Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (30 page)

A fact that wasn’t lost on Barrister Flanagan.  “Your honour, as Ms Patterson works in the city centre, her choice of residence is clearly not based on proximity to the workplace.”

The judge growled and waved O’Toole away. “I agree.  The claimant’s workplace has no bearing on this.”

Louise hands shook. The judge was clearly suspicious now. Gardner’s side had painted her as an irresponsible spendthrift hoping for an easy way out of her financial difficulties.  She wouldn’t blame him for being sceptical though.  Taken together, all the things that Flanagan had said sounded awful, and she
did
come across as irresponsible.  Yet, all this debt originally stemmed from having to pay off Gardner’s handiwork and she’d never quite been able to get on top of it, so –

“It seems you’ve made a very strong argument that Ms Patterson’s lifestyle hasn’t been as adversely affected by her accident as her counsel would have us believe,” the judge said, and Louise’s blood went cold. “Do you have anything further to add? Any more questions?”

“Nothing further at this time,” Flanagan replied and returned to his desk, whereby a smiling Leo Gardner patted him on the back. 

“Thank you, Ms Patterson,” Judge Corcoran told her and Louise looked at him, confused.  Was that it? Wasn’t O’Toole going to argue back – argue about how they’d twisted everything to make it sound bad?  Surely they couldn’t let the judge think –

“Thank you, Ms Patterson,” he repeated, a little louder this time.

Somehow Louise found the strength to stand.

The judge banged his gavel. “The court will re-convene at two thirty p.m.,” he announced as Louise slowly returned to her seat.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked Cahill afterwards. “Why didn’t you get O’Toole to tell them it isn’t
like
that?” 

“There was no point,” her solicitor replied evenly, although the confident demeanour he possessed earlier had now departed.  “As I said before, we expected them to try and argue that your claim is exaggerated.  They were bound to question your spending habits. Still, there’s no arguing that you’re legally entitled to be properly compensated for your injuries and expenses.  I had no idea you were in so much debt though,” he added quietly and Louise could see that this troubled him.  What? Was he worried he might not get paid, was that it? But hadn’t he said it was on a no-win no-fee basis?  Although, she thought worriedly, the other day he’d insisted that this case was cut and dried which
meant that his percentage was practically guaranteed.  Did this morning mean that things were no longer that way?

Louise hoped not, because the last thing she needed was her solicitor losing faith in her.  Not when it was all supposed to be as good as a sure thing.

******

After lunch – Louise hadn’t been able to touch a thing, she was so worried – they returned to the courtroom.

She wasn’t sure what would happen now.  O’Toole had called both his witnesses and as Gardner was the only witness for his side, it would undoubtedly all rest on how he came across to the judge.  Flanagan had done his best to make Louise’s claim look exaggerated by throwing a question mark on her spending, but the fact remained that he couldn’t disprove her injuries. And that, Louise reminded herself once more, was what this case was really all about. 

And as Gardner had already admitted liability, and had already been convicted in the criminal courts for speeding, there wasn’t much else he could say, was there?

Flanagan stood up to call his witness, and Louise wondered what Gardner would be like. They’d never spoken, so she didn’t know all that much about him, other than the fact he was a powerful TV producer with a lot of money behind him, and very well respected in entertainment circles.  He had worked on all sorts of TV programmes throughout the years, including some of Louise’s own favourites, apparently. 

“Your Honour, we call Mr Samuel Harris to the stand,” Flanagan announced.

Samuel? Louise questioned idly – she’d always thought his name was
Leo
. Oh well, she decided, perhaps it was just a stage name or something.  But no, it wasn’t –

“What the hell is this?” James Cahill was saying to O’Toole and the two of them were looking from one to the other with some trepidation.  “Who the hell is this guy? What are they playing at?”

“What’s going–?” And then Louise stopped short as she saw Sam,
her
Sam enter the courtroom and walk up the aisle.

