SERIAL Legal Eagles by Rebecca Holmes
Helen was able to let her hair down finally, and enjoy a night out with friends . . .
AS she lifted the cover from the typewriter in her office, Margaret realised she didn’t remember anything of her journey into work.
One thing she could remember was the way she’d somehow got herself back together for her daughter’s sake after the shock of hearing the news about the Falkland Islands.
“It’s been a long week,” she’d told her worried daughter, Alison, while her
husband, joining in the charade, had yawned and stretched as if in agreement. “Pick up your PE socks from the airing cupboard and get yourself off to school.”
At the office, there was something reassuring about the old building with its solid walls and her trusty typewriter, waiting for her as always.
Even the handrail on the mahogany banisters was worn smooth from countless hands, Margaret reflected as she made her way back downstairs to collect Mr Clarence’s post.
She paused when she saw that almost everyone was still in reception, lingering longer than they usually did for exchanging morning pleasantries.
Young Paul, one of the solicitors, was leaning on the desk. He often did that, always ready for a chat that had a way of putting everyone in a lighter mood.
Today, though, they all seemed subdued.
Pam, the receptionist, and Karen, the junior secretary, barely said hello as they sorted the post into wire baskets. Helen, the new girl, stood to one side, as if she’d like to join in but hadn’t yet found her feet.
Paul turned round and saw Margaret first.
“How are you doing, Margaret?” He placed one hand on her shoulder. “Everyone’s heard the news. It doesn’t exactly put you in a Friday mood, does it?
“Still, things will be sorted out soon and we can all go back to complaining about the weather.”
The others nodded. Mr Clarence’s office door opened and a hush descended as the senior partner stepped out. He frowned. “Margaret?”
“I’m about to bring your post through, Mr Clarence.” “Very well.”
When he consulted his watch, everyone took the hint and went their separate ways.
A couple of minutes later, Margaret placed the
correspondence tray on Mr Clarence’s desk, as she took pride in doing every morning without fail.
Instead of acknowledging receipt and carrying on with his work, her boss looked intently at her. “You’re pale, Margaret.” “It’s been a busy couple of weeks, Mr Clarence. None of us is at our best.”
“You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. I listen to the news, too, you know.” Margaret sighed.
“As does the whole office, apparently. I’m all for being close-knit, but it would be nice to have some privacy.”
“It has its advantages at times. I’m sure the matter will be resolved, but I can understand your concern for Adam.
“Every family with someone in the Armed Forces will be worried today.” He leaned forward. “I hope you don’t mind my speaking as your friend as well as your employer.”
Margaret felt her cheeks grow warm. For goodness’ sake, the last time she’d blushed in his presence she’d been about twenty-two.
“If there’s anything you want – even if you just need to talk – my door is open.” “Thank you, Mr Clarence.” Her boss inclined his head. “Look, why don’t you go home? We’ll manage without you.”
Margaret squared her shoulders.
“I’ll stay, if you don’t mind. Fridays are busy, and I find that work is the best distraction from other matters.”
Her colleague of all these years sat back in his chair.
“I know what you mean,” Mr Clarence replied. “Promise me that if you find it all getting too much, you’ll go home and rest.”
Within minutes, Margaret was back in her own office, settling down to some typing. The rhythmic tapping of the keys and speed of her fingers soothed her, as did the murmur and pulse of office life in the background.
She had just finished a letter regarding a contested right of way when she was aware of someone tapping at the door and looked round to see Helen standing nervously in the doorway.
“I’m sorry about the news this morning,” the girl said. “If there’s anything I can do, I’m more than willing to help. I’m a dab hand with the photocopier, for instance.”
Margaret felt her eyes prick with tears. She blinked them away.
“Thank you, Helen. Don’t be offended if I turn down your offer. It is appreciated, though.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m not sure if I’ve said it before, but I hope you’ll be happy here.”
She meant it, too, she realised. She may have had her views on a slip of a girl being a solicitor, but it was time to overcome such attitudes, along with her fears for Adam.
That evening, Helen stepped off the bus with a sigh of relief. She couldn’t remember when she had last felt so exhausted.
Birds were singing in the trees lining the road as if to celebrate the lengthening daylight hours, as well as to mark the end of another day.
Already, after living there for a week, small landmarks were becoming familiar to her. There was the beech hedge at the front of Number Five, for instance, and the bird bath in the garden of Number Nine, where a black cat also watched eagerly from the window.
