A Hallowed Place (4 page)

‘Thanks,’ said Sarah, taking the piece of paper from Felicity. ‘I only hope I’m not too late.’

She hurried out into the warm September sunshine, then dropped her pace to a saunter once she was out of Caper Court. A boring old arbitration was the last thing she felt like doing. She’d have preferred to sit and drink coffee in David’s room and read a newspaper, or skive off to Middle Temple Common Room. Still, one had to show willing. As for a bus, sod that. She’d take a taxi.

Sarah arrived at the arbitration with minutes to spare and managed to fake a breathless apology to David.

‘Don’t worry,’ said David, who had promised himself earlier in the taxi that he would take a stern, frosty line with her, but now found himself unable to in the face of her exceptional prettiness and charm. She had certainly caught the attention, too, of the other men seated round the large oval table. Sarah realised she was the only woman present, and at this her confidence lifted. ‘Here,’ said David in an undertone, passing her a pristine counsel’s notebook. ‘Just take notes and try to keep up with what’s going on. I was going to explain the case to you beforehand, but I’m afraid we haven’t got time.’

At that moment the arbitrator glanced across at David. ‘I think we’re all ready now, Mr Liphook.’

‘Thank you.’ David stood up. ‘Good morning. In this case I appear for the plaintiffs, and my learned friend, Mr Gilmore, for the defendants. The matters in dispute arise from the issue in Hamburg of two bills of lading dated 18 April and 23 June 1997 for the carriage of containers of sugar from Hamburg and Bremerhaven to Dubai and Mina Qaboos …’

Sarah started diligently to note down the main points as David spoke, then after fifteen minutes she began to wonder why she was bothering. This was his case, after all, so he must know what was going on. Why should she go to the trouble of noting down what he was saying? There might be some point if the other side’s barrister were talking, but this was just a waste of time. She put down her pen and yawned, then glanced idly at each man seated round the table, trying to assess if there was anything particularly
attractive about any of them. Deciding there was not, she picked up her pen again and doodled covertly until tea was brought in. She ate four digestive biscuits and drank her tea, then sat, restless and bored, until lunch time.

‘Well, are you managing to follow what’s going on?’ asked David, when they broke for lunch.

Sarah gave a thin smile. ‘Sort of. How long do you think it will last?’

‘We should be finished by the end of the day.’ He riffled quickly through his papers. ‘Look, I wonder if you could do something over lunch for me. Beddoes and I - that’s our solicitor, by the way, Paul Beddoes.’ David glanced round. ‘Oh, he’s talking at the moment. I’ll introduce you later. Anyway, we have to have a meeting over lunch with the client. We need to get these documents copied. They’re communications between the master and the shore that didn’t reach us till this morning, so none of the arbitrators has copies. I’ll need - let me see … six copies. Can you manage that?’

‘Sure,’ said Sarah. David handed her the documents. ‘Where can I get it done?’

‘Ask down at reception. There’ll be a photocopier somewhere.’ David glanced at his watch. ‘See you back here at two.’

Sarah left the arbitration room and eventually found a photocopier in the lobby. She stood drumming her fingernails as the machine ate and fed, ate and fed the slim stack of papers.

‘Sarah - hello! What are you doing here?’

Sarah turned. A tall, chubby man with wavy brown
hair and a suit in the very broadest chalk-stripe stood grinning at her.

‘Oh, hello, Teddy,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m having fun - what d’you think?’ The photocopier chugged out the last sheaves of paper and Sarah stacked them all neatly together. ‘Actually, I’m on the first day of my pupillage and already I’m being treated like slave labour.’ Teddy was a solicitor, someone she had run into on regular occasions on her social circuit.

‘Come and have lunch with me, then. I’ve just put in three hours of honest graft, and could do with something.’

‘All right,’ said Sarah! ‘Anything’s better than hanging around here.’ She picked up the bundles of documents and they left.

‘Oh, Teddy, not another,’ said Sarah, as Teddy returned from the bar with two large glasses of white wine. Before them lay the remnants of a plate of avocado and-bacon sandwiches. The wine bar was thronged with City lunchers. ‘In fact, I shouldn’t have had that first one. I’ll fall asleep this afternoon. Honestly, arbitrations are so boring. At least, this one is.’ She took a quick sip of the second glass and glanced at Teddy’s watch. ‘Is that the time? I’ll have to go. I’m meant to be back at two and it’s five to already. Listen, it’s been lovely. I’ll buy you lunch in return some time. You finish my wine. Bye.’ Sarah, slightly pink from the wine, kissed Teddy quickly on both cheeks and left.

