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why I
brought you here."
    “ I’m going to find some
lunch”, was all Brakespeare could think to say.

chapter seven
    The road from Worcester to
Malvern offers one of the most romantic views in England – that of the Malvern
Hills - a designated area of outstanding natural beauty and inhabited by man
since the Iron Age.
    To music lovers it is Sir
Edward Elgar country.
    Brakespeare slowed the Fiat.
He was going to be early, and the sight of the rolling countryside laid out
before him calmed any anxiety he felt over the forthcoming meeting .
    In one way, he was looking
forward to meeting David Newberry, a man about whom he knew so much, but of
whom at the same time he knew very little. A man against whom there seemed to
be overwhelming evidence; but a man who was apparently going to deny all the
charges against him.
    The traffic in Malvern Link
was, as usual, heavy. The pelican crossing was busy and the lights seemed to be
permanently at red. As ten o'clock drew nearer, Brakespeare felt his stress
levels rising again. He breathed in deeply
    The house was not difficult to
find. A tall 4 storied detached house on Worcester Road; opposite Malvern Link
common. He brought the Fiat to a halt on the stroke of 10.00 a.m.
    He had not brought any papers with
him other than his Counsel's notebook beloved of all lawyers, with it's
perforated sheets of lined writing paper.
    With the notebook in his hand,
he opened the wrought iron gate, and looked up to see a man waiting at the open
door of the house at the end of the front footpath. He was tall and well built,
with a shock of ginger hair, and the pink freckled face that people with such
colouring usually have.
    "Mr. Shakespeare? I was
beginning to wonder where you were."
    Brakespeare, glanced at his
watch. One minute past 10.
    "Brakespeare, Jonny
Brakespeare. No relation to William.“ He tried to lighten the situation with a
joke. “I'm sorry if I'm late, it's only just gone ten o'clock, according to my
watch."
    "Is it, oh well, my watch
must be wrong then. Come in." The man was clearly on edge, and must have
been waiting for some time .
    Newberry held out his hand;
Brakespeare shook it. The grip was not as strong as he would have expected from
the taller man. It was also distinctly moist.
    "You seem to be travelling
light. "
    "Well as this is a
preliminary discussion, there seemed little point in bringing any papers over.
"
    "Have you read
them?"
    Now this man is distinctly
aggressive, thought Brakespeare. "Enough at this stage to understand what
the case is about. "
    Newberry lead him down a
gloomy hallway into a comfortable lounge at the back of the house. Brakespeare
noticed how clean and tidy everything seemed to be. It did not have a
"lived in" feel to it. The lounge was furnished with a green leather
suite and dark wooden tables, but little else. On the walls were two or three
mass produced oil paintings with brass lights above them. The whole room
appeared elegant, but not necessarily comfortable, as if the owner was copying
a style which did not come naturally to him.
    "Sit down." The
request was more of an order. Whatever else, Newberry did not exactly ooze
charm, but, as Brakespeare often had to remind himself, people faced with a
lawyer for the first time are often uneasy, and show their nervousness in an aggressive
manner.
    The leather of the chair
creaked as Brakespeare lowered himself into it. "Well then." said
Newberry.
    "Well then." said
Brakespeare, "perhaps you had better tell me what you make of it all.
"
    "Quite simple I did not
undervalue those properties. "
    "Right, but have you seen
the valuations put on them by Black. "
    "Black, who is
Black?"
    "Have you read any of the
prosecution papers? "
    "No."
    "Oh. Sorry I thought that
the firm might have sent perhaps the case statement over."
    "I thought that you would
be bringing something over. "
    "Again I'm sorry, but as
I believe you know, I only started yesterday "
    "Yes, yes, I know but I
thought that you might