Letter to Sister Benedicta by Rose Tremain

winning my case?’ You see, Mr Constad – your husband – had mentioned this Partridge before. He said he was too busy to take on my case, but this Partridge would look after me. But ‘No’, I said, ‘I can choose who I want and I’ve been told you’re the best and my son will pay. It’s not as if you’re not going to get your money.’”
    I had poured Evelyn Wainwright a cup of tea and she tried to take a sip of it straightaway, but it was too hot and she went on talking. She didn’t look at me as she talked, but at a fixed point straight ahead of her on the carpet, as if she was trying to balance.
    â€œYou see, I know I have a case. I know that with a clever man to speak up for me, I could win. But it’s not a usual case, you see, mother against son, and I knew Mr Constad didn’t want to take me on. He wanted to give me to Partridge, but I said no. And then the next time I went to see him – I had an appointment with him – his secretary said: ‘Mr Constad can’t see you today, but Mr Partridge will see you.’ So I said: ‘What is all this? It isn’t as if my son won’t have to pay and I want to see the best man. I need a really good man, or I shall lose. With Partridge I’ll lose, I know I will.’ So I went home without seeing anyone. I wouldn’t see Partridge.
    â€œThen a day or two later, I rang up for an appointment with Mr Constad and that secretary said: ‘Oh no, I’m afraid Mr Constad is ill and won’t be available for some time. Can I suggest you see Mr Partridge?’ So I said again: ‘What is all this? Maybe I’m not Burt Lancaster, but I can pay!’ And all she’d say was, ‘Mr Constad’s been taken ill. He’s very ill and can’t see anyone.’”
    Evelyn Wainwright’s eyes blinked faster and faster as she spoke. She tried her tea again, took a sip, then another and on the third sip looked up at me.
    â€œI’m not explaining myself well, am I?” she said, “You see, since all this has happened, my nerves have been terrible. I know what it is now to suffer from nerves and I never thought I would because I never suffer from any kind of nervous complaint and now I can’t sleep or do anything properly because all I can think of is my home being sold under my feet, just taken away from me and I’m quite powerless. And your husband was the one man, you see, they told me might win my case – the one man. And now of course he’s ill and can’t help me and I know I won’t win with Partridge. Partridge is younger than my son!”
    After a pause, during which Evelyn Wainwright drank the rest of the tea, I said: “I’d like to know more about it, Mrs Wainwright. Perhaps, if my husband recovers, he could do something for you . . .”
    â€œOh no. It’s quite wrong of me to have come. I didn’t know he was really ill, you see. I thought that was just a downright lie. He’s in the hospital then?”
    â€œYes. In a nursing home. He gets very good care.”
    â€œAnd when will he be out, Mrs Constad? I keep asking them at his office, but they say they can’t say.”
    â€œNo, well, no one can say really. He’s had a very severe stroke. He just lies there and we all wait and wonder.”
    â€œI’m sorry if he’s ill. I dare say there must be other people, solicitors I mean, who could help me win, but I was told your husband was the very best. They said he’d fight for me.”
    â€œWell, I’m sure he would have done. Though he doesn’t win all his cases. He’s lost some quite important ones. I expect he would have tried to win yours. He always tries to win.”
    â€œI need a fighter, you see Mrs Constad. Someone who can stand up and say there’s right on my side. Because I know there is. I mean, I’ve lived in my house for thirty-seven years.