Craven Conflict

by David Cooper

  Soraya sat down, deciding that there was no need to make any further point about the relevance of the phone records. She knew that she had been pushing against an open door.

  “That seems eminently sensible. I trust there is no objection, Mr Wagstaff?”

  Oblivious to Karen’s triumphant glare from the row behind, Wagstaff shrunk into his place and tried his hardest to look aggrieved. The judge wasted no more time.

  “Very well. I shall make the order in accordance with the draft attached to the application, on a seven day basis. I trust that when the trial is so close, I will not be called upon to consider any issue of non-compliance. Is there any objection to the Claimant’s costs of this application, as set out in the summary I have before me?”

  Wagstaff sensed one last chance to salvage something from what had been a spectacularly unsuccessful attempt to oppose Karen’s application.

  “Your Honour, I ask that the order for costs is stayed until the trial is concluded. My clients are covered by legal expenses insurance, and the funding of interim costs is currently outside the scope of their policy terms…”

  Soraya stood to make an intervention, but was again spared the need.

  “Mr Wagstaff, I’m afraid that won’t wash. The Defendants chose to resist this application, no doubt following your advice. There is no good reason for the Claimant to be left out of pocket when it obtained the very order it was asking for. The costs shall be paid within seven days. I am aware that this is the second occasion, during the course of what should have been a mutually cooperative approach to the accelerated trial timetable, that the Defendants have had a time consuming interim application decided against them. In this day and age, litigation is not to be approached as if it were guerrilla warfare. Now, before I rise, may I just ask if there is any prospect of this dispute settling before trial?”

  “I fear not, Your Honour.” Soraya was quickly on her feet again. “There has been some Part 36 correspondence, but without going into improper detail the gulf would appear to be too wide to be bridged.” She sat down and looked across at Wagstaff, who stood and acknowledged that the point just made was a fair one.

  “Very well. I will see you all back here for the trial in three weeks.”

  Judge Banks rose to her feet and went through the customary closing rituals before exiting via the door behind the podium, her short bob of red hair contrasting sharply with her stern courtroom attire as she disappeared from sight. Wagstaff quickly gathered his papers together, his anger plain to see, and strode out of the courtroom without a further word, the dishevelled figure of Hutchings scuttling along behind him. Lennie gestured in Hutchings’ direction, unable to resist a joke.

  “I wouldn’t like to be in that bloke’s shoes on the way back to the office. Wagstaff’s probably the kind of man who’d kick the dog if he was in a bad mood.”

  Soraya suppressed a giggle, but Karen saw no reason to hold back her laughter.

  “That’s no way to talk about his trainee!”

  “I suppose not. And he’s never going to win Crufts if he doesn’t spruce himself up.” This time the laughter was mutual all round. “Anyway, let’s get serious for a moment. Karen, it’s going to be really useful if I could pre-empt these phone records with all the relevant numbers. If you or Dawn could trawl your files and round them up ahead of next Friday, we’ll have a running start. Obviously that’s going to mean the three paralegals, and Craven, and that solicitor who ditched you – Hillier, was it? – and Gemma Gabriel, and Dawn’s number too just in case there’s any issue over the way Avery was trying to destabilise her…”

  “And don’t forget the law firm contacts too.” Soraya spoke up. “It might be a real challenge, but if you could use the phone traffic to tie any of the candidates in with interviewers, that could be a real help.”

  At that moment Karen’s phone rang. She looked at the display but decided not to take the call.

  “Probably just a reminder from Dawn about my next meeting. I’d better go. Thanks for everything today. Pity that wasn’t the trial.”

  “I know.” Soraya replied. “I hardly had to say a word today. It’s not going to be anything like that in three weeks.”

  * * * * *

  Craven looked across the crowded café, glad that he had taken the trouble earlier in the week to find out exactly where it was, even at the cost of a later train home. He was gripped by a sense of unease at the unfamiliar surroundings and the throng of shoppers, until he noticed Jackie’s waving hand. He hurried over to the table where she had been nursing a mug of coffee for the last ten minutes. She rose to her feet.

  “What can I get you? I’m having a tuna sandwich.”

  “Er…that sounds good. Or chicken.”

  “Drink?”

  “Just a lemonade, thanks.”

  Jackie was soon back from the self service counter. They caught up with each other’s latest work news, before she finally came round to explaining why she had asked Craven to join her in the café rather than her office.

  “I had my meeting with Michael Stephens, the managing partner, yesterday morning. Ruth had let me know in advance that everything was on course for my promotion. I thought they were only going to be telling me when it was going to happen, and what I’d be allowed to say before the news broke. Well, I heard that all right. The big date’s September the first, and the announcement’s likely to be made in the next four weeks, once all the other departments have made their minds up about who they want to promote. There’s something going on with a new recruit in the corporate department as well, someone who’ll be coming straight in as an associate, so they need to tie that in as well.”

  “That all sounds complicated. At least it’s good news for you. I bet you’re pleased about that.”

