Law and Disorder

by Tim Kevan

  Thursday 14 December 2006

  Day 54 (week 11): Chambers party

  It’s the party season and this evening it was the official chambers drinks party. I was there simply to serve the drinks, as were the other three pupils. The most interesting thing about the evening was seeing what each of the spouses were like. HeadClerk’s wife was the most glamorous by a country mile. OldSmoothie’s wife was the most daunting and treated him like he was some over-aged naughty school boy in front of everybody all night. Which of course he is. TheBoss’s wife was, well, noticeable only by her absence.

  It was held in chambers’ large meeting room and for two hours there was free-flowing champagne and canapés provided courtesy of Marks and Spencer. For just a short space of time it was almost as if everyone forgot their petty differences, of which, I have already discovered, there are many. But it wasn’t long before the cliques started to regroup and the gossip flowed more freely than the champagne.

  Interesting to see how badly UpTights gets on with OldSmoothie. They don’t even seem to pretend to be polite. OldSmoothie strolled over to her in the middle of the party and looked her up and down in mock admiration before opening with a sarcastic, ‘Nice work you’ve had done recently, UpTights. Is this what they call growing old ungracefully?’

  ‘Maybe you should try dyeing those ever-receding silver wisps of yours, OldSmoothie. Looking a bit tired, I must say.’

  ‘Not half as tired as your neck and wrists, UpTights. Shame your miracle doctors can’t hide all the evidence.’

  TheBoss spent quite some time talking to BusyBody about how she was enjoying pupillage as she quietly sipped away on the champagne in between rounds of serving. It was during their little flirtation that I overheard her getting stuck into me.

  ‘Did you hear about what he said to the senior partner’s wife at the party the other night?’ she whispered just loud enough for me to hear standing nearby.

  ‘Er, no. What happened exactly?’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to be indiscreet or anything but I guess it’s right that you know since you do a lot of work for that firm. But, well . . .’

  ‘Go, on. Don’t worry, it won’t go any further, I promise.’

  Yeah, right! As if she believed that. She ploughed on, ‘Well, I heard that he was rude about one of the partners in front of his wife. I mean, I’m sure he didn’t mean it or anything but, well, I just thought you should know.’

  Well thanks a bundle, Little Miss BusyBody the SuperGrass. I just hope it doesn’t cause even more damage.

  As for TopFirst, predictably he wasn’t drinking. Says he’s on a detox. More like a delife.There seems to be no chink in his armour at all.Poor Worrier is already out of the picture and BusyBody – despite obviously living up to her name and trying to undermine me – is likely to annoy just about everyone except TheBoss. But TopFirst unfortunately remains a complete conundrum. One thing I have noticed is that despite having a beautiful fiancée, his ego is so bloated that he can’t seem to help being an almighty flirt with the opposite sex, and in the naffest way possible. I’ve seen him at it a few times, but perhaps the most cringeworthy example was today. He was ostentatiously carrying around a bowl full of sweets and as he approached TheVamp he bowed slightly, offered her the bowl and in his best Austin Powers voice delivered the lamest of all his lame lines,‘Jelly, Baby?’

  Though he isn’t at all fat, he certainly isn’t what you might call athletic either and TheVamp immediately responded by patting him on the stomach and saying, ‘Jelly belly, more like,’ before leaving him standing slightly dazed.

  Now by that point, although like most people I knew her by reputation, I still hadn’t actually met TheVamp and so I slowly made my way in her direction. I have to admit that she’s extremely attractive, though in a way Claire, who has met her a few times, has described as ‘obvious’. I think she was referring to her style as much as her looks, with the short skirts, low-cut tops and bleach-blonde cropped hair. All of this she carries off, in my opinion, if not in Claire’s, with a redeeming wit that comes through most of all in the form of innuendo, even on the most innocent of subjects. When she’s on form, she’s a twenty-first century, living, breathing Carry On film. When I eventually sidled up to her she was chatting to TheCreep, who despite the fact he was talking about one of his cases was looking almost furtive. TheVamp was out to embarrass him. ‘BabyB, how nice to meet you. Do join us. Mr CreepyWeepy here was asking me to help him with his manual handling,’ she coochie-cooed.

