Law and Peace

by Tim Kevan

  Just as I was leaving Slippery’s office, I bumped into Smutton and I have to admit that I blushed as she greeted me.

  ‘Ah, BabyB. My favourite hot little barrister. I hope you got your fill of goose over the festive period.’

  Then she ever so slightly adjusted her blouse as she continued with, ‘I always find it so disappointing when we’re forced to put away our Christmas baubles for another year. Still, won’t be long until that first harbinger of spring.’

  I looked at a loss and Slippery smirked in the background.

  ‘Oh, come on, BabyB. Do join in. The swallow of course,’ she said, rolling her tongue over the word as she said it.

  I blushed again, much to her obvious delight.

  Thursday 10 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 15): Paranoia

  What do you do when you overhear something you shouldn’t have heard from the other side? That’s the dilemma I have today after having heard UpTights gossiping about my case over lunch in hall. To be fair, she obviously didn’t realise that I was sitting on the table just behind her but despite this her voice is such that I imagine even those sitting halfway across the room would probably have picked up some bits of the conversation. All I heard was, ‘The insurer’s getting a little shaky and is thinking of trying to settle early for say twenty thousand each and tying it up with a big confidentiality clause.’

  Once I realised that she was talking about the Moldy cases, I actually sidled off, worried that if I heard any more it might in some way conflict me out of the litigation. But then when I got back to chambers I started thinking it over and although I’m fairly certain that this can’t possibly conflict me – otherwise barristers would be able to get rid of their opponents at the door of court just by talking loudly to their clients – I’m not actually sure that this is the case, and the last thing I’d want is to get it wrong when TopFirst is on the other side. And of course, that also makes me wonder whether UpTights did in fact know I was there and that it is all a trap.

  Friday 11 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 15): Lost dreams

  Having mulled over what to do with UpTights’s information last night, I’ve decided that it’s time to wheel out OldSmoothie and get him involved in the case, on the basis that he knows specifically how best to wind her up. I went over to Slippery’s office to discuss it this afternoon.

  ‘I used to know them both years ago,’ he said, referring to UpTights and OldSmoothie. ‘Rising stars of their generation. Picked out for great things. They even made rather a glamorous couple for all of about a week.’

  ‘Oh.’

  That was news to me.

  ‘But now they’re like a couple of old has-beens fighting over lost dreams and faded glory, BabyB. Great to watch but you know what? It’s one of the few spectacles in this whole money-making world that actually makes me feel just a little bit sad.’

  He paused.

  ‘You know what I mean, BabyB. OldSmoothie with all his “I coulda been a contender” rubbish, as old colonels blow smoke up him on his golf club committees.’

  I couldn’t help smiling at the accuracy of that portrayal. It seemed there might be more to Slippery than his brash front suggested.

  ‘Then poor UpTights. One minute she’s all Gloria Swanson and “I’m still big, it’s just the world around me got small”, and the next minute she’s Blanche DuBois and the kindness of strangers, lost in her own little world. These days UpTights hates the whole world, especially women and most especially OldSmoothie. He just hates himself.’

  Golly. There really was no answer to that. Then he brightened up and said, ‘But hey, that’s why they’re still in business. Complex is good in your line of work, BabyB. I mean, no case is ever black or white. Just like barristers.’

  Then he paused and looked at me sympathetically and added, ‘I wouldn’t be a barrister for all the money in the world.’

  With which he packed me off with instructions for the pompous one.

  Monday 14 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 16): OldSmoothie on board

  OldSmoothie was delighted when I told him that he was to lead in the Moldy litigation, though the prospect of more UpTights baiting seemed to give him more pleasure than the case itself. After I’d been through the basic facts and issues this morning, I then went on to ask his advice about what I’d overheard UpTights say.

  ‘Don’t worry yourself so much, BabyB. It’s her own fault for giving it away. I think the best use we can make of it at this stage is to pay our stretched friend a little visit. I suggest that we pop round to her room when she is least expecting it, say tomorrow morning.’

