All She Ever Wished For

by Claudia Carroll

  ‘Well my first lecture isn’t till 10 a.m. this morning,’ said Bernard, double-checking his watch. ‘So I just stopped off for a quick spot of brekkie on the way here. Line the old tummy for the day ahead, you know. What’s up?’

  ‘There was a woman in here,’ said Jasper, almost as though he was saying, ‘there was an alien from Mars in here’.

  But then the Art History department tended to be a tiny oasis at the college where the usual gender balance guidelines didn’t appear to be working. The department was stuffed with visiting professors, adjunct professors, postdoctoral fellows and tutors, and in spite of much protesting from on high, every single one of them was male.

  Of course no one counted the students who’d occasionally breeze in and out, as and when it suited them. Art History was considered to be a relatively dossy subject, so it tended to be a popular choice with students who were far more interested in hanging out at the Uni Bar rather than applying themselves to the study of Velázquez and Goya.

  ‘Goodness,’ says Bernard, ‘who was she?’

  ‘Well that’s just the most annoying thing of all,’ said Jasper, carefully removing his tweed jacket and placing it on the back of a chair. ‘Because it seems that I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Nonsense, of course you can tell me.’

  ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand. You see this particular woman is a barrister involved in some kind of case that involves the rightful provenance of a painting.’

  ‘And what did she want?’

  ‘An expert witness – if required, naturally – at a forthcoming hearing, that’s due to start in a few weeks. In an actual court of law. Can you believe it?’

  ‘How very interesting,’ said Bernard, wishing now that he’d skipped his carb-fest brekkie and come straight to work instead so as not to miss out on all the drama. ‘Which painting are we talking about? And who’s the artist?’

  ‘Can’t say, I’m afraid,’ said Jasper moodily, as if he’d really love nothing more than to tell his friend everything and that the cost of holding his tongue was very dear indeed.

  ‘But of course you can.’

  ‘Afraid not. Ethics and all that, you know. I’ve been told that I may possibly be called as an expert witness and that on no account am I to discuss the matter with anyone. Not even you, Bernard. I gave her my solemn word.’

  ‘How very frustrating.’

  ‘You’ve no idea. What’s killing me is that it’s such a damn good case too.’

  ‘I wonder why they asked you and not me?’ said Bernard, a little petulantly. He’d have adored being part of something as exciting as that, although he was loath to admit as much to Jasper.

  ‘Ahh, now that much I am at liberty to divulge,’ said Jasper brightening. ‘You see, the new owner of the painting in question came to me roughly about a year ago when I was still working at UCD, merely seeking more information about it, nothing more. Purely investigative work, which I was delighted to do. The lady in question was most persuasive and alluring, very alluring indeed.’

  ‘And I presume that’s the reason you’ve been approached a second time?’

  ‘It seems so. But other than that, I can’t possibly tell you any more.’

  And yet you made sure to tell me this much, Bernard thought crossly.

  ‘What you and I really need,’ Jasper went on, ‘is to slip off to the club so I can tell you everything over dinner and a nice crisp bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. You’d love this story, it’s just your sort of thing.’

  ‘But if you gave your word to this lady,’ said Bernard firmly, ‘then naturally you can’t on any account go back on it. But as soon as this case is all over, then I may just hold you to that dinner at the club. So you can tell me the whole story in all its glory, without fear of breaking any code of honour.’

  ‘Then that’s a definite date,’ said Jasper. ‘I very much look forward to getting this off my chest at the Royal Celtic. Just you and I. And Mother too, of course.’

  TESS

  The present

  I didn’t sleep well and only managed to hoist myself out of bed this morning by a sheer miracle of will, so much so that I am almost late for court. I leave Bernard, who’s sound asleep and snoring like a freight train, in bed, with his book still propped up on his chest and grab a lightning-quick bath (no choice there, Bernard refuses to get a shower installed claiming that he is and always will be a bath man), with my mind racing. All manner of thoughts keep swirling around but there’s just one that I keep coming back to: I’m getting married in a few weeks’ time.

  So aside from the thousand and one things that are still left to be done, aside from the court case and aside from all the distractions that are going on in my life right now, when I think of the wedding one thought lodges itself firmly in my brain and now that it’s stuck there, there’s no budging it.