Further along, a woman and an older man were unloading boxes from a car and carrying them into one of the other houses.
There was something about the way the woman moved that rang a bell.
With cars being parked all along the road, it was only when she’d almost reached her own house that she realised where the boxes were being taken. The realisation was confirmed when she saw Jackie at the front door.
“The new tenant’s here,” she announced. “She seems nice. Her name is –” “Helen?”
Helen jumped at the sound of a familiar voice behind her. She turned round, pasting on a smile.
“Hello, Diane. What are the odds of us both moving into the same house?”
“About a hundred to one, I should think. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“A new job. I, er, felt it was time to move on.”
Diane, her eyes as dark brown and face as grave as ever, nodded slowly.
“Yes, I can imagine how you would.”
Helen was spared from saying more as Jackie joined the conversation. “You know each other?” Helen and Diane exchanged a glance before Diane stepped back slightly, as if to give Helen room to tell as much as she decided.
“Yes, we went to the same university. We were on different courses, but we had several mutual friends, so we saw each other a lot.”
“And now you’re back together!” Jackie exclaimed, breaking the awkward silence that fell between them. “Talk about landing on our feet. I’ll get the kettle on, then we can get to know each other and marvel at what a small world it is.”
She rolled her eyes as the phone in the hall started ringing.
“That’ll be my mum. She said she’d call this evening. See you in a minute.”
Once Helen and Diane were left alone, Diane was the first to speak.
“Have you heard from Tony lately?”
Helen swallowed. “No. Have you?”
“A bit.”
Even though nearly four years had passed since they’d left university, Helen wasn’t surprised Diane and Tony were still in touch. The two had been close friends. She lifted her chin. “How is he?” “Much as you’d expect in the circumstances.” Diane shifted her gaze to a point somewhere across the road. “Helen –”
She was interrupted as the older man came out of the house.
“We’re about done now. Jackie’s putting the kettle on, so after I’ve had a cuppa I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thank, Dad.” Diane hugged him. “You’ve been brilliant. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Helen wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that the conversation had been ended or not. Probably the former, though it was almost certainly only postponing the inevitable.
She’d moved here to get away from the past, but it seemed the past was determined to follow her.
Luckily Diane was too busy getting settled into her new room to talk much that first evening. In fact, all three of them, worn out from a busy few days, were happy to settle for an early night.
It seemed the past was determined to follow Helen
Helen managed to avoid both of her housemates the next morning, luxuriating in a Saturday lie-in and waiting till the sound of their chatter in the kitchen had died away before she ventured downstairs.
She achieved further avoidance by embarking on the trip to town she’d promised herself.
When she got there she was surprised by how busy the centre was, as well as the range of stores in what some would regard as a backwater.
Technically it must be a city, she supposed, walking past the front of the cathedral. It felt far more comfortable than most cities she’d ever been in.
She crossed the road to the shopping centre and was tempted to look in the window of an impressive jeweller’s adjacent to the entrance, when she came to an abrupt stop. Wasn’t that Karen going in with a good-looking young man?
Something told her there could be some interesting news at the
office come Monday.
Karen hadn’t seen her, so she continued on, passing a bakery and a bookshop in favour of a selection of clothes shops mixing high street chains and lesser-known names.
She was just about to make for one of her favourite chains when she spotted Margaret with a shy-looking teenage girl, presumably her daughter.
For the second time that morning, Helen changed direction. Was there no escape, either from work or the past?
Perhaps a browse in the bookshop would provide some light relief. She certainly needed it.
What was it about fifteenyear-olds that made them so awkward, Margaret wondered as Alison led her into another clothes shop.
Her daughter kept picking up a dress here, a top there, and dismissing everything apart from the garments Margaret regarded as too expensive or impractical. Her own mother would never have let her get away with such choices.
Still, it was nice to go shopping together. They hadn’t done this for a while, now that Alison was at the age where she was more argumentative about what she should wear, as well as awkward about being seen out in public with her mother.
Clearly it had reached the point where necessity outweighed embarrassment, but Margaret wasn’t complaining.
“How about this puffball dress, Mum? I love turquoise, and the style’s really in at the moment.”
Alison held out the dress on its hanger.
Although Margaret had seen puffball dresses in the fashion pages of the Sunday supplements, she hadn’t noticed anyone wearing them in real life. The skirt bulged out and went round under itself rather than ending in a normal hem as most dresses did.
