Law and Peace

by Tim Kevan

  As BigMouth sauntered down the courtroom steps, OldRuin smiled again and murmured enigmatically, ‘You remember what I just said about ending in failure? Well that end may come sooner than he thinks.’

  Then he turned to me and said, ‘Well done, BabyB. I’m proud of you. You keep on following your heart and you’ll never go far wrong.’

  He looked over at TheMoldies who were still celebrating and added, ‘Look at them, BabyB. They’re not teaching us how to die but how to live.’

  OldRuin and I were joined by Claire and my mother, who had also turned up to hear the judgment, and we all slipped away from the crowd to celebrate over a quiet lunch. Whilst we were eating, I did just have one more work-related thing to share. ‘TopFirst will be smarting in a few weeks when he discovers that he didn’t quite get the small print right on our agreement.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Claire.

  ‘Well, we settled all the claims that were registered with us. But it turns out that Tony never actually officially got around to signing up his own claim at the same time as the others. He just tagged along with Dora. But now he’s leading a movement of Moldy litter-pickers who suddenly have some quite serious financial backing.’

  I hoped no one noticed as I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat as I said this. I continued, ‘And from what he told me today he’ll be delighted to start a new action of his own. After all, Whistleblower’s documents still point to the fact that the mobile phone masts are seriously damaging to people’s health. What’s more he thinks there’ll be many more litigants who will come forward once the publicity kicks in.’

  ‘You crafty young fellow,’ said OldRuin with a glint in his eye.

  ‘Oh, and he asked me if I could recommend any honest lawyers and of course, I just happened to mention you and Claire.’

  As we made our way home that evening my mother commented, ‘I’m really proud of you, BabyB. Not just for doing the right thing by your lovely clients in this case, but also for all the work you’ve put in on OldRuin’s hospital case. Despite everything I’ve said about your father, I always loved the fact that at the first whiff of injustice he would step up to the mark and you’ve got that quality in spades.’

  Friday 26 September 2008

  Year 2 (week 52): RedBags

  ‘I don’t know what went on yesterday morning, BabyB, but you need to know that I’m not pleased. Not pleased at all.’

  OldSmoothie emphasised each word ominously. ‘And as for your little bet over a red bag with TopFirst . . .’

  I looked at him wide-eyed, astonished that he knew anything about it.

  ‘What? You think I didn’t know. Come on, BabyB, this profession’s too small for secrets. You should know that by now.’

  Oh. I figured Slippery must have let, er, slip, or maybe UpTights made some passing remark after having been tipped off by the memo.

  OldSmoothie continued, ‘Anyway, with a trick like the one you pulled off yesterday, you know where you can stick your little red bag? Stuff it right up there and forget you even dreamt of getting one, BabyB.’

  ‘But the clients were happy,’ I protested. ‘We got them what they wanted.’

  ‘That’s never the point, BabyB. We didn’t get what I wanted, which was a big fat pay cheque to help me finance my increasingly expensive wife and the SS School Fees that she launched out into the ocean some years ago, and which seems to become more expensive to keep afloat every year that goes by.’

  Oh again.

  As if to prove OldSmoothie’s point about the place being too small for secrets, I received a call from TopFirst within an hour.

  ‘My condolences, BabyB, on your failure. Just thought I’d add to your news with a little of my own. I’ve been told by a good source that UpTights intends to award me my own red bag at our celebration dinner on Tuesday evening. I look forward to seeing you at the start of October, BabyB. Make sure you arrive looking smart, as I wouldn’t want you dragging down the standards in my chambers. Come to think of it, I think I’ll have you start by shining my shoes. That is, after you’ve made me coffee, naturally.’

  Monday 29 September 2008

  Year 2 (week 53): Loan Ranger

  With the Bar Standards Board complaint remaining live and the fact that I’ll be dogsbodying for TopFirst next week, the last thing I needed this morning was a showdown with SlipperySlope over the Moldy case and my mother’s debts. But he’d summoned me in and so that was what I was going to get.

  ‘BabyB, I don’t for a minute believe that you weren’t involved in fixing that settlement. I don’t know how you did it but just for the record, you should be aware that I know it was you.’

  I didn’t reply, not wanting to dig my hole any deeper than it already was.

  ‘Which brings me nicely on to the subject of your mother’s loan.’

