by Olly Jarvis
Jack saw Rupert Aston emerging, deep in conversation with some NCA solicitors. Jack called him over. ‘How was it, Rupert?’
‘The prize giving? It was carnage. Purley got twenty-seven. Twenty-five for Rako, with his credit for the late plea. The foot soldiers got between twelve and sixteen. Great result for you two, though.’
‘Hey! Over here, you two,’ shouted someone through the crowd. It was Jim Smith from the Manchester Evening News, beckoning them into a conference room. He shut the door. ‘I wanted you to hear this first,’ he said. He read from his pad. ‘A rookie legal team secured a sensational acquittal today at Manchester Crown Court. Carl Marpit, represented by solicitor Lara Panassai of Dobkin and Co., and barrister Jack Kowalski—’
Lara interrupted him. ‘Jim, I’ve got something for you. To thank you.’
‘Eh? For what?’
‘The file you gave me. I’ve never leaked information to a journalist before and I never will again, but I suppose I owe you.’
She handed him a copy of Paula Hughes’ statement. ‘Jim, screw the bastard!’
As she and Jack got to the exit, Lara suddenly stopped. ‘I’ll be back in a second. You get the drinks in, Jack.’
‘OK, see you there.’
Chapter 88
Lara walked into Court Three.
His Honour Judge Matthew Finlay was finishing a mention hearing. He saw Lara immediately. ‘I’ll rise,’ he announced.
After a few minutes, an usher came and spoke to Lara. ‘The judge would like to see you in chambers, Miss Panassai. Please follow me.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, trying to keep a lid on her anger.
The usher led her into the small room.
The judge was at his desk, robed but without his wig. ‘Thank you, Greg,’ he said to the usher. ‘I’ll call you if I need you.’
Greg shut the door behind him.
‘Great result in Marpit, Lara. Just heard.’
‘It seems to be a day for verdicts,’ she said coldly. ‘Did you hear about Katterman?’
‘Yeah, he lost, poor bugger. That’ll hurt,’ he laughed.
‘Not that. About him killing my parents.’
The laughter ceased.
She continued. ‘But I guess you knew. Something tells me you knew. I mean, you were Katterman’s pupil-master. I’ll bet he confessed to you. Why else would you suddenly track me down?’
‘Lara, hang on!’
‘Don’t you dare lie to me. You knew, didn’t you?’
The judge sighed. ‘Yes, I knew.’
Lara stood for a moment, dumbfounded.
‘There was no point telling you. It would have destroyed you. I did what I thought was best for you.’
‘You appeased Katterman’s guilt and helped yourself to a young girl.’
‘You know it wasn’t like that, Lara.’
‘Wasn’t it? I lost my virginity at sixteen, to a man in his fifties. You made me think I needed you. I was so desperate to be loved. You damaged me. Exploited me. I can’t believe it’s taken me all this time to see it.’
‘Lara, please!’
‘It suited you to let me rot in some shitty care home until I was old enough to be your lover, didn’t it? Made me more needy. You groomed me.’
The judge became angry. ‘I left my wife for you!’
‘No, Matthew. You left your wife for you!’
The usher opened the door slightly. ‘Everything OK, sir?’
Lara replied, ‘Yes, I was just leaving.’ She moved towards the door.
‘Please, Lara. Let’s talk about this.’
She stopped, turned and went back to Matthew’s desk. She leaned over it and spoke to him through gritted teeth. ‘You are dead to me.’ She stood up straight again and added, ‘Old man.’
She left him – alone with his thoughts.
Chapter 89
Jack waved Lara over as she came into the pub. He desperately wanted to say something to her before the other counsel in the case arrived. He thought that if he didn’t declare his feelings now, he maybe never would.
‘Lara…’ he began. Then his phone rang.
He answered it, but couldn’t hear above the revelry. ‘Back in a sec.’ He popped outside the entrance and took the call.
‘Who was it?’ asked Lara.
‘It was Romek. The kitchen has flooded again,’ said Jack, annoyed by the thought of not having an opportunity to talk to Lara properly. ‘It’s all to do with the sink. Only I know how to sort it, apparently.’
Lara couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Lucky you weren’t in court. You’d better go, then.’
