Now Is Our Time (27 page)

Claire was quick to answer. She loved the idea.

“Yes.” 

“That’s good, because I already promised Martha.”

“And I promised Miriam.”

Jonah finished his plate.

“Great that we’re done then, because you going on that way has made me hot,” he winked. “What do you reckon? Any chance this old man might get a second innings?”

“Sweetheart, I’m pregnant, I’m angry, I feel ever so slightly nauseous, we’ve just done it in the shower and I’m tired.”

“Is that a yes then?” asked Jonah hopefully.

                             ------------------

Two hours later they were lying in Claire’s bed, their limbs so intertwined that it was hard to detect where one body ended and the other started. Jonah was spooning her from behind, his palm gently spread wide across her lower abdomen, desperate not to miss out a single spot of her skin where one of their babies might be lying underneath. Despite her protestations, Claire couldn’t resist Jonah’s advances. He had cleared up after dinner and when she started yawning he had insisted she go to bed. “But I want to wait up with you,” she said, “otherwise you’re going to be lonely.” “Don’t worry about me,” he had reassured.” She brushed her teeth, slipped into a silky short negligee and clambered under the duvet, sighing with gratitude as her back settled flat on the mattress. “Don’t go getting any ideas,” she warned him when he came to join her, removing his clothes. But then he started stroking her and the sensuality of his touch was enough to make her turn onto her side to face him and succumb to his well-patented jet lag cure. She now wore a peaceful smile on her face as Jonah held her close, stroking his splayed hand gently across her stomach. 

“Do you feel them moving yet?” he nuzzled into her ear.

“I thought I did yesterday. It was a weird fluttery feeling, but I’m not sure if it was nerves or the babies moving. It’s a little bit early yet.”

“I can’t wait to see them again tomorrow,” said Jonah.

Claire had booked up a scan for the following afternoon and they were both excited about it.

“Me either,” Claire agreed. Her eyes were starting to close. “I’ve got to sleep darling, I’m sorry. What are you going to do?”

Jonah gently leaned over Claire and grabbed the remote control lying on her bedside table.

“Do you mind if I turn on the television?” he asked.

“Uh-uh.”

He pressed the power button and the
BBC News at Ten
opening credits started to roll. A very attractive lady called Fiona Bruce came up on screen. Jonah propped two pillows behind him and manoeuvred to sitting.
A large region of South-Western France has been devastated by floods. Hundreds of people have been forced to leave
their homes
. Jonah had an ear on the news, but it was Claire whom he couldn’t take his eyes off, observing her fiery ringlets fanned over the pillow and the delicate freckles that decorated her bijou nose. Her nostrils were gently flaring as she inhaled and exhaled. He fervently hoped that their children inherited her perfect nose instead of his oversized one, which was probably the least favourite part of his body. Claire always referred to it as being ‘Roman’ which made him laugh.
A helicopter has crashed into a pub in Scotland, leaving eight people dead and two dozen unaccounted for
. Would their children end up having red hair or blond? Or perhaps their combined gene pool might create a colour all of its own? He knew that Claire would prefer they had his complexion. She hated that she didn’t tan and was jealous of Jonah’s olive skin. But he rather liked the idea of his children being red-heads. He saw it as something unique, an honour only bestowed on approximately two per cent of the population. Jonah leaned over to kiss Claire’s head. The smell of her hair was divine. She’d washed it in the shower. Well, actually, he’d washed it for her, and then it just dried naturally and pinged back into perfect shape within minutes. Many women would kill for hair like Claire’s.
Tributes have been
pouring in for
the actor Orlando Goodman who died tonight, age 52. He was best known for his work at the Royal Shakespeare Company………    

Jonah turned sharply towards the television. Claire had told him that Orlando was doing better recently and that she’d arranged for them to meet.

“Oh, my God,” Jonah cried.

Claire had been dozing off but Jonah’s tone disturbed her.

“What’s up?” she said, eyes still closed.

