friend-1

THE ONLY GOOD FRIEND.........

CHAPTER ONE

He sat impassively, waiting for the jury to file back into their seats. A voice from the public gallery called down "ten years tops". He rose when the Clerk of the Court motioned to his Barrister and stood, impassive, as the jury foreman passed his future; held in one hand; to the Clerk.

The Judge received the slip of paper, and scanned it through half-moon glasses. He then raised his eyes to the jury foreman and intoned "is this the verdict of you all?" in a tone which indicated he thought the jury had taken leave of its' collective senses. "it is, my Lord" returned the foreman, who might have been thinking the same of the Judge.

"Prisoner at the bar, you have been found not guilty on the charges laid against you, and you are discharged from this Court. However, I would like to say a few words to you. I advise you to change your ways, otherwise you will find yourself before me or one of my brother Judges, in a trial which will have a far firmer base in law, with a better standard of evidence and witnesses who will stay with one story. When that happens, the jury will have been given a better chance to see that justice is done on the evidence admitted".

He shouldered his way past the shouting pack of television and newsmen who surrounded the entrance to the Old Bailey, his eyes searching for the familiar white coachwork of - "there you are, mate" he muttered as the big Bentley bounced to a stop, the door swinging open, allowing him to dive in.

He was pressed back against the upholstery as the driver accelerated away towards Holborn "Go easy, mate, I've just got out of one bit of crap, 'n I don't want to end up in hospital just because you have an urge to act like a James Bond".

"Sorry boss" came the reply "just thought you would want to have a sudden change of scenery".

"Belt up and drive, twit" growled the passenger as the big saloon carved its way out towards the west. "John Charles Trench" he mused, slowly relaxing now as the Bentley hit the start of the M4, "they nearly had you dead to rights on that one". He pondered on what he would be saying to his wife, who, he knew, hated every minute of the time that he gave to his other world. "Still" he thought "if it wasn't for the times from my 'other world', I might well be still making payments on that little dosshouse in Archway".He sat, cocooned in his own thoughts until he noticed that the car had made its stately way through Staines, over the river, and was winding down the side road towards the riverside property that he sometimes called "NatWestBank" after the unwitting providers of the bulk of capital needed for the purchase and remodelling of the house which came into view at the end of the drive. "Definitely a bit of alright. Smiling to himself again as he mentally wrote the advertising for the imaginary sale of the house. "No expense spared in the upkeep of the fabric.