  Ouch. This was not a good introduction to that particular subject.

  ‘You know, BabyB, despite what I see as a betrayal, I can still understand why you did it. Believe it or not, we’re not impermeable hard-nosed monsters and both Arthur and Ethel and indeed you yourself have, I have to admit, made me sit up. Only a little mind, before you start thinking I’m going soft. What I’m trying to say is that whilst you lost me some money on this, you and TheMoldies have actually made me a lot more money by giving our firm a whole new area of specialisation through the geriatrigation cases that have been coming in. They’ve already massively increased our client base and, of course, where TheMoldies boldly go, their children and grandchildren have also followed. And for what it’s worth, sheer audacity and ingenuity are skills that are both rare at the Bar and highly prized by myself and ScandalMonger.’

  He paused for breath, clearly not comfortable with this touchy-feely approach. ‘So the bottom line is: I think you’re basically a good thing and I’m going to extend the period of the loan on your mother’s debts.’

  I think I must have looked a little shocked at this turnaround in events.

  Then he added, ‘And in case you’re concerned, she’ll be safe with me, BabyB. I can assure you of that. You’re on the team to stay after your performance this year.’

  Then he smiled and, with a far off look in his eye, declared, ‘So, BabyB, the Loan Ranger rides again.’

  ‘And what was it Garbo said?’ I asked with a grin.

  He looked at me quizzically, and then said, ‘That’s it, BabyB. Now you’re really getting into the spirit. “I want to be a loan.” Love it!’

  After which he shook my hand, patted me awkwardly on the shoulder, clearly wondering whether to give me a hug or not, and then left.

  Tuesday 30 September 2008

  Year 2 (week 53): High tea

  So, this evening TopFirst will be awarded his red bag by UpTights at dinner. He couldn’t resist calling me this morning to crow.

  ‘Shame you had to lose, BabyB. Remember, it’s white, one sugar. Starting tomorrow.’

  Later, Claire and I were invited out to afternoon tea at The Savoy by OldRuin as a thank you for helping him with the hospital case. When we arrived, he was looking surprisingly furtive and he had a real twinkle in his eye. After a lavish and extremely enjoyable high tea and just as he was preparing to leave to catch his train home, I was able to resist no longer. I asked him if he had any news.

  ‘It’s funny you should ask, BabyB. I do as a matter of fact.’

  He paused, smiling.

  ‘He’s teasing you, BabyB,’ said Claire also smiling. She seemed to be in on whatever it was he knew.

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘what have I done now?’

  ‘You’ve both kept the hospital open, BabyB, that’s what you’ve done,’ said OldRuin beaming.

  ‘What? How do you know?’

  ‘The judge sent both sides an advance copy of the judgment this morning.’

  I looked at Claire and said, ‘And you knew about this, too?’

  She looked sheepish. ‘Well, OldRuin might have mentioned something . . .’

  Th
en OldRuin bent down beside the table and pulled up a bag containing what looked like a book. ‘This is for you, BabyB,’ he said.

  I opened the bag and took out its contents. It was indeed a book. An old book, and when I opened it up I saw that the author was none other than Charles Kingsley. Then when I saw the original inscription inside it my mouth dropped as I realised this was OldRuin’s very own copy, inscribed by his wife over sixty years ago.

  ‘I wanted you to have it, BabyB.’

  Claire looked at the spine and saw the name of the author and exclaimed, ‘What a wonderful choice, OldRuin. I love this book.’

  He looked at me and then said to both of us, ‘I thought that might be the case.’

  ‘I even learnt some of the lines when I was a child,’ Claire added. Then, in a very gentle, quiet voice, she quoted:

  When all the world is old, lad,

  And all the trees are brown;

  And all the sport is stale, lad,

  And all the wheels run down:

  Creep home and take your place there,

  The spent and maimed among:

  God grant you find one face there,

  You loved when all was young.

  Claire smiled at me as she finished and then turned to OldRuin, who for his part had to do no more than slightly raise his eyebrow at me to express all that he thought. Then just as I was recovering from the various surprises, I finally noticed the bag in which the book had been wrapped. It was a very distinctive red cloth bag. I looked at OldRuin enquiringly.

  ‘It’s my own red bag, BabyB and I can’t think of anyone more appropriate to whom I should award it now.’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know what to say, OldRuin. I am deeply honoured.’

