by Tim Kevan
He paused again, wistfully, before bringing forth a smile of happiness that looked as if it had suddenly been delivered up fresh from his youth. ‘The whole point of the tontine, BabyB, was to be able to share it with people for whom you care and I wondered if you and Claire would like to share this bottle with me tomorrow evening?’ Then he added with another smile, ‘You never know but it might help me to remember my younger self and of course it could also give us our first chance to discuss the hospital case.’
As I was leaving, OldRuin looked up and said, ‘BabyB, I know how busy and stressful life is for you at the moment but please, just for me, try to get there on time and to leave your work behind you. Just for one evening.’
And so that is what I will be doing tomorrow evening.
Wednesday 28 May 2008
Year 2 (week 35): A bit of work
‘Did you get that work done, Ms UpTights?’ asked HeadClerk this morning.
‘Sags, bags and bingo wings,’ said OldSmoothie. ‘Can’t you tell?’
‘Oh yes, very funny, I’m sure,’ said UpTights. ‘We’ll see if you’re feeling as full of yourself next Tuesday when your so-called witness, WhistleBlower, is due in court.’
‘Well, I think you’re looking very healthy at the moment, Ms UpTights,’ said HeadClerk, ever the diplomat.
‘It’s funny you should say that actually since I’ve been doing gym five times a week recently.’
At which point TheVamp entered the room and immediately enquired, ‘Who’s Jim?’
Thursday 29 May 2008
Year 2 (week 35): Old friends
I have to admit that I was pretty nervous about going out to drinks last night given that Claire would be coming along as well. But despite my reservations, it went very well thanks to the charm of OldRuin. After we’d arrived and sat down, he started off the proceedings by pouring a glass of his treasured wine and saying, ‘I propose a toast to the importance of good friends.’
Though I didn’t get a chance to talk to Claire by myself, he kept the conversation going smoothly all evening and whenever it appeared that it might be getting awkward, he took our minds off things by asking Claire about specific legal points on the hospital case. I still don’t know quite what’s going on with Claire and her new man but for last night at least it didn’t seem to matter. When the bottle came to an end and we went on to dinner, the conversation had turned to much lighter fare and for one evening at least the cloud really did lift. Above all, I realised quite how much I’d missed Claire although it looks like I will have to resign myself to being just good friends.
Friday 30 May 2008
Year 2 (week 35): Glimmer of hope
For the first time in weeks there does at least appear to be some glimmer of hope on the horizon, albeit limited. Firstly, I heard from the Bar Standards Board today and they have agreed to adjourn the hearing until the end of the Moldy litigation. This gives me more time to work on my contingency plan of getting TopFirst to withdraw the complaint.
Then there’s WhistleBlower, who TheBoss still hasn’t managed to find, despite now having her address courtesy of TopFlirt. However, he remains optimistic that he will be able to use the address to track her down in the next few crucial days. Finally, there’s our dear old clients TheMoldies who this week have been giving evidence about their suffering, and regardless as to how weak the substance of our case really is, the judge can’t help but sympathise with their cause.
Particularly when he’s also being brainwashed.
Chapter 9
June: JudgeFetish
Monday 2 June 2008
Year 2 (week 36): Needle in a haystack
There’s a cartoon in which a very worried and tired-looking lawyer is in a room filled from floor to ceiling with law books and he says, ‘The worst of it is that I know the answer’s in here somewhere.’ It’s just how I feel today, after OldSmoothie has officially put me on WhistleBlower duty. Track her down, he says – or else. The difficulty is that it’s quite possible that she’s run into hiding as a result of threats from the telecom company and so she could literally be holed up anywhere. At least that was the difficulty until I received a text today from TopFlirt telling me that she has discovered the new whereabouts of our key witness. Finally, I thought I might be getting somewhere.
