A Form of Justice

by Dawn Marsanne

  Trish seemed to drift off as she remembered her counselling session with Melanie.

  ‘Truly, I never suspected the signs. Perhaps I should give up my job, maybe I’ve not been concentrating as I should.’

  ‘Trish, have you spoken to Ash about Melanie?’

  ‘Yes, I did give him a call yesterday actually.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He says that I followed the correct protocol and I’d discussed Melanie’s case with him, so it was just one of those things. He’s being very supportive.’

  Ash was Trish’s line manager in the counselling service where she worked, and thus she had regular meetings with him to discuss the progress of her clients.

  ‘Try to hold on to that conversation with Ash. Melanie’s getting good care now and will be monitored regularly?’

  ‘OK, I’ll try.’

  ‘There’s another thing I wanted to mention. Is everything OK between you and Tom?’

  ‘Well, yes, I think so. We do get irritable with each other from time to time but all couples have problems, don’t they?’

  ‘Yes of course. It’s only when it becomes the norm that it means a relationship might be on the rocks.’

  Trish thought for a few moments.

  ‘I guess I do worry sometimes that our relationship is heading in the same direction as that of my parents, which is a bit scary.’

  ‘I remember you mentioning that they had a loveless marriage, is that what you mean?’

  ‘Well, yes, but hearing you say that out loud, no, I don’t think ours is going to go downhill like that. My father was very domineering and a bully. In fact, I’m sure he hit my mother once.’ Trish paused as she remembered the incident.

  ‘Did you witness him strike your mother?’

  ‘No, but she had a mark on her face which she blamed on walking into a door,’ Trish smiled, ‘the usual excuse. Then he died not long after that, so I guess it couldn’t have been that many incidents.’

  Francine listened, allowing Trish the freedom to unburden herself.

  ‘Tom isn’t like that. Sometimes I feel he’s overprotective and wants to tell me what to do, rather than letting me make my own decisions but he does care for me. Whereas, my father just treated my mother like a housekeeper. He was happy to be the breadwinner, and she was dependent on him. It wasn’t a real partnership. It sounds dreadful, but it was a relief when he died.’

  ‘How did things change?’

  ‘My mother got her vitality back, and we moved to a smaller house. We managed financially as we had the insurance payment and I got a grant for university of course. Nowadays, I doubt I could have afforded to go, it would have been a struggle anyway.’

  ‘Sorry to mention this but you are picking at your arm a bit. Is it having a flare up again?’

  ‘Oh, it’s OK, it happens from time to time.’

  ‘Every time I boil a pan of water for the pasta I’m extra careful after what you told me about your accident.’

  ‘Well, it’s good if it makes you careful. I still don’t know how I was so clumsy with the pan.’

  ‘OK, well, I’ll schedule a telephone session for us next week. Would a similar time suit you?’

  ‘Yes, that should be fine, thanks. So, don’t forget that plant I potted up for you. It can tolerate sun or partial shade and should be hardy unless we have a really hard winter. Connie’s Pink is the variety, it’s very pretty.

  Francine looked at the penstemon plant. ‘Great, thanks. I’ll plant it tonight.’

  They said their goodbyes and Trish went to make herself a sandwich before her trip into town.

  Chapter 17

  The afternoon session at the inquiry was now underway. Alice Stubbs, a carer who had worked with Jason Morley was being sworn in.

  ‘Mr Bretherton? Please proceed,’ instructed Dame Margaret.

  Gina was pleased that during this afternoon’s session she could let Julius conduct the questioning of the witnesses. She needed to make sure that all the relevant information was being covered, but as he was proving to be so proficient, her mind began to wander. Something had just occurred to her as she remembered this morning’s flat tyre. Was the incident in any way connected to the mysterious items of post or was she being paranoid? She hadn’t had time to examine the car for more damage. Perhaps it had been scratched as well? If that were the case, she would need to report it to the police.

