by Tim Kevan
Tuesday 6 May 2008
Year 2 (week 32): Killing time
For some reason I decided to dig out our old family photo albums last night and I soon stumbled upon a picture of the day I had recalled after my skateboarding experience. It had obviously been taken by a passer-by and it showed the three of us, next to our respective creations on the beach, beaming. Well, almost. More accurately it would have showed the three of us were it not for the fact that my mother’s face had been cut out of the photograph. Her hands were there around her sandcastle but the one-inch square where her face should have been was missing. Puzzled, I pulled it out and found myself wanting to keep it, even with the hole in it. Maybe I would even scan it at some point. Just at that moment my mother came into my room unannounced and looked at me and then the album and finally the mutilated photograph in my hand.
‘BabyB? What on earth are you doing?’
I tried to sound nonchalant. ‘Oh, I was just flicking through our old albums.’
‘But why on earth are you taking the photos out? Why can’t you just leave them as they are?’
Surprised at her tone, I just looked at her blankly. Then the expression on her face changed from shock to anger and she said, ‘BabyB, I just don’t know what’s happened to you recently. You were always such a lovely child and now all you seem to care about is your oh-so-important cases and clients and, let’s face it, money.’
I did not know how to respond, being both surprised at where it had come from and also knowing that there was a great deal of truth in what she said, and so I stayed silent and hung my head.
‘I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours any longer, but I know for sure that I don’t like it and obviously Claire doesn’t either. You’ve turned into a money-making machine, BabyB, and you’ve sold your soul in the process.’ Her voice rose in pitch as she continued, ‘A cold-hearted lawyer who doesn’t give a fig for anyone or anything, least of all his friends and family. You never have any time for anyone these days unless they’ll earn you some cash or further your career. You haven’t just got your priorities skewed. You’ve become a different person. Sometimes I feel I don’t even know you any longer. Or want to know you for that matter.’ Then she paused, composed herself and flattened down her rumpled skirt before delivering the final blow. ‘You’re as bad as your old man, BabyB. I always knew it in my heart. However much I tried to believe otherwise.’
It was like being hit by a force of nature. I found myself struggling to compute what she was saying, but also painfully aware of how hurt and angry she was.
‘You treat me just like one of your cases. One minute I have your complete attention and the next I’m effectively being tied in pink ribbon and sent back to the solicitors along with a bill for your time, whilst the spotlight of your attention moves on to the next task. Always compartmentalising, always emotionally detached. It’s just not healthy. You’ve got to engage. Let the sadness in, feel regret and guilt. If you can’t do that you’ll never be able to feel happy or experience forgiveness either.’
Then just as quickly as the hurricane had started it came to an end and my mother collapsed in a heap, her head in her hands. She began to sob, and after a few moments, between breaths, she whispered, ‘I’m so sorry, BabyB. I don’t mean any of it. I just hate your father so very much. Not for what he did to me but for leaving you without him.’
Still in shock I moved towards my mother and hugged her. ‘I know you don’t mean it and I do understand,’ I said, feeling tears springing to my own eyes.
‘It was an education for me having a little boy,’ she continued. ‘One day it was football, the next day it might be den-making, and your attention would duck and dive on a whim. But whatever it was would take up your complete focus for that moment. Boys are so very different to girls and in the beginning I thought it meant that you were careless. But then I realised that in fact you were just completely carefree and I wanted so very much to have just a little bit of that rub off on me.’
I smiled, and struggled to find words to say everything I was feeling.
She went on, ‘But you’re none of those things I’ve just said. I don’t even know where that came from. It just kind of erupted inside me when I saw that terrible photo that I’d cut myself out of years ago in a fit of self-loathing. It was a deep visceral anger. I’m so very sorry, BabyB. The last person in the whole world I’d want to inflict that on is you.’
I hugged her more tightly. Her sobs were slowing down now.
