Law and Peace

by Tim Kevan

  Law and Peace

  Tim Kevan

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  For Michelle and my parents

  The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

  George Orwell, Animal Farm

  Time is but the stream I go a-fishin in.

  Henry David Thoreau, Walden

  Contents

  Cast

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Acknowledgements

  A Note on the Author

  Also by the Author

  Cast

  BabyBarista:

  A young Flashman meets Rumpole meets Francis Urquhart for the twenty-first century.

  TopFirst:

  BabyB’s former fellow pupil and, by the end of book one, his sworn enemy.

  OldSmoothie:

  Think Peter Bowles in To the Manor Born and the Milk Tray Man, but not quite.

  UpTights:

  BabyB’s ex-pupilmistress. Insists on boundaries and personal space. Has ‘issues’. Against him in the Moldy litigation.

  OldRuin:

  How a barrister should be. Dumbledore meets Clarence, the angel in It’s a Wonderful Life. BabyB’s redemption.

  Claire:

  BabyB’s best friend and a barrister in another chambers. Think Scully from X-Files.

  SlipperySlope:

  Solicitor who introduces BabyB to the dark arts of litigation and has a habit of misquoting from films.

  Smutton:

  Brassy to UpTights’s classy and yet still, somehow, sexy.

  TheBoss:

  BabyB’s ex-pupilmaster. Unscrupulous, spineless coward.

  TopFlirt:

  TopFirst’s beautiful, bright fiancée.

  BusyBody:

  Barrister always up for a fight, particularly with OldSmoothie.

  NurserySlope:

  Solicitor who is Slippery’s niece and apprentice.

  TheBusker:

  Barrister who is very laid back in his approach to both court and life, with the integrity and decency of OldRuin.

  TheVamp:

  Barrister in chambers and a walking Carry On film of an innuendo.

  JudgeFetish:

  Judge in the Moldy litigation with a penchant for ladies in particular attire.

  BigMouth:

  Pompous Tory MP stuck on the backbenches like a piece of old chewing gum.

  BrainWasher:

  Hypnotist, mentalist, you name it.

  ScandalMonger:

  Ruthless PR guru who becomes one of BabyB’s secret weapons.

  HeadofChambers:

  Well meaning, pompous and completely out of touch.

  HeadClerk:

  The real power in chambers. All seeing, all knowing.

  ClichéClanger:

  Solicitor with a colourful use of the English language.

  TheCreep:

  A jumped up little twerp who sucks up to the big beasts in chambers.

  FanciesHimself:

  Junior clerk who had a fling with BusyBody.

  Prologue

  Saturday 29 September 2007

  Year 2 (week 0): School reports

  I stumbled across one of my old school reports today and was intrigued to see what my teacher had to say about me at the age of twelve:

  ‘BabyBarista is always first out of the classroom and into the playground when the bell goes and then the last one to settle down afterwards. He is clearly bright and tends to finish set work much quicker than the other pupils although this does have the distinct disadvantage that he then starts to distract his friends with idle chat. Yet despite these minor difficulties he does seem to possess an unerring ability to remain just on the right side of the naughty line even if he sometimes avoids more serious trouble only by the seat of his pants. My concern is that as he gets older this is a boy who could literally go either way: up the ranks or off the rails.’

  The report then concluded with the following remark: ‘I would hate to see him in court one day.’

  Chapter 1

  October: BigMouth

  Sunday 30 September 2007

  Year 2 (week 0): A tenant

  ‘You made it BabyB, I always thought you would. Tenancy in a proper barristers’ chambers. You need never worry again.’

  My mother was congratulating me yet again as we had breakfast together this morning. Ha. If she’d been aware of even a small part of what really went on in the last twelve months she’d have known that only half of what she said was actually true. As well as double-crossing my first pupilmaster, who was eventually struck off, I also had a hand in scuppering many of the pupils who were competing with me for that prized tenancy. I stood by as Worrier was encouraged to bring a trumped-up sex discrimination claim. I made it appear that BusyBody had posted a damaging recording of HeadofChambers online. ThirdSix had his court papers swapped at the last minute. Oh, and then there was also the small matter of blackmailing my rival TopFirst, after he’d fallen for a honeytrap called Ginny.

  But as TopFirst said last Friday when he started to put the pieces of the jigsaw together: ‘I just want you to know that I know. I will never forget, BabyB. No one has ever beaten me at anything. I tell you now that in whatever career you manage to scrape together for yourself in the future, you’d better watch your back.’

  I am a tenant, it’s true, and now at least I might be able to help solve some of my mother’s financial problems: problems that stem from the sacrifices she made to put me through university. But as for never needing to worry again, well that might just be a little premature.

