(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Copyright© 2014 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
Sunday morning, the phone rang early and I almost fell out of bed trying to answer it. “Yes?”
“Cathy, it’s Jason, I’ve got an appointment with a judge for eleven o’clock.”
“Good luck,” I wished him.
“Sorry, I want you there as well.”
“Because sometimes they like to interview the person concerned.”
“Oh,” this didn’t sound like the cakewalk he’d suggested a few days before, perhaps I’d better pack Trish, she’s the one who chats with judges.
“Dress up as feminine as possible, I want to concentrate on the fact you were a woman defending one of your daughters.”
“I wasn’t running about in a ball gown in the woods, you know?”
“I’m well aware of that, Cathy, but I want to highlight the fact that you were very vulnerable against two men.”
“With hunting rifles.”
“I was coming to that, so best dress and look as feminine as possible.”
“Want me to bring the baby, I can breast feed her in front of him if you wish.”
“That would be brilliant but I suspect it might be seen as over egging the pudding.”
I glanced at the clock it was seven and Lizzie was stirring, if I fed her for breakfast I could get away with not doing it until later, she could have solids for lunch. I’d have to speak with Jacquie—goodness, I hope she hasn’t made any plans.
“Who was that?” asked Si as I got out of bed and picked Lizzie out of her cot.
“Jason, he wants me to go to see the judge with him.”
“Want me to come?”
“That’s very kind of you, sweetheart, but I think the children will need you more than I do.”
“Oh, so make do babysitter, is it?”
I’ve just looked after them for three weeks and he complains about doing it for a few hours. I decided to hold my tongue because the broadside I’d have fired would have sunk him without trace.
“Darling, you’re always saying how you never spend much time with them, now’s your chance to put that right.”
He went off to shower while I changed the baby and fed her. He did come down and make some tea while Lizzie was sucking my boobs inside out, so I shouldn’t complain too much. After I finished it was a quickie breakfast and dash up to the shower and dress. We had to go to Brighton apparently and with it being holiday time we were going early just in case.
“Nice outfit,” commented Jason as I got into his car.
“It’s one of Stella’s cast offs.”
“I expect it was, it’s Nina Ricci, so’s the bag.”
“It certainly looks classy and feminine.”
“I thought that was what you wanted?”
“Exactly so, I just thought I’d tell you so by way of a compliment. You’re a beautiful woman, Cathy, especially when you dress up.”
I felt myself blushing, was he coming on to me?
We spoke very little all the way to Brighton. He followed instructions from his sat nav and we were there at half past ten. Suddenly, the sky darkened and it absolutely poured down for ten minutes. My outfit had a lacy jacket but it wouldn’t keep me dry in such a storm, besides instead of looking feminine and elegant I’d resemble something dragged home by an otter or even a seal, north Atlantic grey, of course.
Jason pressed a button and the boot of his Mercedes opened whereupon he jumped out of the car and reappeared with a golfing umbrella. At five to eleven we presented ourselves at chambers and were shown in to his lordship.
I’m not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t someone in jeans and checked open necked shirt and loafers. Then it was his day off as well and he was good to see us, I hated to think what it was going to cost. The judge was quite a tall man in his late forties early fifties. He sat behind his desk and listened intently as Jason explained what had happened with the altercation in the car park followed by the attack in the reserve.
His lordship made notes. Then just as I was beginning to think Jason hadn’t really needed me I was addressed directly. “Dr Watts, or d’you prefer Lady Cameron?”
“I don’t mind, milud.”
“Very well, then as you were in dormousing mode shall we settle for Dr Watts?”
I agreed and he then asked me to show me on a plan of the reserve where things happened. He asked about the bow and arrows and their construction. I admitted I’d shot a bow before, having been a member of an archery club. I also admitted I’d shot someone with a bow in defence of the household and my children. He gave me a very strange look but continued with his questions, and before I knew it his clock was striking twelve—we’d been there an hour.
“It’s clear to me that you manufactured these weapons with the intention of using them but given the level of threat to you and your daughter, I think that intention was justified. Whether you needed to do so if you’d run off with your daughter, is another matter. However, you chose to stay and fight and protect her escape, which I accept in the circumstances.
“I see you have a habit of fighting back,” he said sifting through a file of papers, “However, it appears you are not the aggressor in all of these and you have improvised weapons before, namely in the rescue of a senior police officer. I shall ask you for an undertaking to return in two weeks after your holiday and report to the police to show them you’re back in this country. Failure to do so would be deemed contempt of court and subject to an unlimited fine and or imprisonment.”
We thanked him and after a coffee in a nearby cafe drove home. “You’re going to have to stop this derring-do stuff, the courts are beginning to notice.”
“So the next time someone robs a bank in front of me, I just stand there do I?”
“Might be safer.”
“Nah, they always want me as a hostage.”
“At least you can have your holiday.”
“Once the director’s meeting is over, yes.”
“They that boring?”
“Can be, but the coffee is good.”
“I should hope so too.” He looked at me deadpan then roared with laughter, “Your face, Cathy, was a picture. A very beautiful one.”
“Jason, I’m happily married.”
“I know, Cathy, otherwise I’d have made a play for you years ago, plus of course Simon is a good friend.”
Glad you added that, I thought. So he was sniffing around, be a pity to use someone else because he’s a good lawyer, but much more of this and I’ll have to tell him or Simon. Perhaps I’ll just remind him I’m biologically a boy, it might put him off—though he knows it already—oh poo.
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