Douglas Kennedy - A Special Relationship

'Sure, I guess'.

'Uhm... well...'

Another of his awkward pauses.

'Are you still there, Mr Clapp?' I asked, trying not to voice my impatience.

'Uhm, yes... Ms Goodchild. And I just want to say that the court hearing went fine'.

Pause. I was genuinely confused.

'What court hearing?'

'Oh, didn't I tell you?'

'Tell me what?'

'Tell you that I applied for a court order this morning, insisting that your husband pay the mortgage on your house until the divorce settlement is finalized'.

This was news to me.

'You did?'

'I hope you don't mind...'

'Hardly. I just didn't know'.

'Well... uh... I just thought, considering that you were being threatened with eviction...'

'No need to apologize', I said. 'Thank you'.

'Uh, sure. Anyway, uh, it seems... well, the court decided to preserve the status quo'.

'I don't understand?'

'I obtained the order this afternoon at three. And the judge presiding over the hearing... well, over the strong objections of your husband's solicitor, the judge decreed that your husband must continue to pay the mortgage until you have worked out a mutually agreed financial settlement'.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

'Does this mean that the house can't be sold out from under me?'

'Uh... that's right. And if your husband doesn't make the mortgage payments, he will be considered in contempt of court. Which means that he could actually be imprisoned for failing to meet his commitments to you'.

'Good God', I said.

'One other thing', he said. 'His solicitor said that he wants to make an offer, vis-à-vis interim financial support for you'.

'He did? Really?'

'I think he was rather nervous about the idea that, under the circumstances, the judge might instruct his client to pay you a substantial sum a month. So they offered you £1000 a month in interim maintenance'.

'You're kidding me?'

'Is that too low?'

'Hardly. I don't want a penny of it'.

'Oh, right. But how about the mortgage?'

'That's different - because the house is a shared investment. But I certainly don't want to be supported by her money'.

'Well, uh, that's your choice. And if, uh, you want me to continue handling this matter, I will inform them of your decision'.

Was he always so self-denigrating? I paused for a nanosecond's worth of reflection, then said, 'I'm very pleased to have you in my corner, Mr Clapp'.

'Oh...' he said, sounding somewhat bemused. And then added, 'Uhm... thanks'.

Twelve

I DIDN'T HEAR from Nigel Clapp for another week. But he did send me a copy of the court order he obtained against Tony, along with a follow-up letter from Tony's solicitor confirming that his client would continue to pay the mortgage payments on our jointly owned house until such time as a legally binding agreement was reached on the disbursement of mutually owned assets. The letter also confirmed that I had turned down an offer of £1000 per month in maintenance, and let it be known that, in light of this refusal to accept said offer, his side would enter into no subsequent negotiations in regards to interim maintenance payments until such time as the final financial settlement blah, blah, blah, blah...

'You should have taken the money', Sandy said after I read her this letter on the phone. 'I mean, he's got his Sugar Mama covering everything. An extra grand to you a month would have bought you a reduction in financial pressure, and the ability to hire better legal counsel...'

'Like I told Clapp: there's no way I'm going to live on her money'.

'You and your dumb pride. I mean, Welcome to Divorce - where the object of the exercise is to stick it to the other party. Which is precisely what the wonderful Tony and his rich bitch are doing to you. Which is why I think you were insane to turn down the dough. You have hardly anything left to live on, and also because, from what you've told me, the legal eagle representing you isn't exactly Mr High Powered, Mr Perry Mason. The other side will eat him alive once this goes to trial. And just think of the non-event he'll entice to be your barrister. I mean, all courtroom lawyers are actors, right? So no big shot "actor" is going to work with a cipher like him'.

'I think you're being a little hard on the guy'

'Hey, I'm just repeating what you told me'.

'True - but that was before he won the mortgage payment thing... which, let's face it, has saved me from the street and kept me in the house. And yeah, you're right: he's like dealing with the world's greatest wallflower, which does worry me. But given how that upscale ineptitude at Lawrence and Lambert messed me over, I'm just a little suspicious of high-flying law firms right now'.

'But that was just one up-her-ass Limey bimbo. Surely there are some excellent divorce lawyers in London'.

'Yeah, but I can't afford one now. And you're right - it's my own damn fault for turning down Tony's money. But the thing is: for the first time since this extended bad dream started, I've actually won an argument. And that's due to my very peculiar solicitor. So why turn my back on a guy who's trumped Tony?'

Still, Sandy was right about one point: dealing with Nigel Clapp was like dealing with the number zero. It was impossible to fathom him, or to work out his legal methodology. After his success on the mortgage front, he vanished for seven days. Then, out of nowhere, he made contact with me again.

'Uhm... ', he said after I answered the phone.

'Mr Clapp?'

'I'd like to speak with Ms Goodchild'.

'That's me'.

'Really?'

'I'm pretty sure of that, yeah'.

'Oh, right. Well... uhm... names'.

'Names?'

'Yes, names'.

'I really don't follow you'.

'I need the name of everyone who's dealt with you from the social services'.

He paused - as if the effort of getting that one sentence out without an uhm had been overwhelming. Then he continued. 'I also need the names of any nannies or nurses whom you might have used'.

'Fine, no problem. Shall I email you them today?'

'Yes, uhm, email is all right'.

'You know that my first lawyer took witness statements from just about everybody - with the exception of my Health Visitor who was in Canada at the time'.

'Yes. I know that. Because I have the statements'.

'You do?'

'Uhm, yes'.

'How'd you get them?'

'I obtained copies of all court documents'.

'Sure, sure. But if you've got all the witness statements, why do you need the names of everyone again?'

'Because, uhm... well, I would just like to speak with them all again'.

'I see', I said. 'Is that necessary?'

'Well... uhm... yes, in fact'.

Later that day, while reporting this conversation to Julia over coffee in her kitchen, I said, 'You know, I think that was the first assertive thing he's ever said to me'.

'You shouldn't worry about him so much. He seems to know what he's doing'.

Four days later, I was woken up by a phone call around one in the morning. At that hour, the sound of a phone ringing can only mean two things - (1) a drunken wrong number, or (2) very bad news. In this case, however, it was a youngish sounding woman with a London accent who - judging from the static on the line - was calling from far away.

'Hello, Ms Goodchild... Sally?'

'Who's this?' I asked, half-awake.

'Jane Sanjay'.

'Who?'

'Your Health Visitor, remember?'

'Oh, yes, of course. Hello, Jane. Aren't you supposed to be out of the country?'

'I am out of the country' she said. 'In Canada. Ever heard of Jasper National Park? Way up in Alberta. Amazing place - and a long way from South London. But listen, your solicitor, Mr Clapp, tracked me down'.

'Mr Clapp found you?'

'That's right. And he explained what you've been going through - and asked me if I'd be prepared to testify on your behalf. Which, of course, I'm most willing to do, especially as I'll be back working for Wandsworth Council in just over two months' time. But the reason I'm calling - and I can't talk for much longer, as my phone card's about to run out - is just to tell you that I am so shocked that they took Jack away from you. From what he explained to me, they've done a complete stitch-up job on you. He also told me about the postnatal depression - which, in itself, should have got you off the hook. I mean, so what if you said something threatening when you were exhausted and suffering from a clinical condition? So what if you accidentally breastfed your son while taking sleeping pills? We've had far worse cases in the Borough - and I'm talking about genuine child abuse, where the mother still didn't have the child taken away from her. So as far as I'm concerned, this is outrageous. And I just wanted to let you know that I'm completely behind you, and will help in any way I can...'