So that is why I found myself in deepest Sussex this afternoon and when I eventually located WhistleBlower I presented her with a witness summons that I had had issued after TopFlirt had finally given me her name and address. She seemed shocked that I had found her and also, I have to admit, a little frightened. I really did feel for her, particularly as she was only in the middle of this due to trying to do the right thing in the first place. I had a long chat with her and tried to reassure her that it would all work out. I also told her that if she really had serious worries as to her safety then I was sure that the police would help out. As I left I gave her a summary of about twenty of our cases in which TheMoldies are claiming injury, complete with pictures and life stories, which I hope will pull on her conscience.
It’s now eight in the evening and I am just hoping that she turns up tomorrow, because without her we remain in serious difficulties.
Tuesday 3 June 2008
Year 2 (week 36): Rustling
Thankfully WhistleBlower turned up today. She did so at around two in the afternoon and far too late to get all her evidence in, but at least she made it. It seems she did indeed go to the police because she marched in with one of them in tow. As we had expected, the other side kicked up an enormous fuss, particularly given the fact that they’ve recently taken the line that the documents are forgeries, presumably on the basis that they felt there was no chance that WhistleBlower would ever make it into a courtroom. They immediately demanded an adjournment and the judge was looking like he was minded to grant it.
Then OldSmoothie stood up and actually earned his ridiculously large brief fee in a few sentences. ‘Perhaps, we might just be able to have the evidence-in-chief this afternoon? After all, that’ll allow the other side to know exactly what is being said by this witness.’
In other words, WhistleBlower could at least start her evidence today. As OldSmoothie continued to great effect, there was a huge commotion at the back of the court. A couple of executives from the telecom company were trying to make their solicitor get UpTights’s attention. This is a big mistake when you’re dealing with UpTights I can tell you. She resolutely ignored each one of the stage whispers being thrown in her direction until eventually the solicitor started putting Post-it notes on her back. Still she didn’t turn round and within the space of about ten minutes the back of her jacket and even her hair had turned yellow.
We were eventually allowed to start WhistleBlower’s evidence off and she did the business by stating that all the documents she had provided were originals and even elaborating on the cover-up that had taken place within the company.
After this, OldSmoothie got up and said, ‘Given that the other side have said all along that these documents are forgeries, before we adjourn today could they indicate to us whether they will continue to peddle such a lie or not. We, too, need to be able to prepare our case for the adjourned hearing.’
Whilst the rustling behind her continued, you could see UpTights’s normally ramrod straight back sag slightly. She was stumped. Even to hesitate would be to indicate to the judge that she didn’t believe her own client’s case. When she eventually got up and mumbled that they could not possibly know what would be the case in the face of such late evidence, the judge’s eyebrows were already raised and you could tell that he was mightily unconvinced.
So her testimony that the documents were true was allowed in. Now we just have to keep WhistleBlower available to give the rest of her evidence, which the judge has set for next week. If she fails to turn up the other side will rightly claim that without being able to challenge it, her evidence won’t amount to a hill of beans.
Wednesday 4 June 2008
Ye
ar 2 (week 36): The long con
HeadofChambers accosted me in the clerks room this morning. ‘I assume that you don’t intend to go to court like that?’ he said.
‘Er, yes, that’s exactly what I’m about to do. Is there something wrong?’
‘Is there something wrong? Hmm, where to start?’ He took a deep breath and went on, ‘BabyBarista, I had the benefit of having been born looking like a barrister . . .’ You couldn’t be more right there, I thought. He then waved his hand theatrically and continued, ‘. . . but you on the other hand didn’t.’ He gave me one of his particularly patronising smiles before continuing, ‘However, fortunately for you, I intend to help.’
‘Hmm, help in dressing me up like a pompous old fool stuck in the nineteenth century when, believe it or not, court hearings are now being blogged about and even the next Prime Minister knows what Converse trainers are . . .’ is what I’d have liked to have said. Instead I simply replied, ‘Oh.’
‘Yes, I’ve already talked to you about getting rid of that rucksack of yours and investing in a leather pilot bag. Clients will never respect a man with a rucksack.’