Jonah hesitated. Claire was nearly asleep. This news would surely upset her. Perhaps it was best to leave it till morning.

Orlando Goodman was taken ill while performing at the Adelphi Theatre tonight and died shortly after he was taken to hospital.

In a flash Claire sat bolt upright, the force of her movement causing the bed to lurch, as if there’d been an earthquake. Footage of Orlando playing the role of Willy Wonka in
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
filled the screen and then it cut to theatregoers in the foyer at the Adelphi being asked their opinion of him
. He was so versatile and such a commanding presence on the British stage,
said one.
It’s so sad. I think I’m in shock,
said another.

Claire gasped as she watched and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, no,” she cried, tears already pricking her eyes. “I don’t believe it.”

CLAIRE

Claire was feeling tired. The kind of tired where it’s hard to put one foot in front of the other; the kind of tired which seeps into your bones and makes them feel like they belong to the Tin Man; the kind of tired which makes you want to curl up and hibernate to avoid the harsh conditions which lie ahead. It wasn’t just physical fatigue. She was emotionally drained from worry, from grief and from nourishing two growing babies. It was seeing these babies again the other day which sustained her. The sight of them somersaulting whilst she was being scanned had served as much-needed fortification after hearing the news that Orlando had died. One door closes and another one opens, so goes the circle of life. On this point Orlando would have been philosophical, she was sure of it. That had formed the subject of their final conversation, when he’d been eager to learn all about the twins.

According to the statistics, four people are born into the world every second with half that number dying during the same time. To make space for the twins to arrive, another soul would have to depart. Perhaps Orlando was that person. She still had in her bag the post-it on which he’d marked his prophecy.
I predict you’re having two boys
. Jonah hadn’t wanted to know, but Claire privately asked the sonographer after the recent scan if she was able to determine their sex. Apparently it was too soon to tell.

Benedict Pendleton escorted her as she walked hand-in-hand with Jonah along Fleet Street towards the Royal Courts of Justice. He’d warned her to expect that a few select journalists would attend. What she hadn’t expected was a media circus. There were television satellite trucks lining the road and in front of them stood a wall of flashing lenses and hands holding up long stick-mikes which resembled fluffy brooms. “Show us your ring!” “Congratulations.” “Give us a smile.” “Jonah Kennedy, we’ve heard a rumour that you might come out of retirement?” “Give us your ‘et voila’!” A shower of innocuous comments floated towards them. “Put your head down,” said Jonah. So she did. She stared at her feet and allowed Benedict Pendleton to steer her towards the court’s entrance, all the while trying to focus on the babies inside of her tummy and the reason why they were doing this in the first place. “I don’t think this lot are actually here for you two,” said Benedict. “It’s just bad timing. There’s another much bigger case going on here today.”

The courtroom into which they were ushered was actually fairly low key. There was no intimidating dock for the witnesses or defendant to stand behind. It was more just a grand room. Benches and chairs for both parties were laid out facing a large desk and red leather throne, which Claire presumed was for the Judge. Anthony and his lawyer were already in situ and barely acknowledged Claire and Jonah as they entered.
How sad that it’s come to this
. Once seated Jonah took Claire’s hand in his and squeezed it tight for Dutch courage. 

“Anthony’s playing a game,” whispered Benedict Pendleton as he readjusted his curly white barrister’s wig. “He wants to unnerve you. Don’t let him get to you.”

Following Benedict’s advice, Jonah had dressed in a smart dark suit and Claire was wearing a navy skirt and white blouse, respectful yet casual, not too prim and proper. The message her outfit had to send out was ‘great mother, in control, wants the best for their child’. Benedict had discussed whether or not she should wear a jacket but, in the end, they decided against it preferring instead to show off her ever-swelling stomach, proof of life growing inside. Miriam wasn’t here thankfully and, should events drag on today, Claire had arranged for her mother to pick her up from school. Turning at the sound of a door creaking loudly to the side of them, they saw some media representatives filing into the press box.
Go away
. Claire started fiddling nervously with her fingers. She wanted to be anywhere but here under the microscope in what were very personal circumstances.