  He then turned to Claire. ‘I’d also be so pleased if you’d do me the honour of also accepting a red bag for all your very generous hard work on the case.’ He pulled another one out of his briefcase and handed it to her, adding, ‘This actually belonged to my father and has been gathering dust for years. I’m so pleased to be able to pass it on to a worthy recipient.’

  Claire was equally taken aback by OldRuin’s gift and she stammered out her thanks. OldRuin by this point was obviously becoming rather embarrassed, so he swiftly said his goodbyes to us both. As he did so, Claire put her hand in mine and OldRuin beamed.

  ‘Look after this young lady, BabyB.’

  Then he took a last look at the book he had given me and said, ‘Memento mori, BabyB. Teaches us all. Every day of our lives.’

  He brought out a final gift, which he passed to Claire. ‘And I thought you both might like to share this bottle of elderflower wine I made a few years ago. My wife helped me pick the flowers for this particular vintage and like good poetry, it has aged rather well.’

  As he left, Claire turned to me and said, ‘I think you have a bet to call in. Tell him you like your coffee iced and shaken, not stirred.’

  After I’d made the call, Claire took my hand again and suggested we walk along the river. As we did so, we could both still feel the reverberations of anger emanating from TopFirst, who, like a kind of Hooded Claw, had screamed, ‘Mark my words, I’ll get you, BabyB . . .’

  My telephone then rang again and this time it was the Bar Standards Board. ‘I’m ringing to inform you Mr BabyBarista that in the light of Mr TopFirst withdrawing his complaint we will proceed no further. However . . .’

  Oh no, not more, I thought.

  ‘. . . there is one thing I should add. This decision was not arrived at lightly and I think you should know that initially the Board was set on proceeding against you in any event. But then Mr OldRuin asked permission to address the board personally and he explained not only the selfless hard work you had done for him but also a few of the difficulties that you have faced in the last year or two. It was this that changed their minds.’

  I melted not only with relief but with gratitude for OldRuin’s constant and unconditional love. I thanked the caller very much and then told Claire the good news. We hugged for a long time and I took her hand and held it in mine. Then we walked on, still holding hands, until at one point we passed a large television screen next to the door of a café and saw BigMouth revelling in his ‘great victory’ for TheMoldies and speaking about the terrible corruption within the telecom company. It made me ponder OldRuin’s prediction that BigMouth’s downfall ‘may come sooner than he thinks’.

  As we walked over Westminster Bridge and watched the Thames flowing beneath us I found myself hoping fervently that OldRuin was right.

