And Is There Honey Still For Tea? by Peter Murphy Read Free Book Online Page B

get emotionally involved, but …’
    â€˜You can’t help it,’ Wesley replied. ‘You have to put your feelings on one side to make a good job of the case, but that doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t there.’
    Ben nodded. ‘I was able to deal with it most of the time, certainly while I was in court,’ he said. ‘But Jess’s support kept me going. She drove me to London to see my grandfather when he had his heart attack during the trial. After that, we gradually fell in love. I …’
    Wesley pushed himself up off the table.
    â€˜That’s all admirable,’ he said. ‘I’m not judging you, please believe me. In fact, I am all in favour. The only problem is how to get the Middle Temple off our backs.’
    â€˜ Our backs?’ Ben asked pointedly.
    â€˜Yes. It comes back to me as Head of Chambers, as well as you.’
    â€˜My God,’ Jess said quietly.
    â€˜Look, don’t despair, either of you,’ Wesley said. ‘I’m not saying that we can’t find a way to deal with this. I am sure we can. But we can’t ignore it. What I am suggesting is that you allow me to undertake a little diplomacy on your behalf.’
    Ben looked up questioningly.
    â€˜I am a Bencher of the Inn, Ben. I am a member of the ruling body. I know how they think. I can talk to them in a way they will understand, and I have the seniority to be a bit more candid with them than you could be. Look, why don’t the two of you come up to Hampstead for dinner? I was telling Amélie about you and, of course, she now insists on meeting you and Jess. She is an incurable romantic, I’m afraid. I should have invited you long before. How would a Saturday be?’
    Ben looked at Jess. They both nodded.
    â€˜A Saturday would be fine. Thank you, Bernard.’
    â€˜Don’t let it get you down. It may take a while, but I think we can get around it. So don’t do anything drastic. Just be discreet. In particular, no public displays of affection. Understood?’
    â€˜Understood,’ Ben replied.

7
    Tuesday, 9 March
    Julia Cathermole walked carefully up the short flight of stairs leading from Pall Mall to the double doors which marked the main entrance to the Reform Club. Her heels were higher than she was accustomed to. Indeed, she had dressed for the day with unusual formality. The senior partner of Cathermole & Bridger, a small firm of solicitors with a rapidly-growing reputation, she preferred to impress through her work rather than her appearance. She had a natural sense of style which enabled her to look good in clothes of any kind, and she relished her sometimes unconventional approach to business dress. But there were occasions when she reverted to the more typical lawyer’s black suit; occasions when she wanted to make a particular kind of impression on a client. Today was such an occasion, though she had been unable to resist a jaunty black-and-white silk scarf worn over her jacket and she had tied her hair back with a matching bow.
    She looked around her. Straight ahead, a further three or four steps led to another set of double doors, which marked the entrance to the saloon. To her right was the porter’s lobby. She approached the window and inquired for Professor Francis Hollander. The porter walked quickly around to the front of his desk.
    â€˜This way, Madam, please.’
    He more or less sprinted up the steps, opened the right-hand door, and held it open, waiting for her to catch up with him. He pointed to her right.
    â€˜Through there in the morning room, Madam. The gentleman in the bow tie,’ he said.
    â€˜Thank you.’
    â€˜Enjoy your luncheon, Madam.’
    She would have identified him even without the porter’s assistance. It was partly that his was by far the lightest-coloured suit in the room. Most of the members dressed in dark grey or black. But she thought there was something unmistakably