Goodness only knew how they were supposed to be ironed, or how they kept their shape after the wearer had sat down in one. For all that, she had to admit it looked interesting, and it was only natural that Alison would want something fashionable.
“The colour brings out the blue of your eyes, and the bodice does go in nicely at the waist,” she agreed, trying not to flinch at the price tag. “I’ve heard the style is a difficult one to pull off, though. It all depends on whether the skirt hangs right on you.” “Can I try it on, Mum?” Margaret faltered.
“It isn’t exactly an everyday dress. When would you wear it?”
“At my sixteenth birthday party. That’s less than two months away, you know. If it’s anywhere near as big as Adam’s was, I’ll need something special.”
“Go on. I’m not making any promises, mind.”
As she waited for her daughter outside the fittingroom, Margaret crossed her fingers that Adam would be at the party.
The shadow of events in the southern Atlantic made her shiver, even in the warmth of a shopping centre that was full of bustle and chatter.
Ten minutes later, her bank account was significantly lighter, while Alison proudly carried a bag emblazoned with the shop’s logo.
“Thank you so much, Mum.” Her eyes sparkled as they sat down together to enjoy toasted teacakes, oozing with melting butter, and a hot drink in their favourite café on the balcony overlooking the market. “That’s going to be a dress I’ll love for ages.”
Assuming it wasn’t going to be out of fashion by the following year, Margaret thought, but knew better than to say out loud.
“It looks good on you. It will be perfect for your sixteenth. We’ll have to start making plans for that in a few weeks.”
Alison seemed to concentrate intently on stirring her hot chocolate.
“Do you think Adam will make it?” she asked, as if picking up on Margaret’s earlier worries.
“That depends on if he can get leave. I’m sure he’ll move heaven and earth to be with his little sister.” “What if there’s a war?” Margaret’s fingers tightened round the handle of her coffee mug.
“What makes you think there will be?” she asked airily.
“Well, there was the news on the radio yesterday.”
“Oh, that’ll be sorted out, somehow or other.” Margaret tried to sound confident and remember the points Mr Clarence had made.
“Most countries will do anything to avoid going to war. By the time it’s your birthday we’ll be shaking our heads and wondering what the fuss was about.”
“But what if there is?” Alison persisted. “Everyone at school thinks there will be. Some people in my class know that Adam’s in the Army, and they kept saying he’ll have to fight.” Margaret shook her head. “Then they’re not very nice individuals and are doing it only to upset you. You have to learn not to take notice of people like them.” She softened her tone.
“What will be will be. If things happen, we deal with them, as we always have. That’s what life’s about.
“Now, I could do with some new shoes for work, so finish your cake and help me choose some,” Margaret added.
By the time they’d finished, both weighed down with several bags, the newspaper vendors were taking up their posts around the town, with their cries of “‘Evening Telegraph’!”
For Margaret, in town virtually every day, they were part of the scenery, so she barely gave more than a glance at the headlines on the boards beside them.
Today, though, she felt drawn to look, and what she saw made her go cold inside. Falklands Task Force Announced!
She hurried Alison along on the pretext that they needed to rush to catch the bus, in the hope that her daughter wouldn’t read it, and all the time trying to ignore the pounding of her heart.
Clarence had thought that Eleanor was going to take their teenage daughter to her riding lesson on Saturday afternoon, but his wife had ended up visiting a friend who was having a family problem, so the job fell to him.
Part of him suspected this was a plot to get him away from his desk, yet he couldn’t help a surge of paternal pride as he saw Samantha in the jodhpurs and riding boots she’d asked for last Christmas, rather than make-up or other items he assumed girls of her age preferred.
Her riding hat had been a Christmas present from her grandmother.
Clarence felt a lump in his throat as he imagined how she would have loved seeing Sam looking so smart today.
A sweater and anorak completed the outfit, and he had the sense that nothing would have suited her better.
“I hope I’m riding Charlie today,” Sam said as they arrived at the stables. “He’s my favourite. I’ve brought him some mints.”
By the time he’d paid Vanessa, the proprietor, his daughter was already on the friendly-looking grey pony and was adjusting her stirrups. He squeezed her hand and gave Charlie a friendly pat.
“Have a good time. I’ll see you in an hour.”
It hardly seemed worth going home. Once he’d settled down to work it would be time to set out again.
