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CAROLINE SEWELL’S FACE had lost all trace of a smile. Regan saw she had aged in front of his eyes when angered. He recalled the confrontation between Caroline and the barrister in the bar. Now he realised what the confrontation had been about and why she had threatened the other woman barrister. Regan was becoming angrier but held his counsel. They were supposed to be professionals but they flouted the law. He felt a compulsion to stay right where he was to weather the storm, take stock, and do what he was good at - infiltrating drug cartels. A cartel is a cartel no matter who they are, Regan thought. Besides, she was great in the sack. But no more foreplay or animal sex this night, mused Regan. He picked up his underpants from where Caroline had left them on the floor before he slipped them back on.
“Maybe it’s better if I sleep on the sofa tonight,” he said in a calm way, disguising his inner turmoil. Caroline ignored him and returned to the bedroom alone. She struggled to find sleep.
Caroline, for all her crass stupidity and compulsion to disclose all in telling Regan, knew how to survive. Regan was a threat. He could ruin everything she had worked so hard to achieve; her career could be ruined if the truth was out. Both pondered their next moves as they lay apart separated by not only a few yards but also by two different worlds.
***
SHE TOSSED AND TURNED in bed. Caroline thought, I must get rid of him, but how? I must kill him. Maybe I can hire a hit-man? There have to be guys in Brixton who will do it for a few scores of smack or cocaine. Too unreliable and could come back to me. I must do it, but how?
The following morning Regan and Caroline had coffee and toast as if nothing had happened. There was silence between them, not even a goodbye when Caroline left the flat. She collected her many briefs, instructions to defence counsel from an instructing solicitor, and letters from her chambers; one was marked with the official seal of the Lord Chancellor’s Office. She ripped it open pulling out the letter. It was confirmation that she had been appointed a Circuit Judge sitting at the Crown Court at Canterbury. It was one of those days when she had no court work either as a barrister or as a part time judge. “Alright, listen up,” she called out to the clerks, “lunch is on me.”
It was a heavy drinking lunch finishing up at four in the afternoon. She called Regan, “Darling, great news. I got my confirmation letter. Come join us for more drinks.”
“Where are you?” And more to the point what state are you in? You sound drunk.”
“I plan to get even more drunk. Are you coming or not?”
“Yeah, but where are you?”
“We will be in the Pegasus Bar at Inner Temple.”
Regan pondered much as he made his way to meet Caroline. He wondered why he was going at all because he knew things would never be the same again. He thought back to the loss of his wife and child. Regan then knew he had an issue dealing with loss.
On arrival at the bar, Regan again wondered why he had bothered. Nothing worse than a bunch of drunks when you are sober, he thought on surveying the scene in front of him. He was grateful that after a short time the debauchery was over. “Let’s get a cab,” Caroline slurred. Regan could see now what he was unable to see in the early stages of their relationship. She looked old and haggard when drunk or angry. Gone were the good looks of a woman who once appeared younger than her birth certificate.
Regan not only had trouble dealing with loss, but was gallant. Regan made sure they got her back to the flat in a taxi despite his change in feelings towards Caroline. “Pour me a night cap, Steve,” mumbled Caroline.
“Okay but the last. You have had enough already.” Regan was prepared to placate her. He decided tomorrow was the end of their relationship. He was going to leave.
“Oh, fuck you. We aren’t married and even if we were you don’t give me orders.”
“It’s not an order. It’s what’s good for yourself. Besides, what about work tomorrow?”
“No work. I am taking it easy and having a lay in.” Regan thought for a moment she had said ‘shlay inn.’
Caroline kicked off her shoes and was now relaxed on the sofa. Regan said, “Tell you what, I will go run a bath, then you will be ready for bed.”
She scowled in response, an ugly scar of a frown, “There you go again. I will go to bed when I’m ready and on my own terms. You can be such a fucking pleb, Regan. Go have your bath and play with yourself in there.”
“Oh, fuck off Caroline! You are one toffee-nosed prize bitch. Do you know that?”
A one-finger salute in Regan’s direction was Caroline’s mute reply.
