by D. R. Bailey
“Oh, my darling,” said Bernadette at once putting the cups down. She hurried over, knelt down and embraced her friend, who immediately engaged in another bout of bitter tears.
“There, there,” Bernadette said softly stroking her hair. She had been on the receiving end of Imogen’s comfort many times, so it was apt for her to reciprocate.
After a few moments the sobs subsided, and Bernadette took Imogen’s hands.
“Come on, come and have a coffee, you’ll feel better.”
Imogen followed her to the sofa and gratefully accepted the cup, she took a long drink and sighed.
“Oh, fuck!” she said, “I’m so silly.”
“No, no you’re not.”
“I am, D’Arcy’s bound to get a bit friendly with her co-stars and I have to accept it.” It was evidently a bitter pill to swallow by her tone.
“OK,” said Bernadette, somewhat pleased to hear a little bit of rationality on the topic.
“I just don’t want to see it, fucking Juanita, why did she have to show it to me?”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you…” Bernadette began.
“Didn’t she? I wonder.”
“Are you going to talk to D’Arcy about it?” Bernadette wondered trying to divert her attention from the hapless PA.
“Yes, oh yes, I will be talking to her about it alright.”
“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it. Talking is the right way to go about it.”
“Then I’m going to give her such a spanking.”
“Right.” This was more the tone Bernadette had been expecting her to take. Imogen had assumed the dominant role in her relationship, and one which, to be fair D’Arcy seemed to wholeheartedly embrace by all accounts. Chastisement was part and parcel of it now, and it seemed to work for them. Bernadette was still not wholly on board with it but she and Eve also had their games, so she didn’t feel able to be censorious.
“She deserves it, not because of what she did but because she didn’t tell me,” Imogen continued.
“But maybe she didn’t tell you because of the consequences?”
“That’s worse! We are supposed to be honest with each other. I know she’s going to get friendly with her fellow actors…”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“I don’t know, really,” Imogen sighed.
“Is it that you are insanely jealous?” Bernadette said mildly sipping her coffee.
“Oh! Why do you have to be so perceptive and right!”
“It’s just a knack I have, and I know you only too well.”
“Bugger! I am a fucking jealous bitch and I don’t know how to curb it. I love her so much, Bernadette, so fucking much it hurts.”
“I’ve given you the answer,” Bernadette said gently, “Before…”
“What was it? I can’t remember.”
“You’re a lost cause, my sweetheart, ask her to marry you for God’s sake. Then you will at least feel more secure.” Bernadette shook her head.
“Oh, oh yes.”
“And?”
“I’m scared.”
“Of?”
“That she will say no.” Imogen shrugged.
“I’ll put money on her saying yes, she is probably dying for you to say it, darling, trust me.”
Imogen thought this over for a moment while she finished her coffee.
“OK, but you have to help me choose a ring, and you and Eve need to be there for support. If you’re there, then she’s less likely to refuse me.”
“Oh, you are silly, but OK, if that’s what it takes,” Bernadette chuckled.
“Don’t laugh at me, the struggle is real!”
“I know, believe me, I know.”
“Anyway, when are you two getting married?”
“Oh, I don’t know, soon I hope but it seems so daunting arranging the wedding and all that.”
“Why does it have to be a big deal? You and Eve can have a small one you know. Anyway, the good thing is that you’ve got the license as it takes so long. All you have to do is decide about the wedding and do it.”
Imogen had a point and Bernadette knew it. She wanted to get married very badly and finish the job she’d started. They both had rings, so her procrastination wasn’t from lack of desire. She didn’t know why, other than the exhausting thought of arranging a wedding and keeping all her friends happy in the process. Something she felt was incumbent on her, but she couldn’t really explain why. In fact, she and Eve spent nearly all their time together, and her circle of friends was very small. It seemed so silly.
“Yes, I guess so, I’ve got to get my head around it. Eve made me get the license,” Bernadette chuckled.
“What’s that telling you then? Just remember, if you don’t do it then the universe will find a way to force you to do it.” This piece of pithy wisdom had been imparted by Imogen before and Bernadette had certainly found it to be true.
“It could equally apply to you.”
“Yes, it could, and I should take my own advice.”
“When did you ever?”
They both laughed at this.
“Are you feeling better now, my heart?” Bernadette asked her.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Then I’ll go and do some work before Andrew complains.”
“What? Was he complaining?”
“Oh, just the usual…” Bernadette favoured her with a pithy rendition of her exchange with Andrew just before.
“Ach, that’s just Andrew being Andrew,” said Imogen dismissively.
“I know, he’s a sweet soul underneath it all,” Bernadette said moderating the disparagements she had just made on their finance manager.
“Yes, he is, that’s true.”
“Anyway, I’ll go and do some work, we can catch up later, maybe have lunch?”
“Sure, why not, on my expenses, that’ll give Andrew something else to moan about,” said Imogen with a wicked expression on her face.
“Yes, good idea, let’s, we’ll go to the usual?”
