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My Learned Friend

By: Kezza67



This story has already been posted elsewhere with the pen-name texrep. Kezza67 and texrep are the pen-names I use for my stories. This is a story of fiction. Any resemblance to people alive or dead, or institutions are coincidental. Please be aware that the ending is somewhat poignant. Life isn't always fair and happy. 

*

CHAPTER ONE

How do we define life? Ignore for the moment the physical aspects, the heart, lungs, liver, kidney, and the basics that keep our corporeal substance alive and kicking. At what time we meet death is very much governed by chance and our personal lifestyle decisions. No, I speak about how we as individuals fill that time between birth and death. There are many criteria to evaluate a life. Did that person do well? Did they make other's lives better by living? Were they successful by whatever standards they looked for themselves, be those moral or corrupt. My position is that of moral rectitude although others with different standards may describe me as disreputable. I was until I retired a barrister. Those who I helped to terms of imprisonment as prosecuting barrister are likely to wish me ill, and those alleged victims of people I helped prove innocent when in defence would presumably wish me the same. Then of course there are those who but for me would have been punished unjustly. 

I would not care to say if those I prosecuted were always guilty, nor that those I defended were always innocent. All I would say is that on the day my marshalling and presentation of the facts added to my rhetoric won the day. I did not always win, but in the English legal system, you learn quickly not to dwell in disappointment and move on to the next brief with a spirit of enthusiasm. Those who suffered because I presented the case successfully or not may well wish me ill. Perhaps if they knew of my circumstances now they would smile. The grim reaper beckons me; within the next few months I shall succumb. It has been a life of highs and lows. I have managed my three score and ten nearly making four score so I cannot complain and, happy thought, I shall be reunited with Chrissie. 

Christine, or Chrissie as I call her, tells me that we have known each other from when we were nine and ten years of age. I will not argue with her, most married men soon understand that arguing with their wives is futile. You may have all the facts assembled in the correct order, but women ignore facts, they argue with emotions, illogic, intuition and tears. Faced with that array most men will surrender, especially as surrender will very quickly transform a battling woman into a very loving wife. I cannot remember our first meeting at school but Chrissie does, or imagines that she does. I do remember what I consider our first meeting. We were both eighteen; it was the summer of nineteen fifty-eight and it was a dance hall in Newquay in Cornwall. 

My brother, Ramsay had decided that a week in Newquay would be good and he would get there by car. Ramsay was two years older than I and had anticipated his passing the driving test by buying a car. He failed his test, not just once but three times, whereas smug little sod that I was at that time passed on my first attempt. Ramsay had no means of driving on his holiday except by taking me or rather me taking him as although I had my licence I was not old enough legally to be the qualified driver in charge as he drove on learner plates. Therefore, I would be doing all the driving. Thus do younger brothers gain revenge on bullying older brothers. I eventually agreed to go with him, after getting an admission from him that he owed me big time. The car in question was a ten-year-old Ford Popular, fondly known as the 'Perpendicular Pop', or the 'Sit up and beg Pop'. Our father had insisted on the car having a thorough check before we left, and with the knowledge that it was deemed roadworthy and in good condition I was content as we set off on the drive. 

I was soon to understand that Ramsay did not intend to spend his holiday with me as shortly after we left he asked. "Clem, what will you be doing with yourself for the week?" Clem was the shortened version of my name of Clement. Our parents were devoted to the Labour Party and Ramsay (MacDonald) and Clement (Attlee) were the first two Labour Prime Ministers, although Attlee was not actually Prime Minister when I was born, being deputy to Churchill in nineteen-forty. Sometimes your parents do you no favours at all. My father would never shorten either name, although I did favour the shortened version of mine to simply Clem. Ramsay encouraged his friends to call him Ram.

"I see, Ram. You are obviously not intending to spend time with me."

"Who would want to spend time with a worm like you?" He replied in a voice devoid of brotherly feelings. I knew what Ram was about, his thoughts rarely moved vertically above his belt. I too had ideas in that direction but my ambitions were not as basic as his.

"Fair enough. But of course you realize that as you can't drive the car, happily I will have the use of it." There was a silence and I smiled inwardly. No! Ram would not have thought that far. The silence extended and soon I realized that he had fallen asleep. Well we had made an early start; four o' clock in the morning was much, much earlier than he and I were accustomed. 

We made good time until we arrived in the county of Devon. Here the elements and geography conspired against us. It started to rain and we encountered hills. The 'Pops' side-valve engine did not like hills, nor did it's windscreen wipers' rudimentary vacuum driven system. Slugging slowly up hills of any kind would result in the wiper becoming stationary for long periods only to become a dervish when the driver took his foot off the accelerator. One got used to lifting the right foot momentarily to clear the screen and then getting the power back on before the car ground to a halt. It was an interesting journey to say the least only relieved when it stopped raining as we entered North Cornwall. 

Newquay came as a blessed relief to me, as by this time apart for a short break to grab a quick breakfast; I had been driving for the best part of ten hours. The relief was only temporary, as we could not take possession of our rooms at the bed and breakfast we had booked until four o'clock. I slumped in the seat of the car to get some much-needed sleep while Ram went off to explore. At last, we could move into our rooms. We could have saved ourselves a lot of money by sharing a room, but Ram was insistent on separate rooms. I knew his thinking, that if he had his own room he would be able to invite back with him any girl he may meet. My brother did not think further forward than his immediate desires. The owner of the bed and breakfast made sure that no other person apart from the one who registered and therefore paid, spending the night in any of his rooms. Ram did try and he was foiled in the attempt. 

The next day, after a good night's sleep I came down to breakfast at eight o'clock. The breakfast was filling and I tucked in with gusto. Plenty of cereal, eggs, bacon, beans, sausage, and a mountain of toast. The more I ate at breakfast, which I had already paid for, the less I would need later on. I was on a budget! As I left the breakfast room Ram came downstairs, late. Breakfast was served from seven-thirty until nine. I was certain that the woman serving breakfast would have something to say. With his words in mind, I did not ask what he proposed to do that day, nor did he ask me what I was doing. I got a sweater from my room and left for the day. 

The rules with bed and breakfast accommodation were you left the room before ten o'clock and could not return until four o'clock. You had to consider the weather carefully before deciding what clothing you would take for the day. I had decided that I would explore Newquay and try to discover where I would be most likely to encounter other young people, preferably of the female persuasion. I was particularly interested in finding somewhere where dancing would take place. Our mother had insisted that both Ram and I should learn to dance ballroom. Although Rock and Roll was the fashion, being able to dance ballroom was of great use when the band or disc jockey played slower numbers. That was when getting really close to a delectable young woman got interesting. I found such a place and of course, it was called 'The Palais de Danse', how original! I would return that evening.

The rest of the day was spent walking and enjoying the sights. Newquay has a few beaches with different characteristics. Towan Beach and Great Western Beach seemed to be family oriented places, whilst Fistral Beach, more open to the seas emanating from the Atlantic was the lure for surfers. I got so involved that I forgot about having lunch completely. My stomach reminded me, as I was getting ready to go out that evening. The priority when I stepped out was to eat. There were plenty of Fish and Chip parlours, but I didn't want anything greasy, so I chose a coffee bar and bought a sandwich and a coffee.

Thus replenished I made my way to the Palais. It was a little early at just past eight o'clock although there were a few early arrivals so I wasn't alone. As the evening wore on the place became quite busy and the atmosphere was good. The disc jockey was playing many of the latest hits and with his sound system's volume turned up; it encouraged the patrons to dance. However making conversation was a problem. The music blared, lights reflected from the glitter ball, the girls wore pretty summer frocks, and the floor resonated from the many feet beating time. It was the perfect atmosphere for a good time. 

I had danced a few times with various girls and one in particular with whom I wouldn't mind engaging for another, slower dance. Just off the main ballroom, there was a bar, and I made my way there to quench my thirst. I was not much of a drinker, but feeling the need for more than a small glass of orange juice, ordered a shandy, and had just picked it up to take my first mouthful when I heard a girl's voice behind me. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Clem Marston." 

Now it was doubtful that coincidence stretched so far that there was another Clem Marston in the Palais that evening, so I assumed that it was me the girl was addressing. Turning round I found the girl in question. I assumed it was the girl as she was smiling broadly at me. I was sure that I had never seen her before in my life. I could only answer. "Sorry?" Framed as a question.

"You don't remember me, Clem?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"I'm Christine Ames. Don't you remember? We were together in junior school."

The light went on in my mind and I could recall a girl of that name. However, she wore glasses, her hair was in pigtails and I had never seen her in anything but her school uniform, a gymslip. This girl did not wear glasses, her dark bouffant hair was cut nicely to frame her face and she wore a full skirted frock, cinched by a broad belt, emphasising her narrow waist, the skirt boosted I was certain, by ruffled petticoats bringing attention again to her narrow waist. A pair of Italian stilettos with a three inch heel completed this picture of beauty. Not a gym slip in sight. My mind floundered for a while trying to match the picture I had in mind of the Chrissie I knew at school with the vision in front of me, and she was a vision! 

My mind caught up and instructed my tongue to say something. "I do apologise. I can distinctly remember a girl at school called Christine Ames, but she bears no resemblance to the lovely young lady I see before me. "

Chrissie's smile became broader. "Wow! Now you have spoken I wonder if you really are Clem. He never spoke to me apart from grunts."

"That's true. I was a surly boy. However I hope I have changed for the better?"

Chrissie nodded slowly. "Let me see...Yes I think on reflection that you have. Are you here with anyone?"

"At this moment no, but speaking literally I am here in Newquay with my brother, Ramsay." Her face darkened a little, my brother's reputation was quite well known evidently. "But he's not here this evening. Are you with anyone?" I enquired in return.

"Yes. I'm with some of my girlfriends, they are sitting over there." She gestured hazily in the direction. "Some of us reckoned it was you, but I was the only one prepared to get up and prove it. Would you like to come over and join us?"