  “Yes, I am.” Jackie hesitated. “But there was something else that came up. My head of department Hugh Bennett was at the meeting as well. And he made some comment about how all senior fee earners need to watch whose company they keep, outside and inside the firm.”

  Craven was confused. “I don’t understand that. Surely if someone’s no good at their job, they’d just be fired or told they needed to improve?”

  Jackie almost laughed, but knew that the subject was far from trivial.

  “It’s not as easy as that, Paul, but that’s not the issue. Let me tell you something. I’ve never been someone to look down on the secretaries or the office juniors, and I probably take it too far sometimes. Maybe sharing the odd piece of information, or explaining a bit more about what I’m doing for clients. Some people wouldn’t, but it’s just the way I am. Do as you would be done by. So I asked if he meant I shouldn’t be quite as familiar with the support staff. I thought I’d make a bit of a joke of it. But it’s what Bennett said then…”

  Craven dared not interrupt as Jackie paused once more.

  “He told me it wasn’t the support staff he was thinking about. ‘Just a piece of friendly advice’, as he put it. Hoped I’d take it as it was intended. He obviously wasn’t going to explain himself any more, and there was no way I could ask him what he was on about. Not in front of the managing partner, when it was so obvious he agreed with every word. Stephens really is all powerful. And I certainly couldn’t kick up a fuss when I’d just been told that the promotion’s as good as mine.”

  “That’s odd.” Craven was oblivious to what Jackie was driving at. He had not deduced any link between her explanation and the venue she had chosen for lunch. “I wonder what he was on about?”

  “Paul, sometimes you’re really too naïve for your own good. I’m sorry to have to spell it out, but I’m as convinced as I ever will be that he was referring to you.”

  “To me? But…” Craven was almost lost for words. “We only ever meet up on Friday lunchtimes. I’m not interrupting your work, and you’re not interrupting mine. How can it be me…” Craven tailed off, slowly realising what might have led Jackie to her suspicions.

  “It really pains me to say thi
s, Paul, but I think it’s something to do with you coming out with your disability two weeks ago.”

  For what seemed to be a very long minute, Craven stared silently at the floor. Jackie left him to reply in his own time, never expecting the words he eventually found.

  “I’ve landed you in trouble, haven’t I…I’m so sorry…”

  “Don’t be silly. You haven’t done anything wrong. If the people who run this place want to adopt attitudes like that, it’s their lookout. They’re the ones at fault. But I can’t ignore it…”

  “What makes you so certain it’s me they’re talking about?” Craven asked. “If no one’s said anything, how can you be sure?”

  “Paul, I can’t. But I do remember something from last Friday. Not long after you’d gone, Ruth came in. She asked me who you were. Wanted to know if we had any shared client files. I told her we were both involved on the Mansell estate, doing different things. Then she came out with some odd comment about how often you seemed to be up on our floor. So I said we just met up every week for a friendly chat. Come to think of it, she did give me a bit of a funny look when I told her.”

  “That’s really…” Craven thought for a moment. “Isn’t that disability discrimination? There’s definitely something in the handbook about not treating anyone less favourably if it’s because of disability…”

  “Oh, come on, Paul, you’ve got to get real. These policies are only ever going to be relevant if one employee was picking on another, and if it meant the partners had to step in. There’s no chance any of the partners themselves would be pulled up over what’s in a staff handbook. The only thing people like you and me can do is keep a low profile, thank our lucky stars we’ve got a decent job and a decent salary, and bite our tongues. Or vote with our feet and leave. I’ve been dead set on this promotion for ages, and if I dare say so, the last thing you want to do now is say something out of turn and risk being on the dole again.”

  Craven lapsed into another embarrassing silence. Jackie leaned over and squeezed his hand, ignoring his startled reaction.

  “I’m sorry for being so blunt. But that’s the world we live in. And that’s why I’ve gone through this subterfuge so that we could have our usual Friday lunch well out of the way of prying eyes.”

  By now it was obvious even to Craven that Jackie was becoming upset.

  “I’m really grateful, Jackie. Now I understand why you did it.” He looked at his watch. “Maybe I ought to leave five minutes ahead of you as well. I suppose we can’t be seen going back to the office together.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. Can I just say something. I still enjoy your company. But I’ve really got to watch myself now. If you’re OK coming here for lunch on Fridays, that’s going to be the best way round it. There’s no chance of any bigwig from the firm ever coming to eat in this café, as far as I can see. Is that all right?”

  Craven looked around. The crowd of shoppers was not remotely to his taste, but the privacy made sense.

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  Craven left the café on his own as he had suggested. He found it hard to concentrate on any of his client work for the rest of the afternoon, torn between his dismay at what Jackie had explained and his determination not to cause her any problems. It was all the more frustrating to him, having spent much of an earlier weekend carefully reading through the newly published staff handbook, that Jackie thought its publication and distribution to the firm’s employees was nothing more than an empty gesture.

  Tuesday 28 th May

  For a change, Karen found herself returning to the office after a Bank Holiday weekend with something of a spring in her step on the social front. And on this occasion, not wanting to tempt fate, she was determined to keep everything to herself and tell no one what had come her way.

