THE GOOD BARRISTER

Tuesday morning, and the shop opened its shutters and Jack turned around the sign on the door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ at precisely 9 a.m... They were open each day until 6 p.m. except Wednesday, which was half-day closing, and Sunday, when they of course did not open for business. It seemed on this Tuesday morning, there was an early customer. He had driven up in a shiny new Wolseley Tourer—or so it was, according to Jack Sullivan, who knew his motor cars. The man parked outside the shop and hopped out, without opening the driver’s door. He was indeed tall, dark and handsome—devastatingly so—and was very well turned out, in a black silk suit, expensively cut to fit his muscular frame. Sophie knew exactly who he was. It would seem his sister confessed everything to her unpleasant—yet so very well favored—brother, and he had turned up with the idea of paying back what his sister owed Sophie for her tea and sandwiches, not forgetting the scones and strawberry jam. In truth the total bill for lunch took all the money Sophie had allocated for her new hat. However, when she told her brother of her rendezvous with Miss Cochrane, he was so impressed that he promised her an extra two pounds in her wages to make up for her loss. Neither Sophie nor Jack mentioned the matter to Norma. Norma hurried to the front shop to wait on the handsome gentleman. However, she was soon disappointed when he asked for Miss Sullivan and said, “From my sister’s description, my assumption is that you are not in fact, Miss Sophie Sullivan. Of course, I might be mistaken.” Sophie had been hiding in the back shop. This man certainly wasted no time in coming to pay off his sister’s debt, which meant that he disapproved of their new friendship. She straightened her hair and then walked out front, proudly, and with her nose in the air. She wasn’t about to be intimidated by this most unpleasant man. However, she wondered why he had to be so exceedingly good looking. *** Mr. Benedict Cochrane thought to give this young woman a couple of pounds and be on his way. He would inform her that Euphemia had thought the better of their plans the following week, since she had too many commitments—or some such nonsense. Then he saw her. She walked right up to him with her nose in the air, and he had to fight back the impulse to take her in his arms. She was, quite possibly, the loveliest girl he had ever seen. Her lustrous blonde hair was thick and plentiful and fell almost to her waist. He thought, a man could lose himself in that hair. Her brilliant blue eyes stared at him impertinently. She instinctively knew who he was and why he had come. However, he was having trouble forming the words he planned to say to her—not a problem he usually suffered from—inability to speak. She was of average height but there was nothing else average about her. She had the body of a goddess, the face of an angel, and an expression which revealed she was ready to go to battle with him. He found himself, almost struck dumb. He felt as if he was losing control of his mind and his body. He thought, what the hell is wrong with me? And then she first spoke. “I am presuming you are Mr. Benedict Cochrane, am I correct?” He nodded his head and suddenly remembered he was holding two-pound notes in his hand. Sophie excused herself from her awestruck brother and sister-in-law—uncertain as to what exactly was going on—as she opened the door and led him outside, saying, in a most superior manner, “Kindly follow me, sir.” Benedict Cochrane followed this uppity little madam, whom he felt had bewitched him, without opening his mouth. Once outside she said, “Do not even try to pay me for rescuing your sister! How dare you come into my family’s shop to berate me or tell me to know my place? I know my place and the problem is that you do not. You are too used to defending thieves and murderers and you are incapable of appreciating a kind and decent act, even if it hit you in the face.” Benedict had finally recovered himself. This girl was the most delightful creature on earth. He changed his mind. He changed his mind entirely. “Miss Sullivan, it seems my sister did not speak very kindly of me. I came into your shop, to buy something suitable for my secretary’s birthday. It is today and I quite forgot about it. I also came in to thank you for your kindness and to invite you to afternoon tea, this Sunday at 2 p.m...” Benedict had to restrain his laughter as he watched the lovely Sophie Sullivan’s face go scarlet. He waited for her to speak—to profusely apologize for her outrageous behavior, but all she said was, “Oh, I see. I will happily accept your kind invitation to afternoon tea with my new friend Euphemia. Please allow me to assist you in choosing a suitable gift for your secretary. She then led him back inside and asked, “What colors does your secretary favor?” She was very well spoken, not a trace of a Glaswegian accent, which he expected. She spoke better than he did. There was no secretary’s birthday. He made that up. He said, “I have no idea Miss Sullivan, perhaps you could provide a few suggestions.” Sophie Sullivan couldn’t quite believe that she was so rude to this handsome gentleman. She may have jumped to conclusions but possibly she had not. She saw the attraction in his eyes. He was attracted to her, the shopkeeper’s daughter, Sophie Sullivan. However, Sophie knew enough to be wary. She knew quite enough to doubt his intentions.