Counsel's Objection

By Tanya Thistleton

Of course she can survive without him
... or can she?
Sarah injected authority into her voice as she told the Judge why her case was superior, and she should win.

But it would be to no avail. Of all the barristers to oppose her, only Markus could leave her with every ounce of confidence gone... and every single nerve end tingling.

That morning, all her efforts to eliminate the ravishingly handsome face from her mind came to nothing the moment he sat at the bar table. After mysteriously vanishing from the legal world for two years, he had simply materialised as if he had never been out of her life.

She once loved him but he was as secretive as he was unattainable. She must get away altogether from this most irresistible of men.

She could not fall in love again...

• Language: English
• Publisher: CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS
• Release date: Dec 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310251894

Tanya Thistleton

Tanya Thistleton was born in Bavaria, near Germany. She has ridden horses for Australia, groomed dogs for a living, been a lawyer for too long and married for love. And then there was more; the fortune of a son. She lives in Victoria, Australia, caring for aged horses who were once fit to ride, a bounding thing more perennial pup than dog and two males, both boys, distinguishable only by the beauty of youth on the part of one, and the worn edges of years of boyhood on the part of the other and a bright, bubbly baby girl. There are no cats, yet, but a hideous mortgage. Published already (in the Quadrant Magazine amongst others) she now adds two novels to her success. Just and Equitable having been published by Custom Book Publications as well as a second novel Counsel's Objection out now.

Book preview

Of course she can survive without him

… or can she?

Sarah injected authority into her voice as she told the Judge why her case was superior, and she should win.

But it would be to no avail. Of all the barristers to oppose her, only Markus could leave her with every ounce of confidence gone… and every single nerve end tingling.

That morning, all her efforts to eliminate the ravishingly handsome face from her mind came to nothing the moment he sat at the bar table. After mysteriously vanishing from the legal world for two years, he had simply materialised as if he had never been out of her life.

She once loved him but he was as secretive as he was unattainable. She must get away altogether from this most irresistible of men.

She could not fall in love again…

Copyright © 2014 Tanya Thistleton

Published by

CUSTOM BOOK PUBLICATIONS

All the characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons,

living or dead, is purely coincidental

COUNSEL’S OBJECTION

by

Tanya Thistleton

To my husband and son for their support of me

every step of the way.

Chapter 1

'Your Honour, if I may submit…'

Sarah started, pushing a stray bit of golden honey coloured hair behind her left ear, trying to inject confidence into her voice, confidence, which had suddenly deserted her, confidence critical to effective, winning submissions. If the judge were to detect the slightest of quiver in her voice he would pounce, devour her one bit at a time before spitting out the pieces, no doubt getting immeasurable pleasure out of the experience. Everyone knew the weak suffer at the hands, or in this case the words, of the strong.

At the same time she was desperately trying to ignore the presence of her irresistibly handsome opponent, sitting far too close for comfort. His presence unwelcome on so many levels.

'Ms. Hemming, please, you are not going to persist with those submissions are you? I mean really.' The eyes rolled upwards as the words dripped from the judge's thin mouth, the tips of his piano fingers tapping against one another as if beating to an unheard rhythm. Sitting in his high backed black leather chair raised above the rest of the courtroom, slightly bigger than a tennis court, the judge appeared even more menacing than his manner alone suggested. Had he smelled blood already? Was he circling like a shark? Sarah was not sure. One could never be sure with this particular judge, who was known for his general nasty demeanour, even on a good day.

Swallowing, with shoulders back and head held high, a technique learned at ballet a long time ago, Sarah tried to ignore the sneer from her opponent, the multiple butterflies invading her stomach, as well as the urge to throw up, to 'dance' on. A mighty difficult task, one she was getting less sure of being able to master, with too many obstacles being thrown her way. What had she done to deserve this? Surely the little bitching she engaged in from time to time with the office secretaries was not that bad, nor was the occasional glass of wine at Friday night drinks, nor the chocolate she consumed from time to time? Surely other people engaged in far worse conduct, she knew they did, she did not have to look too far. But for some reason the universe seemed to have conspired against her today.