She grinned.  Brilliant! Sam had obviously come home early so he wouldn’t miss the trial. He was going to stick up for her, let them know that his girlfriend wasn’t this frivolous, shopaholic spendthrift – no she was simply a normal, decent, hardworking –

“Louise do you know this person?” Cahill was asking, apparently having spotted her happy smile. 

She nodded. “Of course I do – he’s my boyfriend and he’s come here to help us out,” she said gleefully, hardly able to believe that Sam would do that for her, that he thought so much of her that he would come home early just for –

“Louise, whoever this guy is, he certainly isn’t here to help us out, and if you
do
know him, I hope to God you haven’t told him anything stupid.” 

“What?” Louise looked up at Sam in the witness chair, waiting for him to smile, wave – something to show her that he was on her side.  But no, Sam remained stony-faced and looked neither left nor right as he waited for the questioning to begin.

And then, it hit her. Sam didn’t know about the trial, he didn’t even know about the
case
!  Or at least that’s what Louise had thought.  Her skin growing hot, she remembered his marked interest in her, his blatant pursuit of her, the wonderful times they had together.  Then her stomach turned as she had a sudden flash of the conversation they’d had recently, about her injuries, about her accident – one of the last conversations they’d had before he had to ‘go away for a while’.

“Louise,” her solicitor finished solemnly, as the room began to swim before her eyes, “he’s testifying for the opposition.”

That same afternoon, Rosie was wheeling her trolley around the supermarket, picking up groceries for the rest of the week.  As she passed the meat counter, she couldn’t help but look longingly at the succulent fresh pieces of lamb’s liver displayed under the glass. 

Martin had always loved lamb’s liver, and Rosie was very partial to it herself.   But the last time she’d had it, the strong scent of cooking had stayed around the house for days, and judging by David’s deep sighs and irritable mutterings afterwards, he hadn’t been very happy.  So she hadn’t risked cooking it since.  It was the same with the mince and, as a result, it was ages since she’d had a nice homemade shepherd’s pie or any of the other meals she used to enjoy.  Sighing softly, she shook her head and moved on past the fresh meat display and on to the pre-cooked section. 

“Hello, Rosie, how are you?”

Rosie looked across the aisle and smiled as she recognised one of her classmates from the watercolour lessons, a chatty and amiable young girl who lived a few miles outside the town.

“Grand, Emma, and yourself?”

“Not too bad.  So, are you all set for the big night tonight?” she asked, referring to their last evening class, which was to take place that same evening.  Stephen had joked that it would be their big ‘graduation’.

Rosie nodded sadly.  “Unfortunately.” 

“It’s hard to believe it’s nearly over, isn’t it?”

“I know, I’ll really miss it,” Rosie replied, taken aback by how much she meant it.  What had started out as an excuse to keep her mind off things had turned into a really worthy and enjoyable hobby, and Rosie didn’t know what she’d do with herself on Wednesday nights from now on.

“Well, I’ll better get going or I’ll miss it altogether! See you later!” Emma smiled and went on her way, leaving Rosie thinking about how much she’d miss having the chat and a bit of fun with her and the others, not to mention getting out of the house for a night.  Still, these days the evenings were a bit too dark for walking up the hill on her own, so in a way it was probably a good thing.

She knew she’d miss her new friend Stephen a lot too.  Over the few weeks they’d known each other, Rosie had come to see him as a bit of a lifeline, someone who, with his own wonderfully entertaining stories about his experiences and travels, would make her forget about her own worries. 

And she’d miss him all the more now that his house in Brittas Bay had been sold and he was making plans to move back down the country. 

Again, Rosie was taken aback by how homesick for County Clare she’d been feeling lately.  It was stupid really, as it wasn’t as though she had anyone left there now, other than the odd relation.  Her real family – supposedly, she thought sadly – were here, and Sheila, of course.  But listening to Stephen talk about the lovely cottage he’d bought down on the Kerry coast, and the lovely relaxing lifestyle he’d planned there – painting landscapes, planting vegetables and pretty much doing as he pleased – made Rosie yearn for her old home county.

