the Supreme Court’s web site. The Markham
trial would be heard in the old Supreme Court Building, before
Justice Craig Dobell.
As Denise disappeared, Robyn
turned to Brian. "Dobell - I’ve never appeared before him. Have
you?"
"Yep. Several times. I also
opposed him quite often when he was at the Bar."
"What’s he like?"
"A brilliant lawyer. But has a
heart the size of a pea. He’ll referee a fair fight: there’ll be no
biting or kicking. But if we lose, he’ll put Rex away for a very
long time."
Robyn’s heart revved up a notch.
The case was really getting serious. "Then we’ve got to avoid that,
don’t we?"
"Yep." Brian put the last folder
on the trolley and sighed. "Anyway, I’m going home. You want a
lift?"
She’d worked hard to keep their
relationship purely professional and give him no openings. So far
he’d behaved himself and now, with the trial only a few days away,
she felt surprising affection. The pressure he was under made him
seem more human and his composure increased her respect.
She’d let him give her a lift
home, but be on her guard. "Yeah, OK."
They strolled across Macquarie
Street to the car-park under St Mary’s Cathedral, where Brian had
left his Audi.
He drove from the car-park and
glanced at her. "Look, it’s up to you, of course, but why don’t you
let me buy you dinner before I drop you home? You don’t have to say
yes. But I could do with some company right now."
He’d finally used the dreaded
"dinner" word. What to do? In the circumstances, it would be
petulant and rude to refuse. And, truth be told, she was nervous
about Monday and didn’t fancy spending the evening alone. Even his company would be good. But if he wanted her for dessert,
he’d go hungry.
She said: "OK. Where to?"
He smiled. "Italian?"
"Fine."
"And we won’t talk about the
case, OK? That’s verboten ."
She only wanted to talk
about the case, but couldn't insist. "OK. Agreed."
He used his mobile to book a
table at an expensive Italian Restaurant in Woollahra and drove
over there.
After they were seated and
ordered their meals, Robyn asked how he planned to spend the
weekend.
"Oh, I’ll probably drive down to
my farm. I often do before a big trial. Helps me clear my
head."
"You’ve got a farm?"
"Well, not much of one - just a
hobby farm."
"Where?"
"Kangaroo Valley. Takes me about
three hours to reach it."
"How big?"
"Tiny. Just a homestead on 20
hectares."
"Any animals?"
"Sort of. The farmer next door
pays me to agist his cattle. That’s all."
"How often do you go there?"
"About once a month. The rest of
the time, I’m too busy."
"Then why have it?"
He blushed slightly. "I love
tramping around in gumboots and talking to the cattle and, to be
honest, the farm helps me minimize my tax. My accountant won’t let
me sell it."
"Sounds complicated."
"It is."
The waiter poured the wine and
Brian told some funny stories about his career at the Bar,
including some disastrous early experiences. It was reassuring to
know he’d also stuffed up cross-examinations and had judges scream
at him.
He said: "You know, during my
first two years at the Bar, I was a positive menace to my clients.
I shouldn’t have represented anyone."
"Thank God you've improved. You
worried about Monday?"
"Not yet."
"But you will start
worrying?"
He frowned. "Oh yes, definitely.
But let’s forget about that."
She deeply sympathized with the
weight on his shoulders. Now the moment of truth had arrived, she
preferred taking a back seat. Suited her fine.
While they chatted, she polished
off most of the wine bottle and felt her mood lift. He only drank a
few glasses.
She said: "You haven’t drunk
much?"
"I’m driving."
"And if you weren’t?"
He smiled. "I’m not a big
drinker. I have many vices, but boozing isn’t one of them."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?
What vices?"
He laughed. "You’ll have to find
out."
Maybe she had misjudged him. He
was arrogant and supercilious - no doubt about
trial would be heard in the old Supreme Court Building, before
Justice Craig Dobell.
As Denise disappeared, Robyn
turned to Brian. "Dobell - I’ve never appeared before him. Have
you?"
"Yep. Several times. I also
opposed him quite often when he was at the Bar."
"What’s he like?"
"A brilliant lawyer. But has a
heart the size of a pea. He’ll referee a fair fight: there’ll be no
biting or kicking. But if we lose, he’ll put Rex away for a very
long time."
Robyn’s heart revved up a notch.
The case was really getting serious. "Then we’ve got to avoid that,
don’t we?"
"Yep." Brian put the last folder
on the trolley and sighed. "Anyway, I’m going home. You want a
lift?"
She’d worked hard to keep their
relationship purely professional and give him no openings. So far
he’d behaved himself and now, with the trial only a few days away,
she felt surprising affection. The pressure he was under made him
seem more human and his composure increased her respect.
She’d let him give her a lift
home, but be on her guard. "Yeah, OK."
They strolled across Macquarie
Street to the car-park under St Mary’s Cathedral, where Brian had
left his Audi.
He drove from the car-park and
glanced at her. "Look, it’s up to you, of course, but why don’t you
let me buy you dinner before I drop you home? You don’t have to say
yes. But I could do with some company right now."
He’d finally used the dreaded
"dinner" word. What to do? In the circumstances, it would be
petulant and rude to refuse. And, truth be told, she was nervous
about Monday and didn’t fancy spending the evening alone. Even his company would be good. But if he wanted her for dessert,
he’d go hungry.
She said: "OK. Where to?"
He smiled. "Italian?"
"Fine."
"And we won’t talk about the
case, OK? That’s verboten ."
She only wanted to talk
about the case, but couldn't insist. "OK. Agreed."
He used his mobile to book a
table at an expensive Italian Restaurant in Woollahra and drove
over there.
After they were seated and
ordered their meals, Robyn asked how he planned to spend the
weekend.
"Oh, I’ll probably drive down to
my farm. I often do before a big trial. Helps me clear my
head."
"You’ve got a farm?"
"Well, not much of one - just a
hobby farm."
"Where?"
"Kangaroo Valley. Takes me about
three hours to reach it."
"How big?"
"Tiny. Just a homestead on 20
hectares."
"Any animals?"
"Sort of. The farmer next door
pays me to agist his cattle. That’s all."
"How often do you go there?"
"About once a month. The rest of
the time, I’m too busy."
"Then why have it?"
He blushed slightly. "I love
tramping around in gumboots and talking to the cattle and, to be
honest, the farm helps me minimize my tax. My accountant won’t let
me sell it."
"Sounds complicated."
"It is."
The waiter poured the wine and
Brian told some funny stories about his career at the Bar,
including some disastrous early experiences. It was reassuring to
know he’d also stuffed up cross-examinations and had judges scream
at him.
He said: "You know, during my
first two years at the Bar, I was a positive menace to my clients.
I shouldn’t have represented anyone."
"Thank God you've improved. You
worried about Monday?"
"Not yet."
"But you will start
worrying?"
He frowned. "Oh yes, definitely.
But let’s forget about that."
She deeply sympathized with the
weight on his shoulders. Now the moment of truth had arrived, she
preferred taking a back seat. Suited her fine.
While they chatted, she polished
off most of the wine bottle and felt her mood lift. He only drank a
few glasses.
She said: "You haven’t drunk
much?"
"I’m driving."
"And if you weren’t?"
He smiled. "I’m not a big
drinker. I have many vices, but boozing isn’t one of them."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?
What vices?"
He laughed. "You’ll have to find
out."
Maybe she had misjudged him. He
was arrogant and supercilious - no doubt about
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