‘What, and bring little Luke? He makes more noise than either of them!’ Louise put down the pink marker she was using to draw flowers, and smiled at Cassian. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’m sure the girls will have had such an exciting day they’ll go straight to sleep.’
Cassian looked sternly at Louise and wondered whether it was worth trying once again to convince her of the importance of this meeting. But as he was formulating the right phrases in his mind; as he was trying to adopt a severe, meaningful expression, the doorbell rang. Louise threw down the banner and hurried to the door; a moment later the unmistakable heavy tread of Barnaby could be heard in the hall.
As he entered the kitchen, Barnaby was saying gruffly to Louise, ‘I got a bit upset by it. Hi, Cassian,’ he added.
‘Hello, Barnaby,’ said Cassian politely. ‘What upset you?’ Some tedious agricultural catastrophe, no doubt.
‘I just passed Hugh in the street,’ said Barnaby uncomfortably. ‘He looked absolutely awful. Really haggard and miserable.’
‘Did you speak to him?’ said Cassian sharply.
‘No,’ said Barnaby, looking downwards miserably. ‘When he saw me coming, he … he crossed over onto the other side of the street.’
‘Oh, well then,’ said Cassian. ‘It doesn’t matter then.’
‘It does matter!’ exclaimed Barnaby. ‘He looked appalling! I had no idea …’
‘Oh, Barnaby, honestly,’ said Louise. ‘He was probably just having a bad day. Come on.’ Her voice softened slightly. ‘You’re the one who’s always saying that Katie should be our number one priority and nobody else matters. Don’t get all worried about Hugh! Think about Katie!’
‘I know,’ said Barnaby slowly. ‘You’re right.’ He looked at Louise’s cheerful face and smiled cautiously. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, glancing around, ‘I’ll get going on the balloons.’
They arrived back from Forest Lodge just after one o’clock. The first thing Katie saw as the car pulled up was the old brown wooden gate. She peered at it through the car window, and felt, vaguely, that she’d seen it before.
‘Welcome home!’ said her mother, turning round and smiling brightly at her. ‘You’re home again!’ Katie smiled because her mother was smiling, but inside she felt confused. She’d heard lots about home in the last few days, but she wasn’t sure she remembered properly what it was.
Since the accident, there were lots of things that she didn’t remember properly, and there were some things that she thought she remembered but weren’t true. A couple of weeks ago, she’d been convinced that she had lived at Forest Lodge when she was a tiny baby; she could remember her father living there, and her mother, and Amelia, too. But Mummy had said that it wasn’t true and she must have dreamed it.
‘Come on, then,’ said her father. ‘Let’s get you out of the car,’ He leaned over and unbuckled Katie’s seat-belt, then got out of the car and opened her door. Slowly, cautiously, Katie got out.
In front of her was a familiar house. Katie peered at it, then looked uncertainly at her father.
‘Do you remember?’ he was saying. He was smiling at her with his big wide smile. Everybody was smiling. Katie looked at the house again and felt a strange tweaking in her head. As she stared, she had a fleeting dreamlike memory of being inside the house, once, long ago. But the vision evaporated almost immediately, and suddenly she wasn’t sure whether she’d ever seen the house before in her life. She felt cold and rather scared, and looked up at her father.
‘When are we going back to Forest Lodge?’ she said carefully. Sometimes, if she spoke too quickly, no-one could understand her. But Debbie, who came to see her every morning, had practised speaking slowly and steadily with her, and now she hardly ever rushed her words.
‘We’re not going back to Forest Lodge, Katkin,’ her father said happily. ‘You’re coming back here for good!’
Katie felt a cold nervous fear creeping through her. She didn’t want to stay at this strange-familiar house. She wanted her own bed and all her friends, and Mummy and Daddy to come and see her every day. She looked down at her shoes; smart new shoes that had been bought especially for today. Her face grew hot and for a moment she thought she might start to cry.
Then, suddenly, the front door opened. Amelia came running out, shouting, ‘Welcome home!’ Katie looked past her and saw the wooden floor and pale blue walls of the hall. As she did so, she felt more tweakings in her head. Gradually a cosy feeling began to spread through her; memories and pictures began to fill her head, and above all, a comforting weighty certainty. She knew this house; it was home.
