My Learned Friend

I spent quite some time going through the closets and drawers in Clem's room. His suits would go to charity after being cleaned. There were ten of them, all dark charcoal in colour. His shirts were mostly white some with collars and many tailored to accept a wing tip collar. This task wasn't too demanding until I pulled open one of the large drawers. There laid folded and tidy were pillow slips, sheets and finally a christening shawl, all yellowed with age. They were all of Egyptian cotton and embroidered by hand. I knew immediately that the embroidery was done by Chrissie's hand. Each item had in the bottom left corner the embroidered two 'C's. They were linked with the second 'C' being lower with the top of the loop crossing over the bottom of the loop of the first 'C'. That was the second time in my life that I wept. The first was when my mother died and now this. This was how Chrissie had employed her time as she waited for Clem to finalize his studies. Sewn into these items were all her hopes of a long life with Clem and the children they would have together.

Many of our family believed that I had been in love with Clem for years. Despite my explanation of the situation, they stayed fast to their belief. I did love Clem, but more as a sister than lover. Our families had lived close to each other. As children we played together. Although he was four years older than I, we got along well. Nobody thought I would ever be married and I think that even Clem was a little surprised when I did. I was blessed with a most unfortunate appearance. Plain was a compliment considering that I described myself as ugly. A beaky nose often compared to a bird's and no chin to speak of didn't attract boys. When Mr. Herring swam away with a co-worker most people were surprised that it lasted as long as it did. I saw Clem often in those first years of being an abandoned wife. I saw Chrissie more as she was the receptionist at the Doctor's surgery I attended.

It was Chrissie who asked me to look after Clem. "If anything happens to me." That was before that disgusting excuse of a man, Ramsay Marston, destroyed her life. I knew that Clem had only agreed to Ramsay being hurt when he spoke with Brian Hathaway. However I wished that Ramsay would die painfully. He was a predator. I was one of his victims when I was sixteen. He didn't rape me, but he would have if Auntie Mag had not interrupted him. That is why Auntie Mag was so angry with my uncle. She knew what Ramsay was, but his father would never hear a word spoken against him. Wastrel, unprincipled, predator, lecher. Ramsay was all of these and he blighted all our lives.

The weather next day was exactly what we wanted. Blustery with rain. Samira drove to Malvern and then took the road that brought us to the car park below the British Camp. Set on the highest of the Malvern Hills, just over one thousand feet above sea level, the ancient Britons had built earth-works to turn the hill into a fort. We climbed the track leading to the top. Of course with the weather the place was deserted. It was ideal for what we would be doing. I gradually got my breath back from the climb, after all I was in my seventies, Samira didn't have that trouble and in anticipation of the climb she had carried the casket. Even with the light rain the view was tremendous. "No wonder that Clem and Chrissie loved this place." Samira remarked.

"Chrissie would be full of it when I saw her. Bubbling over with the views and the history of the place. She would have dozens of photos to show anyone who expressed an interest. Photos don't demonstrate the actual feeling of being here. I feel as if I am becoming part of the history of the place."

"Well, Clem and Chrissie will certainly become part of the history." Samira pointed out the obvious.

I nodded. "Yes." I spoke to the wind. "Well Clem and Chrissie, you're here and here you will be forever. You will become part of this place and you will be together in the place that made you so happy."

Samira drew close with the casket. "Clem! You and Chrissie will live in my thoughts forever."

Together we lifted the lid, the wind caught the ashes and blew them away as we tipped the casket offering the last few grains to the elements. The wind took them but not too far as the rain made them heavy and they fell to the earth. They would become part of the earth and fertilise it, nurturing the new growth.

AFTERWORD - SAMIRA

Clem had been my mentor, my teacher and my friend. I was a woman in chambers, which was a male dominated institution; in addition, I was an Iraqi Muslim, which made me extremely unusual. Solicitors were unsure about asking me to take their brief so I existed mainly on legal aid cases, which do not pay well. Clem changed that when he asked me to go through one of his briefs. That he also wanted me to appear as his junior in court was a significant moment. That action opened the doors for me. Without fanfare, I became his partner in many cases. His success rubbed off on me and I gradually other barristers sought me to work with them.

My offer to him after Chrissie's death should not be seen as all that unusual. My family were Sunni Muslims, yet we had fled from Saddam Hussein, who was also a Sunni Muslim. My father who was the leader of his community was disparaging of Saddam and became the target of his ill will. My older brother going missing decided my father. Most of the Iraqi's who fled Saddam were Shia Muslims and for many years, there has been enmity between these two sects. When I became of marriageable age, the problems started. The Sunni community in the U.K. was not large and my father would not have gone looking amongst the Shia community. For them marrying a Sunni would be the same as marrying an unbeliever. It astonishes Muslims that Christians will marry to others who have different views. Catholics marry Protestants, Church of England will marry non-believers and in church! Muslims live their faith twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, not just for two hours on a Sunday. To add to the problem I was intelligent and had the propensity to make my views known, much to my father's despair. My character was such that I would not make a good Muslim wife. That is why I was single at thirty-three years of age.

Muslim women do not have a problem in marrying a man who is twenty years older than she, so I made my offer. I tried not to show it when Clem refused me, but I was downcast. Even so, I had to admire his fidelity to Chrissie. Over the years of being his friend I came to understand that whilst he held true to Christian ethics, he wasn't a Christian, he described himself as an Agnostic. He lived according to Christian principles but denied God. Something I could never do. Although I wasn't a good Muslim, I believed that Allah would see me as I am and forgive me for my failings. Clem was adamant that there was an afterlife, it kept him going knowing that he would be re-united with Chrissie. Whatever he was, I admired him and yes, came to love him. I would have joined him in his bed in a moment if he had ever suggested it, married or not. Alas, he never made that suggestion.

After the fall of Saddam Hussein in two thousand and three, my father decided to go back to Iraq. He asked me to go and see him and we had the most honest conversation. He told me of his decision and then asked. "I would like you to come back with us, but I suspect you will want to stay here."

"Yes, father. I would like to stay. I have a good career here and to be honest I couldn't practice in a Muslim country."

He nodded. "You are right." He wiped his eye. "I have failed you my daughter. I should have found you a husband. Others say that you have dishonoured our family. They are so wrong, I have seen you in court and I know that you have brought us nothing but honour. Stay with my blessing, Samira, but never forget that we are your family and you will always have a place with us when you need." I never saw my family again. Shortly after they arrived back in Iraq, the Shia's firebombed the house they were staying in. Clem and Jean were my support then. Jean prepared a room for me where I could pray and mourn alone. At all other times when I needed company they were there for me. I was always grateful for their help but Clem turned away my thanks. "You helped me when I needed help. If I can do a little to help you then I will. What does it matter friends help friends there is no debt due for help." After my mourning was over I stayed, I had become part of a family again.

These thoughts were going around in my head as I drove Clem's Rover back home. Clem had been a huge influence in my life and I mentally thanked him for his friendship and love. These thoughts were interrupted by Jean who remarked. "Well, they are together again. I would imagine that after all the kissing and cuddling she will have a few words to say to him. One of her topics will be why he never married you and took you to his bed." She turned in her seat to look at me. "Chrissie would have approved of you. She loved Clem enough to want him to be happy after she went. You, Samira would have made him happy."

Muslim women are not supposed to swear. However, at that moment, I did and it was very rude!

THE END