Instead, Clarence turned his car in the opposite direction, up on to the moors, pulling into a rough parking area that was popular with walkers as a setting-off point, or just for taking in the view.
The silence enveloped him within seconds of switching off the engine.
It briefly occurred to him that this would have been the perfect place
to work without any interruptions. The notion even made him slightly fidgety at first, before the sheer sense of space worked its magic and he gave himself up to it.
Zipping up his jacket, he climbed out of the car and walked over to an outcrop giving an unparalleled panorama of the valley.
All around, the wild moorland grasses had been bleached and scoured by the cold winds of winter. The effect was desolate and bleak, yet beautiful.
Cradled at the bottom of the valley lay the old mill town he’d known all his life. It might not be glamorous or pretty, but it was home. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting to leave.
His son, Peter, and his brother, James, had both left, though, tearing rifts in the family in the process.
James could have come back from Australia at any time and faced up to his responsibilities, but he’d chosen to stay away, only turning up for their mother’s funeral last week.
Now it seemed Peter was heading down the same route. Clarence hadn’t spoken to his son in five years.
Up here, Eleanor’s comments about the dangers of history repeating itself resonated more deeply. Yet family continuity and traditions mattered. His father had worked hard, building up the business, and it was up to other generations to preserve his legacy, but James and Peter both had chosen different paths.
A chill wind made him turn up his collar. It was almost time to collect Sam, though doubtless she’d be happily making a fuss of Charlie.
Clarence wasn’t prepared, then, for the sight that greeted him when he got to the stables.
Vanessa was waiting for him in the yard with a very pale-looking Samantha. His stomach clenched as he noticed his daughter was holding her arm awkwardly.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“She fell off when something spooked her horse,” Vanessa replied. “There was nothing anyone could do about it.”
“My wrist hurts, Dad.” Sam indicated her left arm, which he could see now was swollen. Someone had given her a bag of frozen peas to hold against it.
Clarence’s business-like side took over.
“Let’s go to the hospital.”
The Casualty department at the infirmary was busy but not frantically so, and staff assured Clarence and Sam that the wait shouldn’t be long.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Sam said when they’d found a couple of free chairs. “Whatever for?”
“I fell off Charlie. I should have been in control of him. I feel like I’ve failed.”
Clarence ruffled her hair to cover his shock at her stricken expression.
“Accidents happen,” he told her with a smile. “You wouldn’t believe the number of times your gran used to bring Uncle James here. He was always falling off his bike or out of trees.”
“Peter, too,” Sam pointed out with a giggle. “Remember that time he was trying to build me a treehouse, reached too far and the branch wouldn’t hold his weight?”
“Not in detail. I was busy in court. His arm was already in plaster by the time I saw him.”
“And everyone wrote on it.” Sam giggled again. “I miss him. Do you think he’ll come home soon?”
Clarence was saved from having to answer by a nurse calling them through.
Thankfully, Samantha had suffered nothing worse than a badly sprained wrist, though it meant riding would be out of the question for a while.
“Maybe it’s just as well,” was her reaction as they drove home. “I need to work harder to get good marks in my exams.” She paused.
“When I was waiting with Vanessa, she was worried you might sue her. You won’t, will you?”
Clarence frowned.
“Of course not. Some of my clients can be somewhat litigious, but that doesn’t mean I am. There’s no need to worry. The real fun’s going to be explaining all this to your mother.”
Safely home, Clarence phoned the stables’ proprietor to update her. Her nervousness came across loud and clear, and he put the receiver down with a heavy heart. Everyone seemed to be so defensive around him nowadays.
“Sam,” he began as he walked into the living-room. “Do I come across as some sort of an ogre?”
She glanced up from watching television.
“Well, you can be a bit strict sometimes.”
Before he could press her further, she’d turned her attention back to the programme, signalling that the conversation was over.
The coast seemed clear as Helen staggered in with two bulging carrier bags of shopping, containing enough provisions to keep her going for a while.
She’d just put away the last tin of beans when the sound of someone clearing their throat made her look round to see Diane in the doorway, looking almost as uncomfortable as Helen felt.
“I was just coming down to get a coffee. I can go away until you’ve finished in here, if you like.” “No, it’s OK. Go ahead.” “Shall I put some water in for you? You could probably do with a cuppa if you’ve been busy.”
Helen’s instinct was to get to her room as quickly as possible, but she gave herself a shake. She could hardly keep avoiding the inevitable.