"That would be great. May I get you drinks before we go over?"

"No Clem that's alright. We seem to be getting drinks all the time from men. Would you believe it? I think they are trying to get us tipsy."

We walked over towards the table she was sharing. As we got closer, I noticed the smiles I was getting from Chrissie's companions. Soon I was able to put names to the faces; they had all been at the same school as I. Janet Parker, Alice Brown, and Liz Hitchcock. Responding to the warm greetings of 'Hello Clem' I sat down. Chrissie made sure I was sitting next to and close to her. Alice made a moue of disappointment. "I see that Chrissie is marking her territory."

"Well I was the only with the courage to go over and see if it was Clem." Chrissie responded. "You three just sat here."

"So you should have." Remarked Janet. "After all you were in love with him all those years ago."

"No I wasn't." Chrissie disputed heatedly.

"Oh yes you were." Chorused the other three.

"Ladies, ladies." I interrupted. "Is this a re-union of Cedar Park Junior School or world war three?" That stopped the catcalling and started the usual catch-up session, which I enjoyed thoroughly. 

Chrissie asked if Ram would be there later.

"I doubt it. I have no idea where he has gone. Although we are both here in Newquay he made it very plain that he didn't require my company for the week." I explained about my driving duty. This seem to cheer up the girls.

Liz explained their relief. "Your brother has too many hands. Fighting him off was a big problem." I was surprised they knew him that well.

"We have all had experience of Ram at various parties." Chrissie told me. "If anyone asked about you he told us that you weren't very sociable"

I shook my head. "No, that wasn't true. Actually I was overloaded with homework, so didn't have much chance of getting out enjoying myself."

"Of course!" Janet exclaimed. "You went to the grammar school after the eleven plus, didn't you? Have you taken your 'A' levels yet?"

"This year."

"How did you get on?" Asked Alice.

"I did alright."

Chrissie grabbed my arm. "What does that mean? You did alright?"

"I passed in four. English Language, English Literature, History, and Geography, with an 'A' grade in English Language." 

There was silence as they took the results in. "Wow!"..."Fantastic!"..."Oh my God!" were comments from Janet, Liz and Alice. 

Chrissie just squeezed my arm and smiled warmly at me. "Well done."

"Are you going to University?" Alice enquired.

"Yes. I have been accepted at Birmingham."

"What will you do, English?" That was Liz.

"No. I shall do Law. I am thinking of becoming a barrister."

With the updating of our news completed, I thought to get back to my reason for being here, so I asked Chrissie if she would like to dance. Then later I asked Janet, then Chrissie again, then Liz and Alice and then Chrissie again. On this occasion, I caught the smirks from the other girls as Chrissie jumped to her feet with alacrity. A little later on, I was dancing with Janet again when I noticed Chrissie dancing with another chap. He was being a little forward with his hands and I could see that Chrissie was not happy. 

I guided Janet so that we danced alongside them and tapped the guy on his shoulder. "Mate! You are dancing with my girlfriend, so be respectful." My interruption was so unexpected that he didn't know what to do. He let go of Chrissie and stalked off the floor. Janet and Chrissie left for the Ladies facilities and I followed the guy from some distance until he left the Palais all together. I then returned to the girls table. They were all there smiling and giggling as I approached. "What is it?"

"Well you have gone and done it now, haven't you Clem. Chrissie is ecstatic." Liz told me.

"Why?"

Alice answered. "Because you said you were Chrissie's boyfriend. Chrissie heard so did Janet, so you can't back out now." 

"For Heaven's sake! You know why I said that."

Alice shook her head. "Circumstances don't come into it. You said the words so you have to live up to them. Now Liz, Jan and I are going for a coffee. Chrissie wants to go back to the hotel, so as her boyfriend you should walk her back...Slowly."

We walked slowly side by side with Chrissie quizzing me about my career decision. I tried to explain my motives but was distracted because Chrissie would seemingly bump my hip quite often. If I moved slightly to give her room, she managed to close quickly the gap and her hip would bump me again. Eventually I realised that this was an invitation to put my arm around her shoulders. "About time." She chided me dryly.

"Sorry." I excused myself. "I didn't have much time to learn the social graces."

"Don't worry. We'll learn them together." We walked in silence for a while and I sensed that she was steeling herself to say something. Eventually it came out. "Clem! This thing about me being your girlfriend. It was just a joke you know."

"I know."

"Good. So you don't have to see me again or anything."

"Yes, I understand that, but actually I wouldn't mind, that is if you don't." 

Her arm went round my waist and she pulled me closer. "I think I would like that. It's strange, we live quite close to each other yet we have to travel a couple of hundred miles away to get together."

"I know. Even so I would like to keep on seeing you after the holiday."

"Good." She murmured. "Will you be staying at home when you go to University?"

"Yes. One of the reasons I applied to Birmingham." We lived about eight miles from Birmingham.

"Your studying is important, Clem. I will understand if you can only see me occasionally and I won't put pressure on you if you have to study. Just see me whenever you can even if we can't go out. Your future is more important than anything else." Later I discovered that in her mind it was 'our' future that was important.

We arrived at her hotel. It was quite a posh place and I was surprised. "Dad decided that if we were going on a holiday alone, we had to have somewhere decent to stay, so he paid for us." Chrissie explained. She turned to face me smiling, so I knew what was expected of me.

"Shall we spend tomorrow together?" I suggested.

"I would like that. Come and pick me up about ten. Shall we go to the beach?" I nodded and stepped back. Chrissie shook her head. "We're boyfriend and girlfriend now; you are entitled to a kiss." She closed the distance between us and raised her face. Our lips met briefly. It was quite a chaste kiss, but nonetheless important, especially to me. This was the first girl apart from cousins I had ever kissed. I liked it.

The next day and the days that followed were good. Chrissie in her bathing costume enchanted me and my mind wandered into areas that it shouldn't. That Chrissie would have the same thoughts at seeing me in swimming shorts never crossed my mind. We were brought up in those days to deny that women were sexual beings. When I learned different, it was a shock and a delight to me. We swam in the cold Atlantic swells, held hands, shared ice cream between us and generally started to learn that feeling of compatibility that inevitably led to Love. By the end of the week Chrissie was allowing, so I thought, more lingering kisses when I took my leave of her at her hotel. Although I had teased Ram that I was the only one who could use his car I did not use it. If I had, I would have to put petrol in and my budget didn't run to that expense. However, I did notice that it wasn't always parked in the same place, so Ram was using it even though it was illegal for him to drive. 


My Learned Friend



The day came when we had to return home. Chrissie and I promised to see each other the day following our return. I was invited to tea at her home. Her parents would want to meet the young man who was squiring their daughter. This was a trial that many young men would go through in that time.

CHAPTER TWO

After all these years it is strange to look back and realise how innocent young men and women were in those days, certainly in the United Kingdom. Elsewhere different attitudes may prevail. The French certainly seemed to have lost their innocence, as did the young in the States. Here in these islands our leaders believed in censorship and restrictions to keep the masses in line and the young innocent. Our morality laws were full of idiosyncrasies. The young had to stay in school until they were fifteen, yet a year later at sixteen, with their parents permission, they could marry and have sex together. At that age most young people were still children! They could marry but could not go into a pub and order a drink until they were eighteen! Young men were called up for National Service with the armed forces at eighteen, and could die for their country; yet could not vote until they were twenty-one. Films and books were censored or banned. 'Lady Chatterley's Lover' for one and 'Fanny Hill' were banned, yet you could go to France and legally buy an unexpurgated English copy of those books and bring them back to the U.K. without any problem. Young men were taught to treat women with respect and show courtesy. Part of that creed was that your young lady's father needed to know with what sort of young man with whom his daughter was associating. 

My introduction to Chrissie's parents was a more an interview than I would have imagined. Mr. Ames knew of my parents and didn't view them kindly. He was a bank manager and believed that anyone who espoused socialist principles, as my father did, was probably a secret communist; and therefore schemed to bring the establishment down. My dad was not a revolutionary, but a simple direct socialist. He believed that his work was just as important to the business as that of the Managing Director. Dad also believed in negotiation but was quick to advocate strike action if the management failed to concede. In later years I came to the conclusion that much of the Union's tactics were simple blackmail. Concede or we strike. 

Mr. Ames, because of his position saw himself as one of the establishment, part of that edifice that enriched our culture and enshrined respect across all classes of the population, provided that they knew and kept their place. He questioned me keenly on my politics, which at that time were unformed. With my observation that it was only by education and experience of the world could anyone decide on such principles, he warmed to me and practically beamed when he learned from Chrissie my intention of studying Law at university in order to become a barrister. From that moment on, I had his approval to see Chrissie. I did explain that it would not be often, as I had to apply myself to my studies. 

He nodded gravely. "You are perfectly correct, young man. Study and get your degree. There is plenty of time later for socializing."

Years later I realized that I did then what barristers do all the time. I persuaded Mr. Ames to see all the positives in the same way that I persuaded juries to look at the evidence that favoured my client. I wasn't deceiving him as my course work was quite a load and I had little time for seeing Chrissie. She understood completely and never put pressure on me to take her out when she knew I should be studying. What I didn't know at that time was that she and her mother were just as industrious in getting together Chrissie's bottom drawer. 

With her father's approval of me, it appears that Chrissie, with her mother's tacit agreement had determined that she would be my bride. The bottom drawer was of course their getting together all the linen and other items that Chrissie would need to set up house. The term 'bottom drawer' was a euphemism as no single drawer would be commodious enough to hold all the items that they considered important. It is understood that the intended husband knew nothing of this. The intended husband now set about the most intense period of study that he had ever experienced.

I had applied for a grant when I was accepted at Birmingham, which was reviewed every year. If my results were not good enough, I would lose the grant. I needed a good degree covering Administrative and Public Law, Crime, Tort, Contract, Land Law, European Law and Trusts. In addition, I had to study the English Legal system and Jurisprudence. The three years at University seemed endless. I had interviewed with a Chambers in Birmingham who offered me what was termed as an unpaid mini pupillage, in essence, I was getting to know how Chambers were administered, reading Briefs and looking up precedents that would help the barrister present his case. In addition, I had joined a university debating society in order to gather experience of marshalling my argument and becoming accustomed to public speaking. 

