Free In Vino Veritas by J. M. Gregson

He left without another word and put the ‘Engaged’ sign up on the door of his own, smaller office.
    There he sat alone with his humiliation for a good twenty minutes. He had gone into the man’s office with the intention of issuing an ultimatum. Both of them had known perfectly well what Beaumont had promised in those early, pioneering days. But the older man had chosen once again to refuse him, to patronize him, not only to deny him justice but to reject him with contempt. He had even closed with a threat about his present post.
    Well, he had given Martin Beaumont his final chance to offer him justice. It was surely now time to consider how he might translate his idea of murder into a practical plan of action.
    Had Alistair Morton but known it, there was another person, not at present on the site of Abbey Vineyards, who felt almost as violently towards its owner as he did.
    Vanda North was wondering what her next move against Beaumont should be. She wasn’t going to confront him again and risk more humiliation. It was clear to her that he was not going to relent. She had taken all the relevant papers to her lawyer a week ago and this morning she was going to consult him. She parked her car in the multi-storey car park in Gloucester and forced her unwilling steps towards the lawyer’s office in Westgate.
    Lawyers were not among Vanda’s favourite people. She preferred callings more adventurous, less cautious, less pessimistic about the human condition and the way it made people behave. Lawyers, and solicitors in particular, were in Vanda North’s view a necessary evil rather than people she would willingly consort with. But she had to admit that there were some situations in which they and their professional opinions were very necessary.
    James Dolby complied with all her notions about the legal profession. He was approaching sixty; his straight grey hair was cut short at back and sides and immaculately parted. He was smartly dressed in an extremely conservative way, with the creases in his pinstriped trousers complemented by an immaculate white shirt and a dark blue tie. As he rose and greeted her with old-fashioned politeness, he looked to Vanda like a man who had never taken a chance in his life. The next twenty minutes were to reinforce that view, as James Dolby made it eminently clear that he saw the primary function of lawyers as being to protect their clients from undertaking any sort of risk.
    Dolby had the copy of the agreement his client had signed twelve years ago with Martin Beaumont. He waited until Vanda was seated opposite him and the door of his private office was closed, then looked down with unconcealed distaste at the document. ‘May I ask who was your legal adviser when this agreement was drawn up, Ms North?’
    Vanda felt like an impulsive sixth-former called before the headmistress as she said, ‘I don’t think I had any legal advice at all on the terms of the agreement.’ She watched him nod sadly several times, then felt she must break the silence with which he reinforced his disapproval of such wanton rashness. ‘I realize now that I was rather foolish not to have it vetted.’
    Dolby renewed his nodding at this. He turned over first one page and then a second, winced a little at what he saw there and said at last, ‘Rather foolish is putting it mildly I’m afraid, Ms North.’
    â€˜I was too trusting of the major partner in the business. I realize that now.’
    He nodded his agreement, almost eagerly, she thought.
    â€˜I’m afraid our wide experience of human conduct makes us lawyers rather cynical, Ms North. It’s a sad thing, but we have to advise people against being too trusting.’
    â€˜Yes. I understand now that I should have tempered trust with a little healthy suspicion.’
    He winced a little at the aggression of the word. ‘We wouldn’t see it as suspicion, of course. We would prefer to use the