Free Court Out by Elle Wynne Page A

entered on the last occasion, so it is my application to adjourn for a hearing to determine whether or not that plea can be vacated”
    Phew, no mention of Serena, no mention of coercion. All good. I look up to see if I can read what the Judge is thinking. With a sinking feeling, I remember that this Judge is a civil barrister, sitting part time in the Crown Court.
    “Miss Chase, remind me please of the circumstances in which a Defendant can vacate their plea.”
    I do, skimming briefly over the relevant passages in Archbold. I hope this will satisfy him.
    “Miss Chase, in this case, what do you say is the reason for the need to vacate the plea?”
    I answer this question as obliquely as I can, making reference to various paragraphs in the pre-sentence report without actually reading them out.
    “Ah, I see Miss Chase. So what you are actually saying is that the barrister who represented him on the last occasion forced him into pleading guilty?”
    I enjoy playing poker. I love the thrill of waiting to see if you have a winning hand, the rush of beating the other players and the victory when you take the pot. Unfortunately, I have the world’s worst poker face. You can tell instantly by looking at me what type of cards I have; I’m easier to read than The Sun. Regrettably for me, this characteristic doesn’t only apply when I’m playing cards, and I know at this moment I’m most likely scowling at His Honour.
    “No. That’s not what I said. I said that that is what the Defendant alleges to have happened,” I answer, trying to keep my voice even.
    “I’m sure you’d agree it’s quite a serious allegation he makes, asserting that having a trial would be a waste of his counsel’s time?” he retorts, clearly unimpressed with my efforts.
    “Well yes, but of course that allegation will need to be tested”
    He frowns back at me, sits up straighter and delivers his final blow, speaking slowly and clearly.
    “So Miss Chase, who was it again that represented Mr. Lenihan on the last occasion?”
    With a heavy heart I consider giving an incoherent reply but know that I’ll just have to repeat it until he is satisfied. Instead I answer.
    “The allegation has been made against Miss Taylor, Your Honour”
    I can hear murmurs around me and know that by lunchtime Serena will be the subject of many conversations, most versions exaggerated to include all sorts of dishonesty. I’d better contact her as soon as possible to let her know myself before one of the gossip-mongers gets to her.
    The case is eventually adjourned until later in the week to try and get to the bottom of what went on with Mr. Lenihan. My other case with Ms Goodridge goes without a hitch and we are miraculously lucky to get a trial date set for two weeks time given that it’ll only take a day or so to complete.
     
    As I walk back to Chambers I try Serena’s mobile again. This time it rings a few times then goes to answer phone. Maybe I’ll see her in Chambers later.
     

 
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    I don’t see or hear from Serena until the following Sunday. Sebastian and I are sitting having lunch in our local pub: he’s stuffing himself with their legendary beer battered fish and chips topped with a mountain of creamy mushy peas, and I’m trying to be somewhat restrained with a grilled chicken and Mediterranean vegetable salad. I suspect that my hard work has been undone by the bottle of wine we’ve ordered, but it is the weekend after all. As I fork up another yummy mouthful of aubergine and peppers, I hear the strains of my favourite boy band coming from my jacket pocket and Sebastian rolls his eyes.
    “Finally!” I exclaim, examining the display. I’ve been worried that I haven’t heard from her. If I hadn’t have been so busy I’d have gone round to find out what’s been going on with her. I chew my food, swallow and answer my phone.
    “Serena! Where on earth-”
    A cold, angry voice cuts me off.
    “How could you let this