“That would be nice. How are you settling in?” It seemed rude not to ask.
“It’s getting there. My room is almost sorted, and I’m OK for food. Mum packed a box-load for me.” Diane rolled her eyes.
“Why did you leave home? You come from this area, don’t you?”
“It’s less of a journey to work. I work in a bank in town and my parents live out in the country.
“Plus it’s awkward living with your parents when you’re twenty-five, so it was time to make the move.” She spooned coffee into two mugs. “Sugar?”
“One, please, and milk. Thanks.”
Diane looked thoughtful. “I hope you don’t think I’m speaking out of turn, but I know about you and Tony. He was one of my best friends at university and he’s a great bloke, but I know how wilful he can be at times.
“Don’t blame yourself for what happened. It was just rotten luck. Let’s start with a clean sheet, eh?”
Helen sagged with relief. “Thank you for being understanding. I hope you know that wasn’t why I –”
She stopped as the front door opened. A minute later, Jackie joined them.
“Oh, has the kettle just boiled? I could murder a hot drink.”
Soon the three of them were sitting round the table.
“It’s so good to have housemates I can have a natter with,” Jackie said, dunking a bourbon cream in her coffee. “Why don’t we have a girls’ night out this evening? I reckon we deserve it.”
Helen and Diane glanced at each other.
“Yes, why not?” Diane said as they all clinked mugs in agreement.
The atmosphere in the nightclub a few hours later was friendly. Everyone seemed intent on a carefree night out after a long week at work.
As they danced to old favourites mixed up with the latest chart hits, Helen felt the tensions of the past few days start to slip away.
Jackie was invited to dance by a cheerful-looking man, while, minutes later, Diane was dancing with a tall, lanky lad who could probably grin for England.
Feeling awkward, Helen went to sit down, when one of her favourite David Bowie tracks came on.
As she tapped her foot, nearly dancing on the spot, a dark-haired man with smiling eyes approached.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked, almost shouting to be heard above the music.
Helen smiled and nodded.
When the song ended, they both stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next, until the unmistakable guitar riff from “Brown Sugar” blared out and his face lit up.
“I love this!”
“So do I,” she agreed. “I’m happy to keep dancing if you are.”
After a few more songs, all six of them gathered at the same table, happily getting along as a group.
“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself before,” Helen’s dancing partner said. “I’m Peter, and I’m pleased to meet you.”
With their general chatter, interspersed with more dancing, it soon felt as though they had all been friends for months rather than a few short hours.
Helen couldn’t remember when she’d last enjoyed herself so much, much less believe it when the DJ announced the last song of the evening and the dance floor filled once more.
All too soon the music faded.
Peter smiled as their eyes met.
“It’s been a fantastic evening. I hadn’t expected to have such a good time.”
“Same here,” Helen replied.
She wasn’t sure how they came to be in each other’s arms, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as did the kiss they shared, only drawing apart when the lights came up and made everyone blink.
“Can I see you again?” Peter asked.
Helen nodded. “When would suit you?” he went on. “I’m busy this weekend, but I could call you next week, if you like?”
It was only when she was in her room later that she realised she hadn’t thought of Tony all evening. She’d been enjoying herself, while he was stuck in a wheelchair. What sort of person did that make her?
Still, she returned to work on Monday refreshed and ready to take on another week, so was curious rather than apprehensive when Mr Clarence called her into his office.
“I wanted to ask you about that accident compensation claim we took on. Do you remember I pointed out it was coming up to the third anniversary, so a High Court Writ needed to be issued?”
Helen was aware that if court proceedings weren’t started within three years of the date of an accident, the claim could be barred.
“I’ve just checked in the diary. The writ has to be issued by today, but there’s no mention of it. Did you omit to record it?”
Helen’s heart plummeted. She’d drafted the writ on Friday, meaning to take it to the local court in person, but that morning’s news meant she’d forgotten.
Her face must have given away her guilt. When the senior partner spoke again, his measured tone somehow made things worse.
“I strongly advise you to go and do it now. I must say I am more than a little concerned. If I hadn’t checked, the deadline could have been missed, prejudicing our client’s interests and laying the firm open to a suit for negligence. We’ll discuss the ramifications for your employment here later.”
It was only when Helen came out of the court office, the writ safely issued, that she felt able to breathe again, but not for long, because the fact remained that she had made a basic and potentially disastrous mistake – one that could even have cost her her job.
To be continued.