Sadly, all this left me with little time for Chrissie yet she never complained. My parents were supporting me with board and lodging and dad would on occasions drop a couple of quid to me. Despite this, my pockets were usually empty and on those occasions I could see Chrissie it was rare that I could take her out. We spent many an evening sitting together under the baleful eye of her father and mother watching television.

It was almost a semi-climax when I got my degree, a semi climax as I now had another year taking the Bar Vocational Course. I had to apply for membership of one of the Inns of Court and joined the Inner Temple. Membership entails attending twelve seminars of tutorial followed by formal dinners in the twelve months of the BVQ. This was a problem as I did not have a Dinner Jacket and had no funds from my allowance to buy or rent. Mr. Ames came to the rescue, he had just bought a new suit so would give me his old one. At six foot two inches, he was taller and more generous around the waist than I was, so Chrissie set about altering the trousers to fit. She did a good job although the seat designed for her father's rather full backside hung baggy on my much slimmer frame, but she demurred at altering the jacket.

"I'm sorry, Clem. I can do simple sewing jobs but the jacket needs tailoring. Why don't you fill the inside pockets with folded paper, it would at least make you look less like a pea rattling around inside a pod." That is what I did. It worked...sort of.  

The BVQ and the seminars taught me much about barristers operated and the law. The dinners were more about how barristers related to other barristers and I learned a lot, getting to know the etiquette of formal dining; which as the son of a tool maker was foreign to me; practising the lessons I had learned in the debating society and making contacts for my future life. I made one mistake when being introduced to a Q.C., a Mr. James Wolstenhome. I offered my hand to shake. 

He took it and then told me. "On this occasion I will take your hand. After you are called to the Bar never again. Barristers do not shake hands. We are supposed to know each other." I never made that mistake again. However, he remembered me when I completed the BVQ. I graduated with a good mark and I applied to be called to the Bar, I was able to recruit him as a Master of the Bar to propose me. I was called for Trinity night in July and duly presented myself at the Temple Church, with my dark suit, white wing-tip collar and bands. Bands are the two tapes that hang from the collar instead of a tie; I had to buy those before the ceremony although the gown was provided by the Inner Temple. Chrissie and my father had come down to London as my guests and after the ceremony I could see them bursting with pride. The Temple also loaned me a Horsehair wig for the almost obligatory photograph, a photo that Chrissie treasured and which still sits in pride of place in our home.

Even after being called to the Bar, the fledgling barrister has much to learn and embarks on another twelve months working in Chambers. This period is known as Pupillage. I was lucky to intern for my pupillage with the set I had worked at during my stint in University. There usually are more barristers called to the Bar than vacancies for pupillage offered by Chambers, so it was fortuitous that I was a known quantity, moreover I was being paid, the first income of my life. I knew the barristers who had rooms there and more importantly, I got on well with the clerk. Barristers are self-employed and the usual pattern is that they combine in a set, sharing the costs of the premises, known as Chambers. 

The senior clerk is the driving force in a set. He is the one who cultivates the solicitors, gets referrals, matches Briefs with the talents of the barristers in the set and collects the fees. He is also self-employed taking a commission from the fees he collects. Good clerks tend to become very wealthy. I would not be in Court arguing a case for at least six months, and for the second six months I would only appear as a junior in Court, shuffling the files (called the bundle) to present my lead barrister with the notes that he needed. A Senior barrister would be selected as the pupil's mentor, which in practice meant that the pupil would be that barrister's slave; working all hours researching precedents and odd points of Law that could be used in court. The pupil would also double as tea boy. 

My day would usually start at seven in the morning and end very often after midnight. I was eventually deemed competent to appear at Magistrates Court. All charges in the UK are first made in the magistrate's court. The accused had to be there but apart from confirming his/her identity would say little. When we knew that the case would be sent to the Crown Court, his solicitor would occasionally ask for a barrister to appear to plead for bail. Sometimes the solicitor was disappointed when I turned up to take on this task. I would like to say that I succeeded every time. Unfortunately on many occasions I wasn't up to the task. I made mistakes and left the fray bloody but not unbowed. However I learned; overcame the nerves and got some things right, finding favour with the solicitor and my lead barrister. More importantly I found favour with the clerk of the chambers.

Mr. Ames took me to one side one day when I had called to see Chrissie. "Clem. I have been speaking to one of my accounts holders, who is a barrister and from what he has told me it appears that your outlay is quite onerous at this time of your career with income lacking quite a long way behind expenditure. Is that so?"

"It is quite a burden, Mr. Ames."

"That's what I thought, Clem. Now I would like to make a suggestion. Open an account with my bank and I will allow you an overdraft for such expenses that your income cannot cover."

"That's very kind of you, Mr. Ames."

He gave a little smile. "Clem, you have a good future before you. Banks like customers who put in more than they take out. We use their money to make millions whilst paying them a pittance in interest. So perhaps kindness is the wrong word. However I suspect that you will at some stage become my son, so it's as much about help for Christine as you."

I accepted his offer and one of my first actions was to buy my own horsehair wig. For my infrequent appearances in court hitherto I had been able to borrow one, which had been left in Chambers by a retiring barrister. It was old and I usually needed to wash my hair after using it, its condition was such that it had become the home of a veritable stable of fleas. At that time you could get a good wig for something in the region of three hundred pounds. Today depending on quality you would pay upwards of a thousand pounds.

Chambers has an active social side and lunches, dinners and garden parties were prominent. Our partners were invited to many of these functions and I was really happy when Chrissie accompanied me on these occasions. She dressed to impress and I found myself swelling with pride having this lovely woman on my arm. For some time I had been contemplating that our relationship should be set in stone, and I was thinking the stone should be a diamond. I couldn't say to anyone, least myself that I loved Chrissie, yet had not met any other girl who I thought I could spend time with without becoming bored. 

I talked it over with my mum and dad. Mum of course was all in favour, but dad took a more thoughtful way. "Lad, you are just starting on your career. Its cost you a lot to get to this stage and from what you have said it may be some time before you are earning a decent income. Getting married is expensive and if Christine were to fall pregnant you would be without her income for years."

Mum was having none of this. "John!" She addressed my dad. "There you go again. Procrastinate, delay, let's think about it, and drag your feet. This is no time for your caution. Chrissie has been there for Clement for five years. She is obviously very fond of him and if I know my son he is very fond of her. We had little when we got married and we got by, didn't we? Give them your blessing. I would like to see a grandchild before I get too old to enjoy it. I doubt that Ramsay will be introducing us to a grandchild in the near future, well none that he would acknowledge." With that outburst she left the room. I was a little shocked at her reference to Ramsay. I had known of his feckless and dissolute ways but didn't understand that mum and dad were aware. 

Dad stayed quiet for a while, thinking and then shrugged his shoulders. "If you feel that way about Chrissie then perhaps you should ask her. Your mother won't let it go now, and she will make my life and yours a misery until you do."

My talking it over with my parents was more of a diplomatic move than anything else. I had already decided. So had mum as she came back into the room with a little ring box, which she proffered to me. "My Aunt Tilly left this to me. It was her engagement ring given her by her fiancé Robert."

"I didn't know that Great-Aunt Tilly was married."

"She didn't make it to the Altar. Robert was killed on the Somme. First of July nineteen sixteen. She never looked at any other man after that."

I looked at the ring. A solitaire diamond shouldered by two small sapphires. Great-Aunt Tilly had always lived in the lap of luxury. She owned a large house and right up to her death in nineteen forty-eight employed a cook/housekeeper and a companion. She had demanded the best so I reasoned that the ring was also top quality. "You are suggesting that I use this as Chrissie's engagement ring? That's if she accepts me." I asked mum.

"Yes. There's no doubt that she will accept you. She's waited long enough."

Knowing Mr. Ames views on doing things the right way, I first saw him to get his permission. It sounds very old-fashioned now, but at that time it was still proper to get your future father's permission before you asked your intended and Mr. Ames was a stickler for the rules. He agreed then surprised me. "I have been expecting this, Clement. You are the sort of young man that any father would want for his daughter. You've applied yourself to your studies and have made your entry into a good profession. I am sure you will do well. Now go and ask my daughter and don't be surprised if she says yes before you have finished the question." 

Chrissie did say yes before I finished the question, in fact she said yes the moment I produced the ring-box before I asked the question. I had to prise her arm from around my neck to put the ring on her finger. She held out her hand palm down and admired the ring. "It's lovely Clem. I hope it didn't cost too much." I explained how the ring came to me. She nodded. "When will we be married? Soon, please Clem. I have been very patient and frustrated as I have been looking forward to it ever since I saw you in your tight bathing costume."

"Chrissie!"

"Oh Clem. Isn't it about time you understand that girls want very much the same as men. They look forward to being in bed with their lover." Soon was really out of the question. We would have to save up enough money for a deposit on a suitable house and I would need to show regular earnings to get a mortgage. Well, as soon as possible given that Chrissie, her mother and my mother were involved with the planning and had different ideas. Mr. Ames understood the financial situation and he tried on many occasions to calm the feverish expectations of Chrissie, her mother and my mother as well. 

Of course the prospectives had to meet, something about which I was a little concerned given the political gulf that separated Mr. Ames from my dad. I shouldn't have worried as they first fenced around and then found some neutral territory to inhabit. A week later it was my parents turn to entertain. Our small lounge was packed as mum had invited my cousins as well. One cousin I had always got on well with was Jean who had been recently married, changing her name from Marston to Herring. It was very difficult as Jean was good-hearted but possessed a sour-faced disposition and no one would have dared make a joke about her name. Chrissie and my mum hurried around making sure that all the guests had a drink in their hand and their plates had food. I was coerced into helping as well and whilst doing this I noticed that my dad and Mr. Ames were missing. I was very surprised when I found them. I should have realized that dad, as a very keen gardener had found a topic upon which he could find common ground with Mr. Ames, who was also a keen gardener.

