Law and Disorder (30 page)

Already bright red and unsuccessfully trying to hide the urine sample under her documents,BusyBody whimpered,‘Oh.Sorry.Sorry. So sorry.’ She then turned and scuttled as fast as was possible in the circumstances. After which the room broke down into fits of laughter. Poor BusyBody. Her sexual dilly-dallying had already caused her to be the butt of many jokes in chambers over the past few months. Not only did this make it worse, but it also meant that the list of potential culprits amounted to about a dozen members of chambers. Though it might also be one of the two trouble-making pupils, it was also whispered. Now who could this be, you ask? Why, TopFirst and ThirdSix, of course! So, with too many potential suspects it was generally agreed that the matter would be quietly dropped.

Friday 10 August 2007

Day 219 (week 45): Bride’s nightie

UpTights and OldSmoothie.You’ve gotta love it.They were at it again today. You know it really wouldn’t surprise me if one day I came into chambers and discovered that they’d run off together. Decided to settle their differences and go off into the sunset. That love–hate thing. Well, maybe in another life. But today I finally discovered why they are so frequently against each other when I accidentally overheard a conversation between OldSmoothie and his solicitor.

‘You’re her Achilles heel, OldSmoothie. Any time I hear she’s on the other side the papers go straight over to you.’

‘Well, I can’t say I don’t enjoy our little encounters.’

‘But that’s the beauty of it, you see. The more you do it, the more she hates you and the more she can’t help reacting.’

Today was no different and UpTights continued to react to the jibes with a barrage of interruptions. Eventually OldSmoothie said, ‘I’m sorry, Your Honour, but my learned friend has been up and down more times than a bride’s nightie.’

The judge seemed somewhat distracted by the unfortunate image which OldSmoothie had conjured. Perhaps not realising that he was articulating his thoughts out loud, he said, ‘Do you think brides still wear nighties these days?’

This was the last straw for UpTights and she stood up, once again ready to make an objection. At this, the judge snapped out of his reverie and returned to the proceedings.

‘Sit down now,Ms UpTights,’ he stormed.‘Nighties ...naughties . . . niceties . . .’ He stopped, struggling to bring his mind back to the proceedings. ‘I will have none of any of it in my court.’ Then he seemed to remember where all of this had come from and calmed down, looked at UpTights and concluded, ‘Will you please let your opponent finish without jumping up and down.’

At which point his eyes glazed over and it was obvious his mind had strayed back once again to nighties.

Monday 13 August 2007

Day 220 (week 46): Heart attack

It’s a sad admission but late yesterday evening I was in chambers sorting out the numerous sets of papers for my crop of mini-pupils. The chambers phone started ringing and normally I wouldn’t have answered. But the number which came up said that the call came from OldRuin’s home. I answered immediately.

‘Help me,’ came a very faint voice. ‘Help.’

It was OldRuin, no doubt about that – and yet it was completely out of character for him to be asking for any assistance whatsoever. Something was definitely up.

‘OldRuin. It’s BabyBarista here. How can I help?’

‘Need help.’ The voice was hardly coherent. ‘Need. Help. Please.’

This was obviously serious.

‘Do you need an ambulance?’

‘Yes.’

The phone then went dead. Never having rung 999 before, it felt very weird to do so, but I made the call as soon as I had dug out OldRuin’s home address from chambers’ computer records. ‘Yes, ambulance . . . Yes, a friend of mine. Actually I work with him. I don’t know what’s wrong, but he needs help immediately. It’s an emergency . . . No, I don’t have any idea what it is. Heart attack, I would imagine. Please get there immediately . . . Thank you. Oh, and please can someone ring me when they have picked him up? Thank you so very much. Goodbye.’

I put the phone down and dashed around the room in something of a panic. My papers were all prepared for the next day and I left them on my desk and simply scooped up the evidence of the work I was setting my mini-pupils in case anyone should stumble upon it. Then I was out of the door and heading for the main road, where I eventually managed to flag down a cab which took me to Waterloo station. There I waited for a train to Winchester, which was where I believed OldRuin would probably be taken to hospital. Thankfully one of the ambulance crew called about twenty minutes later and told me that they were taking him to the Royal Hampshire County Hospital in Winchester. They told me that he’d suffered a heart attack and that if they’d arrived any later he would have died. As it was, it remained touch and go. I eventually got to the hospital around half past midnight and had to wait another six hours before I could see him. He was slipping in and out of consciousness but the doctors seemed confident that he would now pull through. I held his hand and caught a few words from him, though I tried to discourage him from speaking.

‘Thank you,BabyB.Very ...kind ...Didn’t want to tell chambers about heart problems . . .’

‘Don’t worry,OldRuin.You’re going to be all right and chambers will never know. I assure you.’