  The invitation to an impromptu dinner party with the same group of friends she had recently accompanied to Wales had been welcome in its own right. But she had never expected to find an unfamiliar man there. It had fallen to the organiser of the Welsh trip, Penny Buckler, to catch Karen out.

  “Let me introduce you to my brother Edward. He’s been dying to meet you. Well, I’ve told him he should be!”

  By the end of the evening, Karen had found out that Edward Buckler was a consultant surgeon and that he had just taken up a vacancy at a private clinic in Edgbaston, leaving himself with the need to make the finishing touches to his permanent relocation from Cheshire. The move was part and parcel of a clean break with the past following his divorce, from which he had managed to emerge on relatively amicable terms. His son had just begun his medicine degree at Birmingham University, which had been a further incentive for Edward to look for a fresh start locally.

  Karen had cautiously estimated Edward to be just under fifty years old, and could not rid herself of the unpleasant memory of Squire, who would not have been that much older than him. But on this occasion she had firmly banished any possible ulterior motives to the back of her mind, and had concentrated on enjoying the get together for its own sake.

  “Can I see you again some time?”

  It had been a very guarded enquiry on Edward’s part, carefully out of the others’ earshot, when Karen was taking her leave.

  “Yes, why not?”

  They had ended up exchanging phone numbers. Edward had explained that his work and relocation commitments were going to leave him very short of free time in the foreseeable future, but he had promised to call when everything had settled down, and hoped that Karen would bear with him. For her own part, Karen had mentioned how difficult it had been in recent weeks to juggle work responsibilities with the growing burden of the trial, and that she hoped to have more time on her hands before long. And she had made a silent promise to herself that her new friendship would remain a secret until she knew whether it was likely to develop any further.

  It fell, inadvertently, to Dawn to rain on Karen’s parade later that morning, after the two of them had exchanged their usual pleasantries about the weekend.

  “Have you seen the Gazette?”

  “No, haven’t got round to it yet. Anything I need to know about?”

  “I reckon so. Remember that insolvency bloke Rod Hillier? The one who jumped ship and went off to Wayne four weeks ago, after you lost the first hearing?”

  “What about him?”

  “Just managed to get himself placed. And not just any old job. New head of department.”

  “Jesus Christ. Let me see.”

  Karen read the report on the latest high level collateral hires within the legal profession. The Manchester firm who had taken Hillier on, to ‘head up a fast growing team’, were not quite at premier level in their region, but were not far off. She thought of the likely salary that her former candidate would have been seeking, and the commission that would have found its way to her if she had introduced him, and winced.

  “I’d better see what Lennie thinks.”

  Lennie did not take long before replying. ‘Hang on for the bank records disclosure this week. They might give us a clue. I’ll take a view before I try to force anything else out of Wayne. We know Hillier signed an exclusive agreement with Wayne – he said so in his farewell email to you. Wayne’s not going to admit soliciting him away, so we might just have to leave it for cross-examination.’

  Karen knew the advice was sound, but it took all of her reserves of patience to stop the red mist descending.

  Wednesday 29 th May

  With two days to go before the month end, Craven spent much of his lunch hour taking stock of how likely he would be to meet his latest billing targets. He had never expected to have the time on his hands on that particular day to do so.

  Craven knew from the intranet diary that the last Wednesday in each calendar month was the scheduled slot for the department lunch. By mid-morning, he had not received any copy of the agenda or any articles that Squire might have circulated for prior reading, and he went off in search of Sheila Driver to find out whether she or Sq
uire might be running late. He hovered at her desk, receiving a curious look as he waited for her to finish a phone call, and was soon on the receiving end of a grudging explanation.

  “Only partners and associates at the lunches from now on. There’s a memo on its way to everyone else. It’s all part of what’s going to happen when the two firms are together in the same building.”

  “But shouldn’t I have been told earlier? I’d assumed that…”

  The ringing of Sheila’s phone cut Craven off in midstream. She picked it up and studiously ignored him as she answered the call. Craven made to return to his office. He was only a few steps away from her desk when he felt sure that she had said ‘only the village idiot’ to whoever was on the other end of the phone. For a moment he froze, then hurried away, fearful of confronting her in case he had been mistaken.

  Later on, having braved the steady rain and the queue in a nearby sandwich shop, Craven found himself even more bewildered. On the way back to his office, he had decided to find out whether Laurie Dougall, one of his new friends following Blake’s initiative in the previous week, was likely to be handing over any new contested debt claims before the end of the month. Dougall was not at his desk, but his junior broke off from a phone call to explain.

  “He’s at the department lunch.”

  Futile as it would have been to ask the junior for any more detail, Craven could not understand what he had been told. Dougall was neither a solicitor nor a legal executive, he held no qualifications other than a diploma, and had built up the firm’s debt collection practice purely on intuition and instinct. It made no sense to Craven, as a qualified legal executive, to find himself omitted from the list of invitees when Dougall had evidently remained on it. Unable to work out any logical reason, he decided that he would ask Squire whether he had been accidentally overlooked, but only when a suitable opportunity presented itself.