to have lost interest,” she added, looking at Brakespeare’s middle regions.
They both quickly grabbed their clothes and dressed.
As they left the office, Lisa took his hand. “There will be another time, Jonny.” and she kissed him in a way he was growing to like. “Perhaps we need a place of our own?”
chapter thirty two
Mortimer was waiting for him the next morning. He was standing at the top of the stairs as he walked through the door. Brakespeare wondered how long he had been standing there.
“Jonny, can I talk to you?” Not even a good morning. He walked back to his room, thus indicating that Brakespeare should follow. Ridley predictably was in the room, standing waiting and looking apprehensive.
Mortimer did not even sit, or invite Brakespeare to do, but straight away asked.
“Where were you last night?”
“Excuse me?” said Brakespeare, buying time.”
“I looked high and low for you. You weren’t at your digs. I saw your car parked in the Deansway Car Park. I thought you might be here in the office, but you weren’t”
That’s a relief thought Brakespeare. If he went to the digs he wasn’t after Lisa.
“What’s the problem?”
“I think you know the problem. David phoned me at home just as soon as I got back. He says that you’ve decided not to use Philip as his barrister.”
“That’s correct. Did you manage to speak to Breezie at the reception after I left.”
“No, he had gone to sleep. I telephoned him first thing this morning, and he couldn’t remember any conversation about the case.”
“That’s because he was pissed out of his mind.”
“That’s what I thought. I told you that Bill.” said Ridley.
“Thank you Dick. Did you talk to Philip about the case? I think you did, but David said I should ask you.”
“I did talk to him. In vino veritas.”
“That means there’s truth in drink.” volunteered Ridley.
“I know that Dick. Go on.” Said Mortimer testily.
“In simple terms he wanted to take the case to a full trial because there’s more money in it for him.”
“Philip said that?” said Ridley incredulously.
“He was drunk. He didn’t mean it.” said Mortimer quickly.
“He was drunk, and the truth poured out?” riposted Brakespeare.
“I agree.” said Ridley.
“Dick, just keep out of this for the moment, will you?”
Ridley showed a side Brakespeare thought could not possibly exist in him.
“No, Bill. Jonny’s got a point. If Philip said that, then it means that it’s what he’s been thinking all along. It explains his attitude to Jonny when they went to see him. He gave you a rough ride didn’t he?”
“He most certainly did.” replied Brakespeare. “It’s clear to me now, that all along he has wanted to make a meal out of the case, just for the money. That’s why I sacked him.”
“But he doesn’t know yet.” said Mortimer almost pleading.
“He does know, it’s just that he’s forgotten. I was going to telephone his clerk and ask for the return of the papers.”
“But,” protested Mortimer. ”We’re still going to have to pay him. It’ll be money wasted.”
“I doubt it.” Brakespeare had already thought about this. “He’s not going to want to get reported to the Bar Council for professional misconduct. I wouldn’t expect him to
make any charge for the work he’s done. Not if he wants to be a judge.”
“Ho ho ho.” Chortled Ridley. “Well done Jonny.”
“And who’s going to explain that to him?” demanded Mortimer.
Brakespeare looked hopefully at Ridley, who seemed to have grasped the situation. He suspected that Ridley might not like Breezie, and then he shifted his glance back to Mortimer. Ridley, for all his seeming dullness took the hint immediately. In fact, thought Brakespeare, he almost seems to be enjoying the situation.
“You could, Bill.” Said Ridley.
“What?” Mortimer went white.
“Well, Jonny’s only a locum here; you’re the senior partner, and he is Annette’s brother.” He went on. “You are one of Gordon’s Executors, I think it’s really down to you.”
If he was being deliberately mischievous, he didn’t show it. His face carried it’s normal benign, blank expression.
“Are you sure of what he said?” choked Mortimer.
“What did you see happen to me yesterday?”
“Well I saw you come out of another part of the house…”
“Breezie’s study.”
“Then you said something to Annette”
“Goodbye.”
“Collected Lisa.” Mortimer said pointedly.
“You asked me to take her to the funeral, and so I assumed that I had to return her. Besides, where did we go afterwards?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Well who called you as soon as you got home?”
“Oh, I see. Yes, you went straight to David and told him what Breezie had said.”
“Which Breezie can’t remember? So who is going to be believed?”
“Well you are of course,” said Ridley. “I must say, we went to find him to say good bye, didn’t we Bill. There he was slumped in his chair in the study, and it looked as if he had somehow poured a bottle of wine over himself.” He laughed.
“No, that was me. I poured his bottle of Cava over him.” said Brakespeare.
“You did?” hooted Ridley, and collapsed in a chair laughing.
“This is not very funny.” Said Mortimer, becoming angry. “This is utterly unacceptable conduct from you, Jonny. We’re going to have to consider all this. You should have consulted us before doing anything.”