  Meanwhile, BusyBody’s back in chambers, having handed over the day care of her baby to her mother. The deal appears to be that she’ll be a third six pupil until the end of March and then she will automatically be made a tenant. No further explanation has been given, which as I’ve already speculated suggests that a certain overweight silver fox might have had to cut a deal of some sort behind the scenes. Whatever the reasons, she certainly wasn’t looking quite as energetic as she had been last month. BusyBaby, it seems, is not following orders.

  ‘Yes, my motivational course for babies isn’t quite going as planned and she still seems to wake up crying at four in the morning, every morning.’

  ‘That sounds pretty normal,’ said HeadClerk in a very knowing way.

  ‘Well, I’m determined that there must be a way to train her,’ said BusyBody. ‘I’ve got hypnotherapy tapes playing twenty-four-seven at the moment and I’m hoping that some of it might just kick in.’

  ‘But surely she’ll struggle to understand what they’re saying on the tapes,’ said TheBusker.

  BusyBody suddenly looked very alarmed, her tiredness clearly showing. As if she hadn’t even thought of that very obvious point. Then she said, ‘Still, that’s why I thought I’d come back to work. Let’s face it, if I’m going to be woken up at that unearthly hour, I may as well make use of it by doing a set of papers or two, don’t you think?’

  Tuesday 15 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 16): Confrontation

  ‘UpTights, my darling. What a lovely pleasure.’

  OldSmoothie, with me in tow, had entered UpTights’s room without an invitation – the same room in which I had spent the last half of my pupillage.

  ‘And what unfortunate circumstances brings a snake like you into my room, OldSmoothie?’

  ‘Oh, my, we did get out of bed the wrong side today? Or perhaps it was another pupil’s bed instead?’ he answered, referring to her brief tryst with one of my fellow pupils last year.

  ‘Look OldSmoothie, if you have something to say, then spit it out.’

  Not even OldSmoothie was going to stoop so low as to follow this up with some innuendo or other and so he said, ‘You’ll never guess what? We’re against each other in the Moldy litigation.’

  UpTights’s mouth dropped. Well it opened as far as her stretched skin after all the facelifts would allow anyway, and she glared at me.

  ‘You coward, BabyB. Couldn’t stick up for yourself, is that it?’

  We had rehearsed what I would say and I let her have it. ‘Actually, I brought him in to help me with a professional conduct point. You see, I, along with the rest of Middle Temple Hall, couldn’t help overhearing you screeching that your clients wanted to settle for twenty grand a claimant. Even a loudspeaker wouldn’t have reached as many people.’

  Now she looked really taken aback.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she lied.

  ‘A pretty serious breach of client confidentiality, I’d say,’ said OldSmoothie. ‘Just out of interest, what would you do in our shoes?’

  ‘Oh, do shut up you old fool. You have no idea what you’re talking about. BabyB’s talking cock and bull and you know it.’

  ‘Well, we were wondering what your own clients might think about that if we were to write to them personally, advising them that their own barrister was giving aw
ay their secrets.’

  Then he went in for the kill.

  ‘Of course, if you were to advise your insurer client to stump up fifty grand per claimant, we might not need to send that letter.’

  If it were possible for steam to be coming out of her ears, then it would have happened at that moment. She looked more like a cartoon character than ever before and just when I thought that she might actually stand up and launch herself physically at OldSmoothie like some demented harpy, he left the room adding as he did so, ‘Oh, and given that we’re such careful souls, we might also need to check with the Bar Standards Board as to what we have to do in such a situation. I’m sure they’d be fascinated to hear all about it.’

  Once out of the room, OldSmoothie whispered to me, ‘Of course, she’ll never take the bait and she’ll be pretty sure we’re just bluffing. But the very fact that I’ve even presented her with such an option is so offensive to everything that she stands for that it’ll eat away at her for the rest of the case. When that happens, BabyB, we’re halfway there.’