  TheCreep fell for the bait and blushingly mumbled, ‘Er, well . . . er, yes, The Manual Handling Operations Regulations, to give them their full title.’

  ‘Absolutely, Mr CreepyWeepy. Whatever you want to call it. I hope I helped?’ she pouted.

  He looked lost, and only managed a vague nod.

  ‘Very sweet. Now Mr CreepyWeepy, run along, will you.’

  With which she dismissed him with a wave of her little finger and gave me the full glare of her attention for all of ten minutes before moving on to her next victim.

  Monday 18 December 2006

  Day 56 (week 12): Trouble

  ‘So, how’s GavisconMan then?’ Claire asked.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know, TheBoss. “Will settle anything in under five minutes.” ’

  ‘Too true in his case, I’m afraid.’

  ‘How about your pupilmistress?’

  It was all going swimmingly until I told Claire that TheVamp was coming along. She’d popped round mid-afternoon and asked what I was up to later. Call me naïve, but I had foreseen no trouble. But hey, I’m a guy and therefore genetically blind to such things. I say that because even before TheVamp arrived, Claire had started huffing about having to meet up with ‘TheTramp’. ‘She’s had every male member of your chambers who’s single, BabyB, along with half the married ones, I wouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh. I know she’s a flirt, but . . .’

  ‘She’s more than a flirt, BabyB. Believe me, I can tell. That woman is trouble.’

  Given that there’s nothing between Claire and me, I didn’t see what the problem was. Despite this, I could feel Claire bristling for a fight within a few minutes of TheVamp arriving and after about half an hour she eventually stropped off claiming to have a dinner engagement that she hadn’t mentioned until that moment.

  ‘Very nice little friend you have there, BabyB,’ TheVamp commented.

  ‘Drinking buddy throughout Bar School. Much needed.’

  ‘Pretty keen on you, I’d say.’

  ‘Oh, no. You’ve got the wrong end of the stick with that one. Definitely just friends. Never been anything between us except a very small thing early on.’

  With that, TheVamp switched to her flirt mode. ‘Oh, BabyB, a very small thing indeed? Don’t be so modest.’

  Well, if she wanted to add a notch to her barrister’s wig (or maybe a curl?), who was I to argue?

  ‘Come on BabyB, where are we going next? You’re young enough to be trendy. What bars do you know?’

  Young enough to be poverty stricken, more like. The only late-night place that I knew was a Spanish bar just off Tottenham Court Road where you had to say the owner’s name after ringing the door bell to be let in as part of a kind of ‘open sesame’ routine. Girls dancing salsa, couples eating Spanish beans and old men playing cards out the back. Not a place I’d think of taking a fellow member of chambers to try and impress her. But hey, it was TheVamp and she was demanding late-night drinking, and despite my reservations it went down pretty well.

  So well, in fact, that I ended up having breakfast with her the next morning. Actually about four hours after arriving back in. I was definitely still drunk and was glad I didn’t have to go to court.

  TheVamp, on the other hand, was moaning that she had a big trial starting in a couple of hours and not only had she not yet read the papers but worse, her vision was still so blurred that she wasn’t actually able to start.

  ‘Don’
t worry, BabyB. I can do these cases with my eyes shut. I’ll just get the client to tell me what happened in his own words beforehand. Always good to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Should be enough.’

  Yet she was positively steaming alcohol from her pores and I didn’t think that any amount of perfume or extra-strong mints was going to mask that. Whilst she was rushing around making coffee and downing glasses of water, I sat there like a lemon not really knowing what to say.

  ‘Now BabyB,’ she said.‘That was a great evening last night,but if we’re going to be friends let’s get one thing clear. This isn’t the start of anything. Not even the start of the start of anything. I’m a free agent and will continue to be. All very enjoyable and everything, but it goes no further.’

  Fine by me. In the meantime, I just hope that after the half hour it would have taken her to get to court she didn’t look even a fraction as rough as when she left the house. Sometimes having a wig and gown to hide beneath can be rather helpful.

