The Vet from Snowy River by Stella Quinn
CHAPTER
44
The Queanbeyan courthouse was baking in the sun on the second Friday in December. Vera wasn’t sure whether a summer heatwave was on the way or the gates of hell had been flung open. Standing on the courthouse steps on the cusp of her trial sure felt like her own personal version of hell.
She’d dressed before dawn in a sober grey suit, and had spent a quiet moment in her chair by the window with her bandaged cat in her lap and two kittens at her feet while she waited for Josh to arrive. He’d insisted on driving her to the city, and she’d been grateful.
What she hadn’t expected was for Graeme to turn up on the footpath outside her building too, with a waxed box of muffins he’d cooked in his own kitchen, and two freshly made coffees.
He’d handed them over to Josh and hauled her in for a hug. ‘Good luck, boss. Call me with the news, good or bad, and don’t worry about the café. I’ve got your back.’ He’d even tucked a note in with his muffins: You need me to bake a cake with lock picks hidden inside, just let me know :) love, G xxx.
Marigold had texted her as they’d driven down out of the alps and through the farming country of southern New South Wales, offering her love and support and a yoga breathing exercise called, of all things, Victorious Breath. Kev had been popping into the café every day for the past week to pat her hand, and even Kelly Fox, guinea-pig boy’s mum, had wished her well.
‘Ready to go in?’ said Josh.
‘Sure.’
She placed her hand in his just as Sue barrelled up the steps towards them.
‘Sue, you’re here.’
‘In the flesh, my lovely. And why have I not laid eyes on this handsome beast before? I’m your lawyer, Vera. I insist on knowing every detail of your life. Especially the inappropriate ones.’
Vera would have rolled her eyes if her anxiety levels weren’t at breaking point.
‘Josh, my lawyer, Sue Anton. Sue, this is Josh Cody.’
‘We’ve spoken on the phone,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘Yes, we have,’ her lawyer said in a voice that resembled golden syrup. ‘Now I’m wishing we’d held our strategy meeting in person out there in woop woop where you’ve hidden yourself away.’
‘It’s an historic alpine town, not woop woop,’ said Vera. ‘Hanrahan, population of four thousand, birthplace of The Billy Button Café.’
‘Whatever,’ said Sue. ‘I have news. Let’s clear security and find somewhere we can have a huddle. My news has a capital N and you’re going to want to hear it.’
Vera raised her eyes to Josh who cocked his head towards the entrance.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘The only way forward is to get this day over and done with, so let’s get started. You’re not alone, and I’m not going anywhere no matter what the verdict.’
She held his hand close to her heart for a moment before dropping it to clear security.
The guards were just as brisk and impersonal as the first time she’d been here, and within a few minutes she was inside, where the air conditioning was battling to cope with the blistering conditions.
‘Follow me,’ said Sue, and marched them through a foyer, through a beige door clearly marked No UNAUTHORISED ENTRY, and outside again into an enclosed courtyard where one dead pot plant sat beside an old paint tin filled with yellowed cigarette stubs.
‘Smokers’ hangout,’ her lawyer said. ‘No-one will disturb us here; turns out nicotine addicts like me are going to be the next dinosaurs in the evolutionary chain.’
Vera took a breath. ‘What’s this news, Sue? The trial’s scheduled to start in less than an hour. Has there been a postponement? Is that it?’
Sue smirked. ‘You know that restraining order I slapped on Aaron Finch?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I dropped a word in the ear of the DPP—that’s the Director of Public Prosecutions—and suggested that Acacia View had commenced a private prosecution based on the evidence of a witness who had turned out to be not so shiny. They’ve had a word with Acacia View’s lawyer.’
‘What sort of a word?’ said Josh.
‘They think the proceedings should be discontinued.’
Vera took a breath. ‘Can you repeat that in plain English?’
‘They don’t want trivial matters cluttering up the courts, and they can’t see any public benefit to this case.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘Yes, that’s what I said, only with a string of truly naughty adjectives. Acacia View weren’t pleased at all, but I sweetened them up with a deal.’
Vera felt cold suddenly, despite the sweat trickling down her back. ‘A deal,’ she said.
‘An apology, in person, from Vera for installing a camera in their aged care facility without their permission. In return, they will agree that Vera’s intent was to record her aunt’s movements and the presence of staff, not to record private conversations.’
‘But this is … well, it’s—’
She could barely stutter, she was so relieved.
‘The truth?’ suggested Sue.
‘Yes! The truth! My god, is this deal really a possibility, Sue?’
‘It’s a lot more certain that that. We have a meeting room booked for ten-fifteen. I’ll have to go see the judge and make sure she knows the DPP have taken your case off the docket, then we make our formal apology, and then … well. Then we say goodbye and I toddle on back to my office to type up my bill for a job well done.’
For a moment, the only sound in the grubby courtyard was the hum from the air conditioning motors running themselves ragged in the corner.
‘I’m having trouble taking this all in,’ said Vera at last.
Sue grinned. ‘You’re free, Vera. It’s over. The case of Acacia View Aged Care Facility versus Vera De Rossi is in the past.’
‘Oh my god.’
‘Girl, we’ve covered this. God does not have a licence to practise law in this state.’
Vera turned to Josh. ‘Did you hear that, Josh? I’m free. It’s over.’
He wrapped his arms around her and spun her in a hug that had her laughing and crying all at the same time.
‘Weeping will not reduce my bill,’ Sue said dryly. ‘Nor will public displays of affection with handsome men.’
Vera wriggled out of Josh’s arms so she could hug her lawyer. ‘You’re the best.’
‘I know. Now, I’ll go work my magic on the judge, and I’ll meet you both inside for the formal apology.’ And with a nicotine-tinged kiss on her forehead, her lawyer was gone.