Chapter 33
On the High Street used by the BBC for an adaptation of a Dickens novel, Crantwell Evans had charmingly small premises. Popular for both their expertise and personalities, they'd been the first choice of many for the past twenty years. They'd never lacked work but now their popularity was becoming their potential downfall. Mr Crantwell, the senior partner, had recently succumbed to life and departed from it.
Mr Evans, a Welshman as his name suggested, knew he was in trouble. There was half-finished work all over the place but the legal network in the area was such that no one took glee in his predicament and though he was a proud man he was also pragmatic enough to realise he couldn't mend this situation on his own.
Each day, his colleagues in the profession would pop in and wade through the piles of folders that Mr Crantwell had gathered on his office tables, chairs and even the floor. Mondays it was Mr Crilley from Bent, Porter and Crilley. Tuesdays, young Mr Symington, from Halshaw and Halshaw and so it went on.
The problem they had was Wednesday. No one could spare the time for a Wednesday. That's why Dafydd Evans jumped at the chance when the local constabulary solicitor volunteered to give him a helping hand.
She could only do Wednesdays though. Was it a problem? Certainly not, perfect in fact. Best not to mention it to anyone she'd said because if the Chief Constable found out she could get into trouble. Despite his assertion of a friendship with the big man that could overcome any such matter he agreed to say nothing for her sake. She'd sort out the outstanding last wills and testaments, additions and revisions.
There was light at the end of the tunnel but it began to dim when his receptionist found herself to be pregnant and decided she needed a shorter working week and Wednesdays was the day she chose.
Luckily, Mrs Cherney, his new helper, knew of an excellent new receptionist that had started working at Cartwell, Foster and Markey. A very competent girl who she felt sure would be willing and they still had the experienced Mrs Shorewood so perhaps if he asked old Mr Cartwell if he would loan her out to him one day a week, for payment, the matter could be resolved. It was done. The seeds sown. The plan made.