  Tuesday 19 December 2006

  Day 57 (week 12): Hard disks

  TheBoss received a letter today from the solicitors in the case involving the accident on the ship. It sought formal pre-action disclosure of chambers’ computer records and access to the hard disk. His first reaction was to rant against the ways of the modern world, with some of his choice lines being:

  ‘Things are far too accountable these days.’ (Meaning: ‘How dare they question my word, even if it was a lie.’)

  ‘People have no respect.’ (Meaning: ‘Whatever I’ve done wrong, people should still know their place.’)

  ‘What right do solicitors have to be questioning a barrister in such a way?’ (Meaning: ‘What happened to good, old-fashioned deference and, for good measure, immunity from suit?’)

  After anger he moved straight on to fear and it was at that point that HeadClerk came in for a chat.

  ‘You know, I’ve read what they’re after and since we have absolutely nothing to hide, I would suggest that we give them what they want, wouldn’t you agree?’

  TheBoss was in an impossible position and looked caught in the headlights. He couldn’t very well disagree since it would give the game away in an instant. Eventually, the best stalling he could manage was, ‘Well, in principle I would completely agree with that approach. However, I’m not sure we can do that under the Data Protection Act. Have to be very careful, you know, these days.’

  HeadClerk rightly looked sceptical. TheBoss was possibly the very last person on the planet to be sensitive to other people’s data protection rights, and each one of us in the room was aware of that. No sooner had the words passed his lips than you could see on his face the realisation that HeadClerk had smoked him out. As he stood on the open plain with a big guilty sign on his forehead, he decided that the only option was retreat. ‘Although I doubt very much that that’ll cause much of a problem. Yes, you’re right. Let’s give them what they want. Nothing to hide, after all.’

  HeadClerk replied with a slightly curt and almost sceptical ‘Quite’, before making his exit. Once he had gone, TheBoss went into something of a panic, despite the fact that he tried to play it cool in front of me. ‘Yeah, these computer experts. What do they know anyway?’ He laughed nervously to himself.

  I slunk off to make some coffee whilst surreptitiously putting my ear to the door. He immediately rang his IT friend for advice. ‘But would a computer expert be able to find out that the records had been changed retrospectively?’

  ‘. . .’

  ‘What do you mean it’s unclear? How am I supposed to know the exact computer system we use? Or even how thorough their expert’s going to be?’

  When I arrived back with coffee, he couldn’t sit still for a second. Getting up, walking around the room. Mumbling. Thankfully, as he had become unbearable, he left early. The irony is that whilst TheBoss is still slightly uncertain as to what the computer expert will find, I am in no doubt. He will uncover the fraud. It’s what they do. How they make their money. As simple as that. I was naïve even to have been a passive accomplice. On balance, though, I have decided that TheBoss won’t mention the fact that I knew about it. Involving one’s pupil in a potentially criminal act would only exacerbate his already precarious position. I will therefore sit tight.

  Thursday 21 December 2006

  Day 59 (week 12): One down . . .

  TheBoss has now gone off on his expensive holiday in Barbados.

  ‘Should keep Her Indoors happy,’ he said as he whisked out of chambers this morning. He’s away now until 8 January. You might think that means pupil freedom, but sadly this has turned out not to be the case. Not only has he left me about twenty sets of papers to plough through but he has also asked another barrister to check that I ‘have enough to do’. So much for Christmas spirit extending to pupils. Not that this has affected TopFirst, who has managed to scrape a week away and still enhance his reputation, since he’s to be best man at the wedding of a friend who just happens to be the son of a judge.

  Worrier came to see me today and asked if I had time for a drink after work. Of course I did. She looked absolutely lost, but that wasn’t something particularly unusual for Worrier.

  ‘BabyB, after all that I’ve been through, they’ve now gone and dismissed my complaint. I just can’t believe it.’

  This came as no surprise, but I was beginning to feel like a passive accomplice to the crime also.

