Wishful Thinking (a journey that will change lives forever) (31 page)

It was all over.

Louise stared unseeingly out the window as she made her way home on the train that evening, her head swimming, her heart breaking.  She’d been hung.

She still couldn’t believe what had happened, couldn’t believe that she’d made such a mess of everything, couldn’t believe that she’d been betrayed in such an awful way.

She recalled how utterly callous Sam had seemed in the courtroom that afternoon, recalled word for word how he had blithely gone about ruining her case.  He’d sat there on the stand, his expression like stone, as if he didn’t know her, as if he didn’t realise what he was about to do.

                                                      ******

Flanagan’s tone had been neutral when he first addressed Sam, but there had been nothing neutral about the emotions Louise had felt at the time. “Mr Harris, can you describe for the court the circumstances of your first meeting with Ms Patterson,” he’d asked, while Louise, still dumbstruck at her boyfriend’s appearance, stayed rooted to her seat.

Sam’s voice was equally neutral. “We met at the Ice Bar.”

“Forgive us, Mr Harris,” Flanagan interjected immediately, a hint of sadistic pleasure in his tone, “if some of us here today are not all that familiar with the particulars of Dublin night-spots – but the Ice Bar?”

“In the Four Seasons Hotel.”

“This is the
five-star
hotel in Ballsbridge you’re talking about, and not some other establishment of the same name, is it?”

Sam nodded. “Yes.”

“And Ms Patterson is a patron here? 

“She was that night.  I was standing at the bar when she came up beside me.”

At the time, Louise couldn’t believe what she was hearing, she couldn’t believe what he was doing!  How could he do this? How could he pretend to care about her, pretend to be her friend, when all the time he was plotting against her?  Who would do so such a thing? 

“So Ms Patterson struck up a conversation with you?” the barrister prompted.

“No, I passed comment.”

“Really? How so? Did one of the expensive designer garments Ms Patterson seems so fond of happen to catch your eye?”

“Objection!” To Louise’s relief, O’Toole stood up. “How is this relevant?”

“Agreed,” the judge conceded. “Get to the point, Mr Flanagan,”

But Sam went ahead, and answered the question anyway. “That wasn’t it, although I do remember she was wearing something nice that night, yes.” 

Louise cringed, recalling how Fiona had playfully ordered her into buying that bloody wrap dress!

“So what caused you to pass comment?” Flanagan probed.

“Well, she was ordering a round of drinks for her friends.  An expensive round of drinks,” Sam added pointedly.

Flanagan made of great show of appearing confused. “All drinks are considered expensive in our fair city these days, Mr Harris.  Please elaborate further.”

“She was ordering a dozen champagne cocktails,” Sam explained.

“Oh.” He paused for effect. “Champagne cocktails – in a five-star establishment?”

“Correct.”

“
Twelve
of them?”

“Yes.”

“My, oh my,” Flanagan shook his head, “I must be in the wrong job.  I can’t remember the last time any of my friends or esteemed colleagues from the Law Library treated themselves like that.”

Louise cringed, Gardner’s crowd laughed, and mercifully, O’Toole objected.

“There’s no place for sarcasm in this court,” Judge Corcoran warned in reply.

“Apologies, Your Honour.”

But it was too late. The point had been made, and even the judge looked taken aback by it all. Given that the defence had already made her out to be a spendthrift, the revelation was doubly effective.

Flanagan continued. “But perhaps she wasn’t paying for them all from her own pocket, Mr Harris? Perhaps she was merely ordering them for her friends?”

“No, she paid. With her visa card. And she told me it was her round.”

“Oh, I see – one round of many then.”

“Objection! Conjecture!”

“Apologies, Your Honour,” said Flanagan and smoothly continued, “So, Mr Harris, champagne cocktails are Ms Patterson’s drink of choice, then?”

“Apparently.”

The bastard!  Louise tried to conceal her upset.  He knew well that she normally preferred a simple beer or occasionally a vodka and coke.  How many times had he been out with her after that and not once, not
once
did she suggest getting a bloody champagne cocktail!

“Objection – this is pure conjecture!”

“It was her drink of choice that night anyway,” Sam clarified, before the judge could respond.

“So, you two struck up a conversation, then?” Flanagan went on, adding, “About the expensive champagne cocktails?” just in case the judge hadn’t yet got the point.

“I mentioned how I was going to offer to pay for the drinks, but having discovered what they were, I thought better of it. We chatted for a while, and she told me that she was on a hen night – no, sorry,” he clarified “a pre-hen night with her friends.”

“A
pre
-hen night?”

“Apparently, she and her friends were off on holiday to Marbella the following day for the real hen-night – I mean hen weekend.”

Bastard, bastard, bastard.

“A holiday in Marbella – to celebrate a hen party?” Flanagan repeated once more for maximum effect.

“Yes, she told me this after I asked her out.  I had hoped to meet up with her that weekend, but she said she’d be away.”

“I see. So you and Ms Patterson struck up a ‘friendship’ in the bar, and then spent the rest of the night chatting, perhaps?” It was obvious by the way the questioning was going that Sam had spent just as much time as Louise – if not more – being coached by a solicitor. 
And he was ‘performing’ much better up there than Louise ever could.  She hung her head in shame.  The problem was, she couldn’t accuse him of telling lies – everything had happened almost exactly how he described it.  But in view of what they’d already implied about her spending, it sounded a million times worse.

“No,” Sam went on, “we only spent a few minutes chatting before her friend came along, and told her they were moving.  She’d barely touched her drink.”

“Barely touched her
expensive
champagne cocktail?”

