Inheriting Jack

by Kris Webb

  ‘I’m sorry – it’s not you. I just . . .’ I didn’t know how to explain how I felt and trailed off.

  ‘It’s not quite right, is it?’

  After a second’s hesitation I shook my head.

  He smiled sadly. ‘You know, maybe the problem is that we have too much terrible eighties history together. I mean, I can remember you wearing blue legwarmers and earrings shaped like a fried egg in a pan. Damage like that can take a lifetime to heal.’

  I laughed. ‘Listen, Mister Skinny White Leather Tie, I don’t think you’re exactly innocent in the fashion crimes department.’

  ‘What about that denim outfit with about two hundred white lace frills?’

  I threw up my hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay – you win. I don’t want to hear any more.’

  We smiled at each other and there didn’t seem to be a lot more to say.

  He broke the silence. ‘You know, I think I might pass on that wine. It’s getting late.’

  ‘Grant . . . I’m really sorry.’

  He gently touched my hair. ‘So am I.’

  As I shut the door behind him, I made a mental note to check my horoscope in the morning. Two men gone in one night. It was hard not to come to the conclusion that the universe was trying to tell me something.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The magistrate asked Adrian, our barrister, to begin. As he did, I stared at the witness statement in front of me. A third of each page was totally obscured by a huge black ink stain.

  Barely breathing, I picked up the document to find a lidless black felt pen underneath. I looked at the statement again, praying I’d been wrong and that it was a photocopy. It wasn’t – our original statement from the Italian art dealer was largely illegible.

  This was crucial to our argument and the signature wasn’t even visible.

  Earlier that day I’d put the documents I’d need on the study desk – but obviously close enough to the edge for Jack to poke a pen in the middle without my noticing. The fact that I had a crashing headache from last night’s cocktails hadn’t helped, but still, I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid.

  Beside me, Adrian paused and I jumped, throwing my arm across the offending page. Oblivious to my panic, he continued with his explanation of the nature of our case.

  Heart racing, I tried to think rationally. Maybe we could just submit a photocopy? If the other side were cooperative that might work – but I knew Leonie’s lawyers would insist on their right to refuse to accept anything but an original document as evidence.

  All right, maybe we could live without this particular document. But I knew that if we did, we had no hope of establishing that it was not at all unusual for someone to have an expensive statue in their backyard. Given that the witness lived in Milan, having him sign another one wasn’t exactly an option either.

  Adrian sat down and Richard, Leonie’s barrister, stood up.

  Gathering my courage, I touched Adrian’s arm and pushed the damaged statement in front of him.

  His head snapped up.

  Original? he scrawled on the pad in front of him.

  I nodded.

  Adrian looked at me and blinked his eyes once.

  I’d heard about, but never seen, ‘the blink’ which was something of a legend amongst the younger lawyers in Brisbane. Adrian was frighteningly intelligent. In addition, he was generally acknowledged as being amazingly tolerant of the lesser legal souls around him, particularly lawyers who didn’t have his experience. When something disastrous happened, he’d simply close his eyes briefly, then reopen them and deal with the situation.

  Bad? I scribbled, hoping he had a brilliant strategy to deal with the problem.

  V. Bad, he scribbled back.

  How on earth was I going to explain this to Gordon and Jonathon? I cursed my incredible stupidity. What was I thinking leaving precious documents within Jack’s reach?

  Adrian scanned his notes, obviously trying to figure out how soon we’d have to own up about our butchered statement.

  I realised I’d heard nothing of what Richard had been saying. Tuning back in, I heard him describing how Leonie, an ardent gardener, constantly tended her thriving tree. He stated that the trees on Gordon’s side prevented Leonie from knowing the statue was there. Palms upturned, he asked the magistrate what person in downtown Brisbane would ever suspect that there could be an Italian sculpture in their neighbour’s backyard.

  Half turning, I saw Gordon with arms folded and a smirk on his face. He obviously believed that our Italian art dealer would sink that argument.

  Perhaps I should hightail it to Carla’s, grab Jack and start driving, I thought desperately. Reality hit quickly, though – there was no way I could escape Gordon and Jonathon’s combined wrath.

  Richard finished his opening words and sat down. It was now up to us to present our case.

  Adrian was still seated, making notes on the page in front of him. No doubt trying to construct something out of our decimated case. Every eye in the courtroom was on him.

  He stood. This was it – we were about to go down in flames.

  I held my breath. If I was Adrian, I’d point at me, tell the room that the whole thing was my fault and demand to be given a solicitor who had some clue about what she was doing.

  ‘Your worship,’ Adrian addressed the magistrate.

  ‘Actually Mr Badley,’ the magistrate interrupted, ‘I have something to say first.’

  We all looked at him in surprise.

  The magistrate spoke slowly. ‘It seems to me that this matter is one you have already spent a great deal of time and money on and are intending on dealing with in great detail. Let me give you some guidance. If I have the feeling that you are wasting the court’s time with a dispute that should have been sorted out between two educated and successful individuals . . .’ he paused and stared at Gordon and Leonie in turn, ‘then I will make a decision that reflects my feelings. Now, if I could make a suggestion it would be that you go away and see if you can’t come up with a solution.’