My pupillage came to an end and it was time to seek a permanent position with a Chamber. The set I had been working with could not take me. I contacted most of the other sets in Birmingham without success until I approached one of the most prestigious sets; a set I initially disregarded as being beyond my reach. I spoke to the clerk and was surprised by his words. "Ah. Mr. Marston. We have heard of you from Mr. Wolstenhome. I think our Head of Chambers would like to see you, when do you think you can come in?"

"Perhaps Friday if that's convenient."

"Come in at ten-thirty. Mr. Askwith is free at that time."

I could not call this an interview; it was more of a convivial chat over coffee and biscuits. Mr. Melvin Askwith Q.C. was easy to talk with and did not treat me as a supplicant. Indeed at times our conversation appeared more that he was persuading me to join their set. It all became clear when he mentioned his friend James Wolstenhome. "James seemed impressed with you and suggested we look out for you as possible new blood. Some of our set have watched you in action and in general you have acquitted yourself well. You marshalled your facts well and presented them logically. Neither did you make the common mistakes of a junior. One of our barristers was quite complimentary. It appears that you have learned the most basic rule, never ask a question without knowing the answer in advance."

"Actually I did on my first outing. The answer put a complete stop to my cross-examination. I stood there like a complete fool. The Judge was watching with a somewhat bemused expression, he knew what I had done. The prosecuting counsel could not believe his luck."

Mr. Askwith laughed heartily. "We have all done it. All I know is that you have learned and that is important. Now I can't offer you a position here and now, the set needs to vote on that. However I think you would fit in well so I will speak for you at the meeting. I shall be able to let you know the result next Wednesday. That is, of course, if you wish to join us."




My Learned Friend



"I would certainly like to do so. I would see it as a most challenging position."

He smiled. "Now come along with me, I shall introduce you to the Devil, our senior clerk."

I was surprised at his use of the word 'devil'. It had been in use many years ago. It is totally inappropriate nowadays. The senior clerk is too important to a set for any appellation that demeans him. I was introduced to Harry Wigram. We had spoken on the phone and his voice belied his appearance. A big voice coming out of a whippet-like man. He was surrounded by bundles of papers tied with pink ribbon, Briefs! Mr. Askwith left me with Harry, who said he hoped I would be joining the set. "As you can see, sir. We have quite a few briefs waiting, so if you join us I'm afraid you will be thrown in the deep end straight away."

"You do seem to be busy, Mr. Wigram."

"It's Harry, you call me Harry, and I will call you sir. That's the way it is in Chambers, we have to keep up the standards. Now many of those briefs will be for our senior barristers or our Silks. However there are plenty there for you to cut your teeth. Each one worth fifty quid. Well actually it will be forty-five quid to you after my commission is taken. I reckon you could deal with two of those per day, so you will be earning from the start." He extended his hand to shake. "I do hope you join us."

I left excited with the possibilities.

CHAPTER THREE

The letter arrived the following Thursday, inviting me to join Station Square Chambers as the newest member. The following Monday I was thrown into a maelstrom. Harry showed me to a large office with some six desks crammed together. "This will be your office, sir, Make yourself at home. I have a couple of briefs for you which are in court tomorrow, after that there are a few which I am sure you can handle." He put two bundles of files, secured with pink ribbon on the desk. He pointed to the top bundle "This one, sir is pleading, so all you will have to do is mitigation and clemency. The other is going for 'not guilty'. However my sources tell me he is bang to rights. Do your best but don't expect to win. I'll send one of the junior clerks in with coffee." After asking how I liked my coffee he was gone.

If I expected to be left alone to read the briefs and understand them, I was wrong. Interruptions were endemic. As juniors and barristers came in they all made their way to welcome me and then elicit as much background as possible. The Silks did not bother as they; it would seem inhabited a different world. The only times I had conversation with them was when they needed someone to do some research for them. Time that took me away from my own work and was never acknowledged. Often I would have to consult one of the many books on law. Over time, Barrister will create their own libraries of the publications with reference to their speciality. It is a costly process as most of these books, which do not have a huge print run, can be very expensive. Much of my time was spent pleading to borrow one or any of these books in order to complete my research.

Knowing I would appear in two cases at court was one thing. At what time these cases will be called was another problem. The Court Organisational Officer, usually called the listing officer was a prime source of information. "Mr. Marston, you will be on in Court two quite early. However, I doubt that Regina versus Hathaway will not get on until the afternoon. Of course that does depend on how quickly His Lordship deals with previous cases. We only need a couple of adjournments to kick the timetable completely out. If I were you, Mr. Marston I wouldn't leave the precincts of the court, just in case."

My first case was not exceptional except for the introduction. The prosecution counsel introduces the case to the Judge and then introduces those who would argue the case. Hearing the words 'My learned friend, Mr. Marston appears for the defence.' brought butterflies to my stomach. As the accused was pleading guilty, all I had to do was plead in mitigation and urge the court to clemency. I had a meeting with the prisoner in his cell just before the hearing and was able to bring into court some of his circumstances. He got two years when the tariff for the offence was anything up to five years. I was quietly pleased until I realised that he had received the discount of fifty percent for his guilty plea. Not as good as I thought.

Mr. Hathaway was as Harry had suggested guilty. I managed to trap the prosecution with a couple of points; pyrrhic victories for in reality I could do little except after the guilty verdict make an impassioned plea for clemency. His Lordship smiled kindly at my rhetoric but ignored it. Three years! At least at the end of the day I had earned my first fees as a barrister. Upon my return to chambers, I found two more briefs on my desk. One for assault and the other for theft. I would be defending them both. 

Chrissie was always interested in my work always asking questions about cases until she decided that she had humoured me enough and would then tell me how her, her mother and my mother's plans for the wedding were coming to fruition. I thought that as a date had not been decided her plans were premature, but no! "Clem there is so much to be decided that getting it sorted now will make the rest of the arrangements much easier." I would counter that until my practice was solid my getting a mortgage would be improbable. Then of course we would need to save for the deposit. "That's ok, Clem." She declared. "I have enough in savings for that." Talk about bombshell, my jaw must have dropped in astonishment. Chrissie laughed at my expression. "I have been saving for six years, Clem. Ever since that holiday in Newquay. I decided then that we would get married."

"Do you not think that I should be a party to that decision?" I enquired casually.

She looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes. "Yes, you were. It's just that you took a lot longer to come to your decision." We were sitting on the settee in her parents' house at the time. We were no longer supervised. Chrissie turned so her back was to me, she relaxed back so I supported her. Then she took my hand and guided it to her breast. She sighed. "I do so love it when you touch my breast."

"I do too." I agreed.

"Clem, if you think my heart is beating faster it's because I just had this thought of you and I in bed together naked. I get all quivery when I think of that."

"So do I. But my reaction is not quite the same."

"I know. I can feel you on my back."

After six years together, we knew each other quite well. We had kissed and caressed yet had not 'gone all the way'. In many ways, it was the attitude of the time. Contraception was not easy in the early sixties. The pill was available, but no family doctor would write that prescription for an unmarried girl. It took a Parliamentary debate to change that, even then some doctors, for moral reasons, would still refuse to prescribe. It wasn't as if Chrissie and I longed to have that full relationship, it was more that she knew that her mother would know, just by looking at her. Within minutes, her father would know and Chrissie would have been distraught to see the hurt on her father's face. Ergo we remained almost chaste.

As months went by, I eased into my profession, learning by hard-earned experience how to do my job. It is unfair but true that the client pays the price of a barrister's inexperience and mistakes. The barrister is chastened but is still paid. Life isn't fair! I learned, listened, and became competent. I would never be one of those dramatic barristers who commanded the court with grand gestures and high-flown rhetoric. Nor would I be one of those barristers who would intimidate a witness with quick-fire questions not allowing the target of this ambuscade to think logically. Indeed, I always thought that type of barrister was desperate to get something out of a weak case. My attention was in the details, highlighting any slight discrepancies in the prosecution's case and luckily, often enough put into the jurors mind the possibility of a conviction being unsafe. It worked and over time, it seemed that I was seen as a safe pair of hands. 

Confirmation of this came when Andrew Renton Q.C. one of the silks in our chambers asked me to be his junior in a high profile murder case. This propelled me from fifty pounds a brief into the heady realm of three hundred a day. Silks can get away with almost anything in the court. Andrew asked one of our defence witnesses a leading question. Of course, the prosecution objected and his Lordship admonished Andrew who apologised profusely. He went on to ask the same question properly. The witness replied exactly as Andrew had indicated with his leading question. The judge knew what he had done, the prosecution knew what he had done as did I. The jury were unaware. I smiled inwardly as I am sure did the judge and the prosecution barrister.

The case went on for ten days and I pocketed three thousand pounds less commission for Harry and other expenses such as rent for my desk in the chambers. However as we had won the case it gave me a higher profile and the opportunity to appear in bigger and more involved cases, consequently my income received a much needed increment. With that, I decided that this long engagement with Chrissie should culminate with a marriage.

Mr. Ames, of course was aware of my earnings. He took his position seriously and not a word was ever slipped to Chrissie or Mrs. Ames. I took him to one side and suggested that I could now afford a mortgage. He nodded wisely. "Yes Clement How much do you think you can afford on a monthly basis?" I mentioned a figure and he looked surprised. "I would think that you can do a little better than that." He then explained how much I could borrow and what the repayments would be. "I know your income will vary and your estimate errs on the safe side. I can get you a good mortgage at a slightly reduced rate. Banks and Building Societies work hand in hand you know." He then scribbled some figures on paper and eventually told me. "I think you can afford that." The figure he had written down was much higher than I envisaged.

"Right." I said. "Well I will have to start approaching some building society's to see if they if they will accommodate me."