A court usher came in brandishing a gavel which she banged down on the table.

“All rise.”

Everyone in court, including the posse in the press box, rose to their feet. Benedict promised that they shouldn’t need to speak today, that the argument could all be battled out by the legal representatives. Claire glanced across at Anthony’s lawyer to check him out. David Sherwood QC appeared very confident. So frighteningly confident that Claire wondered if Anthony had been giving him lessons in ‘the look’.

The Judge entered through a door at the rear of the court, a man in his late fifties at a guess. He was unremarkable looking, of medium height, sporting grey hair and a sizeable beer belly. Claire imagined that a woman judge might have been more sympathetic to her plight.

“Is this Judge good or bad news for us?” she whispered to Benedict.

She knew from listening to Anthony that the right Judge for the right case could make all the difference. Would a man not always be tempted to help out a fellow male? There should of course be complete impartiality in a court of law but could it nonetheless slightly tip the balance? Benedict’s reply was a subtle wavering hand, signalling ‘fifty-fifty’. 

The Judge motioned that they should all sit down and after approximately twenty seconds of shuffling and throat clearing the court was silent.

“Case 20454,” introduced the usher. “The Applicant is Claire Ruth Sarah Jackson, formerly known as Mrs Anthony Aidan de Klerk. The Respondent is Mr Anthony Aidan de Klerk. Could counsel please approach the bench?”

Claire kept her gaze ahead as the two bewigged barristers approached the Judge’s desk and the three of them started conversing in low, measured voices.
What on earth are they talking about?
A couple of minutes later the black gowns of the two barristers swished as they turned around. David Sherwood QC took a seat next to Anthony whilst Benedict stayed on his feet, calmly shaping the papers in front of him into a neat pile before squaring his shoulders and addressing the Judge.

“Your Honour,” he began. “This hearing is to seek permission for the Applicant to remove hers and the Respondent’s child from the United Kingdom to go to reside in the United States of America. The case has been brought to the court as a matter of urgency, namely because the Applicant and her fiancé Jonah Kennedy, a resident of the US, have recently learned that they are expecting twins……

At the word ‘twins’, Claire zoned out. A few chairs and a faux corridor safely separated Anthony from Claire but, as Benedict mentioned the t word, Claire could clearly see her ex-husband’s body tense and a silent sigh pass his lips. The number of babies she was expecting had clearly taken him by surprise. She would never have done it because it would have looked odd, but her instinct was to reach out and take his hand in hers. She wanted to apologise for any discomfort he might be feeling, to empathise with him. She knew how it felt to learn that your ex was having a child with another person and it was strange as hell. It shouldn’t matter whether it was one baby, two, triplets or quads, but Benedict had mentioned that the fact it was twins did serve to strengthen their case. Perhaps that’s why Anthony had physically reacted, when normally his professional demeanour would have given nothing away.

Claire forced her attention back onto Benedict. He was now offering up the character witnesses, holding out documents for the court usher to pass to the Judge. It wasn’t permitted for them to be written by family members, so both Georgia and Orlando had kindly accepted the task. A wave of nostalgia washed over Claire. Would Orlando’s testimony still be valid now that he was no more?     

The Judge put on his spectacles and perused the documents whilst a heavy, respectful silence descended on the room. Tissues were taken out of pockets. Noses were blown. The journalists were making notes in pads, or perhaps they were just doodling. Jonah looked at her and gave her a slight but encouraging smile, squeezing her hand once again for the briefest of moments, the tiniest of gestures which somehow made the air easier to breathe. Once the Judge had finished, he laid down his glasses and nodded towards Benedict.

“You may continue, thank you.”

Benedict readjusted his wig as he took to his feet again.