  Why aren’t I feeling happy?

  *

  I finally get to court and do the usual early-morning dodge-dance past the posse of photographers outside, including the beardy-looking hipster who had the brass nerve to approach me last week, wanting me to tell my story after all this is done and dusted. The jurors have their own entrance into the court and it’s weird, normally I can’t help bumping into at least two or three of the others on my way in, but this morning there’s no one about.

  Bracing myself for a dressing-down from Moany Mona for daring to be late, I knock on the door of the jury room all set to see everyone lined up and ready to be ushered into court while Mona barks our names out one-by-one, army cadet-style. But when I do get inside, to my astonishment I find one and all sitting around the huge conference table, which is now laid out with an impressive buffet of croissants, bagels, cream cheese, doughnuts and a giant-sized fresh fruit platter, there’s a gorgeous smell of coffee too, and they’re all helping themselves.

  ‘Ahh, there you are, Tess, love!’ says Edith, waving brightly. ‘Sorry for starting brekkie without you, but we couldn’t help it. Everything just looked way too delicious.’

  ‘You have to taste this cronut thingy!’ Minnie says, or at least tries to say with her mouth half full. ‘Apparently it’s made up of half a croissant and half a doughnut. Now isn’t that just the most wonderful idea! Whoever would have thought?’

  ‘But … are we not all due in court this morning? And where’s Mona?’ I say to no one in particular.

  ‘Now whatever you do, don’t get distracted by the large pig that’s flying past the window,’ says Will, suddenly materialising by my side and as ever, towering over me. Looking sharp today too, in a grey v-necked jumped that I know by the look of, is pure cashmere.

  ‘Oh, hi there,’ I say, swivelling around to see him.

  ‘You missed all the drama,’ he says, smirking a bit at the incredulous look on my face.

  ‘So what happened? Fill me in.’

  ‘Ah, Tess, it was hilarious,’ says Beth delightedly, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a half-eaten banana in the other. ‘What kept you anyway?’

  ‘And by the way, Will, thank you so much for this very unexpected treat,’ Daphne interrupts her. ‘Perfect grub for me, you know. Nice and easy on my tummy ulcer.’

  ‘What? What are you saying over there?’ says Ruth, half-shouting as she always does.

  ‘I said THE FOOD IS LOVELY AND GENTLE ON THE AUL’ TUMMY ULCER,’ Daphne shouts back as Ruth adjusts a tiny, very high-tech-looking hearing aid embedded in her ear, a bit like one of the CIA.

  ‘There, that’s it, I can hear you perfectly now,’ says Ruth, ‘I knew I left the house this morning without switching this bloody thing on properly. There was I thinking you were all being a lot quieter than usual.’

  ‘So is there no court session happening this morning?’ I ask the room.

  ‘Ahh, you should have got here on time, Tess, love,’ says Minnie, coming over to me and handing me a delicious-smelling, fresh chocolate croissant, whether I want it or not. ‘You missed out on all the fun.’

  �
��Fun? In here?’

  ‘It seems that the Defence have asked for a short recess this morning,’ says Will, the only one not milling into the breakfast buffet. Instead he’s standing apart from the others, coffee clamped to one hand and looking thoughtful.

  ‘And did they say why?’

  ‘Apparently they’ve got a last-minute witness that they want to call,’ he shrugs.

  ‘And this bit of extra time is to allow them to prep that witness, is my guess,’ Barney chips in knowledgably, like he and the judge had a cosy chat about it, just the two of them. ‘You know, the very same thing happened in Kinsella versus Kane back in 1997. It’s entirely allowable, you know. A judge can request a recess at any time and for any reason.’

  Since this court case started, Barney, I’ve noticed, is taking a keen interest in the law and although we’re not supposed to read about this case, he’s been making up for it by reading about just about every other one that he feasibly can. In fact, he’s becoming a bit of a court statistic bore. So much so that if you end up sitting beside him at lunch, it’s very much considered the short straw.

  ‘So where’s Mona?’ I ask, amazed at this latest development, not to mention the light-hearted holiday atmosphere in here. Like the headmistress has just given us an unexpected and most welcome free class.

