During the Friday lunch, I devoured the Mediterranean dishes as if I had been starving for days. When the meal came to its end, an amused Rachel wanted to know what sort of food I took overseas. She grinned when I told her Chinese cuisine was tolerable but that the delight of boiled mutton kept eluding me during my two years at Oxford.
She was not surprised when I repeated my mother’s observation about the oddity of our instructions. She, too, sensed that Ruth might have acted without authority. All the same, it was best to stick to our instructions. The case was bound to turn on the legal issue. A searching cross-examination could be counter productive.
“Why would Ruth take such a risk, Rachel? Issuing such instructions without her superiors’ consent could lead to an in-house scandal. Her very job may be on the line.”
“But look, Eli: Ruth is pushing forty. And she is still on her own and has few friends. On many social occasions she looks forlorn: out of place. She would go a far way to please somebody who knows how to handle her. Chaps like Fischer pry on women of her type.”
Rachel’s words made me reflect. She herself was of about the same vintage as Ruth. Further, both were good looking and highly intelligent. All the same, they were worlds apart. Ruth was the pampered daughter of an upper-class German Jewish family. She was widely read, genuinely interested in music and art and a pleasant person to talk too. Rachel, in contrast, came from no-where, had no cultural aspirations and had to fight her way to the top. Her main asset was her worldliness. She understood people, knew how to get on with them and had an outgoing personality. One might admire her or hate her. But she was hard to ignore. Unlike Ruth, she was not prepared to blend with the scenery.
“Ruth and I are very different persons, Eli. Life has taught me I have to pay for making mistakes. Ruth is afraid to make any. She has not realised that to be human you have, occasionally, to step out of line. She does not know that erring is a human trait. She is now paying for her diffidence.”
“Did you ‘err’ when you took me on?” I asked compulsively.
“I don’t think so. You, Eli, had to be taken out of your isolation. And, as you know, I was still recovering from the breakdown of my second marriage. I needed a shoulder to lean on. I brought our romance to its end, when I felt the time had come.”
“I know. In any event, I shall always remain your friend.”
“It goes both ways,” she told me. Then, abruptly, she turned back to our case. She knew I was still mystified by the facts. She too had noted the inconsistencies.
“Is Fischer a fool, Rachel?”
“A cunning devil is a more apt description.”
“So why this silly pack of lies? Why does Fischer assert he arrived later than he did and what on earth was he doing on the 2nd story?”
Having nodded her head, Rachel concluded: “But Eli, why does all this matter us? Where is the benefit of exposing him? We have a good legal case. All you have to do is to convince the Judge that Fischer is an expert and knows all about scaffoldings. Ruth’s instructions do not proscribe this line of questioning or indeed the argument.”
“But what made her take such a risk? What are they trying to hide?”
“I’ve no idea, Eli. Perhaps it is best to leave well alone.”
Rachel’s approach made sense. As often before, her strategy was superior to mine. She sensed that, in certain situations, it was best not to open Pandora’s box. As matters stood, Fischer’s case was weak. He was the expert asked to report on progress and standards. In the process, he had a fall where men less qualified than himself knew how to handle themselves. Suppose you instructed a technician to repair the brakes of your car. Could he complain when, in the process, he had an accident because, unexpectedly, the brakes failed altogether?