But almost immediately, she admonished herself for being so maudlin.  It wasn’t as though she’d emigrated to America or anything, she thought, picking up some nice dog treats for Twix.  A train from Heuston would take her down to Clare any day of the week if she set her mind to it, and it had been a long time since she’d done that particular journey, hadn’t it?  So, obviously County Clare wasn’t the be-all and end-all, otherwise she’d be down there every opportunity she could. 

No, it was probably just all the talk about Stephen’s place and, of course, her own problems with David that was bringing this about.  And anyway, she reminded herself as she took her place at the checkout, it wasn’t possible to swan off to Clare just like that, was it?  Not when everything was tied up the way it was.  Granted the few euro she and Martin had saved over the years would go a small way towards getting a deposit for a little place, but what would she do for the rest of it?  And how would she live?  There was no question of her selling her house, not now anyway, so even thinking about it was idiotic in the extreme.

Indeed, she would be much better off getting used to, and trying to come to terms with the way things were now. She would be much better off just letting David do his own thing and, as long as neither of them interfered with the other, then things would be grand. 

In fairness, he seemed a lot happier in himself these days, now that she was keeping out of his way and staying in her own room.  There hadn’t been a cross word between them in weeks, although in fairness there hadn’t been that many words at all!  She made sure she had eaten and cleaned up by the time David arrived back from work at six, and she usually stayed upstairs in her room for the rest of the evening.   Sometimes she read a
book, sometimes she painted and sometimes she just sat by the window relaxing with Twix in her lap.  All in all, it wasn’t too bad.

So, she supposed, in a way Stephen was right.  It really was just a case of David and her taking a bit of time to get used to one another, taking a bit of time to find a balance.

Yes, that was it, she reassured herself, as she paid the cashier for her purchases, it was all about balance.

Desperate to come to terms with it all, and deliberately overlooking how
unfairly balanced things were in reality, Rosie gathered her shopping bags and made her way out of the store. 

Twenty minutes later, Rosie arrived at her front gate, tired and weary.  Was it her imagination or did the hill seem to getting steeper and steeper these days?   Anyway, it was her own fault really; she had bought way too many groceries – more than enough for this week and possibly most of the next.   On her way to the front door, she did a slight double take as she caught sight of a car parked outside the house. 

Oh no, David was home early!  Which gave her no time to cook and eat dinner and then get out of his way.  Oh well, she sighed, she could just have something small, a sandwich or something – anything that wouldn’t need a whole lot of preparation.

But why was he back so early?  Despite herself, Rosie felt a tiny frisson of fear.  She hoped he hadn’t lost his job or anything.  How would she cope with having him around all day every day?

She opened the door, and stepped quietly and rather tentatively into the hallway, dragging her shopping bags behind her.  Then she bit her lip.  Judging by the clinking and clanking of utensils coming from behind the closed door, David was in the kitchen.  Now, there was no way she was going to go in there too – she’d rather have her frozen groceries defrost in the hallway than interrupt him.

No, she’d just leave the bags down here and go on upstairs and wait until he was finished.   It was such a pity though – she was famished and had really been looking forward to a bit of dinner.  She’d bought one of those lasagnes that didn’t need any cooking other than a few minutes in the microwave.  There was a time when Rosie wouldn’t touch anything of the sort but, since David’s return, her eating habits and tastes had changed considerably.  

Leaving her shopping bags in the hallway, Rosie crept softly upstairs, hoping that he wouldn’t be much longer.  Normally she wouldn’t mind waiting, but tonight was the last night of her evening class and she certainly didn’t want to be late for that!  But sure, there was plenty of time yet, she thought, looking at her watch.  And she could always pass away an hour or so by bringing Twix out for a long walk.   That’s what she’d do, she decided, trying to ignore the low throbbing on the soles of her feet and the back of her calves from walking up that hill.  The dog would be thrilled anyway – like most dogs she loved nothing better than a good long walk and, knowing Twix, a good long sniff of the paths along the way.