‘Honestly. It’s him, not you, BabyB. You’ve always been so very patient and kind with me I can’t believe I just said those things. I’ve never even thought them before, never mind believed them.’
I told her I loved her and then she looked up, grasped my shoulders and said, ‘I love you too, BabyB, and I’m not in the slightest bit angry with you. In fact mostly what I feel is guilt at knowing that what you’re doing is actually for me and is driven by the debts I’ve run up in the first place. But nevertheless, I am concerned about you.’
We let the silence fall and then she said very quietly, ‘You’re always rushing around, BabyB. Chopping up your life into hours, minutes, seconds. I suppose it’s what you lawyers are about. But if you’re not careful, you’ll turn into one of them and your whole life will be lost on to some dusty, meaningless timesheet.’
I certainly wasn’t going to dispute that. Then she seemed to brighten a little, shook her head and said, ‘It’s all my fault for not having the time to show you what’s important in life. I was too wrapped up in wanting you to escape my poverty and powerlessness and I forgot to teach you to have fun. You know, your father wasn’t much good for many things but he did know how to have fun.’ She smiled and then said, ‘Take the time to stand and stare. Smell the fresh morning air, look out your window at the cherry blossom, or watch the girls go by in the summer. I don’t care what it is but just take a little bit of pleasure in being rather than doing.’
Her eyes were soft as she added, ‘I do worry for you, BabyB.’
Wednesday 7 May 2008
Year 2 (week 32): Attic attack
I can’t say that I slept terribly well last night as I lay there worrying not only about what my mother had said but also about the reasons that Claire and I had fallen out. The deeper I get into this mess the more I seem to be hurting the people that I’m closest to and yet I still can’t see a way out. Anyway, as I arrived at court bleary eyed this morning, I was pleased to see that ScandalMonger had come along to watch since he’s always guaranteed to take the attention away from anyone else. So it was today as he sat there chuckling to himself just behind SlipperySlope. When UpTights entered the court it certainly didn’t look as though her mood had improved from yesterday. In fact, her whole demeanour was distinctly ‘out there’ even for her. Scandal was immediately on it with a loud whisper of, ‘Who let Mrs Rochester out of the attic?’
I hate to admit it, but after TopFirst’s petty attack over my utility bills, I’ve been determined to be equally petty in my response, and so for the last three days I’ve been lacing his water in court with strong senna-based laxatives. This has meant not only that he’s been looking tired and emotional but also having to leave the court every half-hour or so. I’d mentioned this to Scandal before the hearing and he’d obviously heard me wrong because looking at UpTights’s stressed-out face he whispered to me, ‘Looks like those pills are really getting to her.’
To which I could only answer, ‘No pills needed to make UpTights look like she’s straining, I’m afraid.’
When there was a short break in the proceedings mid-morning, Scandal again piped up, this time commenting upon how many lawyers it takes to settle a small dispute. Then he added, ‘You know, there have been studies that have shown that wherever you are on the planet you’re never less than five yards away from a lawyer.’
Being the smart alec that he is, TopFirst immediately looked over to our side and corrected Scandal with, ‘I think you’ll find th
at that statistic refers to rats, not lawyers.’
‘Well, there you go,’ smiled Scandal gesturing around the court. ‘The mother lode.’
TopFirst scowled as he realised that he’d fallen for one of Scandal’s little jokes and as he did so, Slippery let loose with another of his misquotes, ‘Ooh, grin for me, grin for me, they’ve all gorrit in for me.’
But despite all the high jinx, it was clear to all of us as the day dragged on that the more time that passes, the more we are losing the case itself. At one point in the afternoon, UpTights really rubbed it in when she made a comment to the judge about the weakness of our evidence, and all OldSmoothie could muster was the sort of resigned look that England cricket captains tend to give after another test match defeat. Whilst he was doing so, UpTights started up the theatrics by staring at him for just a bit longer than was polite and said, ‘Look at that, Your Honour.’
