by Maeve Binchy
Because you are my lawyer and can’t divulge anything I tell you, I will tell you privately that I had a lot of doubts about it all. But I’m not getting any younger, I haven’t been in so many shows recently, and I teach dancing when I’m not in shows. I thought it would be fairly peaceful to get married and not to worry about paying the rent and all that. So Charlie and I made a bargain. I was to behave nicely in front of his friends, and he was to behave unstuffily in front of mine. It worked fine, a bit gruesome at some of those bank things. Merchant bankers en masse are horrific and Charlie did his best with my friends. I wasn’t going to let him down in his career and he wasn’t going to interfere in mine. If I got a dancing part, so long as I wasn’t naked, I could take it.
And it was all fine until Tom Barry’s party, and when I woke up Charlie wasn’t there, he had left a note and taken my engagement ring, the rat. He said . . . oh well I’ll make a photostat of the note, we’ll probably need it as evidence. I’ll also write out his address and you could get things going from your end.
I suppose it will be all right to pay you from the proceeds. I don’t have any spare cash just now.
Warm wishes,
Jilly Twilly.
Photostat of note:
Jilly,
Now I’ve finally had enough. Your behaviour tonight is something that I would like obliterated from my mind. I do not want to see you again. I’ve kept my part of the bargain, you have failed utterly in yours.
Perhaps it is as well we discovered this before we were married. I am too angry to thank you for the undoubtedly good parts of our relationship because I cannot recall any of them.
I have reclaimed my ring. You may keep the watch.
Charles.
Dear Ms Twilly,
You have utterly misunderstood my letter. I really cannot act for you in any way in your projected action against Mr Benson. As an acquaintance, may I take the liberty of reminding you once again of how unwise you would be to start any such proceedings? You are an attractive young woman, you seem from my short meeting with you to be well able to handle a life which does not contain Mr Benson. My serious and considered advice to you, not as a lawyer but as a fellow guest at a party, is to forget it all and continue to live your own life without bitterness. And certainly without contemplating a litigation that is unlikely to bring you any satisfaction whatsoever.
Yours sincerely,
John Lewis.
Dear John,
Stop telling me what to do with my life, it is my life. If I want to sue I’ll sue. Please have the papers ready or I will have to sue you for malpractice. You have wasted quite a lot of time already. I am enclosing a copy of the letter where Charlie mentions my marrying him. It will probably be exhibit A at the trial.
Kind wishes and hurry up,
Jilly.
Darling Jilly,
You must know that the bank can’t put any money into the ridiculous venture you suggest. I didn’t come to America to meet show-biz people and interest them in your little troupe of dancers. I know that it must be disheartening for you not to get any backing, but in six months’ time we will be married and you won’t need to bother your pretty little head or your pretty little feet about a career. I love you, Jilly, but I wish you wouldn’t keep telephoning the bank here on reverse charges, because I am only here for a conference and it looks badly to get several calls a day, all about something which we haven’t the slightest intention of doing. Look after yourself if you can,
Charles.
Dear Ms Twilly,
These Chambers will have no further correspondence with you about any legal matters whatsoever. Kindly go through the correct channels, and approach a solicitor who will if necessary brief counsel for you.
Yours faithfully,
John Lewis.
Dear John,
What have I done? Why is this kind of thing always happening to me? I thought we got on so well that night at Tom Barry’s party. Did I tell you by the way that Charlie was quite wrong? Tom Barry was not one of his friends, he was a mutual new friend that we had met with Freddie who was one of Charlie’s friends. So I didn’t break any bargain by behaving badly.
I just thought that the publicity of a big breach of promise case might give me some chance of being noticed. People would hear of me, I’d get more jobs. You see without Charlie or my ring or anything I have so little money, and I was only trying to claw at life with both hands.
It’s fine for you, you are a wealthy, settled barrister. What would you do if you were a fast-fading, poor little dancer betrayed by everyone. I’m nearly 26, my best years of dancing are probably over.
It was my one chance of hitting back at life, I thought I should grab it. Anyway, I’m sorry, I seem to have upset you. Goodbye.
Jilly.
Dear Jilly,
My letter may have seemed harsh. I do indeed see what you mean about grabbing at life, and I admire your pluck, believe me I do. What you need is not so much a court action, it’s much more a good friend to advise you about your career and to cheer you up. I don’t think you should get involved with anyone like Charlie, your worlds are too different. I only vaguely remember him from the party at Tom Barry’s but I think he was a little buttoned up.
You need somebody younger than Charlie Benson. Perhaps you and I might meet for a meal one evening and discuss it all, totally as friends and in no way in a client-lawyer relationship. If you would like this please let me know.
Cordially,
John.
Dear Monica,
I’m afraid I won’t be able to make the week-end after all. Rather an important case has come up and I can’t leave London just now. I know you will be disappointed, still we did agree that I should do everything possible to advance my career, so that is what I’m doing. I hope the week-end goes awfully well, looking forward to seeing you soon.
Love,
John.
Dear John,
I was sorry about the week-end. Daddy and Mummy were sorry you were kept in London. Daddy kept saying that all work and no play . . . you know the way Daddy does.
I came to London last Tuesday. You weren’t in Chambers and you weren’t in your flat, even though I phoned you there lots of times up to midnight. Maybe Daddy is right and although we all want to advance your career, perhaps it is a question of all work and no play.
Love anyway darling,
Monica.
Darling John,
How can I thank you for the lovely, lovely weekend. I always wanted to go to Paris and it really cheered me up. It was such a relief to be able to talk to someone so understanding. I’m afraid you must have spent a fortune but I did enjoy myself.
See you next week-end,
love Jilly.
Dear Monica,
I must say I thought your phone-call to the office today was hysterical and ill-timed. I was in consultation and it was very embarrassing to have to discuss my private life in front of others. I do not know where and why you have got this absurd notion that we had an understanding about getting married. From my side certainly we have no such thing. I always regarded you as a good friend, and will continue to do so unless prevented by another phone-call like today’s.
You may check your letters from me to see whether any such ‘understanding’ was mentioned. I think you will find that nowhere do I mention marriage. I find this an embarrassing topic so will now close.
John.
Dear Tom,
I appreciate your intentions in writing to me with what you consider a justifiable warning. I realise you did this from no purposes of self-interest.
Still, I have to thank you for your intention and tell you that your remarks were not well-received. Ms Twilly and I are to be married shortly, and I regard your information that she has had seven breach of promise actions settled out of court as utterly preposterous. In fact I know for a certainty that the lady is quite incapable of beginning a breach of promise action, so your friend’s sources cannot be as
accurate as he or you may think.
Under other circumstances I would have invited you to our wedding but, as things are, I think I can thank you for having had the party where I was fortunate enough to meet my future bride and wish you well in the future.
Sincerely,
John Lewis.