With a sigh, Teddy sat down and scoffed the remaining sandwiches, finished his wine and flipped through his copy
of
The Times
. It was only when he got up to go that he noticed the neat stack of documents, lying where Sarah had left them.

The arbitration was reconvening just as Sarah got back. She slipped breathlessly into her seat and quickly retied her hair, which had come loose. The atmosphere, in contrast to the conviviality of the wine bar, was sombre and businesslike, the only sounds the rustle of paper and the mild hum of serious, muted conversation as everyone prepared to resume.

David came into the room and gave her a quick smile. ‘Did you manage to get those documents done?’ he asked, as he sat down next to her.

Recollection hit her like a shock. ‘Oh, shit,’ she said, and put her hand to her mouth. The word rang in the air with unexpected clarity. Heads lifted, conversation ceased. David stared at her.

‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she muttered and fled from the room. There was a surprised silence and the eyes of all the men in the room turned to David.

‘Are we ready to recommence, Mr Liphook?’ asked the arbitrator.

Pink with embarrassment, David hesitated, half rose to his feet. ‘Gentlemen, I had intended to introduce some further correspondence between the master and the Bremerhaven agents, which came to us only this morning. However—’ David rustled among his notes ‘—may I in the meantime move to another point, and that is the questions of the contractual status of the bills of lading at German law …’

Sarah sped back to the wine bar. It was emptying now, the tables littered with discarded glasses and empty sandwich plates, a noisy group of brokers still laughing and smoking by the bar. She cursed herself. She had thought this pupillage was going to be a breeze, that she was going to manage David beautifully and not put a foot wrong, and still get away without doing too much hard work, and already it was going haywire. Well, it was her own fault. Praying inwardly, she scanned the floor by the table where she and Teddy had been sitting. Nothing. Her heart sank. But who would want to walk off with some boring shipping documents? She hurried to the bar, where the barman was uncorking yet another bottle for the brokers.

‘Excuse me, I was in here ten or fifteen minutes ago and I left some papers on the floor by the table just over there, by the window—’

Without changing expression, the barman bent slightly and pulled out from beneath the counter Sarah’s bundle of documents. ‘Young man said you’d left them, and that you might be back for them. Lucky, ain’t you?’

‘God, yes,’ breathed Sarah. ‘Thank you.’

Clutching the documents, she sped back to the arbitration centre. In the lobby, she stabbed at the lift buttons and leant against the wall, trying to recover her breath. She was still panting when she reached the doors of the arbitration room. She could hear David’s voice droning away, so she gave herself a couple of minutes to compose herself. Then she went in as unobtrusively as possible and slid into her seat, laying the bundle of photocopied documents on the table before her.

David paused and glanced down at her. She met his eye, and it was stony and expressionless. He suddenly looked much older than she had ever thought him before. Then he went on, ‘This may be a convenient point to return to the matter of what was said by the agents to the master at Bremerhaven. As I indicated earlier, further correspondence has come to light and we now have copies of these exchanges.’ David picked up the photocopies. ‘I do apologise for the delay.’ And he began to pass round the documents. Sarah sat with downcast eyes, feeling ignominious. It was not a familiar feeling and it was distinctly unpleasant. Well, she would just have to put a brave face on it when they got back to chambers. She suddenly remembered Leo’s words to her on the steps outside chambers, and wished she’d got up early this morning and had just gone to a sandwich bar for lunch.

In the taxi on the way back, David was too busy talking over the arbitration with Paul Beddoes to pay Sarah much attention. To add to her humiliation, when she had been introduced to Beddoes, who was an attractive man with a preoccupied manner, she had tried to flirt mildly with him. But Beddoes clearly regarded David’s new pupil as someone of no significance whatsoever, no matter how pretty, and he had snubbed her.

After dropping Beddoes off at his office, they carried on to the Temple. David took a small tape recorder from his pocket and began to dictate some notes. Sarah sat in silence. This had to be just a means of ignoring her. What could he have to dictate that couldn’t wait till they got back to chambers? The cab pulled up, and David handed her a
pile of books and papers. She stood on the pavement while he paid the cab, then they walked together across the road and down Middle Temple Lane.