  ‘Well that’s the best bit of all,’ says Edith joyously. ‘Miracle of miracles, my prayers were answered. For the moment at least, we’re rid of the old bitch.’

  She looks around the room, seemingly surprised that we’re all staring at her, aghast. But then Edith is normally so sweet and docile; hearing her swear is a bit like hearing the Queen drop an F-bomb during her Christmas Day broadcast.

  ‘What are you all looking at me for?’ she asks. ‘Am I wrong? Sure that witch would drive anyone to strong drink.’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ says Jess, high-fiving her.

  ‘It seems she’s left us here for at least the next hour, while we wait till the judge reconvenes us,’ Will explains to me.

  ‘Then Will very kindly ran across to the coffee shop over the road and came back with all these treats for us,’ says Jane briskly. ‘Incredibly thoughtful of you by the way, Will.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ he smiles, giving her a little mock bow. ‘Anything to fill us all up so we can avoid lunch at the Ebola Arms.’

  ‘Tess pet, if you’re not eating that chocolate croissant,’ Daphne interrupts, ‘then can I have it? Feck the blood sugar levels anyway, I want the chocolate.’

  ‘Course Tess isn’t eating it,’ says Mai nudging her, ‘isn’t she getting married in a few weeks’ time? She’s probably on a starvation diet till then, so she can fit into her wedding dress. Am I right, Tess, love?’

  I don’t say anything though, just hand over the chocolate croissant to a delighted Daphne, who wolfs it back in about ten seconds. Honestly, I think from out of nowhere, for someone who spends so much time complaining about her IBS and her tummy ulcers, there’s certainly nothing wrong with this one’s appetite.

  ‘I heard that fella of yours was waiting outside the court for you yesterday,’ says Edith kindly.

  ‘Oh yes, with a big bunch of flowers and everything! Will told us.’

  ‘And they say romance is dead.’

  ‘Bet you had great fun making up your lovers’ tiff last night!’ Ruth chips in with a raucous cackle.

  ‘No wonder she’s late into court this morning!’ says Minnie.

  ‘Thanks so much for that,’ I mutter to Will, who’s still hovering close by, coffee cup in hand.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, turning slightly away from the others so only I can hear. ‘I cracked under questioning. You’ve no idea what this lot are like when they’re trying to wean a bit of gossip out of you. If you ask me, they should use more pensioners in police interrogation rooms. It seems that they have ways and means of tripping you up.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘So just to change the subject,’ his eyes twinkling down at me, ‘I got the hell out of here and came back with breakfast. Did the trick very nicely, as you see.’

  ‘The things you’ll do for a subject change, Will Kearns.’

  ‘So is everything OK?’ he says. He’s one of those people who focuses on you so fully when he’s asking you a question that it’s almost unnerving.

  ‘How do you mean?’ I ask a bit defensively.

  ‘Things back on track?’

  ‘Erm …’

  ‘With lover boy? Husband to be? The guy you’re going to spend the rest of your life with?’

  But I’m distracted just then as my phone rings. Turns out it’s the wedding caterer, probably wanting to confirm an appointment we’d made to meet up after court today. I go to click the phone off, then notice that there’s about another five text messages which have come through and which I hadn’t seen. From the florist, the hairdresser, The Bridal Room and God knows who else. To be honest I give up scrolling down through them after a minute or two.

  ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ says Will gently.

  Mainly because I can’t. I grasp around, trying to find the right words to describe how stressed and conflicted I’m feeling not just right now, but all morning too. And if I’m being really honest, from even further back than that.

  I want to explain that just a few weeks ago, I was so wrapped up in planning this wedding and with getting every tiny detail just perfect, because weddings are deceitful like that, you think that the last thing you’ll ever end up as is some kind of Bridezilla who’s obsessed with corsages and wedding cars and updos, and yet there’s something about the whole three-ring circus that just seems to suck you in.

  And now – it’s hard to put my finger on – it’s like I’m actually starting to see beyond the big day and into the future. My whole future. With Bernard. Who’s a kind, good man that I’m desperately fond of and who I wouldn’t hurt for all the world. And I’m trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.