  Words from Miss Stubbs and her colleague Julius filtered through her thoughts and she heard, “short-tempered, grabbing, dressings, rough,” and she was hauled back to the present moment. Gina scanned some papers in front of her. Everything was proceeding according to plan.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Stubbs. So it seems apparent that there was no effective whistle-blowing policy in place. The managers at the home and at SEKare were reluctant to listen to concerns about one of their employees and so abuses were allowed to carry on for longer than necessary. We can see that once more there was a failing of the management and no effective supervision of employees, thus allowing an unsafe environment to flourish at the expense of the most vulnerable.’

  ‘Thank you, Ms Overton. Mr Fairbrother?’

  ‘I don’t have any further questions, madam.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Stubbs, you may sit down.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve just been passed a note to say that our next witness, Mr Keith Dennison, has been involved in a car accident on the way here and is unable to attend. Fortunately, he’s not seriously injured but has been taken to hospital as a precaution. I am going to end today’s session earlier than planned. We will reconvene tomorrow at 10 a.m. Counsel, before you leave, I should like a quick discussion in my office.’

  Gina felt relieved that the session had ended. She still felt slightly unsettled by her latest item of mail, and it was praying on her mind. Nor had she mentioned the flat tyre to Will. Her usual analytical thought processes didn’t seem to be working efficiently at all. The trouble was that if it came to nothing, she would have worried him unduly but at the same time, if things got worse and she needed to involve the police, he would accuse her of being secretive. Besides, a card and a notebook were hardly a matter for the police. People did make mistakes and send items to the wrong address although, in the case of a work address that seemed unlikely. Troubling her husband at the moment seemed like a lose, lose situation and not worth the hassle.

  She was aware of Julius speaking to her but had no idea of the question.

  ‘Sorry, Julius I was just thinking about something.’

  ‘I wondered whether the plan is for me to continue with the witnesses tomorrow?’

  ‘Er, yes, why shouldn’t it be?’

  ‘No reason. I was just checking,’ said Julius, defensively. His superior had seemed very tense this afternoon, quite different to her normal self.

  ‘Was there something else?’ she asked.

  ‘Er, no. Why?’

  ‘I wondered why you were still sitting there. I need to pass by you to go to Dame Margaret’s office.’

  ‘Julius stood without replying to her barbed comment, thus allowing her to pass and he hoped that tomorrow would signal an improvement in her mood.

  **

  After some time alone in her office, Gina felt calmer. She’d spent about an hour dealing with administrative tasks and catching up with messages which Carly had taken in her absence. Finally, having dictated some letters and signed the rest of her correspondence, she felt on top of things and actually ahead of where she had planned to be. The shorter inquiry session had been welcome and well-timed. She hoped that Carly hadn’t smelled her e-cigarette as she had naughtily vaped furiously whilst standing at the open window in her office. Perhaps that was the cause of her relaxed mood?

  ‘Will, hi, I’m sorry I was a bit terse with you at lunchtime.’

  ‘Oh, no problem, perhaps I shouldn’t have phoned. You sound better now.’

  ‘Yes, well, someone’s misfortune was my gain, so to speak. The last witness never made
it to the inquiry, so we finished early. Let out of school for good behaviour, she joked.’

  ‘Well, I’m having a shit day, our IT systems have just gone down. Would you believe we’ve had one of those ransomware attacks?’

  ‘Oh, no! What a disaster! When will you be up and running again?’

  ‘Tomorrow, probably. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened if we had upgraded our Windows system and had better security. God the incompetence is quite unbelievable. They try to penny pinch and then it just costs more in the long run.’

  ‘Yes, it’s so frustrating when there doesn’t seem to be a long-term plan. Anyway, I had better go as I’m popping around to the estate agent to take in our documents and bank details etc.’

  ‘Oh, great. Augustine Avenue looks super. I’ve been looking at the street view, and it looks perfect, well, apart from the price.’

  ‘This is the south-east, not the north. Everything is more expensive.’

