A Form of Justice

by Dawn Marsanne

  ‘No thanks.’

  He returned with a small bottle of beer.

  ‘Sorry, it was just a surprise. You are lucky I didn’t chuck a bucket of water over you! I thought we had a fire.’

  ‘Very droll. Want to try it?’

  ‘What do I do?’

  ‘You just suck on it, what else do you want to do with it?’

  Tom sucked on the e-cigarette. ‘Very floral or do I mean aromatic? Sort of bergamot flavour?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a bit like that. Do you like it?’

  ‘I’m not sure, let me have another go.’ He sucked on the e-cigarette a couple of times, then shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose it’s not harmful, well, not as far as we know. Anyway, what sparked, pardon the pun your interest in vaping? You never mentioned it?’

  ‘I need something else to help calm me.’

  ‘Really? I thought you were doing OK at the moment?’

  ‘Well, I might appear like that, but you don’t know how I feel inside. It’s the anxiety which is worse than the depression. In fact, the depression has lifted quite a bit recently.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, and I had noticed that you seem brighter.’

  ‘The thing is, I don’t want to rely on taking tranquillisers as well as the anti-depressants. It’s easy to use them as a prop, and we all know how lots of women got hooked on them in the past.’

  ‘Well, anything to avoid that! No, if it helps you then all well and good.’

  ‘Thank you, and I promise not to cover you in clouds of vapour!’

  ‘No worries, what’s for dinner, I’m starving?’

  ‘Vegetable lasagne and salad. I’ll go and put it in the oven now you are back.’

  Tom wandered over to the hutch to see the two guinea-pigs. He had to admit that they were very cute and one came over towards the wire mesh on the front of the hutch as if to greet him. On the whole, Trish seemed to be coping with her enforced break from work and was keeping busy which was good. Hopefully, it meant there would be no more repeats of her amnesia.

  **

  Gina and Will were just finishing their evening meal, and for once both had succeeded in keeping their promise to return from work just after 6 p.m.

  ‘That was lovely, thank you,’ said Will. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘Waitrose. I love that shop.’

  ‘So, how’s your talk coming along then?’

  ‘OK, actually I wondered whether you would listen to it this evening, then I will have time to change it before next week?’

  ‘Of course, I will. Do you want me to ask you some probing questions as well?’

  ‘No thank you. I doubt I’ll get anything too difficult, although it will be embarrassing if I don’t get any questions, that will show I’ve bored them to tears!’

  ‘I very much doubt that. You must be one of their most prestigious Old Girls. That name always makes me laugh. Somehow Old Boys is a lot less amusing.’

  ‘Yes, it does seem rather unflattering. I bet there will be some really old Old Girls there if you see what I mean. They might have trouble keeping awake!’

  ‘Particularly if they’ve been at the sherry!’

  ‘I might need a sherry to give me some Dutch courage.’

  ‘Nonsense. You are used to speaking in front of people.’

  ‘Yes, in court but this is somehow different. In court it’s very theatrical, there’s a particular formula laid down, and we act the part. It’s like being in a play. I will feel rather exposed standing up and talking about my background and career.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, I know you will.’

  ‘I do feel nervous about this talk, and I wish I hadn’t agreed to it.’

  ‘Why? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, I did well at school, but I wasn’t a model pupil.’ Gina became distant, caught up with her memories.

  Will shrugged. ‘Oh! Sorry to change the subject but I just remembered, I won’t be home for dinner tomorrow evening. Departmental meeting.’

  ‘Down the pub?’

  ‘Ha, very funny. No, budgets and so on. Very boring, anyway, sorry, back to your talk.’

  ‘No, I’d just like you to hear what I’ve got so far.’

  ‘Have you got any funny anecdotes?’

  ‘A few, not many though, the profession doesn’t really lend itself to lots of slapstick moments.’

  ‘Right, coffee? Then I can listen to you and give you marks out of ten.’

  ‘Don’t expect too much. It’s fifteen minutes of a rather humdrum life story, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Humdrum? Hardly. How many people achieve what you have?’

