by David Cooper
Soraya looked down at her notes. The answer to the next question could be crucial.
“Did Mr Avery mention Mr Craven to you when he contacted you?”
“Did he mention Mr Craven…let me think now…the first call from him would presumably have been to reintroduce himself and tell me he’d just started up on his own account…so I would have told him I was looking for someone to fill an existing vacancy, and that I was pretty keen to get hold of someone ASAP…and he promised he’d see what he could do. So in that case no, he couldn’t have mentioned him when he first got back in touch.”
Although she kept a straight face, Soraya knew that Squire’s answer had dovetailed with what Avery had stated on the previous day. Avery had carefully explained how lucky Craven had been in making contact again after such a long time, because Squire had just briefed him to search for a new candidate. Had Squire answered that Avery’s phone call was not merely to share the news of his decision to strike out on his own, but also a speculative pitch on Craven’s behalf, Avery’s version of events would have been undermined. She marked a cross next to the question, then changed her mind and decided to pursue it further.
“So when did you first hear about Mr Craven?”
Squire carefully considered his answer.
“I expect it would have been later that day, or possibly the morning after.”
“And you agreed to interview him almost immediately, simply on a spoken word recommendation?”
“Where’s this leading, Miss Modaresi?” Judge Banks intervened. “We mustn’t lose sight of the fact that your clients’ grievance is with Mr Avery, not Mr Squire.”
“Indeed not, Your Honour.” Soraya replied. “I am simply looking to explore whether Mr Craven might in fact have been introduced to Mr Squire’s firm earlier than we have been led to understand.”
“I hope you appreciate how far reaching such a line of enquiry comes across. Mr Squire is, of course, an officer of the court in his professional capacity.”
“Your Honour, I take your point.” Soraya looked down to her notes once more, and Squire chose to speak up.
“In answer to the last question, Your Honour, I did of course receive a CV first. It has never been my practice to interview a candidate for employment simply on a spoken word recommendation, to use Counsel’s own phrase.”
“May I be taken to that document?” The judge intervened once more and the CV was quickly located in the bundle. Karen had noticed during the disclosure process many weeks earlier that it was Craven’s own plain paper CV, rather than a more official looking version on Wave Recruitment notepaper. “Thank you. Please carry on.”
“So when do you say you received this CV?”
“Well, now, if the first I heard from Mr Avery about his new business was on the Tuesday, and if Mr Craven came in for the interview on a Thursday, it must have been on the Tuesday afternoon or the Wednesday morning. Can I just make something completely clear. It’s not unusual to move quickly for available candidates on my side of the profession. I’d made two job offers to other candidates, and they’d both turned it down. One of my associates was about to go off on maternity leave. There was no end of specialist client work in need of someone to do it. I couldn’t just sit and wait.”
Squire had deliberately embellished his answer, straying into issues of borderline relevance, in the hope that he would manage to avoid any question about Craven’s interview itself. For her own part, Soraya was still mindful of the judge’s rebuke from a few minutes earlier about pushing Squire too far without good cause, and moved to a related issue.
“Mr Squire, you will see in the bundle a copy of your own internal memo about no meeting rooms being available at Bastable & Co on the twenty first of March, the day you say you interviewed Mr Craven.”
“I do indeed.”
“I hope you will see the inconsistency. Can you clear it up?” Soraya knew she could go no further, and could only hope to cast a small shadow of doubt.
“Of course I can. That was an instruction to non-partners.” Squire’s response was testy and he showed no sign of adding to it. Soraya realised that she was running out of ammunition, and looked back through her notes. She knew that she might have to risk Squire seizing the chance to rake over Karen’s personal turmoil once more, but sensed there was no alternative.
“Let me ask you about something else. You mentioned that you were introduced to Mr Avery so that he could finish off some commercial business that was still ongoing with Ripple.”
“Yes, after I had had my car vandalised and my family embarrassed.” Squire snapped back.
“If we leave aside the fact that there are two sides to such a story, Mr Squire, you were clearly still prepared to pay fees to Miss Rutherford’s agency, even after…”
“Of course I was.” Squire interrupted. “I’m not going to cut my nose off to spite my face by changing my mind about a job offer. Especially when I wasn’t going to have to deal with that woman again.”
“So it is at least possible that if Mr Avery had introduced Mr Craven to you before he had left Ripple…”
Collins was on his feet in an instant.
“Your Honour, this really has to stop. Mr Squire has given consistent and clear answers as to when this introduction and the interview took place. This idle speculation serves no useful purpose.”
Soraya looked in the direction of Judge Banks, who was showing no immediate sign of intervening either way. She decided that Squire’s answer would serve no useful purpose after the marker that Collins had put down.
“I will withdraw the question. Please excuse me one moment.” Soraya turned to Lennie and Karen and had a rapid whispered conversation. Neither of them had come up with any further points that were obviously worth putting to Squire. Soraya was about to call a halt, before deciding to ask one last question.
“Mr Squire, before your firm Bastables merged with Lewis Hackett, was it ever in your experience described colloquially as Bastards?”