‘Oh.’
‘Then I see that recently you’ve taken to wearing shirts without double cuffs.’
‘It avoids the need for cufflinks,’ I replied.
‘That may be so but no opponent is ever going to take you seriously with cheap cuffs.’
‘Oh.’
‘And as for your slip-on shoes and off-the-peg suit . . .’ He was at this point literally lost for words.
‘BabyBarista, if you’re not careful, you’ll have fallen so low that people will . . .’ he hesitated as if he was going to deliver a terrible blow for which somehow I needed to be braced, ‘. . . people will think . . .’ another hesitation and then he spat out the words with an expression I imagine he has when he’s just sipped a wine which has gone off, ‘. . . people will think, BabyBarista, that you’re a solicitor.’
‘What was it Mark Twain said?’ smiled OldRuin, who had been listening in. ‘Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.’
Later on I received another update from BrainWasher.
‘We’ve decided to try and convince the judge that in fact he’s suffering the effects of mobile poisoning himself,’ he said.
‘And how are you doing that?’ I asked.
‘Two pronged. First, we’ve set up a pressure group in his local area in Fulham campaigning against a nearby mobile mast.’
‘Which at least exists, I assume?’
‘Er, well, not exactly, but we’re counting on him not investigating further than the headlines in the local paper, which we’ve also managed to manipulate by paying his local seller to provide the judge with our own fake copies of the paper.’
‘But then you still need to make him think he’s actually suffering.’
‘That’s true. Which is why we’ve had our people working on his journey to and from work each day. For example, the newspaper seller has again come in handy. Twice now the judge has handed over five pounds and the seller has given him change for amounts greater than that. When he’s questioned him and offered the money back, the seller’s sleight of hand has left the judge doubting his own mind.’
Oh.
Thursday 5 June 2008
Year 2 (week 36): QueenBee
Smutton called me over to her office again today. The more I see of this glamorous solicitor the more she brings to mind a queen bee dominating the hive around her. This is not only because she’s more alpha than any male or simply because she makes the other solicitors around her appear like drones. No, it’s also because, above all, she is always ready with a sting in her tail. Today it was aimed at the judge himself.
‘I’d like your assistance in looking a little closer into the er, personal affairs of our good friend the judge in the Moldy litigation.’
‘How can I help?’ I asked.
‘Well, it just so happens that I’ve discovered the name of the lady with whom he is having an affair. He’s something of a sugar daddy to her by all accounts. She’s a friend of a friend and tomorrow evening you and I will be attending a drinks party that she is hosting. Sound good?’
‘Er, yes. Sure,’ I replied. ‘But what exactly do you want me to do?’
‘Oh, BabyB. You’re not quite as naïve as you like to let people believe. Let’s just say I’d like you to get to know her a little better and discover if the judge has any . . .’ she drew breath, smiled and then continued, ‘. . . special interests. I’m sure you’ll work it out.’
With which she dismissed me from her presence and left me to ponder my first meeting with SugarBaby.
All in all . . . bee-witching . . . (sorry).
Friday 6 June 2008
Year 2 (week 36): Virgin on the rude
‘I’ve been examining law students today,’ said OldSmoothie at chambers tea.
‘Yes, I bet you have,’ said BusyBody sarcastically.
‘In every conceivable way, no doubt,’ said UpTights.
‘Intimately,’ added BusyBody.
‘You know, sometimes I get sick and tired of the two of you lowering the tone of every conversation with your whining and innuendo. Particularly when it concerns the people who carry the future of this great nation on their shoulders. Low-grade, petty and occasionally even potty-mouthed cant if you ask me.’
‘Which is rich coming from a low-grade, petty and often potty-mouthed . . .’
BusyBody drew breath to deliver her final verdict and as she did everyone else stopped talking as they feared she might be about to go just too far. Then quick as a flash TheVamp interrupted with, ‘. . . runt, naturally.’