“We will.”
Bernadette got up to go.
“I’m still going to give D’Arcy a spanking, you know that don’t you,” Imogen told her in resolute tones. Some part of her picked up on the mild disapproval Bernadette felt for her extracurricular activities.
“I didn’t doubt it for a moment,” Bernadette replied before slipping quietly out of the office smiling to herself. Imogen was incorrigible and that was all there was to it.
✽✽✽
An hour or so passed during which Bernadette sat at her computer dealing with emails, and various ongoing queries to do with cases which were slow in coming to court. Her PA, Alison, who was also Imogen’s now she was a junior partner, ably dealt with so much she had become indispensable. In truth, it was getting to a point where Imogen probably would need her own PA too. As she continued her progress towards senior counsel, she was taking on some of the less tricky cases herself. This was as it should be. She and Bernadette would, however, work together on important ones as Imogen still had more to learn. Bernadette was an astute teacher and as Imogen always said, she was learning from the best. Many junior barristers would love to be in Imogen’s coveted position as Bernadette was highly respected in legal circles, and also feared by her opponents. She won more cases than she lost, and in the courtroom she was formidable.
The door opened, and Imogen entered. The two of them seldom knocked so close was their working relationship, and friendship to boot.
“Guess what?” said Imogen.
“What? You’ve bought a new spanking implement?” said Bernadette wryly.
“Not that no,” Imogen chuckled, “Though to be fair I have been thinking about it. But anyway, no, we’ve got a new prospective client.”
“Oh?”
“And I don’t think about that… all the time… I’ll have you know…” Imogen protested.
“But you
do, darling… a lot of the time.”
“OK, fine, guilty as charged, I can’t help it. It’s part of my make-up and well, I don’t want to change it.” Imogen shrugged.
“I’m not asking you to, and I love you for it, because you’re so honest with yourself and that’s a good thing.”
“It is?”
“Yes,” said Bernadette firmly, “Now, about this client.”
“He’s in the meeting room.”
“Any clues?”
“Um, not yet, he runs a haulage company, but I was waiting for you, to find out more.”
“Then we’d better meet him,” said Bernadette getting up.
The meeting room was quite large and painted in the same shade of green as the rest of the office. Bernadette liked the colour because it was restful and calming. There was a meeting table and also two sofas with a coffee table. The sofas had been introduced for less formality with clients and it seemed to work well.
Sitting on one of the sofas was a man in his fifties, he had short grey hair, stubble on his chin and brown eyes. His face was round and the features a little rugged. He stood around average height and was wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and blue tie. Bernadette thought he looked a little uncomfortable as if suits were not his normal attire.
“Hello,” she said offering her hand, “I’m Bernadette Mackenna, senior partner and this is Imogen Stewart, my junior partner.”
The man stood up and said, “Hello, I’m Rhys Jenkins, it’s pleasure to meet you.
He shook hands with Bernadette and then Imogen in turn. His accent wasn’t exactly Irish but more Welsh with a hint of Ireland in it.
“Nice to meet you too, Mr Jenkins,” said Bernadette.
“Oh, don’t stand on ceremony with me, call me Rhys, please.”
Noting they were still standing, Bernadette said, “Please, take a seat, would you like a coffee or tea?”
“Oh well, I won’t say no.” Rhys smiled.
As if on cue, Alison arrived to enquire about beverages and disappeared again to make them.
“My goodness it’s as if you run this place by magic,” Rhys laughed.
“I wish we did. It would make our job a lot easier,” said Bernadette laughing too.
He was an easy man to talk to from the off, and he had a twinkle in his eye which many women no doubt found attractive, Bernadette mused.
“How can we help?” Imogen put in.
“Ah well, I’m not here about myself, it’s my son you see,” Rhys began.
“Your son?” said Bernadette.
“Yes, I probably should give you some background.” He stroked his chin meditatively. “I run Jenkins Hauliers, you’ve probably seen our trucks around, we’re quite big as it goes, in Ireland.”
“Yes?” Now he came to mention it Bernadette had certainly noticed trucks with that name on quite often.
“We haul everything and anything, from frozen goods to wind turbines, we’ve done it all. We go all over Europe but particularly across to the UK. We do regular business there with another firm, and sometimes we swap trucks for jobs and then they bring them back, see.”
“OK, I get the picture, so far.”
“And your son?” Imogen asked.
“He’s one of my drivers, as well as being my pride and joy, see. And he…” Without warning Rhys became all misty eyed and it looked as if he was going to burst into tears.
At this moment, Alison arrived and broke the mood a little. She distributed the drinks and departed with a smile.
Rhys gratefully took a sip of his drink and then somewhat more composed, he continued, “My son, his name is, Callum. He’s all I’ve got. My wife, she died years ago, God rest her soul. I never married again and so it was just me and him, all through those years. He wanted to join the firm and I let him, though I wanted him to go to university and now I wish I had insisted…” he broke off again choking up a little more.