To Soraya’s surprise, having expected a curt dismissal of her final question, Squire paused for thought and looked across the courtroom. It seemed that Squire was aiming to catch the eye of someone sitting behind Collins, but Soraya could not bring herself to look away from Squire and find out for herself who it was. Squire finally found his voice once more.
“I might have heard it on the odd rare occasion, few and far between. It’s nothing I’d ever encourage. I tend to treat things like that with the contempt they deserve.”
Soraya accepted that she had nothing else that was worth putting to Squire, and confirmed that her cross-examination was over. As Collins set about raising what seemed to be some superfluous repairs by way of re-examination, Soraya glanced behind her and could not help noticing that Karen had turned her back towards Avery’s entourage and was mopping away tears. Squire had by now affected an expression of smug superiority as he batted the remaining soft questions back in Collins’ direction. Once again he sneered in Karen’s direction as he left the witness stand, and Lennie met him with a cool look as Karen kept her head bowed.
“That’s a sensible time to break for lunch.” As expected, Judge Banks confirmed the adjournment. “Let’s resume at two fifteen, if Mr Craven’s arrived. Would you mind asking your solicitors to chase him up, Mr Collins?”
“Of course, Your Honour.”
Once Judge Banks had risen and left, Collins led his team outside without a word. Lennie looked across as they made their exit, and could not help noticing that Squire and Wagstaff lingered a few moments longer than necessary, staring in Karen’s direction and sniggering to each other as Hutchings hovered nearby. There was no sign of the journalist.
“Sorry about that. I tried my best. He wasn’t giving an inch.” Soraya knew that her words would be cold comfort.
“Not your fault.” Lennie replied. “I did begin to wonder about all that question spotting. From where I was sitting, most of it was well rehearsed, but he did have to stop and think on
ce or twice.”
“I’m just glad it’s over.” By now Karen had composed herself. “When I heard him describing me as ‘that woman’, I had a massive flashback to everything that went on last summer after that ball at the Botanical Gardens. I hope I never have to see him again as long as I live.”
“Soraya, where do you think we’re at?” Lennie asked.
Soraya hesitated.
“I’m troubled. Squire really stood his ground. He’s pretty much banged it home that Ripple would have stood no chance of placing Craven with BLH. Not even if Craven had been a Ripple candidate and Wayne had left him alone. The real problem is the way he’s played himself up as the honest professional man. And it might have left Wayne smelling of roses.”
“How do you mean?”
“Look at their skeleton argument. The only concession is that Wayne might have helped himself to a few sweeties over the paralegals. His very words. And Squire’s just had Wayne hanging onto his coat tails every step of the way, while he’s put on his elder statesman act over Craven. If we don’t improve on the pre-trial offer, and don’t get any kind of injunction, there could be trouble ahead…”
* * * * *
By the time Craven made it back to the city centre, he was not only breathless but in a state of near panic. He hurried past the BLH receptionist, not noticing her try to catch his attention as he marched determinedly towards the staircase. When he reached the second floor and sped towards his office, Sheila Driver looked up from her desk and rolled her eyes. She had taken three calls from Squire in the course of the morning, each of them enquiring after Craven’s whereabouts in increasingly exasperated tones. She half rose, intending to pursue Craven into his office, but changed her mind and sat back down.
Craven scanned his desk for the copy of his signed witness statement, which he had made before returning the original to Wagstaff in the firm’s internal post. It was exactly where he had left it. He looked down to the bottom of the first page and immediately saw the anomaly.
So I wasn’t imagining it…I need to tell someone about this…
He found a plastic wallet and inserted the statement, then looked at his watch. It was quarter to two. The court building was less than ten minutes’ walk away. He was on the verge of leaving, then paused and took the emails out of his inside pocket before glancing through them once more.
What do I do about these?
Craven sat back down at his desk. He fired off a short message to Jackie. ‘Just off to court. Need to talk to you urgently once I’m back. Desperate for some friendly advice. Any chance of a quick coffee after work?’ Having placed the emails in the plastic wallet beneath the copy of his statement, he left his office and closed the door firmly behind him. He wondered if he ought to head straight to court and speak to Wagstaff, or say something to Squire first. Choosing the latter, he went up to Squire’s office, tapped on the door and walked in, only to be confronted with an empty chair. As he retraced his steps and made to head off, he was pulled up in his tracks.
“Oi!”
The exclamation was not one that Sheila Driver would normally have used to attract a colleague’s attention, but it was plain even to Craven that she was not in the best of tempers. Craven looked at his watch again before replying.
“I’m sorry, I’m in a hurry.”
“Where on earth have you been? Mr Squire’s furious. You should have got yourself down to court ages ago.”
“My meeting overran.” It was not the complete truth, but Craven knew that the real reason for his late return was hardly one that he could share. “I’m not due on until quarter past two anyway.”
“Oh, whatever.” Her comment was lost on Craven as he turned away. “And I’ve told you before. Try not to go past my desk so quickly. You create a draught.”
Craven forgot his deeper troubles as the reprimand struck home, and he lost his composure.
