Christmas Day Failure

Copyright oggbashan November 2021 Edited December 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

The action takes place a few days after my 2019 story Police Gazette: Goodwill to Men and includes some of the same characters. This story stands alone. You do not have to read the other story first.

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I am Jonas Pritt, senior partner in the solicitors' practice of Pritt and Stephens, based in the sleepy town of Needham Market in the mid-19th century. Our work is mainly about land transactions, sales, purchases and leases of land in the surrounding area.

It was the first day our office was open after the Christmas and New Year break. I was enjoying my mid-morning cup of tea when the practice clerk knocked at my office door and entered.

"Yes, Mr Owens?" I asked.

"Mr James Smithers has called. He would like to see you urgently. He seems upset and possibly a little drunk."

"OK, Mr Owens. Send him in."

Mr Smithers is one of my regular clients. He is a major local landowner but doesn't farm. He lives on the rent from leasing out his lands to local farmers and buying and selling houses, locally and in Bury St Edmunds. He pays the practice several hundreds of guineas a year. He is possibly our most profitable client, so humouring him, even if he is slightly drunk, might be worthwhile.

Mr Owens showed Mr Smithers in and went to fetch another cup of tea. I sat back in my chair.

"What can I do for you today, James?" I asked.

"I am embarrassed, Jonas," Mr Smithers admitted. "I want to bring a claim for non-delivery of a contract, but the agreement was only verbal."

"You do not need to be embarrassed. Anything said in this office is confidential..."

Mr Owens brought in the cup of tea. Mr Smithers drank it quickly.

"As you know, Jonas, I am a widower."

I nodded.

"On Christmas Eve I had been drinking with the squire and other local notables. The squire had just had a delivery of several cases of wine and wanted our opinion. We sampled, possibly too much. I must have drunk the equivalent of two bottles of wine. As I left, I was feeling sad and lonely and missing my wife. I thought of Beccles Betty..."

Beccles Betty is the town's best known and most used prostitute. She doesn't advertise her services, nor does she need to walk the streets. Her customers usually visit her at her home. Disputes with Betty are rare because Betty would beat up any man who refused to pay her. Beccles Betty is a large and muscular woman. Personally, I don't see the attraction, but I am happily married to the wife I love.

"And?" I prompted.

"Betty didn't have any customers on Christmas Eve. I agreed to pay her three guineas for the rest of the night, but..."

"But?"

"I was too drunk to perform, even by the morning. I had wasted three guineas for nothing."

"So, what do you want me to do, James?"

"I want to get my three guineas back from Betty."

"There are several problems with that, James. The first is that asking me to pursue Betty would cost you far more than three guineas. The second? If there was a contract, and since it was verbal, it is your word against hers, so you might not win. The third? If I accept your version of the contract, it was your inability to perform that was the issue. Betty was willing to honour the agreement. You couldn't. That is your fault not hers."

"Your costs don't matter, Jonas. It is the principle. I paid three guineas for nothing..."

"Principle? If you want me to argue for a principle, my costs will double. A normal case against Betty would cost twenty-five guineas. A case for a principle? Fifty guineas at its lowest."

"Ouch! So, you are suggesting I don't proceed?"

"I haven't said that but yes. You would be wasting your money and wouldn't win with any sensible judge. Why do you want to proceed against Betty anyway? Three guineas are nothing to you."

"I suppose it is pride. When I left, I said some things to Betty I shouldn't have. I threatened to sue her for the three guineas, and she responded that non-performance was my fault and she had solicitors too..."

"She does. We act for her sometimes..."

"So, there would be a conflict of interest?"

"Unlikely. Betty is represented by one of our juniors."

"What do you suggest I do, Jonas?"

"What you ought to do, but I don't recommend it because you might make things worse face to face, is apologise to Betty and forget it. Instead, I think you ought to drop any idea of suing Betty. You'd lose and face substantial costs not to mention embarrassment. Your threat of suing her is nonsense. We need to make clear to Betty that you won't. That will cost you because I or one of our juniors will have to contact her and calm her down. The easiest way is to pay her off..."