  This was all legal speak for, ‘If you don’t get your acts together and stop behaving like two year olds, I’ll make you sorry you appeared in my courtroom.’

  It was all I could do not to genuflect in front of him. I’d been facing certain disaster – now there was the faintest glimmer of hope on the horizon.

  ‘Yes, your worship,’ said Adrian, as quick to grasp this twig as I was. ‘Perhaps you could adjourn the case for an hour and we’ll see what we can resolve.’

  Richard was on his feet and nodding. It was never a good career move to disagree with an irritated magistrate.

  ‘That will be fine. I will ask my clerk to arrange two conference rooms and will see you back here at . . .’ He looked at his watch. ‘Four o’clock.’

  We all filed out. Gordon turned to us in the corridor. ‘What on earth is going on?’

  ‘This happens occasionally if a magistrate decides that his time is being wasted,’ Adrian explained. ‘If we insist on fighting this out in court, then he will decide the case; but no matter who wins, the award will only be a nominal amount. On top of that you will probably each have to pay your own costs.’

  ‘Too bad,’ Gordon blustered. ‘It’s the principle that is at stake here.’

  But he didn’t sound convinced. I hoped he was remembering that I’d warned him long ago that the magistrate might do this.

  Adrian walked over to where Leonie was standing with Richard and her solicitor, a mousy-looking fellow called Trevor, whose appearance disguised an aggressive streak that hadn’t helped the process so far.

  This was it. Now was the time to confess to Gordon. As the lack of the document affected his case, I had to come clean.

  Now.

  ‘Uh, Gordon . . .’

  ‘Mmm,’ he muttered, busy glaring at Leonie.

  I couldn’t do it. I simply couldn’t admit that my eighteen-month-old ward had destroyed one of our most important pieces of evidence and that Gordon
would probably lose as a result.

  Instead, I tried another tack. ‘Perhaps it is worth considering talking this over. If it doesn’t work we can still take it all back before the magistrate.’

  Adrian rejoined us, presumably having decided that Richard was looking as unsuccessful as he in persuading his client to look for a compromise.

  ‘She’s right, Gordon. Even if the magistrate decides in your favour, he’ll find a reason to make the award tiny. As well as paying your costs so far, you’ll also have to pay for the costs of a few days in court. If we can sort this out here, then at least you’ll be spared that.’

  Adrian looked at me, eyebrows slightly raised. I shook my head imperceptibly, shamed by my cowardice. To my surprise, I saw a glimmer of a smile on his face before he turned back to Gordon.

  Gordon looked over at Leonie, who refused to meet his eyes. Which was no great surprise, given the amount of paper vitriol exchanged over the last few months.

  I’d never really understood this case. Something about Gordon’s attitude always struck me as strange. He was a well-respected businessman, involved in significant negotiations on a daily basis, and his refusal to compromise on this seemed strangely out of character.

  Although I’d seen normal, rational people lose perspective where money, religion or sex was involved, none of those categories applied here. It wasn’t really about money – the amounts involved were insignificant for both of them. The statue didn’t have any religious significance, and given that Gordon was gay, it couldn’t be sex. Whenever I’d been through this thought process before, I’d come to the conclusion that neighbours’ brawls deserved a category all to themselves.

  And yet something still didn’t seem right.

  Although the magistrate had offered a tiny ray of hope, this just wasn’t going to work. We were all going to end up back in front of him and the mutilated witness statement was going to end my career. I had a sudden vision of telling my parents that in the short time they’d been away, I’d managed to acquire a child and lose my job. I took a deep breath. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

  ‘Adrian?’ I interrupted his conversation with Gordon. He looked at me. ‘I think a private conversation might be helpful.’

  ‘Really?’ He looked dubious.

  I nodded sagely, attempting to convey a confidence I didn’t feel, and they followed me into one of the conference rooms. We sat and they both looked at me expectantly.

  ‘Gordon, are you gay?’

  Well, if nothing else, I thought miserably, I’d shocked the notoriously poker-faced Adrian. He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  Gordon looked at me impassively for several seconds, during which time all of the things I’d dreamed of for my career flashed through my mind.

  Finally he spoke. ‘See. This is why I like you, Julia. You’re prepared to do things other lawyers wouldn’t even contemplate.’

  I decided anything I said at this stage could only make things worse, so I kept my mouth firmly closed.

  ‘The answer is no. Somehow a rumour got started a few years ago and I’ve never bothered doing anything about it. I like to keep my personal life private and in a way the rumour made it easier.’

  Maybe a rumour like that was what my love-life needed. It certainly couldn’t make things any worse. I felt sick every time I pictured Tony’s face last night.

  I took a deep breath. I was only halfway there.

  Gordon held up his hand. ‘To pre-empt you, the answer to your next question is, yes, I have slept with Leonie.’

  My relief was so great I felt light-headed and had absolutely no idea what to say next.

  Thankfully Adrian had recovered and was back with me. He rested his forefinger along the base of his nose thoughtfully and then spoke. ‘Now, does that relationship have anything to do with this case?’ he asked diplomatically.