"Don't worry about it. I can guarantee you a loan with the Midshires. The Area Manager was in the other day to see me and I mentioned this as a possibility. He said yes. Go and see Christine and start looking for a home. Oh! Do me a favour and put her mother out of her misery by setting a date for the wedding."

The date was set for six weeks. We found a rather nice house that would suit us down to the ground. Three big bedrooms, a bathroom en-suite with the main bedroom (we, in the UK had not yet fallen into the habit of calling the main bedroom the master bedroom). It had one large room downstairs running through from the front to the back, and a large kitchen with a dining area. From my point of view, it had one drawback, a large garden. I was not a gardener, I enjoyed looking at gardens but spending hours working in one was not my idea of fun. Chrissie loved it declaring that it would be the perfect place for our children to play. My mind asked a question. What children? We hadn't discussed that. However, the delight on her face upon seeing the house put paid to any drawbacks I could see. We could move in two weeks after our wedding, which was perfect.

Back at the chambers, I was informed that almost everybody in chambers would be coming to my wedding. Melvin Askwith without a blush of shame declared that despite my not sending them invitations they would be there. He then asked why I had not invited them.

"I'm sorry, Melvin. I thought as one of the most junior members no one would accept. My mother to be is being quite strict on numbers considering the cost."

"You don't seem to understand how popular you are here, Clem. Without giving you false praise we see you as one of the up and coming men. We will be at the Church, the others will go elsewhere after, and Andrew and Robin (the other Silk in our set) will splash out for a meal. If you could find room for my wife and I at the reception I would consider that an honour."

Mrs. Ames was happy to re-arrange her seating plan and an invitation was sent to Melvin Askwith. To be honest I had not involved myself too much with the arrangements until Chrissie came to me with the list of attendees. She wanted to know if Mr. Askwith and his wife would not wish to sit near William Forster who was the barrister who had explained to Mr. Ames about the financial difficulties of new barrister. It appeared he had been a friend of the family for some time. "Not at all, love. The only place barristers get in dispute is in the court. Outside they are friendly and quite sociable. I would place a bet on it that they know each other well."

Chrissie smiled and then threw herself at me. After a kiss that left me breathless, she whispered in my ear. "Not long now Clem. Not long before we can take all our clothes off and do some very rude things together."

"Rude?" I queried.

"Yes." She nodded enthusiastically. "I've been reading things. Missionary is fine, but from what I have read and heard there are plenty of very interesting positions we could explore."

"Perhaps I should read this book." 

"I was going to bring it on honeymoon so we can explore together."

"Feel!" I told her.

"Where?" She seemed confused.

"You know where." 

She did and found something she thought interesting. "Wow! Have I done that?"

"Every time." The smile she gave me promised much.

The day arrived eventually. Chrissie had wanted to be a June bride and she was. The actual day was a blur for me. I knew where to stand, I knew what words were expected from me, and I think I managed the greetings at the line up immediately before the reception, albeit finding it difficult to vary my response to the good wishes of some one hundred and fifty people. Chrissie sailed through seemingly unfazed by all this fuss, but I suppose she should do, after all, she was instrumental in organizing this fuss. Janet, Alice and Liz attended, looking very well in their bridesmaid's ensemble, as we sat down to the wedding breakfast they were together holding up a banner between them. I caught a glimpse of the words 'GOT HIM, CHRISSIE'. It appeared that after the solemnity of the service they intended to have some fun. Actually, they weren't the main culprits. After the speeches and a particularly poor one from my best man, Ram who larded his speech with innuendo of a disgusting nature. Melvin Askwith stood up, as did William Forster. As they stood, they donned their wigs. 

Mr. Forster looked pointedly at me. "Prisoner in the Dock. Stand up." I did so. He went on. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I appear for the Crown in this matter. My learned friend Mr. Askwith Q.C. appears for the defence. You should understand that the initials Q.C. stand for quite competent. The facts of this case are simple. The prisoner has contracted a marriage to a bride whose beauty is of a class beyond compare. He is of a singularly unfortunate disposition with features that only a mother could love. Therefore, we submit he is unfitted to take this lovely woman as bride. I have known the bride since she was a little girl and at no time as she shown signs of mental impairment. I conclude that the groom has put her under duress in order to make this marriage. I ask you the members of the jury to find him guilty." 

He sat down and Mr. Askwith took up the cudgel. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. As my learned friend has said, the marriage has been contracted. The guilt or not in this case turns on your view of the prisoner's character. He has opted to join the ranks of practitioners of Law. In order to do this he has suffered years of punishing education most of the time earning none or little income. He has become a most able borrower of money. In his defence, I should say he always pays it back...eventually. He works hard rarely putting in less than fourteen hours a day."

"Objection!" Mr. Forster called out. "Only fourteen hours a day? Why the man is nothing but a skiver." 

"Objection overruled." Came from my bride who possibly was in on this skit. "If he works any more than fourteen hours a day I shall divorce him for not giving me attention." 

To the laughter of the guests who seemed to be enjoying this little play, Mr. Askwith carried on. "He had become one of the most promising young members of our set, giving great attention to detail and points of law. As a Queens Counsellor, I can predict with confidence a good future for Mr. Marston. I would say therefore that the bride, far from acting under duress has made a very wise decision. Members of the jury I ask you to acquit this prisoner."

The shouting went on for some time but it appeared that my innocence was decided. Chrissie set the pattern as she got to her feet and kissed me most passionately.

I had bought an Austin Mini some time ago. It was really a necessity for my vocation as travelling to various Crown Courts in the Midlands was both expensive and unreliable on public transport. I had it parked quite prominently outside the restaurant where the reception was held. I was not disappointed when having changed we came out. The car was liberally decorated with streamers, balloons and signs announcing us as newly married. We both acted the surprised and crestfallen attitude that our guests expected. Their expressions mirrored ours when a taxi drew up to take us on the first part of our journey. Only one person knew of this subterfuge. Alan, one of our junior clerks had driven my mini there and would take it away later. If I had told my best man, Ram would have grassed us up without qualm.

There were constraints on where we could go on honeymoon and one of them was finance. Barristers were self-employed so I had no holiday entitlement, nor paid holidays if I took time off. Chrissie understood the problem and suggested we go to Newquay for the week. I had thought that somewhere more exotic would be suitable but Chrissie persuaded me. As usual, her logic mixed up with emotion. "Clem, let's make it Newquay, it's where we started so we should go back and thank Newquay for getting us together."

"I thought you said it was in junior school we started." I teased her.

"Well as you can't remember that, we can't count that as the start." We were going to Newquay.

We were both virgins. It was not so unusual in nineteen sixty-five, if you discount the boasts of many young men. Chrissie was surprised and pleased that I had no experience of doing 'that'. I think she was counting on my knowing more of what to do than she did. It did not matter we muddled through the first time and together we started to understand. We discovered together what was good also that which was not. The book she had bought gave us ideas and by the end of the week, we were comfortable in trying other things than straightforward missionary style. For all her bold words before Chrissie was quite shy. The first time she slipped her peignoir off her shoulders and allowed me to see her naked she was blushing. I looked at her in amazement. "Chrissie, you are a vision." I wasn't flattering her; she was a vision. 

She smiled happily. "Now you, Clem. There are rules here. If you get to see me, I get to see you." 

I as a man did not have the finesse in undressing as Chrissie along with most women possess as a genetic trait. Nonetheless, I fumbled out of my clothes and let her look. "Clem. I am worried that that thing won't go into me?"

"It's not that big." I replied, knowing as I spoke that I had left myself open to a riposte.




My Learned Friend



"Oh." She said sadly. "I thought that bigger was better."

"I don't think so. If it fits, it's big enough." We got into bed and started exploring. I was always told that the man did the exploring whilst the woman lay passively. Chrissie seemed to have missed that lesson. She was as eager as I to examine all the parts of the other's body and see what made things work. We found out quite quickly. Chrissie seemed as excited as I. I ventured my hand between her legs and found a beautiful warm wet playground just as she was manipulating my sturdy erection wondering why it wouldn't bend as easily in this state as it did when flaccid. Thankfully her attempts did not injure the member irretrievably. 

Despite her worries it did go in, not without some pain for which I felt guilty. She re-assured me. "The pain is out of our control, Clem. It will only happen once." Having recovered from the discomfort of the first time, Chrissie seemed very happy with our union. I thought it was the man who was supposedly demanding. Towards the end of our weeks honeymoon, she was laying in my arms our breathing gradually getting back to normal when she questioned me. "Clem. Am I unusual?"

"Unusual? In what way?"

"From what mum and my aunts have said. I am supposed to enjoy making love only rarely. Most times, they say it is women giving in to their husbands because they need sex more frequently. I don't feel that way at all. Just thinking about going to bed with you every night makes me excited and when we make love I normally climax at least once."

"You climax more than once?"

"Yes."

"How do you know? I don't feel as if you are climaxing."

"Mum said I should be quiet about it. She said ladies should not be loud at that time. I do know I climax because I have played with myself often. Especially after those times when we became quite amorous on the settee, I had to do something to relieve the itch. So yes I do have more than one climax." 

We were quiet, me digesting that information and then telling Chrissie that she shouldn't try to keep quiet. "I won't know if I am doing it right if you are quiet, and it would thrill me to hear you screaming with pleasure."

"Clem, let me assure you. You are doing it right, very, very right, so stand by for some screaming" Chrissie fidgeted a little because she was trying to find a way to ask another question. "When we have been very amorous before. Did you feel as if you needed to relieve an itch."

I sighed. "Yes my darling I would see you in my mind and I would bring myself off." 

She looked up at me with a most beaming smile. "That thought has made me all wiggly inside, and wet again. Perhaps we can do that together and watch."

"Will you be naked?"

"Of course, my darling Clem, and so will you. I like looking at you and I like you seeing me. Now will you do something for your wife.

"What did you have in mind?" 

Her hand crept down and found me. "Using this for happy time."

