by Emma Fraser
By the time they got to London, the capital was already preparing for war. Sandbags were being brought in trucks before being piled up outside public buildings. Windows were being taped, air raid shelters prepared and a blackout had been ordered.
War was declared two weeks later. Shortly afterwards, protesting furiously, but to no avail, Olivia was packed off to Fife to stay with Agatha and her husband, where she was to remain until it was time for term to start. Instead of going to school in London, she’d been enrolled at St Michael’s – Mother’s old school. Father wanted Mother to go and stay with Agatha too, Olivia heard him pleading with her, but Mother refused to be persuaded.
‘I’ll visit Olivia whenever I can, but I’m staying here with you,’ she said, tears in her voice. ‘They are going to need people in London to help and I’m a good organiser. And if it’s more practical help that’s needed, I can roll up my sleeves with the best of them.’
That made Father smile, although briefly.
‘If only this trouble between Georgina and Findlay hadn’t happened, then Edith would be living in Edinburgh and Olivia could have stayed with her,’ Mother continued. ‘Now Edith has applied to join the QAs and goodness knows where they’ll send her!’
‘Trouble always follows Georgina. I’m beginning to regret organising that posting in Singapore for her. What if she embarrasses us further? Forlorn lovers in Paris, attempts to seduce her sister’s fiancé, engagements called off, really, Harriet!’
‘There was no ditched lover in Paris,’ Mother said quietly. ‘People thought it, and I admit it is easy to see why they might, but it was quite untrue that she encouraged him. Georgina might be naughty, very naughty, and more than a little wayward, but she didn’t do what they said she did.’
‘How can you believe a word she says? And do you deny that she tried to seduce Findlay? Having a few too many drinks is no excuse. God knows what else she got up to in Paris. Living the life of a bohemian, drinking in clubs and bars, consorting with all sorts. It is one thing being flighty, quite another ignoring the rules of decent society.’ Father picked up his newspaper – a sure sign he considered a topic over.
A few days later Agatha came to fetch Olivia in her motor car.
Saying goodbye to Mother and Father was difficult, but Olivia tried her best to be brave and not cry. She kept telling herself she would see them soon. Mother had promised to come to visit whenever she could, with Father if he had leave.
But Olivia knew, deep down inside, that nothing would ever be the same again.
Chapter Nine
Charlotte
1984
Mum trailed off, looking drained.
‘So Findlay was Edith’s boyfriend?’ I almost wanted to say ‘beau’. Boyfriend didn’t seem right.
‘I didn’t know! It never crossed my mind! Georgina and Findlay arrived together and I just assumed they were with each other. All I saw was the way Georgina looked at him. Edith was quieter, more reserved. I never guessed that it was her Findlay was supposed to be in love with. Everything fell apart after that summer. Nothing was ever the same. And for years I believed it was all my fault.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘Maybe it was. I should have told someone I might have been mistaken – that I never saw them actually kiss.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Mum. It’s ridiculous to even think that. You were a child and quite frankly, Georgina sounds a bit of a bitch. What was she thinking of, going after the man her sister hoped to marry? What kind of woman would do that? And what sort of man would respond? Sounds to me as if Edith was better off without him.’
Mum massaged the crease between her brow. ‘I’ve thought about it a great deal over the years. Findlay could have just as easily been telling Georgina to leave him alone as about to kiss her. He was a gentleman, after all. And even if he had been about to kiss her… it might not have meant anything. And to be fair no one could have blamed him. If you’d known Georgina, it wouldn’t have surprised you. Even my father seemed to be under her spell. Everyone wanted to be near her, to have her smile at them. The closest I can describe it is that it was like being in the presence of a movie star.’
‘A singularly selfish, self-absorbed movie star. One with particularly loose morals even by today’s standards.’
‘But that was only one side of her. She was kind and fun – at least as far as I was concerned.’ Mum rummaged around in her drawer of her bedside cabinet and brought out a photograph. ‘That’s us. That last summer.’
It was a group photo in black and white. There were three women and one man. The woman in the chair I recognised as my grandmother and the man standing behind her, his hand resting on her shoulder, eyes squinting against the sun, my grandfather. There were two other women, the aunts I was sure. One lay on a hammock that had been strung between two trees, a long, bare leg hanging over the side, in a posture of abandonment that looked out of place next to my grandparents’ formality. A cigarette hung from between her fingers. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her teeth small and even, and a smile played around her full lips. The other woman was sitting on a picnic blanket, her legs tucked underneath her. She was smiling at the camera, a look of adoration on her face. Mum was next to her.
‘I imagine the woman in the hammock is Georgina and the one on the blanket, Edith?’
‘Yes.’ Mum’s voice was barely above a whisper. ‘You can see how beautiful the sisters were – especially Georgina.’
