have to keep you occupied from now until then,” I beg, knowing that when he finally answers his phone to Joanna at 3am and is asked what is keeping him from home he will most likely drag my name into it by claiming we are working on some novel point of law that has cropped up today.
He smiles and narrows his eyes. “Are you sure that you don’t want to be the one actually keeping me occupied?”
I can’t help but laugh at his cheek. “Positive, but I’ll bear you in mind if I ever want to be cited in divorce proceedings.”
He chuckles good-naturedly. “How long do you think we’ve got?” he asks, indicating to the now empty chair where our withdrawing Judge had been shifting in his seat for the past twenty minutes.
“Depends how many he thinks he needs to get himself through my speech and summing up.” I reply.
“Got something special up your sleeve to wow them into an acquittal?” Robert baits, knowing full well that up to this point the evidence against my Defendant is completely overwhelming.
“Stranger things have happened?” I chance.
“Such as?”
I smile, give a halfhearted shrug and bend down to retrieve my handbag from below my seat. A true work of art in pillar-box red, my Mulberry Bayswater never fails to cheer me up whenever I’m having a bad day.
An impulse purchase about six months ago, I was in Harvey Nicks when from across the shop floor I spotted it, like a cherry beacon amidst a sea of tan and chocolate leather. From that moment there was no point in worrying about how my overdraft would cope with such a purchase, or what Sebastian would make of this new addition to my already extensive handbag collection. Without thinking, I had run over and grabbed it from its display, fearful that some other shopper had designs on it too and before I knew what had happened, was punching in my PIN number to the delight of the assembled sales girls. Would I do it again? Definitely. It’s worth it given the number of covetous glances it usually attracts.
I heave the bag onto my upper arm and quickly glance over my shoulder to see where the man of the hour is. The dock behind me is empty. Where’s he gone? The dock officer spots me frantically searching the back of the courtroom and points to the exit door that leads into the main concourse of the court building. I give him a grateful wave, grab my notebook and hurry out. This is so not something I need right now.
“Mr. Walsh? Mr. Walsh!” I cry, as I do my best to run down the two flights of stairs to the main entrance area of Farrington Crown Court. Aha! I can see him! I shout again and try as best as I can to gain speed in an attempt to catch up with my fleeing Defendant. In these shoes, it’s neither easy nor graceful. As I pant along the concourse, Mr. Walsh comes to a reluctant stop about two feet before the exit barriers before turning to face me.
“And where do you think you’re going?” I demand. “We’re not finished, we just have a quick break before we have to go back in to finish this trial, your trial I might add!”
He looks shiftily at me.
“I’m going for a fag. If the Judge is allowed to, then so am I!”
I frown, pause and take a deep breath. “This trial has taken us the best part of a week. During those five days I’ve never see you with so much as a biro in your mouth. We both know you don’t smoke.”
Defiantly, he returns my stare.
“Well... perhaps I’ve decided to start!”
Fine, whatever. I have better things to do than attempt to babysit grown men who seem to think that the small matter of their innocence comes second to whatever other whim takes their attention.
“Well be back, outside court four in no more than five minutes. Five minutes. Any longer than that and the Judge will think you’ve decided to do a runner and send the police out looking for you.”
He mumbles something incoherent and practically sprints out of the door. He is definitely up to something, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt as given he’s actually turned up at court every day to face the music, I doubt he’d choose to do a bunk now.
It’s a relatively minor indictment that Mr. Walsh faces. Two security guards in a