  Acknowledgements

  I’d like to thank the following people in particular for their invaluable help in the making of Law and Peace: my agent Euan Thorneycroft of AM Heath; Helen Garnons-Williams, Erica Jarnes, Alexandra Pringle, Richard Charkin, Jude Drake and Laura Brooke at Bloomsbury; Penelope Beech; cartoonist Alex Williams for his wonderful illustrations; Mark Warby QC for his insights, humour and hospitality; Alison and Sean Derrig; Louise Dobson; Jenny Parrott; Maya Wolfe-Robinson, Afua Hirsch, Ros Taylor, Steve Wing, Janine Gibson and Alan Rusbridger at The Guardian; Dean Norton and everyone at 1 Temple Gardens; writers Mark Evans, Andy Martin, Tom Anderson and James Woolf; Sir Ian Burnett; barristers Daniel Barnett, Mark Sefton, Dominic Adamson, Aidan Ellis, Anthony Johnson, John Bate-Williams, Marcus Grant, Joe Rich, Melanie Winter, Jacob Dean, Anne Faul and Katie Langdon; Garry Wright at Law Brief Publishing; Jo Pye and Kath Gardner at CPD Webinars; the creative team of Paul Irwin (Goat) and Dr Miranda Coberman; Mike Semple-Piggott, David A. Giacalone and the community of ‘blawgers’; readers of the blog at The Guardian; Frances Gibb and Alex Spence at The Times; Sophie Ashcroft; Madeleine Potter and Michael J Daly; Bob Moss at Clerksroom Magazine; Mrs K.E. Sechiari; Andrew ‘Clanger’ Clancey; Charlotte Woolven-Brown; Professor Geoffrey M. Beresford Hartwell; Rev. Anne Thorne, Rev. Bill Long and Rev. Dr John Stott; Lady Calcutt; Rachel Kyle, Tim Heyland at Tiki, Gus, Ross, Claire and Lisa Thomson at Saltrock, Dr Rob Casserley, Richard Waddams, Jay Stirzaker, Fiona Sturrock, Jamie Bott, Geoffrey and Susanna Stanford, Dan and Sunny Rudman, Rick Yeo, James Yeo, Stuart (Max Steele) and Maggie de la Roche, Gareth and Jane Harrison, Simon Skelton, Doug and Tamsin Powell, Jim and Kath Gardner, Jon and Kat Curtis, Chris and Rachel Preston, Tony Baker, John McCrow, Rev David Rudman, David Squire, Ian ‘Scratch’ Wright, Kieron Davies, Andrew Cotton, Mike Elsom, Mikey and Rita Corker, Dr Basil Singer and Steve Pye; Angie Day, Steve Hole and Craig at the Black Horse; Andy and Simon Murfet and Jay at the White Lion and Emma and Andy at the Corner Bistro; Chris Martindale; Dr Jeff and Mrs Anne Mills; Mark and Luke von Herkomer, Jon Gilbert, Michael Pritchett, Ben Finn, Valerio Massimo, Pam Sharrock, Richard and Hannah Pool-Jones, Toby and Lucy Backhouse, Simon Nixon, Taffa Nice, Caroline and Keith Lister, Rollo and Caroline Clifford, Jo and Dave Williams, Jan and Phil Hall, Amy and Mike Krazizky, Marion Howard, Victoria Woodward, Rachel Murray, Tom Lister, Kevin Nicholson, Jo Howard, Jeremy Eggleton, Phil the Cat, John, Julia, Lewis, Josie and Joan Kliem and the Best family; Alan, Julie and Martine Dobson; Miranda Barnett and Peach Wright; Neil Ferguson and John Coward; remembering Lorna Wilson, Sir David Calcutt QC, Dr Roger Morris and His Honour Judge Paul Clark; Robin Kevan, Sue Chambers, Tina Kevan, Bob Chambers, Lucy, Nick, Toby and Dominic Hawkins, Anna Kevan, Bruce Wilson, Sophie Kevan and all my family; and once again to Dr Michelle Tempest for helping to start it all off.

  A Note on the Author

  TIM KEVAN practised as a barrister in London for ten years during which time he wrote or co-wrote ten law books and was a regular legal pundit for TV and radio. He is also the author of Law and Disorder, which was described by broadcaster Jeremy Vine as ‘a wonderful, racing read – well drawn, smartly plotted and laugh out loud’. He is the co-author of Why Lawyers Should Surf (with Dr Michelle Tempest), which The Times Online described as ‘a song for the modern age which could well become a cult classic’. He now lives by the sea in Braunton in North Devon where he surfs and continues to write the BabyBarista Blog for the Guardian. He is als
o the co-founder of two businesses, CPD Webinars and Law Brief Publishing. Brought up in Minehead in Somerset, he was educated at Cambridge University and was a scholar of the Middle Temple.

  www.timkevan.com

  timkevan.blogspot.com

  www.babybarista.com

  www.guardian.co.uk/babybarista

  Also by Tim Kevan

  LAW & DISORDER

  CONFESSIONS OF A PUPIL BARRISTER

  It is BabyBarista’s first day as a pupil barrister. He has just one year to win, by foul means or fair, the sought-after prize of a tenancy in chambers. Competition is fierce: there’s TopFirst, who has a prize-winning CV and an ego to match; BusyBody, a human whirlwind on a husband hunt; and wide-eyed Worrier, buckling under the weight of the world. Armed with a copy of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, BabyBarista launches a no-holds barred ght to the death of double-dealing, dirty tricks and a healthy dose of back-stabbing. Part Rumpole, part Flashman, BabyBarista opens a window onto the Machiavellian and frequently absurd ways of working life.

  *

  ‘It is a wonderful, racing read – well-drawn, smartly plotted and laugh out loud’

  JEREMY VINE

  *

  ‘This is “The Legal Apprentice”, a high concept TV show disguised as a smart book’

  THE TIMES

  *

  ‘Blogger Tim Kevan’s diary of a trainee barrister desperate to win a job is fascinating, subversive and pretty much impossible to put down’