39
My barrister summoned me.
His offices were on Mainguard Street. Up two flights of stairs, past a receptionist and into his den. His certificates were framed along the wall. We both admired them for a moment, then he said,
“Right, Mr Taylor, I have some encouraging news.”
“Great.”
“It’s possible the case will be dropped.”
“Why?”
“The…victim…not that we’d ever use such a term outside this office…am I right?”
I had no argument there, said,
“You won’t hear me calling him a victim.”
“Capital, that’s the ticket. You’ve just learnt a whole chunk about the law.”
He was wearing a suit that quietly proclaimed,
“I’m a winner
You…most definitely
Are not.”
He flicked through some pages, said,
“Now, the guards may press ahead on the criminal damages.”
“Oh.”
He waved a hand in dismis