  ‘Yes, well we knew that. I’m just being a miser as usual!’

  ‘Look, I’d better go. Chat later.’

  ‘Bye, darling.’

  Gina collected her bag and checked she had all her documents.

  ‘Bye Carly, I won’t be back again today. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Bye. Have a good evening,’ replied Carly in her sing-song voice.

  Gina stepped outside and before setting out on her way, took out her e-cigarette. The comforting vapour suffused her lungs. She hoped she wasn’t becoming addicted, but it was definitely helping at this stressful time.

  Gina made her way down to the main road and squinted against the strong late-afternoon sunlight whilst she waited for a gap in the traffic. Impatiently, she scurried across the road and strode out purposefully in the direction of the estate agent, completely unaware of the person who had been sitting for a while observing the door to her chambers. That person was now covertly following Gina at a distance of ten yards or so, masked by the crowds of tourists and shoppers in the centre of the city.

  Chapter 18

  It was Friday, the end of the week and Gina felt dreadful. Last night at about 7 p.m., her mother’s care home had called asking Gina to go over as her mother was in a state of extreme agitation, continually asking for her daughter and unable to be pacified by any of the staff. Thus, Gina had abandoned her meal which she was just about to microwave and had driven over to Broadstairs. Her mother had clearly been crying and was very confused. Despite asking for Gina, she barely recognised her and mistook her for one of her old neighbours. Once more her mother had travelled back thirty years or more and was trapped in her loveless marriage. ‘He hit me, he hit me,’ she said, over and over again.

  Gina assumed this was a reference to her father, although she had never actually witnessed him strike her mother. It was impossible to know whether her mother’s memories were real or imagined. That evening, Gwen had worked herself into such a state that she eventually dozed off, spent through crying and shouting. The staff had brought Gina a cup of tea and a sandwich whilst she waited with her mother. Upon waking, Gwen had seemed calmer and marginally more lucid. She’d actually recognised Gina and, they had talked about the home and neutral subjects like her favourite TV programmes.

  The staff put her mother to bed, and she then had a short meeting with the nurse in charge who suggested that they would ask the GP to refer her to a geriatric specialist. Thus, the sun had been setting when Gina finally returned home, tired, upset and depressed. Food had borne no attraction for her whereas the off-licence around the corner had acted like a siren and her bedtime drink had been three-quarters of a bottle of red wine.

  Now, sitting in the auditorium, she regretted her indulgence and was willing her painkillers to take effect. It was fortunate that Julius was coping ably and questioning the morning’s witness with assured aplomb. Mr Keith Dennison, another employee of Stour View was the only person looking in a worse state than Gina. His left arm was in a sling, and he had a severely bruised face, with a large dressing on his right temple. Despite his injuries, he gave accurate and confident testimony.

  Gina’s mind wandered to her personal situation, her cryptic items of mail and her relationship with Will. With having to drive to Broadstairs, she’d completely forgotten to phone him, and then he’d got in touch with her whilst she was dozing on the sofa. It was clear that he had also been drinking after his stressful day and they had both accused the other of not caring or bothering to keep in touch. Their conversation had strayed to past events whereupon they’d accused each other of being wedded to their jobs, rather than each other and they had resorted to mutual criticism, focusing on minutiae in their pasts. Gina had cruelly brought up a dalliance of Will’s twenty years ago and that had been the killer blow. His parting ‘Fuck you,’ was the end of last night’s conversation.

  Deep down, Gina knew that they would make up and both would cite external pressures as the cause of their argument, but once more it had served to emphasise that there were cracks in their relationship which might develop into larger fissures if given the opportunity. With the upheaval they were both enduring, that simply could not be allowed to happen.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Dennison. I think it is a convenient time to break for lunch,’ said Dame Margaret. ‘We will resume at 2 p.m. as usual.’

