Swimming Pool Sunday (27 page)

‘Shall we get on?’ said Cassian, with ill-disguised impatience. He handed Karl and Desmond each a pile of photocopied sheets of paper. ‘This is the case as it stands. Have a look.’

As the two men studied the papers in front of them, Cassian tried to impart his irritated impatience to Louise, but she was giving Barnaby a sympathetic smile. There was silence in the room, apart from the rustling of the sheets of paper.

‘Where’s the evidence from the diving-board expert?’ said Desmond suddenly.

‘Still waiting for it,’ said Cassian. Desmond gave a grunt and turned the sheet.

Louise began to feel inexplicably nervous, as though she were on trial herself.

‘Hmm,’ said Desmond, when he had got to the bottom of the pile. ‘There’s a lot to work with here. Well done, Cassian.’ Louise turned and beamed at Cassian, who tried to prevent a smile from spreading across his face. ‘You’ve got some nice eye-witness evidence. I take it the diving-board expert will come up with the goods?’ Cassian’s face clouded.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘He wouldn’t say anything on the spot.’

‘Well, I’m sure there are more where he came from,’ said Desmond. ‘If we need them.’ He put the papers down and leaned easily back in his chair. ‘A couple of things worry me, though,’ he said. ‘The first I think we can deal with quite easily.’

‘What is it?’ said Cassian quickly.

The piece of evidence from the woman who said the children were running around and shouting before the accident,’ Desmond shook his head at Cassian. ‘I don’t like that. Implies carelessness on the child’s part.’

‘But she’s the same one who emphasized the fact that there wasn’t a supervisor present,’ Cassian said hurriedly. ‘It’s a useful bit of evidence, and I’m sure she’ll be fine in court.’

Desmond frowned.

‘Not good enough, Cassian,’ he said. Cassian flushed. ‘We need to anticipate the fact that the other side will claim contributory negligence.’

‘Contributory negligence?’ said Barnaby. ‘What the hell’s that?’

‘That’s when the plaintiff is found to have contributed to the accident, through his or her own carelessness or negligence,’ reeled off Karl, who had begun tapping at his calculator again.

‘But surely a child …’ began Louise.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Karl, without looking up. ‘I’m thinking of cases like Davis v Leemings. And Brakespear v Smith.’

Louise and Barnaby exchanged glances.

‘What happened in Brakespear v Smith?’ Louise asked meekly.

‘A ten-year-old girl was found seventy-five per cent to blame for being run over,’ said Karl smoothly. ‘Ran out into the road without looking.’

‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Louise. ‘That’s awful! But Katie wouldn’t …’

‘In Davis v Leemings,’ continued Karl inexorably, ‘a twelve-year-old boy’s damages were reduced by two-thirds because he ignored a warning sign. In Phillips v Fanshawe County Council …’

‘Thank you, Karl,’ interrupted Desmond testily. ‘I think we get the picture.’

Louise was looking horrified.

‘Surely no-one would try to say that Katie was to blame for her own accident,’ she said in a rather shaky voice.

‘I’m afraid they will,’ said Desmond. ‘If they’ve got anything about them, they’ll certainly try. So we’ll have to defuse their attack.’ He looked at Louise. ‘Does your daughter have a swimming teacher?’

‘Yes,’ said Louise, falteringly. ‘But I just can’t believe …’ Desmond’s smooth voice rode over hers.

‘Right. Then we get the teacher to testify that Katie was a careful responsible pupil.’

‘What if she wasn’t?’ said Karl impassively. Louise gave an indignant gasp.

‘What do you mean?’ shouted Barnaby. ‘Are you saying …’ Desmond ignored both of them.

‘Doesn’t matter. The teacher will testify that she was.’ He paused. ‘Think about it. You’re the teacher. Are you going to admit that one of your pupils wasn’t taught how to behave at a swimming-pool? No chance.’

Karl grinned admiringly down at his calculator.

‘Good one,’ he said and resumed tapping.

‘But Katie was always careful!’ exclaimed Louise. ‘I mean, high-spirited, yes, but …’

‘Yes, I’m sure she was,’ said Desmond smoothly. ‘Absolutely.’ He smiled briefly at Louise, then looked down at his papers. ‘Anyway, that’s the first problem dealt with; the second is not so easy.’ He looked at Cassian. ‘These medical reports seem to imply a remarkably good recovery.’

‘I know,’ said Barnaby joyfully. ‘Isn’t it marvellous? She suddenly made great strides; she even came home early!’ He stopped and looked helplessly at Louise. No-one was listening to him; Desmond’s attention was still with Cassian.

‘I thought this was a case of severe brain injury,’ he said.