The whole court turned to OldSmoothie. Then UpTights smiled and gave the knife a final few turns, ‘Utterly beyond hope and he knows it.’ She looked around and then added, ‘Though I believe the death throes of a cockroach that has been decapitated can take several weeks to come to an end.’
Thursday 8 May 2008
Year 2 (week 32): BrainWasher
With the trial going from bad to worse and no sign of either WhistleBlower or TopFlirt, I was called into the solicitors’ office today by none other than Smutton.
When I arrived I mentioned Smutton’s name and was whisked up to the floor above Slippery’s office. Her office was at the end of a long corridor. But unlike all the other solicitors in the firm, there was no little cubbyhole for her. Her office was more like something out of Wall Street, with views out over Tower Bridge and the Thames. As I entered, I was taken aback by a little white Jack Russell jumping up at my legs.
‘Flea. Come here at once,’ she said as I entered.
The dog went bounding back to its mistress and jumped up on the sofa beside her desk.
‘Well, BabyB,’ she purred. ‘Always a pleasure to welcome an upstanding member of the other half of the profession to my humble abode.’ As she said this she rolled her tongue over the words ‘upstanding’ and ‘member’.
‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ I lied.
‘Oh, come now, BabyB. You should relax a little. It’s not as if I’m going to eat you, is it? I’m perfectly harmless, really, you know.’
‘I hadn’t imagined you weren’t,’ I lied again.
Then it was down to business.
‘Look, BabyB. I’ve taken a somewhat hands-off approach to this litigation so far. Left it to Slippery to deal with in the manner only he knows best.’
I raised my eyebrows in a knowing way.
‘But his tactics seem to have failed us and so it’s been passed along for me to sort out. Last chance saloon if you like.’
How appropriate, I thought. Smutton sitting alone in the last chance saloon.
‘Which is why I’ve asked ScandalMonger if he can get one of his clients to help.’
She then went on to explain that Scandal happens to represent someone who I’ll call BrainWasher, owing to the fact that he is one of the world’s leading experts on manipulating people’s minds through the power of suggestion. She concluded, ‘Time to put him to good use on the judge’s mind.’ Then she added, ‘Oh, and I imagine that with all the money our firm has lent your mother, not to mention the professional conduct complaint you’ve already got against your name, you’ll be able to see your way past any professional misgivings you might have had.’
Friday 9 May 2008
Year 2 (week 32): Full moon
Arthur was giving evidence at the trial today, much to the amusement of TheMoldies and their supporters who were tittering in the back of the court.
‘So what is it that your condition leads you to do exactly?’ asked OldSmoothie.
‘Well I pull my trousers and underpants right down and I show them my bare bottom,’ said Arthur.
‘And on what occasions do you do this?’
‘Whenever I get the urge, to be honest,’ said Arthur.
‘Which would be when?’
‘Oh, whenever I think someone deserves it,’ Arthur replied with a smile.
‘And when do you think they deserve it?’ persisted OldSmoothie.
‘Oh, you know . . .’ answered Arthur. By now it was clear he was deliberately toying with OldSmoothie who was starting to get exasperated.
‘Actually I do know, but it’s for you to tell the court, not me. So perhaps you might elaborate as to when you think someone deserves to be, er . . .’
‘I think the word you’re looking for is “mooned”,’ said Arthur.
‘Quite,’ answered OldSmoothie.
Picking up on OldSmoothie’s impatience, Arthur turned to the judge, gave a winning smile and said, ‘Barristers, huh? They just ain’t what they used to be.’
Barristers being the bane of this particular judge’s life, Arthur had hit just the right note and the judge beamed back at him in agreement. Then just when things all seemed to be rosy, Arthur, who at this point was still facing the judge and therefore had his back to OldSmoothie, bent over and very quickly gave him a full glimpse of the dark side of the moon. TheMoldies at the back of the court signalled their rowdy approval and the judge tried to restore a little order with, ‘That’s enough of that for today.’