I had never been sure before if Chrissie did climax. Now I knew, as released from restraint she cried out her orgasm combined with quivers that hitherto I had felt but thought they were signs of discomfort. We returned home happy and replete with love. 

CHAPTER FOUR

Looking back on my life, I now know that I was embarking in the happiest time of my life. My career had been established and my workload increased and of course with that my income. I would be in court three days out of five. Harry would keep me busy with his 'two a day' supply of briefs, and it would appear that both Melvin and Andrew favoured me to support them as junior often. I was on the ladder. 

Chrissie had worked for some years as a Doctor's receptionist. In those days, before maternity leave was a statuary benefit, married women would work until their pregnancy was final and then give up work to be a full-time mother. I knew that she wanted above anything to give me a child, so after some few months of marriage we had a talk. I told her that I thought I was in a position to support her and a child. The smile on her face could have lightened the darkest night. She went up to the bathroom and came down holding the blister packet of birth control pills. "Can I throw these away now Clem?"

"Well if you want to become fat and heavy, I suppose you could."

Chrissie shook her head vehemently. "No my darling. I shall not be fat and heavy; I shall be gravid, full of baby, your baby and mine." She started to undress ignoring the full daylight outside and that our curtains were not closed. "I am so happy, can we practice right now?" 

"Yes. Upstairs. I am not going to put on a show for any passerby to see."

If Chrissie was eager to make love whenever the opportunity presented itself prior to that conversation, afterward she could if possible demand more. We practiced frequently. The goal was to get Chrissie pregnant yet it was never a chore, the more we made love the closer we became. Chrissie when she was home disdained underwear. "Why bother?" She asked. "You will only take them off me, I'm happy to say." 

As the months rolled by and Chrissie did not become pregnant, a certain concern entered our lives. After eighteen months, that concern became worry. It seemed for many people it was easy to get pregnant, especially when they didn't want the girl to get in the family way, as it was often called at that time. Things came to a head on our third anniversary and we sat down and yet again had that conversation. Chrissie was of the opinion that it would happen one day. I felt that action was required and offered to get a test done to see if my sperm was deficient in any way. Chrissie at first was dubious, her feeling was that time would solve our problem. I doubted that and eventually I argued her around to the idea. Having agreed she needed re-assurance. "Would you mind, Clem? It seems as if I doubt your manhood."

"Well, Chrissie if I don't have a problem, then we have to look at you and the same thought could apply. It's not about fault, Chrissie. We want a child. Whatever is holding us back may be something simple, easily cured. We find out, fix it and make it work."

"Yes. You're right." She agreed. "I'll make an appointment with Doctor Purvess at the same time and get checked."

Now I regret our decision because the result blighted our lives onward. If we hadn't known perhaps we could have lived in hope. With hope gone, we had to re-assess our lives. With hope gone, I had to coax Chrissie out of the melancholy into which she had sunk. After many medical tests the disastrous news that Chrissie would be unlikely to ever conceive and even if she could it was unlikely that she would carry the child to full term. She took this personally as if she was guilty; she changed from the vital, bubbly happy woman to a quiet, monosyllabic gloomy presence. I know she missed many days at work because if I were not there to remind her she would stay in bed for most of the day. I found out when Dr. Purvess phoned to see if she was well. He gave her appointments to discuss her problem only for Chrissie to cancel at the last moment. She would tell me when I got home that she had fulfilled the appointment. This scenario went on for months. It took another call from Purvess for me to find the truth. I made an appointment for Chrissie and told her I would go with her. "No, Clem. You are so busy; you shouldn't take time off just for me. I'll be alright and will go to the appointment."

"Yes, Chrissie." I replied. "And when I ask you how the appointment had gone you will tell me something inconclusive and misleading. No Chrissie we will go together, Dr. Purvess asked me specifically to be there as he needs to talk to me as well." Chrissie had no answer.

It took quite some time for a diagnosis; Dr. Purvess referred us to another doctor, who in his turn referred Chrissie to the Psychiatric department at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital. None of these consultations was easy as Chrissie resisted all the way telling me that it was pointless and there was nothing wrong with her. She was surprised when the Professor of Psychology related all the symptoms she was suffering without her saying anything, and told her she was Clinically Depressed. Dr. Purvess was advised to treat Chrissie with a relatively new drug called Anapranil, which was a TCA. (Tricyclic antidepressant) It meant nothing to me except that gradually I could see an improvement in Chrissie. Purvess had warned me that Chrissie would be taking these tablets for quite some time. Chrissie didn't seem to worry and neither did I; I was slowly getting back my Chrissie. 

She did relapse at times and in one of those dark moments, she told me I should divorce her and marry a woman who could give me a child. I would have exploded but controlling my emotions was part and parcel of my career. "Yes, Chrissie, I could do that, and yes I could probably father a child, but what will I have lost? I would have lost you, and any woman I married after you will be second best. Would a child compensate for that? I think not. We didn't marry in order to become parents. We married because we wanted a life together. It was Chrissie and Clem who wanted to be lovers, friends, and companions throughout our lives. For me that wish hasn't changed. So, we cannot have children. That doesn't change my hope that you and I will be together, love together, laugh together, and go places together. We should look upon the opportunities; we can go to exotic places for holidays, places where we can make love on the beach with a warm sea lapping against as we do. See sights to enthral us, the Grand Canyon, Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Table Mountain in South Africa. You have said you want to see these places, so do I; and we can do them together and the wonder, the thrill of seeing them will be diminished if I cannot hold your hand at the same time. Love, my wonderful Chrissie is unconditional. It is you first in my life, the only woman I will truly love." Chrissie fell into my arms and wept her heart out.

If there was any upside to Chrissie's condition, it was her work. When I was at home there was little problem as we engaged in conversation quite a lot. At work, she had the doctor and nurses always on the alert for any relapse in Chrissie's condition. As time went on anyone meeting her would not even get the smallest clue to her problem, indeed I felt that we together had conquered the depression. Five years later, it came back with a bang. We had got on with our neighbours tolerably well to the extent that we would chat frequently and visited each other for drinks of an evening. Chrissie in all innocence had mentioned her condition to one of the neighbours. As gossip went in those day and still does today, her mention was passed on to others and as it was transmitted became much more than the simple truth. I came home one day to find Chrissie in tears and drinking whisky, which was forbidden her and a half-empty bottle of aspirin by her side. I took the whisky and the aspirin away and carried her up to the toilet, where I put my fingers down her throat. She vomited violently bringing up undigested aspirin as well as the rest of her stomach contents. I put her to bed and called Dr. Purvess. He was with us in twenty minutes. From downstairs I could only hear indistinct murmurs until I heard Purvess raise his voice clearly, telling Chrissie not to be so stupid again.

He came downstairs and joined me in the lounge. "She's going to be alright. She complained about you sticking your fingers down her throat, but to be honest if somewhat unorthodox it was very effective."

"Why should she do such a thing now? She was getting on well." This was the question that I had mulled over since I found Chrissie.

"It appears that as she walked home some of the neighbours children called her a nutter, loopy, loony and suggested she should go to the mad-house."

"Damn those bloody people." I said angrily. "I know she told the neighbour in conversation, but this?"

"Mr. Marston. You of all people should know how gossip spreads; the end result is nothing like the initial message."

After seeing Dr. Purvess out, I went upstairs to comfort Chrissie. She was lying in bed quiet but comfortably. I sat on the side of the bed and she opened her eyes reaching for my hand at the same time. Tears seeped slowly from the corner of her eyes. "I am sorry, Clem."

I shook my head. "No Chrissie, you did nothing wrong. The blame lies with these small-minded people in this avenue, who rather than offering sympathy and understanding prefer to vilify with insult." My voice reflected my anger as I spoke. I took deliberate deep slow breaths to control my mood. "Get some sleep now, Chrissie. We will talk later and decide what we do." I leaned in and kissed her lips. "Sleep well my most precious lady. I love you."

Chrissie smiled. "I love you, Clem." She closed her eyes as sleep claimed her.

A decision needed to be made. I had a choice. I could get very heavy legally with an injunction to stop this harassment or we could move. It sounds drastic I know but I had to do something, if this behaviour continued it would undermine all the improvement that Chrissie had shown. The legal aspect was fraught with problems. I doubted that I could get an injunction without Chrissie's health becoming a topic of discussion in open court. Even then, children of seven or eight years of age could ignore the injunction with impunity. I decided that we should move. It was something I had considered in any case. All I would be doing is acting earlier than I had planned. 

I mentioned my thinking to Chrissie's father. Having given him the why's and wherefore's of my plan he as usual thought it through. He had been supportive when told of Chrissie's illness, unlike my father who advised me bluntly to tell Chrissie to pull herself together and stop playing the martyr. I remember his words clearly. "Shit happens to everyone. You just pull yourself up and get on with life. You can't hide behind some trick-cyclist babble to get pity." His unsympathetic attitude hurt me.

Mr. Ames was very understanding. "I understand your thoughts, Clem. Actually, it reinforces my estimation of your character. Your priority is Chrissie and I applaud that. Chrissie is my priority too and your decision, I believe is the right one. If there is any financial help that I can give, you have but to ask. After all it will be Chrissie's in time."

"That is most kind of you dad. I can manage. It's not as if I am buying a large house, after all it will be just Chrissie and me." 

His face showed sadness and pride as I reminded him innocently that we would never have a child. The pride came, as I had never called him dad before. "Clem, you need to understand your criteria. You need a good area, place where your neighbours will be professional, educated people, who if they learn of Chrissie's problem will understand. You will probably need to entertain at times, Bill Forster tells me that would help if you ever apply for Silk. I am sure the area you need will have larger properties. Don't trim your ambition if a little help from me will secure the right place."