‘Who took the photograph?’ I asked.
‘I think it was Findlay. It was him who gave it to me.’ She smiled. ‘I kept it along with the camisole Georgina bought for me. I found both the other day when I was sorting things. One day when you marry and have children, your daughter might wear the camisole.’
I’d always suspected Mum wondered if I would ever marry. She’d been so pleased when I started going out with Christopher, an A&E registrar, and clearly disappointed when we’d broken up. Not that she’d ever said – or asked – anything.
Mum glanced at the clock. ‘Good grief! Look at the time! I need to get up.’
Leaving Mum to get dressed in privacy, I went downstairs, the photo still in my hand, my head filled with images of a bygone age, of beautiful women in evening dresses and a large house on an island.
Until this morning, I hadn’t appreciated the sort of family my mother had been born into. She’d never given any inkling. I knew little about my grandparents except they had been killed during the war and until now, had never thought much about them. Yet the way Mum had described Greyfriars it seemed her family had once been wealthy. Although I’d never been aware of us being short of money – Mum had given me a generous allowance while I was at university and more when I was a pupil at Lambert and Lambert – Mum had always been thrifty; the central heating was only used in the depths of winter and we’d never been on holiday overseas.
In the kitchen I switched on the kettle and while waiting for it to boil, I studied the photograph again. Mum was right. All the sisters had been beautiful, but Georgina’s beauty had been remarkable. She did have the sort of face that made you want to keep on looking at.
Placing the photo down, I spooned coffee into a mug. Why had Mum not told me about them before? Why had I never met them? The aunts, Georgina in particular, appeared to have been fond of Mum, and Edith couldn’t possibly have held a grudge against a child who’d blurted out what she thought she had seen in all innocence – even if she had been mistaken.
As I’d lain awake last night I’d run through my schedule in my head. The Curtis murder trial had only recently been concluded and, as there was no way of predicting how long it would run for, I hadn’t accepted any other big cases. Therefore all I had on my calendar was a high-profile divorce, a breaking and entering, and a banker who put far too much of his obscene salary up his nose, and had been accused of attacking a policeman who’d stopped him for driving erratically. These could either be passed on to someone else within Lambert and Lambert or the cases returned.
Taking the telephone from the hall into the kitchen and closing the door, I phoned the office and asked to be put through to John. In theory I should have spoken to Giles, given he was Head of Chambers, and told him about Mum and what I intended, but I had been at Lambert and Lambert long enough to know where the true power lay – with its senior clerk, John Woods. He more or less ran the firm. And he was very good at it. In order to get the pick of the cases for Lambert and Lambert, he schmoozed with solicitors and insisted that we did too. He was the decision maker, the one with the power to hand the most prestigious, the most lucrative cases to the barrister of his choice.
‘Where are you, miss?’ John asked as soon as he came on the phone.
‘At my mother’s. In Edinburgh.’
‘I hope you are planning to press charges against Corrigle,’ John said. ‘We can’t let people think they can get away with attacking barristers, miss. Especially not those of a feminine leaning.’
He always spoke as if he’d been raised in Victorian times. At least to me.
‘Forget about it, John. I have no intention of pressing charges. His daughter tried to kill herself. I think he has enough to worry about.’
‘If you’re sure, miss,’ he said dubiously.
‘I am.’
His voice brightened. ‘The Curtis case will make your name, miss. Mark my words.’ I visualised John behind his desk, one expensively suited leg crossed over the other as he twirled a pen between his fingers.’ It’s already all over the news. All those years of hard graft finally paying off, eh? They’ll be beating a path to your door.’ He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. ‘Perhaps it’s time for you to go after silk?’
I wanted nothing more. It was what I’d been working towards for years.
Giles was as yet the only member to have been given silk, and I intended to be next. In big murder trials, the client was represented by two barristers, one a QC, the other, the junior, his second. It was junior counsel who usually did most of the work but the QC who received the credit. I didn’t mind too much – that was the way things worked. Besides, in law circles everyone who counted – those who considered applications for silk – would know it was me, not Giles, who’d won the case. ‘I’ve had solicitors on the phone all morning, wanting you to represent their clients,’ John continued. ‘There’s one in particular —’
‘That’s what I wanted to speak to you about,’ I interrupted. ‘I can’t accept any new cases. I need to take some time off.’
‘What? Now?’
I hadn’t taken a holiday in the last five years. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken more than a couple of days. And to take time off now, when I had just won the most important case of my career – no wonder John sounded incredulous.
‘If you need a break, and I can see you might, can’t it wait?’ he said.
‘No. My mother is unwell. That’s why I’m in Edinburgh.’
‘When will you be back?’
I swallowed. It was getting more and more difficult to keep my voice steady. ‘I’m not sure. Not for some time.’