Rosie opened the door of her bedroom, and braced herself for the enthusiastic tail-wagging, energetic jumping and delighted squeals that usually greeted her return. 

But this time there was nothing.  

And even worse, there was nothing in Twix’s basket. 

Straight away, Rosie knew that there was something wrong.  Where was she? Why wasn’t the dog in her room, where she’d left her not two hours ago?

And if Twix wasn’t here, where was she? 

Then she thought of David’s early return and knew instinctively that this had something – no,
everything
– to do with the dog’s disappearance.  Had he gone and put her out in the shed again?  He’d better not, she thought, more than a little panicked.  Or Twix had better not have done something stupid, like growl or even snap at him.  The dog’s earlier fear of David had since turned into full-blown dislike and distrust, and everyone knew what dogs could do if they felt threatened enough. 

Rosie couldn’t be sure that even gentle little Twix could be trusted not to attack if provoked enough.

Oh, she was stupid to be even thinking these things and running away with herself before she knew anything, she remonstrated as she went back downstairs. 

Then, as much as she hated doing it – and hated herself even more for feeling as though she
had
to do it – Rosie knocked softly on the kitchen door.  Knocking on the door of her own kitchen like some kind of stranger, imagine! 

But the last thing she wanted to do was annoy David, particularly if there had been some kind of incident between him and the dog.  Her darling son opened the kitchen door with a scowl on his face and, as Rosie suspected, not at all happy to be interrupted.

“David, I’m sorry to disturb your dinner,” Rosie began, again feeling so pathetic for kow-towing to him like this. But she felt she had no choice. “But Twix seems to be missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yes.  She isn’t upstairs in her basket, or anywhere in the room and I just wondered if – ”

“I don’t know where it went,” David said flatly. But something passed across his expression and Rosie knew instantly that there had been some kind of episode.

“What happened, David?” she asked, heart thudding.

“It went for me,” he admitted, with a shrug. “I came home and the little shit went for me.”

“What? But Twix wouldn’t …” But even as she said the words, Rosie couldn’t be sure they were true. 

“Wouldn’t hurt a fly? So you said. But I came in the front door minding my own business and the vicious little shit was here in the hall and started growling and barking its head off at me. As if I was some bloody burglar or something.” 

“Barking? But she was probably asleep in the hallway and got a fright when you woke her up – I must have forgotten to lock my bedroom door when I put her in.” Rosie was relieved.  That wasn’t too bad – at least it wasn’t anything else …  “But where is she now? Did you lock her up again or …” Rosie knew that by all this questioning she risked annoying him, but she was so worried she didn’t care.

By now, David was clearly irritated. “Mum, I’m sorry but I really don’t have time for this.  Today I finish work early, so I come home hoping to have a nice afternoon to myself and take things easy.  No sooner am I in the door that I nearly get the leg bitten off me, and then when I’m trying to make dinner, I have to listen to this.”

“I’m sorry that Twix barked at you.  But she just didn’t expect … and
I
didn’t expect …” “Jeez, Mum, will you give it a rest,” he said, exasperated.  “Look, I don’t know where it is now.  The door was open and it ran off somewhere.” 

“She went out the front – out onto the road?” asked Rosie, full of dread. “But why did she run off?” She knew well that Twix would never take off anywhere without her.  “What did you do? You didn’t … you didn’t hurt her or anything, did you?”  Her heart thudded
with fear. “But she’s not used to being out on her own, out without me … not without a lead and … how long has she been gone?”

David sighed loudly. “About an hour ago, I think.  Look, it ran outside and after it had nearly taken the leg off me, I wasn’t exactly in the mood for running after it.  Anyway, it’s only a stupid dog.  I’m sure it’ll be back here whinging when it gets hungry enough.”

“You don’t understand, David!” his mother cried, utterly panicked now. “Twix is a house dog, she’s not used to the roads, not used to the traffic, and she’s frightened!”  With this, Rosie turned on her heel and hurried out the front door.