  ‘Oh, Worrier, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I just feel sick to the stomach, BabyB. I’ve had enough of their pompous sexist ways. I’m really starting to doubt if the whole thing is really for me.’

  ‘Don’t think like that. At least you stuck to your guns. Didn’t lower yourself to their own compromised standards.’

  ‘I guess you’re right, BabyB.’ Then just to make me feel worse, she added, ‘Thanks anyway for all your support.’

  I felt terrible for Worrier, but it did also make me wonder once again whether TheBoss really had a point. Particularly with the loan company’s threats hanging over my mother’s head.

  Wednesday 27 December 2006

  Day 61 (week 13): Another bluff

  Any thoughts about whether TheBoss had a point were only reinforced when it came to Christmas Day itself. I mean, don’t get me wrong, my mother and I have been used to Christmas by ourselves since my father left when I was eight and we were certainly doing our utmost to be cheerful.

  ‘Look, BabyB,’ she said, ‘I’ve been saving a little something each week for this, so let’s enjoy it. Just these two days. We’ll live like royalty.’

  But nothing was going to get rid of the elephant in the room and my mother’s efforts only made the situation more heartbreaking. By the end of Boxing Day I was keen to get back to work and so was in early this morning. It was eerily quiet with only two clerks and three barristers in addition to myself and, of course – who could ever forget? – BusyBody. She and I went out for lunch in festive spirit and I have to admit that when she’s not trying to organise everybody, she’s actually quite nice. Still, it didn’t stop me trying to wind her up a little.

  ‘I’ve applied to be on two chambers committees, you know. Thought I might be able to lend a hand and all that.’

  ‘You what? How? Which? When?’

  ‘Oh, I was told about them the other day. Finance and marketing committees. Apparently they’re even open to pupils.’

  Of course, I haven’t really applied for anything of the sort but it might encourage her spirit of busybodying still further. Not that she needs much encouraging, to be fair.

  Thursday 28 December 2006

  Day 62 (week 13): . . . And another

  Had another lunch with BusyBody today. Almost felt like it was becoming a tradition. Winding her up, that is.

  ‘What do you think of TheBoss?’ I asked.

  ‘Why do you ask that, BabyB?’

  ‘Er, well, I was just wondering, that was all.’

  ‘No. What do you know?
’

  ‘What do you mean? Nothing.’

  ‘Well, it’s just a strange question to ask out of the blue like that, that’s all.’

  ‘OK then. It’s just that, well, I’ll only tell you this if you absolutely promise to keep it to yourself?’

  ‘Of course I will, BabyB. You know that. We’re all barristers now.’

  ‘Well . . . Look, you absolutely mustn’t tell him that I said this, OK?’

  ‘Spit it out BabyB. What is it?’

  ‘It’s just that in a drunken moment at the chambers party he told me that he really fancies you, that’s all.’

  Well, the reaction I got was far more than I had expected. She positively blushed and after that was asking questions about him for the rest of lunch.

  What I had told her was, of course, not true.

  Friday 29 December 2006

  Day 63 (week 13): Disinformation

  Three lunches in three days. It might even get people talking. True to the spirit of any disinformation campaign, today I told BusyBody something that was not only true but also highly unlikely. Not only will this bolster my other claims when she realises its truth, but it will also serve its primary purpose of completely winding her up. I simply told her what HeadofChambers had said to Worrier about her sex discrimination claim.

  I also told her that Worrier had taped the conversation, just to really get her going.

  CHAPTER 4

  January: YouTube

  Rapidity is the essence of war: take advantage of the enemy’s unreadiness, make your way by unexpected routes, and attack unguarded spots.

  Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  Tuesday 2 January 2007

  Day 64 (week 14): Divorce

  It’s a new year and only nine months to go in the battle for tenancy. TheBoss was in work today even though he wasn’t due back until next Monday. Seems his wife kicked him off the holiday. Wants a divorce. More importantly for TheBoss she wants half the assets and maintenance for their two children. This was all I managed to pick up. I can only speculate that he’s been having an affair. Whatever the reason, he’s back at work earning the cash in fear of the amount he’ll be taken for.