Comfort Zone by Stephen Bentley

Author:Stephen Bentley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hendry Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER 22

“Phil, what can I say? The food was delightful,” Diedre said.

Mercer heard both Keogh and Allen chime in, “Hear, hear.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. Now can someone do me a favour, please?”

“Sure,” Collins said, “what do you want?”

“Clear the table of all the dirty dishes. Load the dishwasher, and let’s get some serious drinking done.” His guests knew nothing of his visual impairment. “There are fresh glasses up there in that cabinet. Red wine over there,” fingers pointing at the locations, “white plonk in that small fridge below the counter. The red I can recommend. As for the white, I haven’t got a clue. It’s probably anti-freeze.”

Claire laughed her girly giggle. “Still got a sense of humour, I see.”

“Of course.” Mercer smiled his trademark lopsided grin.

“I know you used to get huffy with me when I used to mention your lopsided grin. But you know what? It’s actually quite attractive. I bet juries love the look,” Deirdre said.

“As long as they don’t think I’m Drew Barrymore in drag, I guess you could be right. Juries do like me for the most part. I mean, you can’t win ‘em all over can you? What’s up, Deirdre? Can you now see you just might have made a mistake in not instructing me for some of those libel cases?”

Collins and Diedre did the chores. Probably the two biggest alcoholics, Mercer thought.

Mercer found by swivelling his head slowly he could manage to see everyone one at a time in the light at the end of the tunnel. Their features blocked out the bright light behind them. Piers Allen was the easiest to fix because he was sat opposite Mercer.

Satisfied all were now settled at the table with drinks in front of them, Mercer said, “Are you all comfortable? Have you all got a drink?” He didn’t want any interruptions.

“Yes, go on,” Allen said as if he were spokesperson for all.

Pompous twat! Mercer thought. It’s not what he says, it’s the way he says it. You might be first to die.

“I have this idea. It will be fun. Like a parlour game.”

“Like charades?” Deirdre said.

“Not exactly, no. It’s a ‘storytelling game.’”

“Is that fair?” Collins said.

“What do you mean?” Mercer said.

“Most of you at the table are barristers. Storytelling, eloquence and ease of articulating yourselves are essential to your roles as advocates. Even the two solicitors, Claire and Deidre, have some advocacy experience.”

“It’s a game, not a competition. There’s no prizes. It’s for fun. To make it even more fun, the easy choice is not an option at all. What terrifies you? What scares you shitless? Be brave. Be reckless. You are among friends. What can possibly go wrong? It’s just a parlour game, right?”

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