  ‘Tess?’ says Will, looking a little worried now. ‘You’ve gone very quiet on me, is everything alright? Because if it’s some basic relationship advice that you need here, just take a look around you. It’s like you’re surrounded by a whole roomful of agony aunts.’

  I know Will means well, but right now I can’t think of a single thing to say to him. Too confused, too muddled, too sick with worry.

  So I just say nothing and hope he’ll draw his own conclusions.

  *

  Soon – way sooner than any of us hoped – Mona is back into the jury room, barking at us and lining us up to go back to court.

  ‘Judge Simmonds is ready to resume the hearing,’ she says sternly, before giving the jury room a lightning-quick up and down glance, taking in all the discarded coffee cups and empty cake boxes. ‘And after court,’ she adds sniffily, ‘whoever is responsible for the mess in here had better stay behind to clear it all up. Most unfair to have to ask the cleaning staff to take care of it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do it,’ Will says to her in a tone that’s so overly polite I’d almost swear he’s taking the piss. ‘And if you’d like to help yourself to a few of the leftovers while we’re in court, Mona, then of course please feel free. I can highly recommend the chocolate croissants. Nothing like a sugar hit to elevate the mood, I always find.’

  ‘Might put a smile on her face for once,’ whispers Daphne to Edith as the two of them giggle like a pair of bold primary school kids.

  ‘Well all I can say is there better be a very good reason for this hold up.’ I can hear Mai grumbling while we all line up. ‘I’ve to get to the chiropodist after court today and I don’t want to be late. My bunions are giving me awful trouble altogether.’

  Turns out we don’t have long to wait. Back in court there’s a palpable air of excitement and Hilda Cassidy is buzzing around her bench clutching documents and looking far from her usual unruffled self. Kate King is sitting behind her as always, this time dressed in an elegant pale-blue coat that hangs so beautif
ully on her even from this distance I can tell it must have cost well over the four figure mark.

  Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the court, Damien King and Oliver Daniels are deep in animated chat, surrounded by junior counsels in their wigs, gowns and tab collars, all listening intently and occasionally jabbing a hopeful finger up to fight for airspace.

  All eyes are on us as Mona practically shoves us through the double doors that lead into court from the jury room. I take a seat beside Will, this time in the back row, to be honest grateful for the chance of a few hours’ distraction from the tangled emotional lather I’m in right now.

  A bare moment later, Judge Simmonds is swishing in with her black gown billowing behind her and declaring that we’re ‘in session’. Wasting no time whatsoever, Hilda is straight up on her feet and addressing the bench.

  ‘Your Honour, thank you so much for the brief recess. The Defence would now like to call a new witness.’

  ‘Well you’ve certainly kept us waiting long enough,’ says Judge Simmonds, deeply unimpressed. ‘So for the sake of your client, I only hope that this new witness of yours provides worthwhile testimony.’

  ‘I’m quite certain you’ll find he will,’ says Hilda confidently. ‘The Defence now calls Dr Jasper Adams.’

  I freeze in my seat. I know that name. Jasper Adams is a colleague of Bernard’s. I’ve never actually met him, but Bernard is always quoting him and saying things like ‘Jasper recommended we try this vintage wine/antiquarian book store/walking tour of Brontë country’.

  My mind races. So does this mean that I’m compromised as a juror now? We were given a stiff lecture from Mona all about jury contamination before the case started and I wonder … could this possibly be something that might cause trouble for everyone else down the line? I look around, white in the face and feeling a bit panicky.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ whispers Will from beside me.

  ‘I know this witness,’ I hiss back. ‘That is, I don’t actually know him, but Bernard works with him.’

  ‘In that case you need to tell the judge. Now,’ he says firmly, raising his hand without any hesitation. There’s a kerfuffle and a bit of a commotion as Sandra the Court Registrar spots what’s going on and immediately comes over to us. I lean forward and explain the situation to her, aware that every eye in the court is on me and that there’s a lot of murmured conjecture around about what this could possibly be. Sandra listens, nods, then waddles straight up the steps to the judge’s bench where the two of them have a hurried, whispered consultation.