by Neil Wild
“Why, what would you have said?”
“Well,” Mortimer thought on his feet, but seemed to be struggling for an answer. Ridley who had recovered himself, rose to his feet.
“I don’t think that we would have said anything to the contrary, Bill. It was no use speaking with Philip – he was too far gone. We would have had to take Jonny’s word for what was said – as we have to do now. I think that we have to go along with his decision. In fact, I think that it was the correct one.”
Mortimer looked daggers at him. He was clearly not used to being upstaged by his junior partner. He walked behind his desk and sat down.
“Well that seems to be decided.” Then as an afterthought. “Where were you last night when I was trying to find you?” he leaned forward. “Were you with Lisa?”
“Yes?”
“I see” and he looked heavily at Ridley who seemed only mildly curious.
“What do you see?” Brakespeare became aggressive. “I took her for a meal at the Old Rectifying House. Is that allowed? That’s why my car was parked in Deansway. I couldn’t get into College Yard.”
“No, well, of course not. But people…”
“People what?” Lisa’s voice came through the door as she walked into the room. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but hear part of the conversation. Jonny did take me to the Old Rectifying House. What will people think? Has Jonny told you what Philip Breezie also said about me?”
Both Mortimer and Ridley looked alarmed. Jonny turned to her. “No I didn’t. I didn’t think it necessary.”
“Well I do. Breezie called me “The Tart.” Is that what you think of me? Is that why you want to know where I went with Jonny last night. Are you guardians of his virtue?”
Brakespeare looked at her with admiration. Mortimer turned pale.
“No, no of course not, only..”
“Only what? Gordon? Whatever my relationship was with Gordon, is none of your business. It was a relationship entered into by consenting adults, and finally ended at his death last week. I’m not his widow, so I’m not going into purdah – nor, apparently, is his true widow for that matter.” she added sarcastically. “If you don’t want me here; if I’m some sort of embarrassment to you, I’ll go. In fact I will be going at some stage, but I thought that I’d help Jonny finish this case. So, what’s it to be?
It was Ridley who came to her help in his dull imperturbable way. “Lisa, Jonny. It was a difficult day for us all yesterday. I’m sure it was difficult for Philip and that’s why he made himself drunk. Whatever he said either about the conduct of David’s case or Lisa is totally unacceptable both to Bill and myself. Isn’t that right Bill.”
Mortimer nodded resignedly.
Ridley continued. “We mustn’t let such matters affect this practice. Whatever happened in the past is the past, and we need to move on. The priority for us all is to bring David’s case to a satisfactory conclusion, and for my part I think that that lies in your capable hands, Jonny and Lisa. How and in what manner you work with each other is a matter for you. You obviously get on well together and that’s good. All we want is a result, isn’t it, Bill?”
Again Mortimer nodded.
“So can we now take up where we left off? Jonny, have you got a new barrister in mind?” asked Ridley.
“Yes”, said Brakespeare, and repeated what he had told Newberry.
Mortimer took control once more. “Good, then brief her straight away. While I was opening the post this morning, I found this. What is it?” He handed Brakespeare a sheet of paper. It was notice of a Pre-Trial review.
“We’re up before the Judge – Christ, in two weeks time – and in London. They’ve moved the case to Knightsbridge Crown Court”
“Well at least it brings matters to a head. Have you done all that you have to?” asked Mortimer.
“Not quite.” replied Brakespeare. “Breezie wanted us to get our own independent valuations of the properties, and to be frank I never got round to it.”
“Sure, but what we discovered about Black’s dodgy dealings makes that irrelevant. Well, in my opinion anyway.” Said Lisa.
“I think Lisa’s right. Anyway we’ll find out when we see Rosemary Lappin.” Brakespeare turned to Mortimer. “I’m going to call Breezie’s clerk and ask for the papers back. Can I leave it to you to sort out the niceties with him direct. I wouldn’t want to have to tell his Clerk that he behaved unprofessionally while extremely Brahms and Liszt!”
“Very well.“ sighed Mortimer in an unconvincing manner.
“Well that seems to have cleared the air.” smiled Ridley, not a little triumphantly thought Brakespeare. “The rest of the post is on your desk, Jonny. Good Luck.”
“Yes, good luck.” murmured Mortimer, wondering how he was going to handle the situation with Breezie. Suddenly his close network had disintegrated, and a strange barrister would be looking at the case. He was losing control.
As Brakespeare left the room, Lisa followed him.
In the corridor where no one else was present she stood in front of him, kissed him on his lips, and squeezed his bottom. “Well, we didn’t tell any lies.” she whispered. ”Thank God it’s Friday though.”
chapter thirty three
Yes, thank God it’s Friday. Brakespeare thought as he drove home. And what a difference a week can make. Damn, if only he hadn’t wanted that pee. On the other hand, perhaps it was a good job that he had. They would have been far too pre-occupied doing what comes naturally to have heard Mortimer. He would have caught them in flagrante delicto. What then?