I drove home with quite a few new thoughts to engage me. None of these would be my decision alone, I would discuss everything with Chrissie and the outcome would be a mutual decision. Moving house came first on the agenda and agreed quickly. The location where we would look came next and whilst Chrissie was happy with the area I suggested, her concern was the budget. I assured her that it would be affordable so she agreed but with the comment. "It must not be too expensive, Clem"

Then I asked the question of whether I should apply for Silk in time. Applying for Silk is something a barrister may do with some years of experience. As a rule, no barrister with less than fifteen years experience would be considered. If a barrister's application is successful, he is appointed letters patent to be one of her Majesty's Counsel learned in the Law. He has the right to place Q.C after his name. The term taking Silk comes from the court apparel he is allowed to wear, a silk gown and a version of court dress. He remains a barrister but his fees can rise significantly. It is usual for a set of barristers to have a Q.C. as Head of Chambers. I had not been practising for fifteen years yet, but Melvin Askwith had suggested that I should be working towards that goal. By this he meant raising my profile with other barristers, and entertaining would be a sure way of doing that, as he said, "you never know you may be entertaining a barrister who is elevated to the bench and could be one of the Judges who sits on the committee." 

Chrissie was all for it. This was the strange thing about her illness, she doubted herself in everything, yet given the opportunity to do something for her husband she threw herself wholeheartedly into the fray without any doubt at all. She had a gleam in her eye when she asked innocently. "Do Q.C.'s meddle with their wives frequently?"

"I believe it is almost an imperitive from Her Majesty."

"Good! Should we practice? Now."

"Now would be a very good time."

We found our house after many viewings of properties. Chrissie liked it as soon as she saw it and I had to agree it was right for us. When your wife, your most loved wife, declares her wish, so firmly it is incumbent on her husband to agree. It was slightly more than I had budgeted and against my resolve, I had to approach Mr. Ames. He was very happy to help and waved away my intent to repay him. "Clem, Chrissie is my only child and with you has found the love of a lifetime. What else should a father do? But help."

The next phase of our life began.

CHAPTER FIVE

The next fifteen years were good. Apart from occasional relapses, Chrissie managed to keep her depression at bay. We did our share of entertaining and accepted invitations frequently. One of the side effects of depression was being unsocial at times. However she did it I do not know but she seemed able to socialize, converse and have fun at these times before slumping into despond the moment we got home. The next day she would be fine. I understood that she did this for me and my heart if not already full of love for her overflowed. I stood by my promise to her that we would have some good holidays. We stood speechless looking over the Grand Canyon; we took the ferry from Darling Harbour and passed under the Sydney Harbour Bridge en route to the Circular Quay. We also took an evening dining cruise when the bridge was lit up spectacularly. I was tempted to take the climb up to the top of the bridge but decided against as Chrissie was getting jittery seeing danger where really none existed. 

We had two weeks in the Seychelles and our dream came true as we made love one balmy evening on the beach with warm waves lapping at our bodies. We were both in our late forties and had lost the taut bodies of our youth, yet for that beautiful moment, we were God and Goddess. I doubted when we married that my feelings for Chrissie were of love. I liked her and enjoyed her company. Now I feel ashamed that I could not say those words at the time. Without doubt, I love her and my love for her grows with every minute, hour, day, week or month that passes.

My career had never been a rocket, but I had made sure progress. Without realizing it, I had become one of the stalwarts of the Chambers. I had my own room now and at severe cost, the walls were lined with a library of law books on almost every facet of the Law. With Melvin's urging, I had applied for Silk and my application was successful, so my name on the board outside our chambers was now just two below that of Mr. M. Askwith Q.C. as Head of Chambers. I spent more time in my office reading the more complicated briefs that came my way than I did in court; however, my appearance in court was at a much higher rate than hitherto. The senior clerk made sure of that. Harry had retired before his liver gave up on him completely and Daniel Millington had taken his place. Dan had been a clerk in another chambers, but unlikely to become senior clerk as the incumbent was not much older than he was. Knowing this Melvin was able to poach Dan without too much aggravation. 




My Learned Friend



My brother Ramsay had taken to the habit of visiting Chrissie and I unannounced. Although there was only two years between us, he and I could not be described as filial companions. His ideas and morals were not mine. However he was my brother and initially I made no objection when he called, which tended to be just before we sat down to eat. The result was that Chrissie would rush to stretch a meal for two into a meal for three. On some occasions when offered a drink he would help himself to a refill or three without asking, so much so that it was wrong for him to drive and Chrissie would make up a spare bed for him. Chrissie did not say anything but I knew he made her feel uncomfortable, his conversation was littered with innuendo and he took every opportunity to brush against her. This angered me and I was going to ask him to phone before turning up when his visits stopped. 

I found out from my mother that Ram had found a girlfriend and had moved into her home. Ramsay had been this way all his life. He worked at a variety of jobs usually as unskilled labour never staying for any length of time. His attitude to women was the same. He had many lady-friends but none lasted more than a few months, so I was prepared for his visiting again once he had left his woman friend, or had been kicked out which I thought would be a likely outcome. I determined that I would talk to him when he came next time. How I wished that I hadn't postponed that conversation.

I was defending in a case of arson. Funnily enough the defendant was the Mr. Hathaway who had been one of my first briefs. At that time I was unsure and wracked with nerves. Now I could approach the court without those tremors of terror. I read the brief and was astounded. The case should have never come to court. I saw what I thought a gaping hole in the prosecution's case. We used a retired detective from time to time for gathering facts and I elicited his help to explore this gaping hole. In essence the case revolved around an arson attack. Brian Hathaway had been arrested and charged. The police alleged that he had left his local pub and detoured from his way home to throw what could best be described as a Molotov cocktail at the victim's home. 

Stan Gleeman our retired detective did what the police didn't do. First he worked out the best possible way that Mr. Hathaway allegedly could have taken, then the best possible route from the scene of the crime to his own home. Then he asked among Brian Hathaway's neighbours and found one who could state unequivocally that Mr. Hathaway was putting out his rubbish bin at ten fifty. I also had firm evidence that he hadn't left the pub until ten thirty-five. Now the victim's house was two miles from the pub and was just over a mile to Brian's home. To go there from the pub, throw the incendiary and then get home for ten fifty meant that Brian Hathaway would have been running as fast as Roger Bannister would have done when he ran the first four-minute mile. Mr. Hathaway was not old but didn't appear to be that fit so I doubt that he could do that. 

I had a good day in court. Confirming in cross-examination of the Detective Sergeant of the time Mr. Hathaway left the pub so there could be no doubt about that and then asked him to confirm the distance from the pub to the victim's house and the distance from the there to Mr. Hathaway's home. The Detective Sergeant could not confirm that distance. When I presented the defence case I called the neighbour who confirmed without doubt the time he saw Brian Hathaway. "I was watching the football highlights and that finished at ten-fifty." He told the court. "That's when I took my rubbish out as the collection usually happens about six-thirty in the following morning. I saw Mr. Hathaway doing the same thing and we said 'good evening' to each other." I then brought evidence of the distances from the pub to the victim's house and from there back to Mr. Hathaway's house. The prosecuting barrister was furious, as the police hadn't covered this. He tried to suggest that Mr. Hathaway had help, that someone had given him a lift. I countered by saying that if that were the case why the police hadn't laid the charge of conspiracy as well. This would have been automatic if there was an alleged helper. It was too late. The judge gave the prosecution a rather weary look. He knew that the case should have never been brought before the court. The charge was given to the jury who took no more than twenty minutes to come back with a verdict of 'not guilty'. It was a good day for me. 

It was a Thursday evening the following week when after a tiring day I drove home. As I reached my house and turned into the drive I nearly hit Ram as he was running out of the drive. I stopped and called to him. "Ram!" 

He stopped, turned and shouted. "She wanted it." Then ran off. 

Alarmed, I locked the car and ran in shouting "Chrissie!" I heard a weak voice.

"Clem?" I followed the sound and found Chrissie on the floor of the breakfast room. She was in a very dishevelled state with tears running down her face and her clothes torn. She seemed to be pushing what remained of her skirt between her legs. The skirt was bloodstained. My first impulse was to go and comfort her, but I knew the signs of rape from seeing so many photos of that heinous crime in court. I picked up the phone and called 999. The operators are trained to ask a set of questions. I spoke over her, gave my address, and then said ambulance and police in that order. I then put the phone down before the operator started asking questions. I sank down next to Chrissie and held her tightly. She tried to speak her lips were bruised and her words were indistinct.

"It's ok, Chrissie. The ambulance is on its way. We'll get you sorted."

I understood her next words. "Cold flannel p.p.please."

Much as I wanted to help her feel better I was too much the barrister and knew how much evidence could be destroyed, particularly DNA evidence. At this time in the early nineteen eighties the police forensic laboratories were getting to grip with this new technology and courts were now allowing DNA evidence in criminal cases. DNA could not be the sole decider in a case just part of the evidence that could convict or acquit. Emotion won and I wetted a flannel and used it to wipe her face. As much as Chrissie was distressed, I was as well. The lady who I loved so much had been attacked and to my shame and anger it was my own brother who appeared to be the perpetrator. My anger was mounting and if I could have left Chrissie I would be out in my car hunting down Ram. There would be no question of taking him to the police. Hospital or a mortuary would be more appropriate. If I had found him I would have driven at him and run him down.

Chrissie seemed to calm down a little as I held her. "I'm sorry, Clem." I heard the words with astonishment. Other barristers had told me that raped women feel guilty for what has happened to them. Now my wife is apologising for the same thing.

"Chrissie you have nothing to feel guilty about. You know what has happened and I know as well. It is Ram who should be begging your forgiveness. I suspect he will have quite a few years in prison to reflect on his behaviour."

"Hello!" The call came from the door, which I must have left open. "Ambulance!" called the same voice.

"In here." I called back. 

The two medics as soon as they understood the situation became extremely solicitous and very careful knowing the police were on the way. Indeed the police arrived within ten minutes of the ambulance. I had to stand back now as the priorities of the police and the ambulance clashed. I intervened. "My wife needs to go to hospital and quickly, I believe she is bleeding internally." I turned to the police sergeant."You can get swabs for evidence when she is in hospital and statements tomorrow. Right now I need to make sure my wife is comfortable and not distressed."