"Pay her off? On top of the three guineas?"

"Yes, because any other course would cost you far more and if the case becomes public property, you would be a laughingstock. Betty NEVER speaks about her clients but a case against her would reveal what you did and didn't do."

"OK, reluctantly, I suppose. And your bill as well? How much?"

"I suggest three guineas to Beccles Betty and my fee would be five guineas."

"OK. Cheque do?"

"Of course, or it could go on your account."

"I'd rather pay it now and forget the whole incident."

"OK. Thank you."

Mr Smithers wrote the cheque, blotted it, and passed it to me. I rang the handbell on my desk. Mr Owens came in.

"Mr Owens? Please see Mr Smithers out and come back to me."

"Yes, sir."

They left. A few minutes later Mr Owens returned.

"Any idea how I could contact Beccles Betty?" I asked.

Mr Owens smiled.

"Very easily, sir. She is with Mr Rodgers at the moment."

"Could you ask them both to join me? And bring more tea, please?"

"Yes, Mr Pritt."

Five minutes later Beccles Betty and Mr Rodgers, one of our juniors, were sitting in my office as Mr Owens poured the tea. When Mr Owens left, I said:

"I understand you might have a dispute with Mr Smithers?"

Beccles Betty wriggled in her chair which wasn't really large enough for her.

"Yes. That's why I came to see Mr Rodgers."

"I have persuaded Mr Smithers that he has no case and that he should pay you a sum for compensation."

I handed over three guineas from the Petty Cash box.

"That's it? No court case?"

"No. I've told him he would lose, and the publicity would damage him. Are three guineas enough for your inconvenience? And our firm's advice will be free."

Mr Rodgers' face fell. He is still only earning small fees and working pro bono he can't afford.

"Yes, Mr Pritt, three guineas are more than ample. I owe you. Do you want my services?"

"Me, Miss Betty? No thanks. I'm too old and happily married. But maybe Mr Rodgers could be my substitute."

I knew Mr Rodgers was unhappy. On Christmas Day he had invited his girlfriend to spend the day with his family. She drank too much and flirted with all the male relations, kissing and hugging everyone of them except Mr Rodgers. As he walked her home they argued and are no longer together.

"Well Mr Rodgers?" Betty asked.

"I would be honoured and delighted," he replied.

Betty giggled.

"Honoured? I know my profession is the world's oldest, even older than lawyers, but it has never been honourable. Delighted? I hope so. That is why I have so many repeat customers. Tonight, at nine o'clock do? You'd have to leave by seven am because I have another client then."

"All night?"

"Yes, Mr Rodgers. That's what three guineas pays for. Are you capable?"

"I have no idea. I'll do what I can, Miss Betty."

I suspected that Mr Rodgers might be a virgin. If so, a night with Beccles Betty would be a great introduction.

"Mr Rodgers? Can you show Miss Betty out and come back to me, please?"

"Yes, sir."

After they had left, I checked the contents of the Petty Cash box. I would have to ask Mr Owens to top it up.

When Mr Rodgers returned, he was slightly flushed. I asked him to sit down.

"Well?" I asked.

Miss Betty kissed me in the hall. She also hugged me, a full body hug. If anyone had seen?"

"But they didn't. Forget it. Between us we have sorted out Mr Smithers and Betty. Mr Smithers paid me five guineas. Part of that is yours. As the junior, slightly less than me, but here's your fee."

I gave him two guineas.

"Thank you, sir, but I didn't do much except listen to Miss Betty."

His usual fees were shillings, not guineas.

"Neither did I, but Mr Smithers can afford it. And you get payment in kind from Miss Betty too. You can't bank that, but you will have an experience to remember."

"Have you, Mr Pritt?" Mr Rodgers asked daringly.

I laughed.