  Gina was due to lunch with Julius and their team of solicitors. It was the last thing she felt like, but it would appear churlish to make excuses. Besides, she felt she actually wanted company rather than the isolation of her office. Some normal conversation about events in the news, plans for the weekend or other people’s lives was just what she needed. She looked at her phone, and there was a string of texts from Will, apologising profusely and asking her to phone him later. He had a full morning of consultations and a stent insertion to perform this afternoon so they wouldn’t get a chance to speak until this evening.

  Suddenly, Gina felt better. She texted him back a quick message and after a visit to the Ladies’ room, joined the others outside in the courtyard.

  **

  Trish had spent the morning at the Beaney Art Gallery which was part of the Main Library in Canterbury, listening to a talk about archaeological digs in the city and surrounding areas. The Roman past was ever present in the city, and Trish remembered seeing the remains of a Roman bathhouse, behind a glass partition in the basement of a bookshop. Trish herself could never envisage taking part in painstaking archaeological work, but it was interesting to hear about it all the same. It was also good to get out of the house and give her back and knees a break from gardening.

  It was now the coffee-break, and Trish found herself mingling with the other attendees.

  ‘So, I’ve not seen you here before,’ said a retired gentleman, Douglas.

  ‘No, I’ve got more time on my hands, and I thought I’d do something a bit different.’

  ‘Oh, have you retired? asked a rather squat middle-aged lady with corn-yellow hair.

  ‘I work part-time usually, but I’m taking a break from it for a few weeks.’

  ‘What do you do?’

  ‘I’m a counsellor.’

  ‘Oh,’ she sniffed. ‘Well, I’m glad I’ve met you because the state of that main road through Sturry is a disgrace, full of potholes. I hit one this morning and I’m worried I’ve damaged my tyre!’

  ‘No, no...’ said Trish, trying to interrupt the woman, ‘I’m a counsellor,’ she emphasised the middle syllable, not a councillor on the council.’

  The woman frowned. ‘Oh! I see! Silly me. Well, that’s a stroke of luck. I was in an abusive relationship for years, and although we’ve split up, it’s left me suffering from anxiety. How do you think I can get over it?’

  Inwardly Trish sighed. This was the problem with her profession. People latched on to her and thought she could solve all manner of problems with just a quick chat.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I really can’t advise you just like that. You would need to speak to someone in a more formal setting, and then
they could probably help you. They would need to hear all about the background of your experience and so on.’

  ‘Can’t you do that? We could go for coffee after this has finished.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m taking a break from work at the moment. I’ll just pop to the loo,’ said Trish.

  Instead of returning for the second half of the session she left the building. She wasn’t feeling up to another encounter with the troubled lady, though she did feel sorry for her and abuse by partners was so common. She headed out into the sunshine in search of some retail distraction.

  **

  Gina had escaped from the inquiry around 4.30 p.m. and had then headed straight to the GP surgery where she handed in her completed registration forms and waited for an introductory appointment with a nurse. By the time she had been seen and had been issued with a repeat prescription for her statin, which she then collected at the chemist, it was 5.45 p.m. Finally, the working week had ended, and it was time for the weekend. Will was coming down to see her which made her stomach flutter with excitement, but unlike his last visit, he wasn’t due to arrive until after 10 p.m., so Gina planned to complete her work prior to his arrival so that the whole weekend would be free.

  She was walking back towards her flat when she stopped in the middle of the pavement causing her fellow pedestrians to curse her. Her notes on the Percival case were in her office. ‘Shit,’ she muttered to herself, there was no alternative but to trek back through the city and collect the file otherwise, she would spend the weekend worrying about it, and she and Will had some serious bridge-building to concentrate on.

  ‘Oh, Gina! I didn’t expect you so late,’ said Carly. ‘I was just about to phone you.’

  ‘Oh, missing me, are you?’ she joked.

  ‘Of course,’ retorted Carly. ‘I’ve just taken a call from Briggs, the estate agent.’

  ‘Really? They haven’t phoned me.’

  ‘No, well, they said that you told them not to phone your mobile because you were in the inquiry but instead to phone your chambers.’