At first the day had started so promising with the husband appearing to be self-represented. A walk in the park is what Sarah had thought it would be. Judge Kruger was known to dislike self-represented people more than female solicitors. Unfortunately as soon as the uncharitable thought had been had, punishment materialised instantly in the form of an all too familiar after shave, a scent she had spent hours, days, weeks trying to get rid off, followed by the voice, the voice she did not care to hear today or any other day again.

'Apologies to the court your honour,' he had boomed, making each and every one of her nerve endings tingle in anticipation. Surely she was mistaken? It could not be, could it? She dared not look, as if averting her eyes would make him disappear.

'I know there's no excuse for lateness your honour,' he had gushed before continuing the spray of pleasantries, which had for some reason produced a form of grimace from the judge that could have been a smile, or wind, difficult to tell. What Sarah could tell was that the judge had not yelled or made a cutting remark, something he would have done had she or any other female solicitor been late in a case.

As he continued to speak goose bumps, hot flushes and dizziness washed over her. Not daring to look directly at her opponent she tried to steal a glance at him, to make sure it was the same Markus Southgate she remembered. To her horror it was.

Not only was it the same, it was a slightly more handsome Markus Southgate. From what she could see his jet black hair had acquired a sprinkle of grey, which gave him an added air of distinction. Damn. Out of all the courts and all the barristers, why did he have to walk into this one? What had she done to deserve this?

The urge to run out of court and throw up had somehow been resisted. Those days were gone she reminded herself. Once, in her more junior days, more precisely her first court appearance as a newly admitted solicitor, she had found herself opposing a barrister, every junior's solicitor worst nightmare. At the time she had taken the first opportunity to run out of court to ring her then personal assistant before nearly hyperventilating. It had only taken a few reassuring words from her secretary before she was able to face the courtroom and the case again.

'No matter how you try and dress it up Ms. Hemming, your client unilaterally changed the children's living arrangements and more importantly their school. And to make matters worse she is now forcing them to travel for hours in a car every two weeks to see their father. Hardly something that is in the children's best interest.'

The judge's voice pierced through her thoughts; his frosty stare devoid of any sign of compassion, sending a shiver down her spine. Those eyes could freeze the ocean. Did the man even know compassion, mused Sarah as she was trying to think of a good come back at the criticism levelled at her client, glancing at her notes so as not to have to maintain eye contact.

'Your honour, my client instructs that the children enjoy the drive and it is quality time she gets to spend with them.' Sarah spoke quickly, only occasionally glancing at the judge, working hard to save the sinking ship. She knew she was clutching at straws. The crossed arms, frosty stare, not the only signals the case had been lost. If she thought there was anything to be gained by trying to negotiate with her opponent she would ask for the matter to be stood in the list, a signal to the judge that there maybe some possibility of the matter being resolved between the solicitors. However, Markus had made it clear during a short break that his client would settle for nothing less than her client moving back to the area and the children spending time with him every second weekend in line with current orders. There was nothing to it. She had to battle on.

'Ms. Hemming, please.' The words were full of sarcasm, with the eyes rolling upward again, something they seemed to be doing a lot this morning, before briefly glancing at her opponent, who Sarah thought had mumbled something like 'I agree your honour,' followed by a sarcastic laugh, but she was not sure.

'How could your client possibly suggest that she has quality time with the children when she has to concentrate on driving a car?' The judge's voice full of contempt left Sarah under no illusion as to what he thought of the submission. She may as well have said the mother threatens the children at gunpoint to get into the car to do the drive to spend the weekend with their father.

Clearly the man did not have happy child hood memories of travelling with his parents, which is what she had. Surely driving with the children beat having them play computer games or watch television? Communicating with them whilst in the confines of a car, perhaps playing games like I spy or discussing the scenery far better than moping about at home? Why was the man so dismissive? Did he have to share his own miserable life with the rest of the world?