“Thank you, Your Honour,” he began. “It is also pertinent to point out at this stage that not only does the Applicant have a job lined up in the United States which commences in three week’s time, but so, too, does the Applicant’s fiancé, who has recently signed a full-time contract with the television network NBC which will tie him to San Diego, California, which is where they propose to reside……

Once again, Claire could sense Anthony’s frame tense and this time he released a more audible sigh. She never liked confrontation at the best of times and right here, right now, felt like the most hideous confrontation imaginable. What’s more, she knew there was worse on the agenda. The way Benedict was building the picture made it clear to her what was coming next.

“Indeed,” said Benedict, “there are other compelling reasons why it might be preferable for the Applicant to take hers and the Respondent’s daughter out of the country…………..”

Benedict had told her to dig up some dirt on Anthony, to remember something which could help throw his character into disrepute. Most of the time he was a competent father, but it hadn’t taken long for her to recall a couple of incidents which Benedict reassured her were perfect.

“Your Honour, it’s been brought to my attention by the Applicant that the Respondent has a tendency to be forgetful. Two years ago, there was an incident where he went grocery shopping with his daughter. When he returned home he had a car full of groceries but he’d left one key thing behind in the supermarket.”

Benedict paused for dramatic effect and then added very loudly and clearly: “His daughter.”

There was a snigger from the press box. This time, Anthony didn’t flinch. If anything, Claire felt she could detect a slight smirk, as if he were laughing along with the journalists and saw the funny side.     

“Six months later,” Benedict continued, “he showed a more violent side to his character, one I’m sure he would prefer not to recall. The Applicant was so traumatised by this incident that it still makes her shudder to think of it. Both the Applicant and Respondent were at home with their daughter at the time. The Respondent had many piles of work papers laid out on the dining room table. His daughter was walking around brandishing a plastic mug of orange juice. Her father repeatedly warned her to not get too close and that the papers were important, but you know how it is with children. His daughter was only seven years old and wasn’t taking him seriously, to her peril as it turned out. When the inevitable happened and the contents of the cup upended over the Respondent’s papers, his reaction was violent and totally out of proportion to the misdeed. He grabbed his daughter by the arm and flung her across the room with such force that she was thrown, stomach down, onto the hard wooden floor.”

Claire half-expected another audible sigh to come from Anthony’s direction.
She
certainly felt like sighing. She felt regretful and dirty at having to portray a perfectly decent father in such an imperfect light. Anthony’s expression, however, remained impassive. If anything Claire felt that his slight smirk was getting broader. There was something sinister about his expression which made the air feel as if it was laced with arsenic that stung her throat with every breath she took. Her palms were becoming stickier by the minute. Beads of sweat were breaking out on her brow. Glasses of water were set on the table in front of them. She leaned forward to take one and took gentle, calming sips as Benedict started to sum up.

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After a short recess for an early lunch, it was David Sherwood QC’s turn in the limelight. Claire wondered if it was hard for her ex-husband to sit back and let someone else do the job he was normally paid to do. It didn’t look as if he was finding it awkward. If anything, he now looked more at ease than before, as if he’d been invigorated by the break. If Jonah was in the commentary box, she imagined he’d liken Anthony’s demeanour to that of a tennis player who’d been losing before rain stalled play but who returns to court once the sun’s come out, sharper than before, ready to turn things around. Claire turned towards Jonah. She wished she could ask him if that really
was
what he was thinking but his expression was unreadable.

“Your Honour,” David Sherwood commenced, “the Respondent appreciates the Applicant’s change in circumstances but has instructed me to state for the record that he thoroughly rejects the application and doesn’t believe it’s in his daughter’s best interests. At the moment the Respondent has contact with his daughter every other weekend and one night during the week, which already doesn’t feel adequate to him and he would like to push for more. I’m sure you will appreciate that San Diego, California, is six thousand miles away and, with return air fares costing an average of £900.00, it would be unrealistic to expect him to be able to maintain that same level of contact. Furthermore, he would like to challenge the fitness of the Applicant and her fiancé to co-parent his daughter. It has come to his attention that recently in the UK the Applicant suffered from a moth infestation in the house in which she resides with their daughter. The fact the infestation was so bad…..