The sergeant drew himself up. "So, Sir. You think you know about procedures." He produced his notebook from his top pocket. "And who would you be, Sir?"

"I am this lady's husband and my name is Clement Marston Q.C. So you could say I am quite well versed with the law."

"Oh!" He deflated immediately. The WPC who was comforting Chrissie had a little smile on her face, which vanished as the sergeant, turned to her. "Stay with Mrs. Marston. I'll get our doctor to come down to the hospital and do what's necessary."

The next two days were a blur. I was supposedly a calm collected person, used to keeping his head in the tussles of the court, which could become quite furious at times, usually when a witness dislikes the questions being asked and loses his temper. Now I felt useless, my Chrissie, the woman I loved more than life itself had been assaulted and I felt that I should shoulder the blame. It was I who procrastinated about ordering Ram not to come round without prior notice. It was my hesitation that had allowed this to happen and I felt wretched. I went to the police station the next day to give my statement. It was simple enough as I described exactly what I had seen and heard. The detective sergeant in charge of the case was sympathetic and promised me that the investigation would be a priority. Perhaps it was as three days later Ram was arrested trying to board the Irish ferry.

I had phoned chambers and let them know that I would be unavailable for a couple or three days. The current brief I put in the hands of Samira al Bazzeer; a very capable young barrister. I asked her to read the brief and make notes telling her that she would be my choice of junior when the case came to court. Chrissie came home on the third day. I knew what procedures the police doctor had carried out, Swabs from her vagina, photos of the bruises, which were very indicative of her attitude, and scrapings from under her fingernails. Chrissie was not meek and would almost certainly she would have fought back. Most rapists try the defence of consensual sex. The bruises are indicative of how hard the victim had been held and expert witnesses can deduce from that if the victim was struggling or not. I of course knew what was happening yet I was not involved except as a witness for the prosecution.

After Ram was arrested my father phoned asking me if I could go round and see him. I was shocked when he asked me if I would defend Ram. "No, Dad I can't."

"Why not, Clem? He's your brother."

"Dad! Ram allegedly raped my wife. I cannot defend him for a variety of reasons. First if the case goes to court I shall be required as a prosecution witness. Secondly the victim is my wife, what would she think of me if I defend the man who allegedly attacked her? Thirdly the fact that he is my brother. I doubt that the judge would allow that."

"Oh I think she would understand, and how can you be a witness for the prosecution? You should tell them you won't do it."

"I don't get that choice, Dad. They can subpoena me and if I don't respond I can be arrested for contempt of court."

"Rubbish, Clem." Dad was angry now. "If you can't do this for your brother, you're no son of mine." I left then before my anger boiled over. Under normal circumstances I would have defended my brother had the victim been anyone than my wife. Therefore, another result of my hesitation was the start of a schism with my father. I did gather from my mum's attitude that she didn't agree with dad. She didn't say anything but her tight-lipped expression revealed her inner anger.

Samira had done a good job with the brief and we spent some time together going over the salient points and planning how we would present the defence. Samira was quite unusual in many ways. From what little she said her background was of a traditional Muslim family who had left Iraq to escape the ravages of Saddam Hussein. Her choice to study Law did not go down well with her family who wanted her to study medicine. She was now in a situation where her family found it difficult to find her a husband. She was a little too intelligent and quick to make her views known. Muslim men it seems wanted a quiet, subservient wife who will do as they are told. Her qualities would make her a very good barrister but not a good wife. We worked together well and we had our days in court. Her work on the brief was crucial and I have to admit it was her work, which got us the verdict. She did tell me that she found my presentation a lesson. "Mr. Marston you brought out all the points which cleared our client and furthermore you introduced them at exactly the right time. Just as the prosecution thought they were winning the jury you knocked them back."

"Samira. Thank you. It was your hard work that produced those points. I merely used them. Oh and by the way in chambers it is usual to use first names. So please call me Clem."

She shook her head. "I am sorry, Mr. Marston. My upbringing will not allow that. You are the teacher in many ways and respect must be shown. It would be wrong for me to be so familiar with a man of dignity and older than me."

When had I grown so old? I still saw myself as that raw, uncertain young barrister trying hard to master my craft and wooing a lovely young lady called Chrissie. Where had all those years gone? They had flown by so quickly, but then of course they would as I had Chrissie at my side. She made me happy and we all know that being happy speeds time. 

I was in court to hear Ramsay sentenced. He pleaded not guilty which was to be expected and his defence were going to offer consent as cause. His trial was done in a day. The prosecution really tied it all up really leaving no crack in the case for the defence to exploit. I was the first prosecution witness and after giving my evidence and being cross-examined by the defence, I was told I would not be needed again. I took advantage of this and after one of the numerous breaks took my place in the public gallery just in time to hear Chrissie give her evidence. I expected her to break down. However, she made me proud of her as she answered the questions posed to her, and explained the sequence of events that evening. When the defending barrister cross examined her he was very courteous and did not bully her in any way. He knew as I did that attacking the victim would anger the jury. 

I had to hand it to my learned friend Alistair Makepeace who led the prosecution. He gave the court a textbook lesson in building the case. He highlighted the injuries that Chrissie had suffered, the bruising which the medical expert said that in his opinion could be only the result of Chrissie being held down violently and exacerbated by her struggles. He also pointed out that Chrissie's vagina was torn and bruised. That evidence put paid to the consent defence. 

Alistair handled the DNA very well. It was only recently that the court would accept this as corroborating evidence and the jury needed the facts about DNA profiling so they understand. The defence tried to muddy the waters by suggesting that the semen left in Chrissie could be mine. I had given a sample, Alistair had anticipated this, and he produced the relevant papers for the jury to read. They outlined the admittedly small difference that brothers would have. He then produced more results showing that the sample taken from Chrissie matched Ram's exactly and could not be mine. In case the jury were unsure about the DNA he produced evidence from Ram's clothing when he was arrested. There was blood on his clothing that conformed to Chrissie's type. The Judge, in his summing up reminded the jury to come to their verdict according to all of the evidence and advised then that they could not depend on the DNA evidence alone. I watched the jury as they filed in to give their verdict. None looked at Ramsay. I knew then that they had found him guilty.

Mr. Justice Chandler was not in a good mood. After the verdict, he was not going to allow psychiatric reports to interfere with his sentence. "Ramsay Marston. The jury have found you justly guilty of a heinous crime. A crime rightly abhorred by society but in your case disgustingly abhorrent. You attacked a woman who had welcomed you into her home as brother to her husband. She had cared for you, given you food and on occasions a bed for the night. You violated all the rules of decency and hospitality when you decided to take your pleasure of her. We have seen the injuries you inflicted, wantonly and without thought. This court has heard no evidence that could persuade me to leniency. You will go to prison for eight years." I watched Ram as his sentence was passed; his face went visibly white. His attitude all through had been that this was a fuss about nothing. The Judge raised his head and addressed the gaolers. "Take him down." It was a stiff sentence, but he could have been sentenced to life imprisonment. In the UK rape, especially violent rape is viewed as seriously as murder.

I met Chrissie in the circulating area outside the court. I held her tightly as at last, the facade of bravado collapsed and the tears came. It was unfortunate that my mum and dad came by at that moment. Dad was still obdurate. "See what you've done. Eight years! You have put your brother in prison for eight years. What kind of a brother are you?"

"And what kind of husband would I be if I had let him get away? Look at her, dad. This is Chrissie your daughter. You heard what he did, and you expect us to forgive?"

He ignored Chrissie. "I only have one son now, and I will not see him for eight years. Proud of yourself are you?" He turned a cold back on me and stalked away. 

Mum laid her hand on my arm. "You did what you had to do, son. I have no blame for you. Ram went his own way." She turned a compassionate gaze on Chrissie. "Chrissie, can I come and see you soon?"

Chrissie nodded. "Yes mum. I would like that." 

Mum gave Chrissie a kiss on the cheek and moved away. "Your dad will now know what Cold Comfort farm is like."

CHAPTER SIX

It was obvious to me that Chrissie had relapsed into depression. Dr. Purvess had anticipated this could happen and told me to increase her medication if necessary. We did but she did not seem to improve. I did my best to show her that what had happened did not change my love for her. I knew that she would not want physical love for some time, but in all ways, I tried to show her that I still desired her holding her hand, kissing and holding her close when we were in bed together. She responded happily to my kisses yet wouldn't let me touch her intimately. I could live with a celibate marriage as long as Chrissie felt comfortable, if that is what it takes to keep her with me. She was not eager to rise in the morning. For years, she had fought her depression but now she seemed to be giving in to it. There were many days when I came home from work to find her still in bed. I took as much time off from work as I could; balancing Chrissie's needs with my need to earn and support our lifestyle. My cousin Jean would visit Chrissie on some of the days that I couldn't be there. Her marriage had not lasted more than three years and she seemed happy to help. However, she could not fill the gap every day.

It was a Tuesday that I arrived home after a good day in court. This was the ultimate day of a case that had been in court for four days. Conspiracy to murder would be punished as severely as the actual murder. The accused had asked specifically for me, he seemed to view me as his lucky charm. Yes, it was Brian Hathaway. I enlisted Samira's help as my junior and we made a good case. The verdict of not guilty was relief for all three of us. I arrived home about five-thirty, early for me, but not nearly enough.

Having no Chrissie to welcome me home was not unusual. I sighed and started up the stairs knowing that I would probably find her in bed. She was in bed cold and lifeless! For minutes, I was on my knees by the bed; holding Chrissie's cold hand unable to think, move or speak. Tears cascaded down my cheeks and dripped unchecked to my jacket. She was gone; the whole reason for my existence had gone. The hollow grip of loneliness tightened around my heart. That bastard! Ramsay my evil selfish brother. He had done this. He, who had never had the fulfilment of a long, loving relationship and envious of mine had stamped his moral vacuum over Chrissie and I.