Arthur smiled again and just said, ‘Sorry, my Lord. It’s just he did ask what sort of thing led me to do it and all I did was show him. Now you get the full picture.’
‘Well quite,’ smiled the judge, nevertheless charmed by Arthur’s irreverent put-down of the fat pompous one.
Monday 12 May 2008
Year 2 (week 33): Unorthodox
‘Well, it’s somewhat unorthodox, but I think it could be done. But tell me, BabyBarista, isn’t it illegal to try and influence a judge in this way?’
BrainWasher had agreed to meet us at Slippery’s office and he was voicing his concerns about Smutton’s proposed campaign to bring the judge’s mind around to our way of thinking. He was neat, trim and thoroughly in control but also looked as if he had a whacky side, which came out in his blue velvet jacket and loud purple shirt with a large collar which hung loose over a baggy pair of trousers. He clearly loved himself and when he wasn’t rubbing his chin he was stroking his hand through his thick mop of brown hair.
‘I don’t think there’s a precedent against it,’ I replied.
‘I see.’
‘And it’s not as if we’re going to be harming the judge in any way.’
‘No. Quite.’
‘Merely influencing him. Through subliminal messages.’
‘Yes. I see the point.’
‘Though it’s certainly not something I’d want the other side to find out about.’
‘Hmm. I can thoroughly understand why that may be the case.’
‘So, do you think you can do it?’
He thought about it for a little while and then said, ‘If he sticks to the routine to and from work that you’ve described to me then I can certainly give it a go. I’ll do some planning this week and aim to start next Monday.’
Tuesday 13 May 2008
Year 2 (week 33): Apple sauce and BlackBerry whine
‘Oh no, she’s off doing her BlackBerry whine again,’ said OldSmoothie at court today, as he pointed over to UpTights who was looking exasperated as she talked into her BlackBerry.
‘And I suppose that that means TheVamp over there is doing an Apple sauce,’ said SlipperySlope, smiling as we all looked over to see her whispering her usual line in flirtatious innuendo into her iPhone.
At that moment BusyBody was walking past and she said, ‘I’ve always thought it so appropriate that the egotistical maniac that is OldSmoothie should have chosen a telephone that is named in such a way that it almost seems to have been invented for him.’
She pointed at OldSmoothie’s own iPhone and then added, ‘I mean, it’s definitely catchier than
the “me, me, me, I’m a big fat slob phone” wouldn’t you say?’
Wednesday 14 May 2008
Year 2 (week 33): Got a semi
I had a meeting with Smutton and BrainWasher today and whilst Smutton was called away to take a phonecall, I asked BrainWasher to give me some of the details he had already dug up about the judge.
‘What kind of house does he have?’ I asked.
As Smutton came back into the room BrainWasher glanced in her direction and then replied with, ‘He’s got a semi.’
Smutton was on it in an instant and looking straight at me she said, ‘Oh, BabyB. You’ve got a semi? I know I can have an effect on young men but so early in the day? I’m flattered.’
I blushed and started stumbling to explain. But before I could splutter out any words she added, ‘Though you’ll have to do better than a semi, BabyB. You’ll find that’s about as useful as a chocolate teapot.’
Thursday 15 May 2008
Year 2 (week 33): Role play
Finally got a text from TopFlirt this afternoon saying that she apologised for disappearing and would like to meet up tomorrow evening. That is, midway through the trial. Despite the trouble she’s caused and the difficulties she must know we’re in, the text was actually a little flirty. But if I’m honest, maybe that’s just my excuse. Because the judge had taken a break a little earlier than usual that day, and I’d been taken out for a very liquid lunch by SlipperySlope who wanted to get the full low-down on Smutton and BrainWasher and insisted on feeding me copious amounts of booze as a result. So when I arrived back at court I was already feeling a little the worse for wear. All of which might explain why I replied with a slightly fruity text saying:
Hey sexy, look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening and examining your particulars. I fear a bit of role play might be essential in teasing out all the details of the case. BB.