‘It won’t take long. Come along. Please,’ he said, trying not to sound too desperate.
They walked outside into the damp autumnal air.
‘Good news,’ said Jack, holding out an upturned palm. ‘It’s stopped raining.’
Lara stood still and looked to the heavens. ‘You’re not going to believe this, Jack. I think I miss it!’
Epilogue
Five minutes later, Romek was waiting for them at the door. ‘Come in, come in. My two little magpies!’
As they entered the restaurant, they were greeted by a round of applause. Everyone from chambers was there; even the waiters were clapping. As well as Ken Dobkin and Jack’s father.
Simon Huntsman squeezed between them, taking an arm from each and raising it in the air. ‘The victors.’
More applause and cheers.
It was Sarah Dale who brought proceedings to order. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Those of you at Century Buildings will know that there have been some urgently assembled chambers meetings to consider an application for tenancy in the last few days. It was an easy decision to make – and a mark of how far Century Buildings has come, that we can attract tenants of this quality.’
Jack was blushing.
‘So I would like you all to welcome our newest tenant, Paul Effiong.’
Paul appeared from behind a pillar and humbly acknowledged the applause.
Jack was glad for chambers, but devastated for himself.
Sarah continued. ‘When we asked Paul why he wanted to leave a chambers like Paramount for Century Buildings, he told us that he wanted to be in a chambers that holds dear principles of equality, diversity and excellence. He said he wanted to be part of something that was able to produce brilliant young talent. People of real substance, with values. People like Jack Kowalski.’
Jack caught Paul’s eye, who raised his glass and winked.
‘Please welcome our newest tenant, if he’ll have us! Jack Kowalski.’
The congratulations seemed to last forever, led by Simon Huntsman, who was glowing with pride. As the mass of hands to shake subsided, Jack saw his father standing slightly away from the party. Words didn’t need to be exchanged. Mariusz shook Jack’s hand, grasping it with both of his own. ‘My son. My son.’
‘Excuse me, Mr Kowalski,’ said a chirpy young barrister’s clerk. Jack had seen him before around the courts. ‘Courtesy of Mr Otterwood, sir.’ He handed Jack a red wig bag. Jack opened it and read the inscription inside: ‘Jack Kowalski – a “stand-up” barrister, held in high esteem. John Otterwood, QC.’
Jack smiled.
‘Mr Otterwood sends his apologies for not having time to have your initials sewn on, sir. But he said you’d probably like to use your own tailor, anyway.’
Jack was overwhelmed. ‘Please thank him for me.’
Jack showed it to his father. ‘It’s a great honour, Tata. You can’t buy a red bag. It has to be given by a silk, in recognition of work done on a case.’
Mariusz beamed with pride. He took the bag from Jack’s hands. ‘I go now.’
‘No, Dad. Stay, have a drink, please.’
‘No, no. I happy. And I want put initial on bag.’ He slipped quietly away.
Jack rejoined the party.
Lara was grinning from ear to ear. ‘So how does it feel to be a tenant, at last?’
Jack ignored her question. �
��Lara. Listen. I’ve been wanting to say. I think… so much has happened in the last week… and I…’ He gazed into her emerald eyes.
They twinkled back. ‘I know. What an experience. You’ve come a long way since I first heard you speak. You were so funny.’
‘I was? What did I say?’
‘Don’t you remember? Skart asked who was defending Billy Birt. You said, “I do”. Say it again, Jack?’ she teased.
At that moment, Rafe appeared from nowhere and put an arm round Lara, grinning at Jack. ‘Miss Panassai, now you’re a fully qualified solicitor at Dobkin and Co., there are plenty of barristers here who want to meet you. I’ll introduce you, come this way.’
Jack felt oddly bereft and out of place as he watched Rafe steer Lara into a group of charismatic male barristers. The moment had passed, but he said the words anyway: ‘I do. I do.’
‘Never mind, sir. You’ve had a booking!’
It was Bob, his clerk.
He handed Jack a glass of champagne.
‘It’s a sexual touching, sir. Starts Monday.’
First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © 2016 by Olly Jarvis
The moral right of Olly Jarvis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781911420095
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co