Lisa was determined to go back to her Bar studies. She had already applied to join the Temple, as all trainee barristers had to, and would be starting her Bar Vocational Course in October. He would have no commitment to her, and the thought of having a girl in Worcester and one in Milton Keynes, was exciting. Why didn’t he have these opportunities before he had married?
Mel opened the door as soon as she heard the Fiat draw up. She was waving a piece of paper in her hand and grinning broadly.
She put her arms round him and smacked him a kiss on his lips. Not the sensuous kiss of Lisa, but an enthusiastic uninhibited sexy kiss.
“I’ve got a letter for you.” She said gleefully.
“Let me get in the door. Who’s it from, do you know.”
“Your wife.”
“My wife! You mean my ex wife.”
“Yes, we’ve had a nice cosy chat.”
“You have?!”
“We sure have. Ain’t you a lucky boy Jonny Brakespeare to have gorgeous women with the hots for you.”
Brakespeare was becoming annoyed, and wondered what was behind Mel’s teasing.
“What the fuck are you talking about.”
“Come in and sit down and read the letter. We’re alone again. I’ve got a nice cold beer for you, and then there’s some Jamaican spiced lamb cooking. I’ll tell you what’s been happening while you have your beer, then we’ll eat and then..”
She looked at him from under her eyebrows with a wicked smile, and handed him the letter.
With a heavy heart Brakespeare dropped his suitcase in the hall, and went into the lounge. He sat on the sofa and opened the letter.
“Dear Jonny” it began
“This is to tell you that I have left Tony. It just didn’t work out. At the moment I am staying with the children at Mum and Dad’s.
I know that this will seem like a fairy story, but I realised soon after I left you that I shouldn’t, only I hadn’t the courage to tell you after I let you down so badly.
Jonny, I still love you, and it’s because of this that things didn’t work out with Tony. You are the father of my children and that makes a bond between us.
Would you consider taking me back, if only for the sake of your children. I expect that you may have met other people, and that your life is different. I wouldn’t let that come between us. We could have separate bedrooms if you wanted. I would just hope that in time you could forgive me, and lear
n to love we once more.
Can we talk about this please?
Love
Sophie.”
Brakespeare experienced an icy hand clutching his chest. Why, now of all times did this have to happen?
Mel came into the room carrying a bottle of Nastro Azzuro which she carefully poured into a glass. She watched Brakespeare carefully. He held the letter out to her.
“I know what it says.” she said.
He looked up sharply.
“How?”
“We had a nice little chat, me and your wife.” She put the full glass on the table in front of him.
“What!” Brakespeare shouted.
“Calm down.” Mel sat on the sofa, and put a reassuring hand on his arm.
“This afternoon, I could hear the sound of someone trying to put something in the letter box. You know how strong that spring is, and it’s difficult to post anything in it without getting your finger chopped off. So I went to the door and opened it because the person was having difficulties, and there was your wife, only I didn’t know it was your wife at first.”
“My ex-wife.” He hissed.
“Well she was trying to put the letter in the box, but she was crying. I asked her if anything was the matter, and she really started sobbing so I asked her in. She asked me if I lived here, and I said I did – only I didn’t tell her who with.” She squeezed his arm again, as if for her own reassurance.
“She asked me if I knew you, which is a bit of a daft question if I lived here, and asked if I would give you this letter. Then she told me all about it; how she lived with this bloke Tony, with lots of money, but she wasn’t happy with him, ‘cos you’re the only one she really loved, and that she and Tony’d split up.”
“What did you say?” asked Brakespeare reaching for the glass of lager and taking a sip.
“I said that I knew what it was like to feel lonely, but that having met you, I could see why she felt like she did about you.”
“Shit.”
“She’s got your kids, Jonny. They need a daddy.”
Brakespeare jerked upright, spilling the lager.
“That’s a bit rich coming from you, Mel. Don’t your kids need a mummy.”
Mel looked hurt. “I knew you’d say that, but I’m going to do something about it. I went to see that solicitor you recommended. What a cow; I reckon she ain’t getting laid ‘cos she don’t like men! Anyway I signed up for some Legal Aid, and I’m gonna go for my kids.”
Brakespeare looked alarmed.
“Don’t worry, Jonny. It don’t affect you – not if you don’t want. I’ve applied to the Midsummer people.”
“The Housing Association?”
“Yeah, for a flat.”
“But how will you work and look after the kids?”
“Social Security said they’ll pay for the House an all that.”
“So you’re going to live off the State.”
“With my kids. I paid my taxes. Time for some of them back. Don’t worry, I’ll work when I can; waitressing - something I can do when I don’t have to look after the kids.”
Brakespeare suddenly felt vulnerable.
“Do I fit anywhere in this.”
“Only if you really want to. Jonny, I ain’t done this because of this letter. I been planning it all week. You gotta make your own plans. I gotta make mine. Don’t get me wrong, but I can’t depend on you. I knows that.”
“But….”
Mel gently put a finger on his lips.
“Hush, baby. You got a lot to think about with your wife coming at you out of the blue an’ all that. You kids need a daddy. My kids need a mummy. We gotta do what’s best for them. That don’t mean we can’t stay friends. It just means that we both got things we need to sort out, an’ if we don’t, we ain’t gonna be happy.”