'Your honour,' she tried again, endeavouring to come up with some clever answer to this further unnecessary criticism, distracted by the whispering next to her between Markus and his client. To her right she could hear her client sobbing. Tears were the last thing the judge wanted to see, with his sympathy levels already in the red, thought Sarah and wondered how she could communicate this to the snivelling woman. If she could have given her a kick under the table she would have.

The judge interrupted her again. 'And Ms. Hemming, paragraph 24 of your client's affidavit is appalling. It simply screams at me. Discussing the case with the children. I mean really. What are your thoughts on this Mr. Southgate?' Dismissing her by directing his attention to Markus meant there was nothing for Sarah to do but sit down. She knew better than to remain standing to continue her submissions, now that she had been snubbed this way. That mistake had only been made once, in her more junior days. It was not as if the judge would consider anything she was about to add anyway. As she sat down she wondered if Markus would have been treated the same way by the judge as she had been. She suspected she knew the answer, which would be of course not. Chauvinism was rife in the legal profession.

Inwardly seething, Sarah was trying to regain some of the control she had momentarily lost. How the case had gone from a winning one to this was beyond her. How dare that arrogant prick come in here and ruin a perfectly good day? And not to mention the miserable judge, who should have called in sick this morning if he thought the world was such an awful place.

Employing a technique she learned some time ago of breathing in and out in a regular manner to regain some control of her fast heart beat, Sarah stole a glance at her opponent who was rising to his feet, slowly, deliberately reaching for one of the glasses on the bar table, to pour himself some water. He was not going to rush into anything.

Oh boy he was good, thought Sarah. So measured, so controlled, his emotions perfectly under check. Markus would never let himself be distracted by anything. When he ran a case he was in the zone, like an elite athlete, pure poetry in motion. Oh, how she had missed him. Each nerve ending in her body was a quiver as she had a flashback of the two of them naked in bed together after finishing a case, a light cotton sheet gently draped over them, Markus running his fingers along her hip and back.

'You honour…' His deep voice, his court voice, echoed around the small room. Closing her eyes momentarily Sarah was transported back in time, to a time when that voice had caressed, inspired and elicited desire.

Blinking hard, Sarah attempted to ignore the waves of pleasure rippling through her. Desperate to regain control of the situation, Sarah tried her hardest to push thoughts of lust and desire back into the box they belonged. Now was not the time to give way to those feelings. She had a case to run, not think about sex. And what's more sex with this arrogant so and so.

She watched as Markus paused to unscrew the top of his black fountain pen, putting the cap to one side, gently leaning on his left elbow on the lectern, eyes at all times on the judge, before continuing, slowly, deliberately, like a surgeon performing micro surgery. Wincing inwardly Sarah braced for the inevitable.

'I have to say your honour, I find myself having to agree.' A pause. Unable to avert her eyes, Sarah saw him reach with his left hand for the water, slowly putting the white plastic cup to his lips, lips she had once kissed, before taking a small sip. As slowly as he had picked up the cup, it was replaced on the table. Biting her bottom lip, as if this cause of physical pain would alleviate the emotional pain she was suffering right now, Sarah forced herself to look at her notes.

'Paragraph 24 is indicative of the mother's behaviour,' Markus continued before pausing again, this time to make some mark on the paper in front of him. Sarah steeled another glance, trying to see what he was writing, but from her angle it looked more like lines than words.

His words though had their desired effect. Not exactly sure what it was, the slow delivery or the fact each word was enunciated properly, but the judge was eating out of Markus' hands. There was nodding in agreement, shooting an occasional cursory glance at her client, the mother, as well as a distinct softening of the facial features around the lips. Even the previously icy eyes had thawed, just a little.

Tuning out for a moment Sarah looked at the offending paragraph, paragraph twenty-four. Try as she might she could not see anything wrong with it. What were they all on about? To her it looked quite innocent. It certainly did not scream at her.

24.'Mum why can't dad be happy for us?' said Brendan to me and I said 'what do you mean?' Brendan replied with words to the effect 'I mean why has he taken you back to court? I like this new town I don't want to go back where everyone knows about, you know.' There was a hesitation before he quietly added something. I am not sure but think he said something about the father's new partner. From what I understand Brendan is subjected to teasing at school.'