‘Let’s play French skipping!’ said Amelia, running up to Katie and giving her a hug. ‘I missed you!’
Katie stood silently for a minute, her face blank and her mind painfully working. Then suddenly her face lit up and she gave a roar of delight. She ran down the path and into the house. Amelia followed right behind her and Louise and Barnaby hastened after them. They found Katie joyfully running from one room to another, stroking the sofa and the curtains and the kitchen stools. Amelia tried to stop her, but Katie shrugged her off with another roar.
‘Leave her,’ said Louise quietly. ‘She’s just so pleased to be home.’
By twenty to six the house had quietened down slightly, Barnaby had gone home to get changed for the meeting, and Katie had been persuaded into bed.
‘Thank God for routine,’ said Louise, descending the stairs and grinning at Cassian. ‘That was the great thing about Forest Lodge. Bedtime was exactly the same, every day.’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said Cassian, who wasn’t listening. He was peering out of the hall window, watching for Desmond and Karl.
‘I hope they aren’t lost,’ he muttered.
‘I’m sure they’re fine,’ said Louise cheerfully. ‘Let’s have a drink.’
As they went into the kitchen Louise felt her spirits lifting and a strange joyful lightness pervading her body. She felt as though she might float away with happiness. Katie was home, back in her old bed. Life was getting back to normal, and normal life had never looked so attractive.
‘It’s the relief which is so wonderful,’ she said slowly, opening the fridge and getting out a bottle of wine. ‘It’s this amazing sensation of relief. I feel as though I’ve had a terrible headache for the last few months and it’s finally going. My whole body feels happy.’
She poured out two glasses, watching the light reflected in the pale amber liquid, anticipating the taste, feeling an unbearable pleasure in being a simple unconcerned mother, able to drink a glass of wine while her children slept peacefully upstairs. Just like any other mother.
Then the doorbell rang, and Louise felt a predictable spasm of panic tear through her. Ever since Katie had started to improve; ever since things had started to look up, Louise had found herself experiencing flurries of nervous panic several times every day; almost as though her mind wasn’t going to let her get away with it that easily. Every wave of panic was accompanied by a sensation of guilt and followed, like a stern reminder, by a painful recollection of the deep dragging despair of those first few weeks.
‘I wonder who that is,’ she said in an almost shaky voice, but Cassian had already leaped up to answer the door.
‘Hello, Barnaby,’ Louise heard him say in undisguised disappointment. ‘Oh!’ His voice was suddenly alert. ‘Is that Karl and Desmond parking over there? Excellent. Why don’t you go on through, Barnaby, and I’ll wait for them.’
Louise had opened a beer for Barnaby by the time he reached the kitchen. He grinned shyly at her.
‘Katie in bed?’
‘Yes,’ said Louise. She smiled back at Barnaby. ‘That was a wonderful home-coming. I’m so glad you took the afternoon off.’ Barnaby flushed slightly.
‘It was good fun,’ he said gruffly.
‘Here we are!’ They both looked up at Cassian’s voice. ‘Louise, this is Desmond Pickering and Karl Foster, from our London office. Desmond, Karl, allow me to
introduce Louise Kember.’
Louise stood up. Behind Cassian in the hall were standing two extremely smart men. Both wore expensive-looking suits with button-down shirts and silk ties. Desmond’s tie was covered in a repeating pattern of horseshoes, while Karl’s was wittily decorated with little winged pigs. The two men smiled at Louise with identical smiles, and she had a sudden terrible desire to giggle.
‘And this is Barnaby,’ added Cassian, in kind but patronizing tones, as though Barnaby were the dog or the budgie.
‘Hello!’ said Barnaby, giving the two men his wide smile. Louise saw the younger man, Karl, running his eyes over Barnaby’s suit, in what looked like mirthful amazement, and she felt a brief flicker of indignation. But there was no time for her to say anything because Cassian was ushering them all into the sitting-room, where he had laid out pads of paper and pencils and glasses of wine.
‘So,’ said the older man, Desmond, when they had all sat down. He looked at Louise. ‘The facts of this case, as I understand them, are that your daughter was injured in a swimming-pool accident, and you would like to sue the owners of the swimming-pool. Is that it?’