Brakespeare didn’t answer. Mel was being incredibly sensible. He knew that. She had worked things out. Her children were her priority. That is the advice that he himself would have given over the desk to anyone in Mel’s position. Children first, lover next.
He put his glass on the table, and turned to Mel, kissing her fondly but passionately. She responded and soon their hands were wandering over each others bodies. Mel’s breath started to deepen with passion, but she suddenly pushed him away.
“Cone on, lover boy. My Jamaican lamb is going to get sacrificed unless I pull it out of the oven. Beside.” she added. “ We’ve the rest of the night for that kind of thing. I haven’t seen you for five days, and boy am I horny.” She patted his crutch and stood up. “See you’re ready for me too.”
She paused.
“You gonna talk to her?”
Brakespeare nodded.
“Good, then I’m gonna screw the ass off you first so she don’t get any of it!” and she walked into the kitchen in peals of laughter.
chapter thirty four
The two children were excited that their mother and father should be going for a walk with them. It was a first for them. They had been very young when their parents had separated. A walk of two and three quarter miles round the North and South Willen Lakes gave Brakespeare and Sophie ample time to talk; the conversation being punctuated by interruptions from the children.
“I know it’s going to be difficult for you.” Said Sophie.
It was. He had only seen Sophie briefly when he had either collected or dropped the children off after contact. Now that he had the time to study her more leisurely, he could she that she had put weight on. Her face had become more lined, particularly under the eyes. It was like talking to a relative he had not seen for years. They had a lot in the children, but not really all that much in common.
She really did not hold much attraction for him, personally or physically. Lisa offered the former; Mel had seen to the latter. He tried to imagine himself in bed with Sophie, but couldn’t. He tried to imagine sharing the everyday events of life with her, but couldn’t see that either. He had also lost too much trust in her.
Mel was a more attractive proposition, but deep down he couldn’t see that working out. Yes, she would keep him as a lover – until she became bored with him, or found a new father figure for her children. The lively dancer was being taken over by her nest building instincts.
Lisa? To soon. Too many present obstacles. But he didn’t want to lose her; the untried was enticing.
Could he have all three? Of course not.
Did he really want to go back where he had left off with Sophie? God, it would be so embarrassing meeting the relatives again. Friends didn’t matter. As is inevitable in a divorce she had kept some of their friends; he had kept the others. Only rarely do friends continue to have the same relationship with both husband and wife after they have separated.
“Difficult? You can say that again”, he eventually replied to Sophie’s statement. “I mean I really don’t know you any more. I expect that we’ve both changed.”
“But for the children? They need a father.”
“You should have thought about that before you left me.”
“ I did what I thought was best. You went bankrupt; lost your career. It was self preservation I suppose.”
“Didn’t stop you…...” He was going to say something more graphic, but the thought hurt him to do so. “finding someone else.”
“It was security Jonny. I said in my letter it was my fault. I was on a rebound of my own making. Tony was, well there.”
“Nice house, nice car, private school for the kids.”
“Yes, yes, Jonny but that’s the past now. I know material things aren’t everything.”
“You can say that again. I’ve had to scrape along upon my bum, and then when I started earning, you wanted more money.”
“Only for the kids.” She stopped walking as they came to the playground. The children ran in screaming with pleasure. “Look at us, Mummy and Daddy” shouted Kirstin, the eldest.
“Mummy and Daddy.” Repeated Daisy, the youngest, savouring the new phrase and repea
ting it as she ran around.
Sophie started crying. “Oh, Jonny.” She went towards him and put her arms round him, leaning her face against his chest. “Help me. Come back. Please.”
This public display of emotion made Brakespeare cringe. If she was trying to gain his sympathy, she was failing. He stood with his arms by his side in embarrassment. There was nothing that she could offer that made him want to take her in his arms. He pushed her away gently, not so much for her sake, but to avoid a scene. One or two of the parents of the other children in the playground were giving them sidelong glances.
“I can’t come back Not yet at least.” he said.
“Is there someone else?”
“Nothing serious.”
“Do I know her?”
“You met her. You gave her the letter.”
“Not the black girl?!”
“Mel, yes.”
“Jonny!”
“She’s company. Someone to say goodnight to. I have my needs too you know.”
“You shock me. A black girl. Well.”
There was a lot that Brakespeare wanted to say but didn’t. If his wife had her prejudices; well that was her problem.
“You’re not planning on marrying her?”
Brakespeare found it easy to say an emphatic “No.”
“Well that’s a relief.”
“Why?”
“The kids.”
They were distracted for a few minutes by continued shouts of “Mummy, Daddy, look at me,” as the children climbed about on the playground furniture.
“Come on out.” Called Sophie to the children. “Let’s go and see the ducks and swans on the next lake.”
The children scampered ahead. Running in and out of the bushes; always careful to see if their parents were watching.
“You wouldn’t have to end the relationship.” Said Sophie.
“What do you mean?”
“What I said. If you came back I would understand if you still wanted to see her.”
“’I’m not sure that that would work.”