  Monday 1 October 2007

  Year 2 (week 1): Lap of honour

  My first day as a tenant and on the face of it at least, it’s a job for life. It’s now almost impossible for them to kick me out, which reminds me of the American saying that there are only two things that will kill a political career in Washington: being found with a dead girl or a live boy. I’m not sure what I’d have to do to be ejected from chambers but it’d have to be something pretty heinous. Although that’s not to say it never happens. Look at TheBoss. After he was struck off last week he had to pack his things and clear out by Friday afternoon: departing in disgrace, his wig properly soiled, never to be used again. It makes me wonder what an old wig might be used for if not for court? Attached to a small metal stick, the rough horse hair would make for an extremely effective, albeit rather extravagant, loo brush.

  As if to really rub salt into TheBoss’s wounds, they’ve given me his old room in chambers to share with the lovely OldRuin, who still makes an occasional sortie into the old smoke. So today, with tenancy in the bag and after unceremoniously dumping my things on to the desk previously known as that belonging to TheBoss, I made my lap of honour around chambers, accepting the congratulations with great modesty and making much of the qualities of my fellow, less fortunate pupils, bless their little cotton socks. ‘Terrible shame that we all couldn’t have been taken on . . . Indeed, I don’t know how I was picked given the quality of the other candidates,’ etcetera, etcetera, blah, blah, blah. The disingenuous sentiments I have spewed out today beat even those of TheCreep when he’s sliming up to yet another QC.

  But I can hardly tell them the truth. Imagine it: ‘Yes, thank you very much. I ag
ree that as the most devious, sly and downright sneaky of all the pupils I thoroughly deserved to be awarded tenancy. These qualities, I’m sure you will agree, will serve me well in our esteemed profession. Yes, my fellow tenants, whether you like to admit it or not, these are qualities you have not only encouraged with this ridiculous pupillage system but you have now also generously rewarded.’

  No, if I’m going to get anywhere in this job, I will endeavour to do what the English excel at, and what I say will rarely be what I mean.

  Tuesday 2 October 2007

  Year 2 (week 1): JackCard

  Met the four new pupils at chambers tea this afternoon. And if yesterday I was playing the hypocrite card, today I was playing a gold-embossed Jack. I’m alright and for the next twelve months they’re not. One of them asked my advice on how to survive pupillage.

  ‘Oh, it’s easy. Really. Just keep your head down, don’t cause any trouble and be nice to your fellow pupils.’

  If he believes that then he doesn’t deserve to be taken on in the first place. Then another one asked if I could offer any tips for working with his new pupilmistress, UpTights. I was starting to enjoy my new-found power.

  ‘Give her extra-strong coffee in the morning. Make sure it’s caffeinated whether she says so or not. She always responds to a good dose of caffeine.’

  She most certainly does. Watching her usual manic state go into hyperdrive should certainly provide some sport. On a roll, I then introduced another pupil to OldSmoothie, the man who last year had made sure that everyone with the name Wayne or Shane was rejected on the basis that ‘it wouldn’t look good on the board’.

  ‘OldSmoothie,’ I said. ‘May I introduce you to our new pupil Sharon?’

  OldSmoothie’s jaw visibly dropped but he just managed to keep it together enough to say, ‘How d’you do?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ replied Sharon earnestly.

  ‘O tempora, o mores,’ whispered HeadofChambers, shaking his head. ‘Oh what times. Oh what manners.’

  A silence descended upon the room and knowing looks were exchanged. We all knew what was coming next and the wind (some might say hot air) was back in OldSmoothie’s sails.

  ‘Young lady,’ he started, ‘just because your name is Sharon and you are quite clearly from Birmingham does not mean that you may answer, “How do you do?” with the words “Very well, thank you”. Do they teach you nothing at Bar School these days? Never again, understand? It’s terribly non-U and barristers don’t do non-U. Solicitors, now that’s a different story. They can visit the toilet and have settees in their lounges as much as they like. But not barristers.’ He paused. ‘Do you understand?’

  He may as well have been speaking double Dutch as far as poor Sharon was concerned. She stood there mute, presumably fearful that opening her mouth to say anything would harm her more than the rabbit-in-the-headlights look she was currently demonstrating so well.

  ‘Do you understand?’ repeated OldSmoothie slowly.

  The pupil raised her eyebrows and nodded tentatively.

  ‘So what do you answer?’ boomed OldSmoothie, now aware that he had an audience.

  Sharon’s brow furrowed and for a moment I thought she might try to make a run for it – and on only her second day in chambers.

  ‘Speak up,’ said OldSmoothie. ‘I can’t hear you.’

  The silence again fell, this time so heavily that it seemed to be almost crushing poor Sharon into the floor. Then OldSmoothie eased up and said somewhat theatrically, ‘Well, let’s give it a try. You give the greeting to me.’

  This she could do and she put out her hand, saying, ‘How d’you do?’

  To which OldSmoothie replied, ‘How d’you do?’ and turned on his heels leaving the poor pupil utterly bewildered.