‘It is!’ said Cassian defensively. ‘It was!’ He looked down at his papers. ‘Coma, brain clot, the works.’

‘So what happened?’ Cassian shrugged slightly.

‘I don’t know,’ he said flatly, ‘she just got better.’ Suddenly he felt Louise’s eyes burning into him. ‘Which, of course, is wonderful news,’ he added quickly.

‘Wonderful for the child,’ said Desmond; ‘not so wonderful for the case. I’m not at all sure about five hundred thousand.’ He glanced at Karl. ‘You’re the expert, Karl. What do you think?’

‘I agree,’ said Karl, finally looking up. ‘We need a lot more than this to get anything like five hundred grand. We need – 1 don’t know – psychiatric problems, maybe put in a bigger loss of earnings factor …’ He broke off and looked at Louise. ‘Was she particularly talented at anything?’ Louise looked helplessly at Barnaby.

‘She was talented at everything,’ he said stoutly.

‘Anything in particular?’ pressed Karl. He looked at the others. ‘You know Norrie Forbes? He had a great little case the other day. Young chap’s hands crushed in a train door. Turns out he’s a budding javelin thrower. Norrie had an Olympic selector in to rave about his chances. Won the case, of course. Fucking huge award.’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, the punch-line is, it turns out the chap was bored with javelin throwing. Apparently wants to go into computers, which he can do anyway.’

Cassian laughed and Desmond gave a wry grin. Louise caught Barnaby’s eye. He had the same astounded look on his face that she could feel on hers.

‘Don’t you think …’ she began, but she was interrupted by the door opening. It was Katie, clad in pyjamas and wearing a sleepy expression.

‘Hello, Katie!’ said Louise cheerfully. ‘We’ve just been talking about you. Now, let’s go back to bed.’ Katie looked silently around the room, at the men in suits and the pieces of paper and glasses of
wine. Then, suddenly she gave a huge grin.

‘I’ll play too!’ she said in a loud clumsy voice.

‘Not now,’ said Louise and got up. Katie darted past her and ran into the centre of the room.

‘Come on, Katkin,’ said Barnaby. ‘I’ll read you a story.’

‘No!’ shouted Katie. She suddenly smiled again and, without pausing, began to take off her pyjama top.

‘Katie!’ exclaimed Louise. She glanced around apologetically. ‘Sorry about this,’ she said. ‘It’s one of the side-effects of the injury. They call it a loss of inhibition. We call it showing off.’ Katie threw the pyjama top on the floor, and before she could start on her pyjama bottoms, both Louise and Barnaby hastily rushed forward. Barnaby got to her first.

‘Now then!’ he said, scooping Katie into his arms. ‘Let’s count the steps to the door!’ He took a step. ‘One!’

‘One!’ repeated Katie obediently. Clearly this was an old game. Louise picked up the pyjama top and handed it to Barnaby.

‘I think you might want this,’ she said, grinning ruefully at him.

‘Thanks!’ said Barnaby, grinning back. ‘Two!’ he added, and took another step.

‘Two!’ echoed Katie.

‘Good girl!’ said Louise. She looked at Barnaby. ‘Do you want me to take over?’

‘No, it’s OK,’ said Barnaby. ‘I won’t be too long. Three!’

‘Three!’

‘Well done!’ As Barnaby shut the sitting-room door behind him, the sound of Katie’s guffaw could be heard from the hall. Cassian sighed and leaned back in his chair.

‘Well, she seems a lovely child,’ said Desmond politely.

‘She’s wonderful,’ said Louise, with shining eyes. ‘She’s still got a real sense of humour and she never gives up, however hard things seem.’

‘She seems perfectly normal to me,’ said Karl flatly. ‘Is she really brain damaged?’

‘Well,’ said Louise steadily, ‘part of her brain was damaged in the accident, yes; so some of her brain functions were impaired. But the point of rehab is that it tries to help other parts of the brain take over those functions. It’s amazing, really, just how adaptable the human brain can be.’ She flushed with pleasure. ‘And Katie’s responded very well to treatment so far. I mean, there’s still a long road ahead, but it’s been an absolute miracle …’

‘She’s still very disturbed, though,’ said Cassian hastily. ‘I mean, you saw her. She’s lost all sense of how to behave; she laughs at things which aren’t funny; she takes her clothes off at the wrong time … I mean, as far as her personality goes, the accident was a catastrophe.’

‘Personality disorders,’ said Karl interestedly. ‘I love ’em. We had a great case, couple of years ago, where a woman was hit on the head and became a complete nympho. But the husband didn’t want a nympho, he wanted his old frigid wife back. It was classic!’ He looked at Desmond. ‘You must remember that one. Brooks v Murkoff.’ He began to tap again.