  ‘Lots, you for instance. You save lives.’

  ‘But you fight for justice and people who have been wronged, and that’s just as important. Without the law, we’d be living in an anarchistic society. Lord of the Flies and all that, don’t you agree?’

  ‘It’s sounding like an episode of the Moral Maze!’ said Gina, smiling.

  ‘Well, I’m your biggest fan, so don’t do yourself down.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Gina, squeezing her husband’s hand.

  Chapter 42

  Gina had been out of the office for a couple of hours in the morning, attending a roundtable meeting with the executives of the health trust, as part of a preliminary discussion regarding another negligence claim. Autumn was now firmly established, bringing with it heavy downpours and strong winds. Trees were shedding their foliage in abundance, and she had just skidded on some wet leaves, as she scurried across the car park back to her chambers.

  Gina pushed open the main door and shook her raincoat in the entrance over the coir doormat, before stepping into the reception area. She ran her fingers through her short hair which had taken a buffeting by the elements.

  ‘Goodness, what a morning,’ she said to Carly and the other assistants who were gathered there. She noticed that Russell was also in reception along with two other colleagues, Harry and Zelda. Her eyes scanned the scene, and she felt momentarily confused, there weren’t normally so many people downstairs out of their individual offices.

  ‘Very nice!’ shouted Harry, although his words were rather muffled. He was eating something, as were the others.

  ‘Come and get one, Gina!’ said Russell, ‘and thank you very much. Very kind of you. I’m not going to need any lunch.’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Gina. ‘What have you got?’

  ‘Your cakes,’ replied Carly. ‘They arrived this morning, and I must say they’ve been very popular!’

  ‘What? I don’t understand?’ replied Gina.

  There was an embarrassed silence, and the assembled group didn’t know quite what to say. Russell was the first to speak.

  ‘Gina, look, they are from Kate’s Cakes, they were delivered this morning. She told us you ordered them two days ago. On the card it says, Celebrate Success!’

  Gina was rooted to the spot. Her brain was desperately trying to work out what was happening. A horrible feeling swept through her body, draining the blood from her face and rendering her eyes wild and afraid.

  ‘Don’t eat them!’ she shouted. ‘Put them in the bin! Here!’ she lunged across the room and grabbed a waste-paper bin, picked up the box and tipped remaining cakes in the bin. ‘Who’s eaten them? Has anyone started to feel ill?’ Her searching gaze scanned around the room, imploring her colleagues to answer.

  ‘Gina. Are you feeling alright, you’ve gone quite pale?’ said Russell, abandoning his plate and gently steering her towards a chair.

  ‘I’ll get some water,’ said Carly rushing off to the kitchen.

  ‘Sorry, no, I feel a bit dizzy,’ said Gina.

  ‘Put your head down you’ll feel much better,’ said Russell, indicating with his head that his colleagues should tactfully withdraw to avoid any further embarrassment.

  Carly returned and Gina sipped the water. She closed her eyes and put her head back. ‘I feel better now, sorry. I er, I don’t know what came over me. I, no, it’s nothi
ng. Ha! I just got a bit confused, that’s all.’ Inwardly she was cringing. She had made such a fool of herself, losing control and acting like someone completely crazed.

  ‘Have you been working too hard recently?’ asked Russell. ‘There’s been a lot going on.’

  ‘Yes, that’s probably it,’ nodded Gina, trying to act normally.

  ‘I know you are worried about your mother? Is she rather worse?’

  ‘Yes, I went to see her last night, and she was very confused, I didn’t get any sleep.’ Gina rubbed her forehead. ‘Sorry, I forgot I ordered the cakes the other day, and I just wondered if someone was playing a prank on me. That’s all.’

  ‘A prank? Why has it happened before?’

  ‘Er, no, well not here, when I was in Manchester,’ lied Gina.

  ‘OK, well, no harm’s done. You gave us a bit of a fright though. You did shout rather loudly!’

  ‘Yes, well, sorry about that. I’ll just go to my room now and calm down. I hope we can forget what just happened. I’m just having a bad day.’