“You wish you had insisted because?” said Bernadette gently. Sometimes it took people a while to get to the point and Rhys seemed to be struggling quite a bit with it.
“Because he’s been arrested and they want to extradite him to the UK, that’s why, and he’s not guilty, he’s not done anything, he…” Rhys shook his head and put his hand up to dash away the wetness forming in his eyes.
“What’s he accused of doing, Rhys?”
“He’s… well… human trafficking that’s what… human bloody trafficking and him who would never hurt a fly… never… he’s never… he’s not a criminal, he’s not…”
The emotion was too much for him and he put his face into both his hands. His shoulders began to shake. Imogen got up and fetched a box of tissues from the shelf of one of the bookcases in the room. They kept the tissues exactly for such a purpose. Although it grieved Bernadette to see her prospective client overcome in this fashion, she did not move to comfort him. Some people did not want that, and he seemed to be a proud man. The two of them waited silently and patiently for him to work through it, which he did eventually. He accepted the tissues gratefully, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose. Then he drank the rest of his tea while they sipped their coffee.
“I’m sorry…” he began.
“Don’t be,” said Bernadette, “I can tell this is very distressing for you and court proceedings usually are. You would not be the first by any means.”
“Thank you,” he said gratefully.
“Perhaps you could talk us through it from the beginning, it might help us to understand,” said Imogen furnishing him with a smile.
“Yes, you’re right, here I am jumping in and you’ve no idea about any of it.”
“No, but just tell us in simple terms.”
“OK. My son was to drive a truck, which contained large drums of flour or some such. I don’t know exactly. The truck was sealed as it was packed by a shipping company in Europe, it came in via Cherbourg. Once it’s sealed for customs, which it was, we have nothing to do with the contents. We’ve just got an inventory. He picked it up from a depot and drove it on the ferry over to Holyhead, and then to London. He dropped it off and returned to Ireland.”
“And then?”
“Then the next thing we knew was they had discovered a load of Vietnamese illegals in the truck. About twenty of them I think, hidden in the barrels. God knows how they survived it.”
“So, if he knew nothing about it, then surely he’s in the clear?” said Bernadette.
“He would be,” said Rhys patiently, “If the person they had arrested for the crime had not implicated him in it and has made a sworn statement Callum knew about it.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Anyway, the British Police have filed for extradition and my son was arrested two days ago, he’s in Mountjoy prison.”
“Right, and when’s the hearing?”
“Not for a while, I’m not sure, I don’t really understand the legal stuff. I’m a trucker, not a lawyer.”
“OK, so I’m going to have to ask you a serious question. Apart from him being your son and your natural inclination to protect him, how do you know he’s not guilty and not involved?” Bernadette said her voice now a little soberer in tone.
It was an important question. She wasn’t prepared to defend a guilty man, it was not her style. Unless it happened to be an old friend like Arthur Dooley.
“I sat him down, I looked him in the eyes and I asked him straight,” said Rhys without hesitation, “I said ‘Callum tell me now if you had anything to do with this, the truth mind’, and he said ‘Dad, I never had any idea, I didn’t know.’ I knew it was the truth because Callum has never been able to lie to me, not from a child, never once. So, I know, and I would swear on anything you like he’s innocent.”
“OK, fair enough. So why did you come to me?”
This was a question she always asked. She wasn’t the only defence lawyer in town and there were others equally good in her opinion. The motivation for
seeking her help was important.
“I wouldn’t have anyone else,” he replied at once.
“And why is that?” It wasn’t a sufficient answer for her.
“Because everybody knows you are the best, ask any lawyer you like, and I’ve rung up few. My own solicitors, I use all the time. They don’t want to touch it, but they all said your name, and now that’s the truth!” He regarded her a little defiantly.
“I admire your honesty, though you could have just come to me first.”
“I would have, but…”
“But what?” She wondered what to expect. He didn’t like lesbians or women, something of that nature?
“I was afraid you wouldn’t take it.”
“What?” She was a little taken aback.
“You’re a highflier, you know, I mean I’ve followed some of the cases you’ve taken. Looked them up on the internet. Who am I? I’m just a haulier with a son who’s in trouble. Not famous or anything, not a big deal, I mean why would you even look at me?”
“You’ve got the wrong impression, if you think that.” She smiled. “Yours is exactly the kind of case I take. You know what interests me most? It’s not fame or notoriety or any of those things. I’ve defended famous people, yes, but not because they were famous. No, it’s stopping injustice. It’s protecting the innocent from a system which will otherwise fail them.”
“Oh well, that’s what other people told me too.”
“There you are then.”
“Will you…” He left the rest of it unsaid.
“Take the case?” she supplied, “Provisionally, though I would like to talk to your son first. We also need to get him out of jail and on bail.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
“I’m just going to say this, and it’s not I don’t believe you, but if I find he is guilty then I won’t represent him, is that fair?”
“It’s more than fair, much more, because if he was really guilty, I would not ask you to,” he said almost fiercely.