Collective sighs of relief followed and then OldSmoothie, assuming his most haughty and pompous look, said, ‘Ladies, listen to yourselves carping away like the three witches in Macbeth. All I would offer you in reply are the fine words of Aristophanes: “To be insulted by you is to be garlanded with lilies.”’
BusyBody fell quiet, as if surprised that for once she’d been included in the specific insults that are usually directed at UpTights. Then she looked at OldSmoothie and said, ‘Why are you always so rude to UpTights?’
‘Because she’s a calcified witch,’ said OldSmoothie without even blinking. ‘Her heart turned to stone years ago and whatever soul she had wasn’t able to survive in the bitterness and bile that pumps through her veins.’
‘But you’ve got to admit that you just enjoy being nasty,’ said TheCreep, rather uncharacteristically.
‘Oh do give it up, won’t you,’ said OldSmoothie. ‘You young ones are all the same. So full of wide-eyed hypocrisy that you don’t even realise you’re all headed in just the same direction. You can carp all you like but as sure as the sun goes up, and in UpTights’s case down, one day in, er . . .’ he coughed, ‘. . . twenty years time, you’ll wake up and realise that you’ve turned into us, whether you like it or not.’
Then he looked at TheCreep and gave a cruel smile, pointed at him and said, ‘Although, that’s not to say you’re going to suddenly start growing, in case you’re wondering.’
By now he had drawn an audience and he continued his lecture. ‘You’ve already set your trajectory. You just don’t realise it yet. You won’t until it’s far too late. It’s like when they used to warn you about the wind changing when you were a child. Whatever might be in those oh so earnest little hearts of yours, you’re never going to be a UN goodwill ambassador or win a Nobel Prize. You’re never going to climb Mount Everest, or even simply live by the sea and write a novel. Instead cash will be king, your clerks will have more say over your lives than your family and you’ll all have glorious careers at the great English Bar. So wake up kids and smell the stink of your lost dreams. They left town when you signed up for law school and boarded the cop-out-and-get-rich train of hypocrisy.’
There was prolonged silence and then everyone returned to their cups of tea and conversations as if nothing unusual had
occurred at all. As I listened to OldSmoothie, I thought of my mum’s and Claire’s outbursts and of the grubby depths to which I had allowed myself to be dragged by Slippery and ScandalMonger and for a moment the bleak truth of OldSmoothie’s words left me shaken.
Immediately after chambers tea I had a short conference with Arthur and Ethel in chambers and afterwards I took them along to meet OldRuin. As he poured them tea from a pot that he’d just made Ethel said, ‘Hmm, we do like a good cup of Lapsang.’
OldRuin smiled and said, ‘Yes, it’s silly really but it’s my favourite because it takes me back to the smell of the smoked tea we’d make as children as we built a fire and played by the river.’
‘For me it’s linseed oil on willow,’ said Arthur. ‘Just the slightest whiff and I’m taken back to those long lazy Summer afternoons watching the village cricket as you wait to go in to bat.’
‘Which always reminds me of white-sliced cucumber sandwiches, scones and a big urn of hot tea,’ said Ethel.
It was no surprise that they all got on extremely well. Before they were about to leave Arthur gave me a far more serious look than he’s ever done when talking about the case and said, ‘I’m afraid that whilst we were waiting earlier we overheard what OldSmoothie was saying, BabyBarista. In fact I think the whole of the Temple did for that matter.’
‘Oh,’ I said, looking embarrassed. ‘Yes, we’re all doomed to end up like him.’
‘Don’t you believe a word of it, young man. There’s always hope. Right up to the end. Never let him tarnish those dreams with that terrible jaded cynicism, which reflects only on him.’
OldRuin smiled and said, ‘It’s true, BabyB. You’re part of a wonderful profession which will allow you to do whatever you choose.’ His voice lowered as he continued, ‘Though we have to be careful to avoid it becoming all-consuming.’