  TheVamp and TheBusker moved over to offer words of consolation. TheVamp patted Sharon on her arm and said, ‘I wouldn’t worry. He’s a fat old git with a chip on his shoulder, not just about women and class but about life in general. He’s certainly not representative of chambers as a whole.’

  ‘I really wouldn’t worry at all,’ said TheBusker kindly. ‘Terrible time, pupillage. We all understand that, believe it or not.’

  Sharon visibly relaxed and answered, ‘To be honest I really didn’t—’

  She was interrupted by what can only be described as a ‘harrumph’ from the far side of the room. It was HeadofChambers.

  ‘My dear,’ he started. ‘It’s all very well being the subject of OldSmoothie’s little games but really, some things are truly beyond the pale.’

  Once more, Sharon’s face returned to what seemed to be her default setting of bewilderment.

  HeadofChambers didn’t keep her waiting.

  ‘“To be honest” is what a criminal says in the witness box. What a barrister should say is “to be frank”.’

  Welcome, for another crop of pupils, to the all-inclusive modern Bar.

  Wednesday 3 October 2007

  Year 2 (week 1): BigMouth

  OldSmoothie was once again holding court this morning, this time in the clerks’ room just as everyone was arriving. I’d heard him sounding off before about how he was best friends with a Tory MP from the shires who, it seems, is stuck to the backbenches like a piece of old chewing gum. I’ll call him BigMouth. Apparently, said MP created big headlines in one of last Sunday’s tabloids because he had paid for the services of a prostitute. Or, I should say, he had allegedly paid for her services. For this was the point of OldSmoothie’s story.

  ‘You see, he is very hard up for money and he wants to sue them. Naturally, I’ll take it on a no win, no fee but I’m looking for a junior to do the leg work.’

  Despite appearances, OldSmoothie is not stupid and this whole little performance was staged to whet the appetite of the junior members of chambers. Perhaps even to tender it out in a rather gentlemanly sort of way. Needless to say, first up to the crease was TheCreep, a jumped up little twerp who sucks up to the big beasts in chambers and struts around with erroneous self-importance. True to style he began to ooze: ‘Ooh OldSmoothie, I think you’re great and I’m so very clever,’ etc., etc. But he was batted away to the boundary without much more than a flick of the wrist from OldSmoothie. TheCreep is definitely not his style. Next up was TheVamp who was a far more serious proposition for the old lech.

  ‘You know,’ I heard her whisper, throatily. ‘Libel cases are by jury. You’re going to need a team who appeal directly to the jury.’

  She gave OldSmoothie a knowing look and didn’t need to elaborate further. I realised that there was no way I was going to be able to compete against her today, but with an opportunity like this coming up in chambers, I’ve got to try and think of a way to get myself on the case.

  By hook or by crook.

  Thursday 4 October 2007

  Year 2 (week 1): CopyCat

  Before I could even say ‘plot’, never mind try to implement one, OldSmoothie announced today that TheVamp would be acting as his junior in the BigMouth libel case. The most high-profile case to come through the doors of chambers in years has been snatched from under my greedy little nose. However, they do have a problem. Neither OldSmoothie nor TheVamp have ever done any libel law in their lives. My problem is that neither have I. The difference is that they don’t know this.

  With that in mind, I popped over to the library and fished out a couple of random articles on libel law from the computer. I made sure they were unrelated to the issues in this actual case so that no one is likely to refer to them any time soon. I then copied and pasted them, substituting my own name for the author’s. It’s dastardly, I know, but hardly the wickedest thing in the world and, of course, it will only work thanks to the pompous fat one’s own ignorance and laziness. So, off the articles went in an email to him suggesting he might find them useful.

  I wait to see if he bites.

  Friday 5 October 2007

  Year 2 (week 1): Threats

  An email came today:

  Just t
o tell you that I now have a tenancy in the chambers my father went to after he’d finished with yours. Don’t know why I even bothered wasting my time with you bunch of losers. And for the avoidance of doubt BabyB, I meant exactly what I said last week. You will regret having crossed me. What’s more, if I ever hear mention of the Ginny Tapes [the secret recording I made of him trying it on with a girl I’d hired, despite being engaged], the consequences will be even worse. I do not use these words lightly.

  TopFirst

  He reminded me a little of a pantomime villain, shaking his fist and screaming petulantly, ‘I’ll get you BabyB, if it’s the last thing I do!’ Well, talk to the gown ’cos the wig’s not listening. Plus, I happen to know that the chambers he’s been forced to join is renowned for taking on people who have been rejected elsewhere. It is what OldSmoothie would describe as ‘hardly top drawer’. However, I have already learnt that I underestimate TopFirst at my peril. So I decided to answer him in robust fashion:

  I don’t know what on earth you are talking about but I do not appreciate being threatened. Should I hear anything like this again I shall consider passing it straight on not only to the Bar Standards Board but also to the police. In the meantime, despite your unsavoury remarks, please give my regards to your lovely fiancée and I send you my warmest congratulations on joining such a well-known chambers.