  For the first time ever I saw Gordon look slightly shame-faced. ‘No, not at all. We have known each other vaguely for years. One day she was walking her dog when I was hosing the garden. We started chatting, she came in for a drink. And well, one thing led to another.’

  ‘And . . .’ Adrian broke off. ‘Sorry, I feel like a shonky divorce lawyer asking these questions, but I do think this is relevant if we’re going to sort all this out.’ He tactfully omitted the fact that it would have been helpful had we known this information six months ago.

  ‘Ah . . . Was this an isolated incident or something which was repeated?’ It was painfully clear this was not a topic Adrian often discussed with clients.

  Gordon snorted. ‘Definitely a one-off. The next day I left some flowers at her place with a note and then called her twice. She never replied. A month later her branch broke David and . . . well, here we are.’

  Yes, here we are, I thought.

  ‘Okay. Look, it’s possible that the emotions which have made this case so,’ I paused, ‘painful for everyone, might be able to be dealt with. How would you feel if I had a chat to Leonie?’ I asked tentatively.

  Gordon glared at me and I was sure that finally I’d gone too far.

  He pushed the stack of papers in front of him roughly. ‘Fine. If you think it will help resolve this disaster, go ahead.’

  I stood up before he changed his mind. ‘All right, I’ll be back in a minute.’

  I paused at the door to the other conference room and then knocked lightly. They looked surprised to see me by myself.

  ‘Ms Baker,’ I began, taking a seat at the end of the table. ‘My client has just told me something that I feel may be relevant to resolving this situation.’

  They all looked at me expectantly.

  ‘He, ah . . . he said that shortly before the incident with the statue, he had sexual relations with you, Ms Baker.’

  Rumpole always used the term ‘sexual relations’. I figured that, as no part of my training had prepared me for this, I had to work with whatever I had.

  Richard and Trevor’s faces mirrored Adrian’s and it was clear they’d had no idea either.

  Leonie gave a short laugh. ‘Yes, that’s right. Did he also mention the fact that he is gay?’

  ‘Actually he told me definitively that he’s not – he said it was a rumour he’s always just ignored.’

  She sat back in her chair. ‘Well of course he’d say that,’ she managed without much conviction.

  ‘He said that he left a note and some phone messages afterwards, but that you didn’t call him back. He was very hurt.’

  I was warming to my topic and felt I could be excused one small white lie.

  ‘Really?’ she asked.

  ‘Absolutely.’ I was about to say that he’d felt they had something special, but stopped myself just in time.

  Richard and Trevor had clearly decided to stay well out of this conversation and weren’t saying a word.

  Leonie spoke again. ‘The day after we slept together, I told a friend what had happened. She said that everyone knew he was gay. I thought he was just using me – trying something different for a change.’

  ‘So you didn’t return his calls, and when he brought an action about the statue, you were determined not to let him win,’ I finished for her.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Sounds kind of pathetic, I know.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got a suggestion. Why don’t you and Gordon go for a coffee and have a talk about things. If you still want to go ahead with the action, that’s fine. But maybe you’ll be able to sort something out.’

  Leonie looked awkwardly at Richard and Trevor and stood up.

  ‘All right. I’ll do it if he will.’

  I left her outside Gordon’s conference room and went in.

  I quickly filled him in on what Leonie had told me. ‘She wants to have a coffee to talk about things. What do you think?’

  Gordon put his head back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Fine. Let’s just get this over with.’

  He stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.
r />   Adrian looked at me expectantly and I held my finger to my lips.

  After what I judged a sufficient length of time, I opened the door a crack and peered out. Seeing nothing, I opened it right up. The corridor was empty.

  ‘Well they’ve either gone for a coffee or are beating each other up somewhere,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ Adrian managed. ‘That was the most gutsy thing I’ve seen in twenty years at the bar. Also the most risky,’ he added.

  I could only manage a small smile. ‘It’s not over yet. It could still go terribly wrong.’

  Five tense minutes later my mobile rang.

  ‘Julia, Gordon here. Look, Leonie and I are heading off. Can you sort that court stuff out for me?’

  The tension drained out of me and I leaned back in the chair. ‘Absolutely, Gordon. It will be my pleasure.’

  It took less than thirty seconds in front of the magistrate to finish the whole business and I burst out of the court half expecting to see dozens of photographers and journalists waiting to witness my victory. I refused to let the small fact that there were only a couple of police officers and a woman on a cigarette break dent my high spirits.

  If losing Gordon’s case would have been a disaster for my career, maybe I could use this unexpected success to my advantage. My bookseller had come through with a horrendously priced, but pristine, copy of Jonathon’s book, so my career prospects were looking a whole lot better than this time last week. Having Jonathon on my side might just be enough to push me back on the partnership track. If I still wanted it, that was. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure.

  Anyway, that was a question for later. This was celebration time.

  I’d expected the case to last for a couple of days and had made sure there was nothing urgent to be dealt with at the office while I was away. Carla didn’t expect me to pick up Jack until tonight. So for a couple of hours at least, I was a free agent.