Louise glanced at Cassian, and then, hesitantly, nodded. Desmond smiled kindly at her. Now that the two London lawyers were closer, Louise could see that they weren’t quite the identical twins she had first perceived. Karl had fresh boyish looks, plumped out with a serene gloss of confidence. Desmond, meanwhile, had a long, intelligent, strangely ugly face. He looked older and wearier than Karl, but wore his confidence more easily, as though it were deeply and permanently ingrained in him.
‘The first thing I always say to potential litigants’, he was saying now, ‘is that the law is a strange, rather unpredictable beast. However strong a case you have, you must be prepared for the chance of failure. You must also be prepared for a long hard fight.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘But I’m sure Cassian has said all this to you already,’ he added, smiling at Cassian.
‘Oh, yes,’ began Louise. But Barnaby’s voice cut across hers.
‘Not to me, he hasn’t,’ he said. He gazed at Desmond with huge brown eyes. ‘Are you trying to say we’re going to lose?’ Desmond exchanged the briefest of glances with Karl.
‘Of course not,’ he said warmly to Barnaby. ‘I say these things to everybody. It’s just a general warning.’ He gave Barnaby his kind smile. ‘You must realize that in a case such as this, nothing can be certain.’
‘I thought you said …’ began Barnaby, in a voice that was too loud for the little sitting-room. He coughed and started again, lowering his voice. ‘I thought you said it was definite?’ He looked at Cassian. ‘I thought the letter from Ursula clinched it?’
Cassian looked at Barnaby in annoyance.
‘Well, of course it’s not definite!’ he snapped. ‘If the thing were completely and utterly definite, we wouldn’t have to bother to go to court, would we? It’d just be “Advance to Go. Collect two hundred pounds”. Or half a million, in our case.’
Karl gave a little snigger, but Desmond was looking concernedly at Barnaby.
‘You seem to have been given the wrong impression,’ he said. ‘Nothing is certain until the judgment is given. That applies to all cases.’
‘Or until you settle,’ put in Karl, who had taken out a tiny calculator and was squinting at it.
‘Yes indeed,’ said Desmond irritably. ‘But we won’t get on to the issue of settling just yet. Do you understand …’ He frowned. ‘Sorry, it’s …’
‘Barnaby,’ said Barnaby. He took a slug of beer and frowned. ‘Yes, I understand. Sorry, I just got a bit rattled,’ He shrugged. ‘Going on about how we might fail. It just … I don’t know. It worried me.’
‘Of course it did,’ said Desmond kindly.
‘Of course it did,’ echoed Karl, looking up from his calculator. They smiled in smooth unison at Barnaby.
‘Shall we get on?’ said Cassian, with ill-disguised impatience. He handed Karl and Desmond each a pile of photocopied sheets of paper. ‘This is the case as it stands. Have a look.’
As the two men studied the papers in front of them, Cassian tried to impart his irritated impatience to Louise, but she was giving Barnaby a sympathetic smile. There was silence in the room, apart from the rustling of the sheets of paper.
‘Where’s the evidence from the diving-board expert?’ said Desmond suddenly.
‘Still waiting for it,’ said Cassian. Desmond gave a grunt and turned the sheet.
Louise began to feel inexplicably nervous, as though she were on trial herself.
‘Hmm,’ said Desmond, when he had got to the bottom of the pile. ‘There’s a lot to work with here. Well done, Cassian.’ Louise turned and beamed at Cassian, who tried to prevent a smile from spreading across his face. ‘You’ve got some nice eye-witness evidence. I take it the diving-board expert will come up with the goods?’ Cassian’s face clouded.
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘He wouldn’t say anything on the spot.’
‘Well, I’m sure there are more where he came from,’ said Desmond. ‘If we need them.’ He put the papers down and leaned easily back in his chair. ‘A couple of things worry me, though,’ he said. ‘The first I think we can deal with quite easily.’
‘What is it?’ said Cassian quickly.
The piece of evidence from the woman who said the children were running around and shouting before the accident,’ Desmond shook his head at Cassian. ‘I don’t like that. Implies carelessness on the child’s part.’
‘But she’s the same one who emphasized the fact that there wasn’t a supervisor present,’ Cassian said hurriedly. ‘It’s a useful bit of evidence, and I’m sure she’ll be fine in court.’
Desmond frowned.