Despite her anger and humiliation, Sarah knew that she should say something. ‘I’m very sorry about the photocopies,’ she said. In an effort to make her voice contrite, she merely sounded cold and ungracious. Sensing this, she added, ‘I had lunch with a friend and left them behind.’

‘I see,’ said David. They passed through the archway, and he stopped and turned to her. ‘Do you realise that those were original documents, and very important ones at that? If you’d lost them, it could have jeopardised our entire case. What the hell would I have been able to say to our clients, or to Beddoes?’

‘Well, I didn’t lose them, did I? And I’ve said I’m sorry.’ God, this was awful. She felt like a naughty schoolgirl. David sighed and scratched his head. He didn’t much like playing the stern pupilmaster. Besides, when he thought back to the various social occasions on which he’d met Sarah - even fancied her at one point - it made him feel awkward. Maybe he shouldn’t have leant on the pupillage committee to select her. Still, she was here now and they’d both have to make the best of it. ‘Right. Well, let’s get this lot back to chambers.’ They carried on walking. ‘The thing is, you have to understand that this is for real. If you’re going to be a barrister, you have to take it seriously. Everything. You can’t afford to be careless.’

They went into chambers and through reception. Felicity greeted them cheerfully as David picked up his mail. Sarah
ignored her. She didn’t much care for Felicity’s easygoing cockiness. In fact, she decided she didn’t much care for Felicity. Still smarting from her mortification, she followed David up to his room.

‘Just put them over there,’ he said. Sarah piled the books on the side of his desk. He pointed to a desk on the other side of the room. ‘That’s yours. I’m sorry it’s a bit cramped.’

Sarah smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s fine. Thank you.’

David shuffled through some of the papers on his window sill and drew out a slim brief, tied with pink ribbon. He handed it to Sarah, his expression neutral, businesslike. He was no fool, and the events of the day had made him see that Sarah hoped to base this relationship on all those wine bar and drinks party encounters of the past. He was determined not to let that happen.

‘Right,’ said David, ‘here’s something for you to be getting on with. Barge being towed through South African waters. Bowline snaps, barge is lost, stranded somewhere between the Congo and Cape Town. Our clients are the owners of the tug, the plaintiffs are the barge owners. The contract is a BIMCO Towcon - ever come across one of those? No? Well, now’s your chance to make its closely printed acquaintance. In this case it contains a clause conferring exclusive English jurisdiction over all disputes. The plaintiffs have issued a writ
in rem
against our clients in the South African courts, and I want you to tell me whether you think we can obtain an injunction preventing the defendants from pursuing the action in South Africa.’ He handed Sarah the brief. Sarah took it, her face expressionless. ‘I’d like something by the end of tomorrow afternoon, please. The clients are coming in for a con on Friday.’

At five forty Sarah was still in Middle Temple library, with books piled around her. She was in despair. She’d read the towing contract from back to front several times, and still she didn’t have a clue. They hadn’t covered anything like this at all at Bar school. It was a nightmare. She put down her pen and laid the side of her head down on her notebook, and stared out of the window at the buildings opposite.

Anthony was on his way out of the library when he saw her. He didn’t recognise her at first, his attention merely arrested by the shining spill of blonde hair as she rested her head on her book. Then he realised who it was. He hesitated. The brief affair which he and Sarah had had just under a year ago had ended acrimoniously. They still acknowledged one another when they met, but Anthony hadn’t exactly been happy at the news that she was to join chambers. He went over to the counter to sign out the book he was borrowing, then glanced back. She had lifted her head now and was writing. Hell, he thought, we’ve got to co-exist, so I might as well be friendly. He went back over to the table where she was working. ‘You shouldn’t work too hard. It’s past half five, you know.’

Sarah looked up, startled, and met his gaze. Her expression was open, unprepared for the sight of him, and, for a dizzying instant, Anthony experienced again the sexual charge which he had felt on first meeting her months before. ‘Hi,’ she said uncertainly. Normally any acknowledgement of Anthony was cold and grudging, but she was too surprised, and too weary and fed up, to bother. She sighed and looked back at her book.