Sam nodded. “She left it with me.  I told her I’d never tried one so …” he shrugged, as if to imply that he was just a normal Joe Soap, unused to that kind of thing. 

“So, Ms Patterson, a lady with obvious money problems, spends all this money on a exorbitantly priced drink and then
doesn’t even bother to finish it
?”

The emphasis he put on the last few words made them almost palpable, and at this Louise thought she sensed even James Cahill’s disapproval.  But again, it hadn’t been like that.  She hadn’t drunk it back all at once because she didn’t want to come across to Sam as a raving lush.  She’d been trying to impress him, and oh, how that had backfired!

“No, I drank it instead.  As I said, I’d never tried one, and don’t often have occasion to drink something like that so – ”

“Indeed.  So, after that first night – in the Four Seasons Hotel – when did you make Ms Patterson’s acquaintance again?”

“She gave me her number, and I told her I’d phone when she got back from Marbella.”

“Her holiday break in Marbella?”

“Yes.”

“And did you phone her?”

Louise squirmed, knowing what was coming, remembering it all so well.  The pathetic lies she’d spun to try and make herself appear unavailable, the stupidity of it all …

“I did, and then I asked her out again.  I’d hoped to meet her for a drink that week.”

“You were attracted to her, then?”

Sam nodded. “Very much so. She’s a very lively, friendly, fun-loving girl – great to be around.  But she was also difficult to pin down.”

“Really? How so?”

“Well, she told me she couldn’t see me that week because she had another girl’s-night-out and some fashion thing in that shopping centre on the Southside – a big sale or something – ”

“I’m sorry?” Flanagan’s eyes widened as if in shock. “So, correct me if I’m wrong but you’re telling me Ms Patterson couldn’t meet with you then because she was going
shopping
?”

“Yes, and then her friend’s wedding was happening that weekend, so she wouldn’t be free until the following week.”

“My, oh my, it seems Ms Patterson really does like to enjoy herself, doesn’t she?” Flanagan replied wryly, and Louise waited for her barrister to object.

In vain.

Sam shrugged. “As she says herself, ‘we’re here for a good time, not for a long time’.”

At this, Louise’s heart almost stopped. 
No, that’s what Fiona says
, she argued silently, mortified. 

“Really? ‘We’re here for a good time, not for a long time’?” Flanagan repeated, making sure the judge didn’t miss it. “Those were Ms Patterson’s own words?”

Sam nodded again.  “Yes.”

“So after that first night, you and Ms Patterson began seeing one another on a regular basis, did you?”

“Yes, she was a nice girl – as I said, very lively, great fun, always up for a laugh.”

Rubbish! I was a tongue-tied idiot whenever you were around
, she retorted inwardly, devastated by his betrayal and the way he was behaving now, as if she weren’t in the room hearing all the terrible things he was saying about her, the inferences he was allowing – no,
helping
– Flanagan to draw. But she knew why O’Toole wasn’t objecting – there was nothing to object to. Sam was just telling his story and it was the truth.

“And she was fond of the nightlife?” Flanagan urged.

“Definitely.  I liked being with her, but some of the places her friends went … well, the trendy celebrity spots didn’t really do it for me.  I preferred to meet her in normal, down-to-earth pubs in town, places where you didn’t need to beg to get in.”

And Louise had preferred those places too – after a while she’d begun to see through the stupidity of going to the ultra-trendy, girl-about-town places Fiona and the girls seemed to love. 

“So, you let her do her own celebrity-hunting with the girls?”

“Usually, yes.  As I said, it wasn’t for me, but she seemed to enjoy it, so …”

Flanagan nodded, and flicked through the sheaf of papers he was holding.  Louise prayed that that was the end of the questions and that O’Toole would be able to tell everyone how this – this
cad
had callously inveigled his way into her life, pretending to be her friend, her boyfriend, while all the time trying to discredit her.  Something he was doing very well.

But it seemed Flanagan was only just beginning.

“You and Ms Patterson got to know one another well over the course of your relationship, yes?”

“I would say so, yes.” Sam shifted a little in his seat and for one brief second, Louise thought he looked ashamed.

“In that case, you’ve undoubtedly visited her home – her apartment in the Marina Quarter.”

“I have.  It’s amazing.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is.  Please describe how amazing it is to the court – just so we can get a better picture of this poverty Ms Patterson’s counsel described in his opening statement.”

Sam took a deep breath and Louise held hers. “Well, it’s on the third floor, floor-to-ceiling windows with amazing views looking out over the bay,” he informed them. “Very spacious living room, with a huge TV and state-of-the-art stereo system, great kitchen, ensuite bedrooms, the works really.”

Of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that she happened to live in the apartment’s shoebox, hadn’t he? Louise couldn’t comprehend how anyone could do this.  Had the man no shame?  Didn’t he care how much he was hurting her with all this – and in more ways than one?

“Modest living, I’m sure,” Flanagan agreed, again with a dollop of sarcasm, but this time the judge said nothing.

“So, up until a couple of weeks ago, you were very much involved in Ms Patterson’s life, and had got to know her very well, is that right?”

“It is.”

“Well, if that’s the case, why are you here today?” Flanagan asked, surprising Louise.  She’d been sure that was the tactic her barrister would take – that her side would try and establish that if he cared about her so much, what he was playing at?  She wanted O’Toole to ask Sam why he had kissed her and pretended to care about her, why he had made her trust him, while all the time trying to discredit her.  She wanted to find out why he had so cold-heartedly betrayed that trust, why he was hurting her so much now.

So, was Flanagan pre-empting that now by making sure they didn’t get the chance to ask him those things?