The child was twelve years of age and it was not as though the mother had initiated the conversation, or said anything derogatory about the father to the child. What was the mother supposed to have said? Nothing? Brushed the comment aside? What about praising the mother for having a conversation with her son? Sighing inwardly Sarah realised it was always good to be an expert on other people's lives.

What really annoyed her was the criticism levelled at her, the drafter of the affidavit. The unsaid words ringing loud and clear in Sarah's ears, 'you should have known better than to put that rubbish in an affidavit'.

Other people would get away with the most outrageous statements in an affidavit and here she was putting something quite innocent on paper and the judge suddenly alleged it screamed at him. As if. Offending paragraphs were paragraphs, where one party made derogatory comments about the other, or some outrageous allegation that had no basis in truth and only made to distract from the real issue in the case. She would have to take more care in future drafting of affidavits. Who would have thought Markus would run with the bait thrown to him by the judge? But then there had been a few things she had not thought Markus capable of and been proven wrong.

Shaking her head, Sarah could not help but wonder what gave the legal profession the right to be so judgemental about parents and their actions, or people in general. Once people separated the most innocent of actions could be, no would be construed as something sinister by lawyers, ex spouses and judges. A conversation between parent and child about their day would suddenly be considered prying, as opposed to normal general interaction between the two. A visit to a massage place might be interpreted by the lawyer for the mistrusting ex spouse as a visit to the brothel, if you were a bloke that is, and regular purchases at the local grog shop made you an alcoholic. Why did people suspect the worst of their ex as opposed to either see the good in them or pass no judgement at all?

She herself had held a lot of ill thoughts toward Markus after separation but not to the point of vilification, nor had she voiced them to anyone, nor had she gone looking for things either. And of course she would never have thrown herself at the mercy of a judge in the family court or any other court for that matter. Never mind there had been nothing to divide up between them; that was beside the point.

Why people who once professed love for each other could not sort out their own mess was beyond her. Markus of course believed there was a happy ending to any family law case, which was the financial gain by the lawyers, on most occasions. This was rather a sarcastic view as far as Sarah was concerned, a view they had never seen eye to eye on.

Warning potential family law clients was near impossible; with people not believing her, thinking she was exaggerating. She always tried to forewarn clients about the court system and what was likely to happen. Anything you do from now on will be examined microscopically under a huge bright light. The most innocent of actions may be construed to your disadvantage. Of course none of her clients ever took her seriously or believed her, until it happened.

'What is of more concern to my client your honour,' it was the use of the word concern that brought Sarah's attention back to the case. For some reason it had become the most overused word in family law as far as she was concerned. The other day a lawyer had stressed how 'concerned' her honour would be about the father's action of smoking near the child. After the lawyer had used the word more times than she cared to remember, Sarah wondered what exactly the solicitor was trying to say. Could his point be made in a more effective way? If a father smoked in front of a child it was hardly something the judge should be concerned about, unless there was more to it. Would it not be better to say something like 'your honour may need to know about the father's habit of smoking near the asthmatic child.' That way the judge would straight away know what the problem was, as opposed to the cryptic continuous submission about having real concerns about the father. And why on earth would the judge be concerned about the mother in this case? Resisting the temptation to put her forehead on the table, Sarah simply waited for the inevitable.

By the end of Markus Southgate's submission, the boat had totally sunk. There was nothing left for Sarah to say or do to try and salvage anything. Her client was sobbing uncontrollably, resulting in the judge calling a short break before continuing to read his decision and make further directions about the case.

'A word?' Markus whispered in her ear as Sarah was left with the task of somehow finding the right words to console the sobbing woman next to her.

His breath on her neck sent little shock waves of pleasure through her body. Bastard, she thought, trying to push her chair back to put much needed distance between them. It was too difficult to think clearly with him in such close proximity.

'About?' she queried, trying to maintain steady breathing, hoping against hope her cheeks were