  Wednesday 16 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 16): Solicitors in wigs

  Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against solicitors. Well, not unless you count greed, laziness, incompetence and late paying by a select few. But I certainly don’t have any problem with them having an equal right to barristers to appear in court. But today, just when you thought that wigs were finally on their way out, I was against a solicitor who turned up proudly wearing a little horse-hair number.

  ‘What chambers are you from?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m not from any chambers,’ came the reply. He looked at me proudly and then pronounced, ‘I’m a solicitor,’ in the same tone that they say ‘I’m a laydeee’ on Little Britain.

  ‘Oh.’

  I must have looked a little quizzical because he followed up with, ‘If you’re wondering why I’m wearing a wig, there’s a new Practice Direction says I can.’

  He brandished it at me somewhat defensively.

  ‘Oh.’

  Then we were off into court, where the subject was raised again even before the judge had a chance to ask.

  ‘Your Honour,’ he said, wrongly addressing the district judge. ‘I am a solicitor of the Supreme Court of England and Wales and am proud today to be wearing a wig.’

  The judge stared down at the solicitor and answered only with ‘Oh’.

  ‘Yes, Your Honour, and if anyone wants to question my right so to do, I have here a copy of the recent Practice Direction on Court Dress which covers this exact issue.’

  Again, ‘Oh.’

  The judge shifted awkwardly and looked over to me. I shrugged back, not wanting to be the one to say it. The judge sighed and said, ‘Personally, I don’t mind what you wear in your own time. However, haven’t you wondered why neither I nor your opponent are wearing wigs today?’

  The solicitor glanced around and then looked completely lost. Then the judge said, ‘No one robes in small claims I’m afraid.’

  To which the solicitor could only reply with ‘Oh’.

  Thursday 17 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 16): Breach of confidence

  Despite the time that the Moldy litigation has been taking up, I’ve still been trotting off to court most days and I guess sooner or later it was inevitable that I would end up against TopFirst. Well, I found out today that my case for a week on Wednesday is just that. What’s more I have the slight difficulty that our claimant has gone AWOL. Literally skipped the country without explanation. This leaves us in something of a predicament as to whether we alert the other side to our difficulty and apply for an adjournment or simply brave it out. It mostly hinges on whether the other side are going to accept the settlement offer of some twenty thousand pounds that we made a few days ago. If there’s a chance they might accept we definitely don’t want to alert them to our little weakness. But if they are going to fight then the earlier we ask for an adjournment the better.

  With this in mind I thought I’d chat it through with OldSmoothie and so I went over to his office and explained my predicament.

  ‘Simple, BabyB. Watch this.’

  He then looked up the number and with the phone on loud speaker rang TopFirst’s chambers and asked to speak to his clerk. OldSmoothie then put on his best estuary drawl, which really didn’t wash, and said that he was from a particularly big firm of solicitors who wanted to instruct TopFirst next Wednesday.

  ‘We’ve heard he’s the hot young thing at the Bar and want to try him out. Big trial. Insurer-backed.’

  ‘Er, it seems he’s already booked on a case at the moment but it’s actually marked in the diary as likely to settle. Let me just speak to him and then give you a call back.’

  A few minutes later and OldSmoothie had the answer.

  ‘Yes. He says it’s definitely going to settle. No question. He can guarantee to do your case.’

  Oh.

  When I got back to my room I rang TopFlirt and confirmed our dinner for this coming Saturday. She sounded quite pleased to hear from me and complained almost immediately that TopFirst was still working far too hard. Oh, and yes, she’s looking forward to Saturday.

  See you there.

  Friday 18 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 16): Carry On Cricket

  OldSmoothie and HeadofChambers were on a post-settlement high at chambers tea this afternoon and they were telling their old stories like two musicians jamming to their favourite tunes. At one point talk turned from cricket to one of the female pupils who thankfully was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Well, I’d give her a thick edge,’ said OldSmoothie.

  ‘I’d just settle for a feel of her silly mid-off,’ said HeadofChambers.

  ‘Just pitch it up and watch her tickle it to fine leg,’ chortled OldSmoothie.