  ‘Let me know how you are later,’ said Russell, frowning slightly.

  ‘I will, thank you.’

  Gina walked slowly towards the staircase and gripping the bannister tightly, slowly made her way up to her office. Once inside, she slumped down in her chair, still holding her bag and coat. She fumbled in her pocket for her mobile, then let her possessions slide to the floor. Her fingers were clumsy and seemed to be fighting the messages from her brain. Gina fully expected Will’s answerphone to cut in, but quite untypically he answered.

  ‘Gina! Hi, how’s it going?’

  ‘Will, it’s happened again. Oh God. I’ve just made such an idiot of myself.’

  ‘What darling? You aren’t making any sense.’

  ‘I’ve had another package! Someone is playing tricks with me!’

  **

  Trish was at home, finishing the ironing as she waited for a courier who was due imminently. The weather had put a stop to any gardening that day, and as she looked out, leaves fluttered down like confetti, swirling around like a snowstorm and settling in a pile towards the fence.

  Her guinea-pigs were sheltering in the sleeping quarters of their hutch out of the strong wind. Trish had planned to clean them out that day, but that was a task for when the wind dropped, otherwise there would be wood-shavings all over the place.

  The doorbell sounded, and she rushed into the hallway to sign for her parcel. This was something she did intend to keep secret from Tom, and there was a full day stretching ahead for her to get to grips with her new purchase. Excitedly, she cut through the tape on the box and inspected the contents. Taking her new purchase into the dining room, she woke up her laptop to read some online instructions.

  Chapter 43

  A week later.

  ‘Good evening, can I have your name please?’ asked the woman in the lobby.

  ‘Susan Barnes, but Hepworth when I was at school.’

  She ran her finger down the list of names, ‘Oh, yes, here you are on my list and here’s a name badge for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Susan, sticking it on to her jacket.

  ‘This is a programme of the evening and a plan of the new buildings on site. Go through and help yourself to a drink and nibbles. The toilets are that way, and well, you probably remember, the hall is along there.’

  The school hadn’t changed a huge amount in the last three decades or so, although there was a new science block, an information technology suite and new language laboratories. A tour of these was scheduled during the first part of the evening before the talks. The entrance area still displayed pictures of headmistresses, dating from the foundation of the school in the 1920s. The faces in those photos stared back seriously and in some cases quite intimidatingly. More recent photographs were arranged on the walls alongside the imposing wooden staircase, which looked just as slippery and dangerous as ever. How many footsteps had thundered up and down the flights, their repeated actions partially wearing away the treads? Thousands? Millions? Tens of millions? Susan couldn’t work it out.

  The traditional red-brick school appeared to be in better repair than it had in her schooldays. The draughty windows, which once had rendered the top floor laboratories icy-cold, had been replaced by sealed double glazed units, although still in the same cottage style with multiple small panes. Susan could recollect one particularly cold winter when her feet had lost all feeling during a lesson in the chemistry laboratory. The parquet floor still looked fiendishly dangerous and a challenge for any high heeled shoes. Suddenly, a familiar smell assailed her nostrils rolling back the decades and causing imaginary sounds to filter into her ears. Chattering, laughter, feet thundering along the corridors at the change of lessons. For a brief moment, a vision of girls zoomed into focus before they faded and metamorphosed into grown women of varying ages.

  Susan put her shoulder bag across her body as she took a glass of dry sherry and a small plate, then selected a couple of sausage rolls along with some pieces of cheese on cocktail sticks. Towards the back of the room, there were boards with posters about recent school achievements and activities, which were extremely diverse; exchange visits to master foreign languages, campaigns for ecology, charitable and humanitarian initiatives, debating competitions and business enterprise schemes. All this was in addition to the school achieving higher than average academic grades, which in turn had resulted in the highest ever number of admissions to Oxford and Cambridge last year. Such a broad curriculum would doubtless be expected from parents paying such large fees to send their daughters to an independent day school.