‘What about the Littlejohn divorce? You’re due to represent her in court.’
‘Sophie should – will – be able to handle it. She’s in her second six. I’ve done all the background. It should be a rollover.’
About half of my work came from representing women who had been married to rich, powerful men who, not content with dumping them for a younger, prettier model, also wished to leave them if not penniless, then pretty close to it. It never ceased to amaze me how many of these women were unaware of their rights and even when they were, how few wished to fight for what was only their fair share. It was only usually when the penny dropped that they might spend the rest of their lives in rented accommodation, without any of the comforts they had been used to that they instructed a solicitor to instruct me. I had taken my first high-profile divorce case four years ago, won a tidy settlement for the wife, and ever since had been in demand. There was nothing vindictive about it, I got no pleasure from witnessing the end of a marriage, but fair was fair. It was what I was paid to do.
‘And your fee? You know you’ll have to give a large chunk to your pupil?’
‘I do.’ Money had never seemed less important.
‘And the Griffin case?’ he continued, referring to the cocaine abusing banker who’d assaulted the policeman.
‘Give it to one of the others or return it.’
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. ‘He won’t be happy. His solicitor asked for you especially.’ John hated returning cases. And I knew he’d worked hard to get Griffin’s solicitor to send us more work.
‘I’m sorry, John.’
‘This is the worst time for you to be away, you do know that?’ John continued. ‘You have to grab the iron while it’s hot. You might be barrister of the moment now but people, especially solicitors, have short memories.’ The threat wasn’t so much veiled as stripped naked and doing a little pirouette. Either I return soon to the fold or he’d pass the cases he’d earmarked for me to someone else. Tenancies with Lambert and Lambert were highly sought after and chambers there breathtakingly expensive. Several hundred pounds a month. My recent successes meant I was on the brink of being able to cover my expenses several times over, but even so, if I wasn’t working it meant I wasn’t making money and if I wasn’t making money, neither was John, who took a percentage of my earnings. Lambert and Lambert couldn’t evict me, but although John and I had known each other for almost ten years, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would find a way to get me out if he thought I was no longer pulling my weight.
‘I’ll take my chances, John,’ I said, striving to keep my voice even. ‘Now, could you put me through to Sophie, please?’
‘I’ll see if she’s in.’
Of course Sophie would be in. No matter how early I came to the office, Sophie always managed to be there before me. I was her pupil master, a term that made me wince or smile, depending on my mood. The term they used in Scotland was even more bizarre, where pupils ‘devilled’ for their masters.
A small brunette, with an Asian mother and an English father, Sophie was different to most of the pupils at the Inns of Court and pretty much an exception. Although pupils no longer had to pay to be taken on by a set, competition for places was still high and, more often than not, the result of an introduction. When less than ten per cent of women were self-employed barristers, who you knew still got you places rather than ability and Sophie hadn’t gone to Oxford or Cambridge, but to Liverpool. As if that wasn’t enough of a disadvantage, her mother was a housewife and her father a bus driver. Despite having everything against her, I had no doubt she would make it. She was one of the brightest pupils I had ever mastered. She had graduated not only with a first but with the medal for the year, and I had argued long and hard to persuade my colleagues to take her on as a pupil at Lambert and Lambert. She hadn’t let me down. She intended to work for the Crown Prosecution Service when she was called to the bar. Defence lawyers I was sure would learn to fear her.
‘Charlotte. How are you?’ Her quiet voice, that disguised a steel-like resolve, came over the line.
‘I’ve been better. My mother is ill and I need to take some time off.’
‘Of course. If she is unwell, you must be with her. Is there anything I can do?’
Perhaps it was the way her voice softened, or perhaps because it was the first time I felt I didn’t need to defend my decision, but unexpectedly my throat tightened and I was unable to speak for a moment.
‘I’ll need you to take on the Littlejohn case,’ I said when I thought I could trust my voice again.
‘Do you think I am ready?’ she asked, although she couldn’t hide the flare of excitement in her voice. ‘More importantly, will Mrs Littlejohn accept me in your place?’
‘I’ll see that she does. She might take a little persuading but she’d be a fool to go with anyone
else. I know you’d prefer something meatier the first time on your own in court, but once John sees how competent you are, I’m sure he and the others will give you more briefs.’
She didn’t waste time trying to get extra reassurance, instead she quizzed me on the case. She’d been working with me on it so knew most of the detail, but was keen to know what line I would take were it me in court.
‘You have to find your own angle,’ I said. ‘Be yourself. That’s what will make people sit up and take notice. John has my mother’s home number, if you want to talk anything over. Not that I think you’ll need to.’ I hesitated. ‘There’s something else I need you to do for me. You can say no, but I hope you won’t.’
There was a long silence on the other end of the line when I told her what it was. I knew I was asking a great deal.