“You shouldn’t use expressions like that. It sounds as if you’re giving me an order and assuming I’m not capable of complying with it. You’ve no right to give me orders anyway.”
He left the astonished secretary completely lost for words as he sped across the department floor and down the stairs. She picked up her phone and called Squire on his mobile number. Squire was walking back from court with Wagstaff past Snow Hill station when the message came through, and once he had finished the call he noticed Craven heading briskly towards them, evidently unaware of their presence.
“Leave this to me, Tony.” Squire sensed that Wagstaff would be more likely to criticise Craven for his lateness than to ensure that he was still on message. “Paul!” Squire held up a hand and Craven finally noticed him.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I need to mention something…”
“Not now, Paul. We’re on our way to a partners’ meeting. If it’s anything important, just make sure Grant Collins is in the picture. We’ve left Jake Hutchings behind to hold your hand.”
Craven had never been told who was presenting Avery’s case, and the first of the two names meant nothing to him. In turn he was displeased to hear that his least favourite colleague would be present in court. But this was not his most pressing concern. He held up the plastic wallet.
“It’s about my statement…”
Craven missed the flicker of anger that crossed Wagstaff’s face, before Squire interrupted.
“Just speak to Grant. You know what we told you. If in doubt, stop and think for the answer that’s most likely to help Wayne. Don’t go into too much detail, and it doesn’t matter if you can’t really remember anything.” Wagstaff nodded as he heard Squire echo his own words to Craven from the previous week. “And if you do get drawn into any detail, remember that the more you help Wayne, the more you’ll help yourself!”
Squire accompanied his final comment with a wink and his familiar braying laugh. The two of them walked on without any further word to Craven, leaving him ever more perplexed. For a few moments he was frozen to the spot, before remembering what he had been told to do.
Just speak to Grant…
Craven quickly covered the remaining distance to the court building, went through the security checkpoint and looked frantically through the hearing lists pinned to the wall on the left. He had no recollection of whether Squire or Wagstaff had ever told him which court and which floor he needed to find. Suddenly the heading ‘Before Her Honour Judge Marian Banks QC’ leapt out at him from one of the lists, and he remembered the reference to ‘Mad Marian’ within the set of emails Shannon had copied for him earlier. The action title was an exact match for the heading to his witness statement. Jumping into an open lift as the door began to close, he pressed the second floor button and was soon where he needed to be. The usher pointed him in the direction of the courtroom.
Craven pushed the door open and entered. Immediately in front of the door, he noticed Avery and Hutchings sitting together in conversation on the second row bench, and they greeted him with a grin and a scowl. An unfamiliar figure was sitting behind them, a notebook in his hand. Craven looked to his right towards the judge’s podium, which was unoccupied, and saw a clerk sitting at the desk below. In front of the clerk, two barristers were in conversation. Craven noticed that one of them was a woman, and cautiously approached her male colleague.
“Er…excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you Mr Colin Grant?”
Collins broke off from his conversation, noticed the youthful appearance of the stranger who had addressed him by an erroneous name, and deliberately found a condescending reply. It never occurred to him that he was speaking to his final witness.
“Grant Collins, if you must know. Who are you to ask?”
The brusque question only added to Craven’s anxiety as he realised his mistake.
“Oh, I’m sorry…I’ve been told to find you. My name’s Paul Craven.”
“Paul Craven. At last. Take a seat behind Mr Avery.” Collins replied dismissively, anxious to resume his conversation with Soraya. He had been tryin
g, to no avail, to persuade Soraya to agree a joint request to the judge that she should permit closing oral submissions from both barristers after all, rather than stand by her original decision to dispense with them in favour of updated written arguments. For her own part, Soraya remained determined to make the best use of home advantage, knowing Judge Banks’ preferences, and was disinclined to concede any ground.
“But I need to mention something…” Craven persisted.
“Just take a seat. I can’t be seen to be encouraging collusion.” Collins’ exasperated response was unduly theatrical and was aimed solely at scoring a point over Soraya, in the hope that she might change her mind over the issue that they had just been discussing. But as Craven backed off, finding himself with no option other than to retreat as he had been told, the judge’s clerk stood up and made for the rear door. Soraya had confirmed that she was all set to resume and was already back in her place.
“Who are you?” The unfamiliar figure in the third row leaned in Craven’s direction.
“Paul Craven. I’m the next witness.” Craven’s curiosity overcame him as the stranger promptly wrote his name down. “What about you?”
“Tom Ritchie, freelance reporter.”
Craven’s thoughts flew to the photocall on the firm’s office steps many weeks earlier. Oh God…now what? As his anxiety increased, he stared at the first page of the statement that he had taken out of the plastic wallet for a final revision. Neither Avery nor Hutchings showed any sign that they might want to speak to him at all, let alone put him at ease. The strained silence was broken when a loud knock signalled the return of Judge Banks, and everyone stood and bowed. Collins remained on his feet when the formalities were over.
“Your Honour, might I raise a housekeeping issue before the last witness?”