‘Well, I think we can go a long way with personality disorder here,’ said Cassian confidently. ‘Since her accident, Katie’s noisy, uncontrollable, impossible to live with … basically a complete walking disaster.’

‘No she’s not!’ Louise’s voice rose indignantly. ‘She’s fine! She’s lovely!’ Cassian sighed impatiently.

‘Louise, she’s not fine and she’s not lovely,’ he snapped. ‘She’s brain damaged! I mean, why the hell do you think we’re suing?’ Louise looked from one lawyer to another.

‘Because of Katie’s accident,’ she said, in a voice which trembled slightly. ‘Because of all the pain and suffering she went through. Because …’

‘Pain and suffering!’ Cassian’s voice was dismissive.
‘That’s peanuts! We need long-term effects; we need psychiatric problems; we need loss of amenities of life; and we need you to testify.’

‘What, and say my daughter’s a complete walking disaster?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, I won’t! She isn’t!’ Louise’s voice rose in distress through the house. There was a pause, then the sound of Barnaby running down the stairs. Desmond and Karl exchanged glances. Then the sitting-room door burst open and Barnaby appeared.

‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded. Louise drew an indignant breath to speak, but before she could answer, from outside came the sudden loud wailing sound of an ambulance siren. Louise visibly jumped, and went pale. She clutched the arm of her chair and shut her eyes.

‘Louise!’ cried Cassian theatrically. ‘Are you all right?’ He leaped up and rushed to Louise, who put a trembling hand to her head.

‘I’m fine,’ she said in a faltering voice. ‘Sirens still make me feel jumpy. It’s stupid, really.’ She grimaced. ‘I wonder which poor person that was for.’

‘Don’t worry about that now,’ soothed Cassian. ‘Just lean back and take it easy.’

‘Try to relax,’ suggested Desmond.

‘Absolutely,’ said Karl cheerfully. ‘How about some hot sweet tea? Or brandy? Or …’

Barnaby’s hoarse voice interrupted him.

‘What was all the fuss about?’ he asked bluntly. ‘I came down because I heard some shouting.’

‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ said Cassian at once. ‘Just a small misunderstanding. I suggest, Barnaby, that we talk about it later. Now, I’m going to get Louise a glass of water.’

He got up and pushed past Barnaby, who opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no point trying to argue with these fellows, he thought gloomily.

‘In the circumstances,’ said Desmond, ‘perhaps we might leave it there for the moment.’ He shuffled his papers and snapped shut his briefcase.

‘Right,’ said Barnaby reluctantly. ‘Well, I’ll be off, I suppose.’

‘Good idea,’ said Cassian, returning with a glass full of water.

‘Bye, Barnaby,’ said Louise. She smiled at him shakily. ‘Thanks for coming.’

Barnaby said nothing. He felt irrationally angry, with Cassian, with himself, with Louise, with everyone. As he opened the front door, he heard the voice of that smarmy git, Desmond, saying in low engaging tones, ‘You know, Louise, I’ve always been a terrific fan of your father.’

Barnaby closed the front door with a savage bang, feeling unsettled by the evening. As he stepped into the fragrant evening air, he said to himself, as he always did, ‘I’m doing this for Katie. It’ll be worth it for Katie.’ But suddenly even that didn’t seem certain any more; nothing seemed certain. Filled with doubts and fears and misgivings, Barnaby made his lonely way home.

Alexis and Daisy were curled up together in Alexis’s generous double bed when the telephone rang.

‘Damn,’ said Alexis. ‘Who the hell can that be?’

‘Go on,’ said Daisy, nudging him with her toes. ‘It might be important.’

‘Wrong number, more likely,’ said Alexis, snuggling back down.

‘Go on,’ persisted Daisy, ‘or I’ll really embarrass you by answering it myself.’

Alexis gave her a strange unsmiling look.

‘That wouldn’t embarrass me at all,’ he said. ‘If you knew …’

‘Go on!’ said Daisy, pushing him hard with her toes
and giving a little giggle. ‘Serves you right for not having a phone in your bedroom.’

‘All right.’ Alexis haphazardly wrapped his dressing-gown around him and pattered, barefoot, down the stairs. Daisy heard him cursing as he stubbed his toe and giggled. She couldn’t hear him speaking because he was too far away, so she leaned back and looked at the ceiling and thought about the fingering in the third movement of the Brahms.

When Alexis reappeared at the door of the bedroom, she turned to him with a bright smile, saying, ‘I think I’ve worked it …’ But when she saw his expression, she tailed off. She had never seen Alexis look so shaken.

‘Wh-what’s happened?’ she stammered. She felt an old familiar nervousness run through her body. Could it be anything she’d done? Had she upset him, somehow?