  Susan stood alongside a woman who was looking at the poster displays, and after ten seconds or so, the woman initiated a conversation.

  ‘Oh, hi, I was Judy Phelps at school. My married name is Randall. I left school in 1982.’

  ‘I’m Susan, Susan Hepworth, when I was at school, I left in 1984.’

  ‘So, it’s amazing to see the old place again, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve not been back here since leaving school. It’s a bit frightening to think how the years have passed by.’

  ‘That’s true. I only started coming to these things a couple of years ago. Now that my family have flown the nest, I have more time. I’ve been involved in some of the charitable events.’

  ‘Well, those have been amazing. As you can see, I’m a cancer sufferer, hence the headgear.’

  ‘Oh, yes, sorry to hear you’ve not been well. How are you feeling now?’ said Judy, tactfully.

  ‘I’m not too bad, thanks. I hope that this is my last run of treatment, but of course there’s always the worry that it will come back,’ she paused. ‘I’ve had breast cancer, by the way. Unfortunately, it runs in my family.’

  ‘Oh, dear, yes I’ve read about that. Is is the BRC gene? Something like that?’

  ‘BRCA1 gene is the one I’ve got, there are others though.’

  Judy remained silent.

  ‘Well unlike my mother who was only fifty when she died I’ve got more chance. The chemo has been an ordeal though, but at least it’s an option nowadays.’

  ‘Poor you. I hope you get the all clear.’

  ‘I’ll get regular check-ups, and the NHS has been amazing, I couldn’t fault it.’

  They sipped their drinks. As always at events like this, the conversation was a bit stilted apart from amongst very extrovert people.

  ‘So, when I read about this evening in the magazine, I thought I’d like to come along to see the new buildings here. The talk sounded interesting as well.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember Gina so well. She’s done really well for herself, hasn’t she? What with the recent inquiry too. It’s really good publicity for the school as well.’

  ‘It is indeed. So, do you have a family?’ asked Susan but she didn’t get to hear the answer as the evening was about to start. A small handbell was being tinkled to attract the attendees’ attention.

  ‘Thank you ladies, pl
ease take your seats, the evening is about to start!’ called the Headmistress.

  **

  Tom was late back from work, as he had attended a Patient Group Meeting, which had dragged on rather longer than expected. Every couple of months, the super-hub GP surgery, held a meeting with patient volunteers to discuss matters of interest or problems being incurred by the patients. As usual, top of the agenda was the issue of booking appointments, both the lack of availability and the unreliability of the new telephone booking system. Extended hours in general practice had just been introduced, and there were still ongoing discussions about how best to manage this new initiative.

  The meeting had been hampered by belligerent participants who had criticised and railed at all manner of things, without making any positive suggestions for improvement. Tom had begun to wonder whether a personal doctor, available at all times of the day and night would have satisfied them. Thus, he had listened whilst fighting the urge to ask them that particular question. Not surprisingly the meeting had overrun, and it was nearly 8 p.m. when he walked through his front door bearing the beginnings of a headache.

  ‘Trish?’ he called automatically, before realising that she had told him she would be out at a talk this evening. Also, her car hadn’t been in the driveway, so it should have been obvious that she wasn’t home.

  ‘God, I’m losing it,’ he muttered to himself, wandering into the kitchen. Propped up next to the microwave was a note to him.

  “Tom, hope work was OK. See you later. Meal for you in the fridge, just microwave, two minutes should be OK xx.”

  He was relieved that he didn’t have to start assembling a meal. Trish had left him a tasty looking pasta bake accompanied by broccoli and green beans. But before he ate, he simply had to take a shower. The meeting room had been hot and stuffy, and his armpits had been sweating. Leaving his meal on the side, he went upstairs to make himself feel more refreshed.

  Tom returned downstairs dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, relieved that his headache was abating after his comforting hot shower. Piercing the clingfilm on his meal, he put the plate in the microwave and started heating it whilst he poured a glass of red wine from the opened bottle on the side. Half of the wine disappeared as if it was water and Tom exhaled with pleasure.