‘Not good enough, Cassian,’ he said. Cassian flushed. ‘We need to anticipate the fact that the other side will claim contributory negligence.’
‘Contributory negligence?’ said Barnaby. ‘What the hell’s that?’
‘That’s when the plaintiff is found to have contributed to the accident, through his or her own carelessness or negligence,’ reeled off Karl, who had begun tapping at his calculator again.
‘But surely a child …’ began Louise.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Karl, without looking up. ‘I’m thinking of cases like Davis v Leemings. And Brakespear v Smith.’
Louise and Barnaby exchanged glances.
‘What happened in Brakespear v Smith?’ Louise asked meekly.
‘A ten-year-old girl was found seventy-five per cent to blame for being run over,’ said Karl smoothly. ‘Ran out into the road without looking.’
‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Louise. ‘That’s awful! But Katie wouldn’t …’
‘In Davis v Leemings,’ continued Karl inexorably, ‘a twelve-year-old boy’s damages were reduced by two-thirds because he ignored a warning sign. In Phillips v Fanshawe County Council …’
‘Thank you, Karl,’ interrupted Desmond testily. ‘I think we get the picture.’
Louise was looking horrified.
‘Surely no-one would try to say that Katie was to blame for her own accident,’ she said in a rather shaky voice.
‘I’m afraid they will,’ said Desmond. ‘If they’ve got anything about them, they’ll certainly try. So we’ll have to defuse their attack.’ He looked at Louise. ‘Does your daughter have a swimming teacher?’
‘Yes,’ said Louise, falteringly. ‘But I just can’t believe …’ Desmond’s smooth voice rode over hers.
‘Right. Then we get the teacher to testify that Katie was a careful responsible pupil.’
‘What if she wasn’t?’ said Karl impassively. Louise gave an indignant gasp.
‘What do you mean?’ shouted Barnaby. ‘Are you saying …’ Desmond ignored both of them.
‘Doesn’t matter. The teacher will testify that she was.’ He paused. ‘Think about it. You’re the teacher. Are you going to admit that one of your pupils wasn’t taught how to behave at a swimming-pool? No
chance.’
Karl grinned admiringly down at his calculator.
‘Good one,’ he said and resumed tapping.
‘But Katie was always careful!’ exclaimed Louise. ‘I mean, high-spirited, yes, but …’
‘Yes, I’m sure she was,’ said Desmond smoothly. ‘Absolutely.’ He smiled briefly at Louise, then looked down at his papers. ‘Anyway, that’s the first problem dealt with; the second is not so easy.’ He looked at Cassian. ‘These medical reports seem to imply a remarkably good recovery.’
‘I know,’ said Barnaby joyfully. ‘Isn’t it marvellous? She suddenly made great strides; she even came home early!’ He stopped and looked helplessly at Louise. No-one was listening to him; Desmond’s attention was still with Cassian.
‘I thought this was a case of severe brain injury,’ he said.
‘It is!’ said Cassian defensively. ‘It was!’ He looked down at his papers. ‘Coma, brain clot, the works.’
‘So what happened?’ Cassian shrugged slightly.
‘I don’t know,’ he said flatly, ‘she just got better.’ Suddenly he felt Louise’s eyes burning into him. ‘Which, of course, is wonderful news,’ he added quickly.
‘Wonderful for the child,’ said Desmond; ‘not so wonderful for the case. I’m not at all sure about five hundred thousand.’ He glanced at Karl. ‘You’re the expert, Karl. What do you think?’
‘I agree,’ said Karl, finally looking up. ‘We need a lot more than this to get anything like five hundred grand. We need – 1 don’t know – psychiatric problems, maybe put in a bigger loss of earnings factor …’ He broke off and looked at Louise. ‘Was she particularly talented at anything?’ Louise looked helplessly at Barnaby.
‘She was talented at everything,’ he said stoutly.
‘Anything in particular?’ pressed Karl. He looked at the others. ‘You know Norrie Forbes? He had a great little case the other day. Young chap’s hands crushed in a train door. Turns out he’s a budding javelin thrower. Norrie had an Olympic selector in to rave about his chances. Won the case, of course. Fucking huge award.’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, the punch-line is, it turns out the chap was bored with javelin throwing. Apparently wants to go into computers, which he can do anyway.’
Swimming Pool Sunday Page 21