"Not with Miss Betty. She is far too young for me, or rather I'm too old. When I was at university... But that's a long time ago. But Miss Betty and Mr Smithers have one thing in common..."

As I expected he asked.

"And what do they have in common, Mr Pritt?"

"Both of them pay their bills immediately, Mr Rodgers. Clients like that are well worth humouring. I wish all our clients were as prompt."

"So do I. Some of my clients take months to pay a few shillings."

"OK. I'd like to know, in general terms, how you get on tonight. Can you come to my office when you arrive tomorrow.?

Mr Rodgers blushed.

"OK, but without the details."

"That's what I meant."

He left and I returned to my normal work of drafting a lease.

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The next morning at nine o'clock Mr Rodgers walked into my room. He looked slightly flushed.

"Well?" I asked.

"If you don't mind, sir, I'll start at the end and then continue from yesterday evening."

"OK."

"As I was leaving at about twenty to seven, I met Sub-Inspector Mobbs. He was early. He was embarrassed but I assured him that lawyers are used to keeping secrets. He explained that as a policeman who might be promoted and have to move to a larger town, he was unattractive to local women, hence Miss Betty. We also discussed Mrs Simon and the stolen watch which the whole town knows about.

Mrs Simon had invited not just the policemen that live with her, but all the town's unmarried policemen to share Christmas dinner. Not Sub-Inspector Mobbs. He and the married policemen were on duty for most of Christmas Day but apart from a couple of drunks they had nothing to do. All the police force had felt sorry for Mrs Simon. Losing a pound was a sizeable sum for her. They had organised a collection and they gave it to Mrs Simon after the meal -- two pounds seven shillings and four pence. She was delighted. So were her guests. It was a substantial meal with a fat goose.

But to return to Sub-Inspector Mobbs and Betty. He regards her as an asset to the town, and except for people who won't pay her, she causes no trouble. She tries to keep good relations with police and Sub-Inspector Mobbs knows that some of his constables also use her, when they can afford it. But unlike in some towns, Betty charges policemen the same as anyone else. Some police forces expect local prostitutes to give their services free to the police, but not in Needham Market."

"That is interesting to know. I know Sub-Inspector Mobbs is regarded as firm but fair. I am pleased he is also fair to Miss Betty."

"And she was fair to me. Somehow she knew I hadn't..."

"Most experienced women would have known that," I interrupted.

"Probably. But she was very gentle with me for the first hour, then I rode her. It was like lying on a soft mattress. Later I rode her again and then went to sleep. She woke me up twice in the night and then she rode me. I expected to be crushed but she was very gentle with me. She gave me a cooked breakfast at half past six and then pushed me out to meet Sub-Inspector Mobbs."

"So, you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes, and apparently she was pleased with me. Her usual fee for an hour is fifteen shillings. She said I could have a reduced rate of ten shillings. How often I could afford that?"

"Four of the yearly pasture leases at half a crown each would do."

"Maybe, but even ten shillings is a considerable sum for me. Perhaps I could afford her once a month..."

"Mr Rodgers. You have been with the practice for two years. One of the partners is retiring in March. That will mean someone else will become a partner -- not you, not yet. You might have to wait another five years. But it will mean more work, and more fees for you. By the summer you might be able to afford Miss Betty once a month or more often."

"Um. If I start earning more, Miss Betty will not be high on my list of priorities. I might want to get married. I expected to, this year until Christmas Day but maybe I'll find someone else."

"No hope of a reconciliation with your girlfriend?"

"Unlikely, but I suppose it is feasible. She was drunk. Unlike Miss Betty she is a slightly built woman and alcohol affects her more than most. I won't hold my breath, but if she apologises, there is a possibility."

"I wish you well, Mr Rodgers."

He left. I was wondering whether I ought to avail myself of Miss Betty's services, but no. I'm still too old and I wouldn't want to keep it secret from my wife.

Although Christmas had been unfortunate for Mr Smithers and Mr Rodgers, perhaps the New Year will be better. I hope so. Miss Betty seems happy with the outcome.