  ‘Bowl it into the rough and watch her perform a nifty little reverse sweep.’

  ‘Around the wicket, of course.’

  ‘Absolutely. Then all you need is good line and length.’

  ‘To bowl a maiden over.’

  ‘Exactly. After that you just get her to stroke it into the covers.’

  ‘Poke it away to deep point.’

  ‘Nudge one into the slips.’

  ‘Slip it into the gully.’

  ‘Tease her out of the crease.’

  ‘Give your googlies a fine touch.’

  ‘Pull it to long on.’

  ‘Hook it to long leg.’

  ‘On a full toss.’

  By this point these two grown men were starting to giggle uncontrollably, which reminded me of the time when the two cricket commentators Brian Johnston and Jonathan Agnew got the giggles on air.

  ‘Give her a long hop,’ continued OldSmoothie.

  ‘On a sticky wicket,’ said HeadofChambers.

  ‘Show her my googlies.’

  ‘Tail-End-her.’

  ‘York-her.’

  ‘Straight through the gate.’

  Then BusyBody stepped up to the crease and said, ‘Of course, if she had any sense, she’d see your googlies coming a mile off and crack each one of them through midwicket.’

  Monday 21 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 17): Trouble

  Met up with TopFlirt again on Saturday evening.

  ‘I don’t know what you’ve done to TopFirst, BabyB, but he really doesn’t like you, does he?’

  ‘Not much, I guess,’ I replied with the understatement of the year. ‘Maybe it’s just jealousy over the whole tenancy thing.’

  ‘Could be, although it does seem to be something more than just business. Definitely a personal edge to it although he simply won’t tell me.’

  ‘Ah, and you want to know what it is that you think he’s hiding from you?’

  Now this, by the way, wasn’t the start of the evening but was instead after about three bottles of wine and at about twelve-thirty at night. It was also after we’d both opened up our hearts. TopFlirt about how TopFirst is still neglecting he
r in favour of work and me about my fear that I might have lost Claire for good. There was definite tension as we got up to leave the restaurant since I don’t think either of us quite knew what would come next. But I have to admit we were both pretty drunk and when I suggested that she crash on my sofa that seemed like a pretty safe compromise. Well, when I say my sofa, what I really mean is my mum’s, but thankfully mum was fast asleep when we arrived home.

  As we sat on the sofa, TopFlirt was still complaining about her fiancé. ‘I thought I was getting some progress when he started to talk about this case you’re both doing about the old people. But the more I heard the more it sounded like these people might be really badly affected and yet all he seems to be interested in is impressing his big new corporate client. That and beating you.’

  More chat and more booze later and we were still talking at around 5 a.m. when we both eventually fell asleep where we were. Talking, and well, having a goodnight kiss that despite caution on both our parts, led from one thing to another certainly more by accident than good judgment. So now I’m in all sorts of trouble. I’ve got TopFirst plotting behind my back and against me in two cases and things really do seem to be getting a little close for comfort with his fiancée.

  Tuesday 22 January 2008

  Year 2 (week 17): Touchy feely

  Two of the pupils were chatting away at chambers tea today about the idea of solicitors wearing wigs. One was young Sharon, who had been pulled up early by OldSmoothie. The other was a tall skinny, more fresh-faced than usual young guy, who looks as if he’d completely topple over if you were even to blow in his direction. He has the sort of face that seems constantly on the verge of tears, or what OldSmoothie has described as ‘an invitation to treat it to a good punching’. Worst of all in regard to his vocation as a barrister, he can’t even get to the end of a sentence without raising the tone of his voice a notch so that everything he says sounds like a question. It’s as though he’s not sure whether what he’s saying is correct and so he figures he’ll ask for your reassurance each time. Maybe it’s the result of too many OldSmoothies having bopped him on the nose but whatever the reason, you just can’t help but feel sorry for him. His name’s Giles but given his delicate nature he’s been given the name FraGiles by everyone else in chambers. Today, FraGiles happened to mention where he stood on the issue of solicitors getting to wear horse hair on their heads in court.