‘But you must go. Get to court.’

‘Please don’t worry. No case today, thankfully. Day off.’

Which wasn’t quite true. Actually, it was a downright lie as I was booked to do a case in Central London at 10.30 a.m. But there was no way I was leaving him in this state. The difficulty was what I was going to have to tell HeadClerk. I couldn’t mention OldRuin’s condition as this was something he wanted kept private, yet HeadClerk had already voiced his scepticism about people who ring in saying they are ‘sick’. I made the call around 8 a.m.

‘Very, very sorry but I just feel awful. Can’t move. Completely sick.’

‘Right, BabyB. I see.’ He paused. ‘You know how serious this is, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do. But I have no choice. No choice at all.’ I left it at that.

‘You also couldn’t have picked worse timing to get sick, BabyB. Doesn’t look good at all with a tenancy decision looming.’

‘I know.’

‘So be it,’ he said curtly and ended the call.

That was all he needed to say.Pretty damning.All that effort to get to this point and then to have it all put at risk by circumstance.

The good news is that by the time I left in the evening, the doctors were predicting a good recovery for OldRuin. Wish I could say the same for my tenancy chances.

Tuesday 14 August 2007

Day 221 (week 46): Cold shoulder

I’m definitely getting the cold shoulder from HeadClerk today, and I get the very strong impression that he doesn’t believe that I was sick yesterday. He’s pretty good at sniffing out the contrived excuse and to be fair to him, he was right on this occasion. The problem is I can’t tell him the real reason and so I just have to take my chances which, in the light of his withering look this morning, seem mighty slim.Actually,‘withering’ is not a word which does the look justice. It was the kind of look which OldSmoothie once summed up in reference to UpTights when he said (and I won’t pass on the full colour of his language), ‘You can (empty your bowels) better ways than she looks at people.’

Wednesday 15 August 2007

Day 222 (week 46): Blackmail

‘I went to see FakeClaims&Co today to discuss the evidence I’d gathered.’ It was TheBoss and what he meant was he’d tried to blackmail them into withdrawing their complaint against him.

‘How did it go?’ I asked.

‘I certainly gave it to them straight. Showed them all the evidence and told them that I was considering sending it to both the Law Society and the police.’

‘How did they react?’

‘It kicked off. Big time. You should have seen their faces. First there was shocked silence. Then knee-jerk denial. Then indignation and anger and they threatened to call security and kick me out there and then. Luckily one of the two I went to see seemed to have his head screwed on and he calmed the other one down and said that they’d go over what I’d given them and then get back to me.’

‘Did you actually demand that they withdraw the complaint?’

‘Not in a million years. But let’s just say that there was absolutely no doubt as to what I was saying.’

‘Well, let’s hope they see sense.’

‘Yes, BabyB. For your sake as much as mine, wouldn’t you say?’ Then, just to rub in what he was telling me, he added, ‘By the way, I received notice of the Bar Standards Board hearing today. All set for 26th September.’

I no doubt looked shaken by the news as TheBoss continued, ‘Which is two days before the tenancy decision, I believe.’

Friday 17 August 2007

Day 224 (week 46): The horror

This morning UpTights settled a five-day case which was due to start on Monday and in the process collected the full brief fee of £12,000 even though she hadn’t even started preparing for trial. Which explains her demob, un-UpTights-type mood when she said breezily, ‘Lunch, BabyB? It’s been a while since we had a proper catch up.’

Never one to turn down a free lunch, I was whisked off to a different swanky restaurant to the last occasion and when we sat down I was less than surprised when I was asked, ‘Champagne, BabyB?’

For a teetotal detox addict, she certainly gets her fair share of alcohol. By 3 p.m. we’d been through two bottles of the expensive stuff and she was on for more. ‘No point going back to chambers, BabyB. Not in any state to be billing.’

‘Quite so, UpTights.’

‘Just one more bottle then, perhaps?’

Oh, go on then! If you must. We continued drinking until about six in the evening after which it suddenly dawned on me that UpTights was starting to flirt. ‘You know, BabyB, you can be very clever when you want to be . . . You know, BabyB, you’re one step ahead even before you start. Judges will always warm to someone attractive. It’s just human nature . . . Oh, BabyB, now don’t tell me that you don’t have half the female pupil barristers swooning after you.’

Then it started getting even more direct. ‘So do you have a girlfriend, BabyB?’

‘Er, no, not right at the moment.’

‘Not even anything going on with that friend of yours, what’s her name?’

‘Claire. No, we’re friends, that’s all.’

‘Nothing ever happened with TheVamp? She’s always one to make herself available.’

Well that’s one way of putting it but I wasn’t about to start making any incriminating admissions in that direction.

‘No. Certainly not,’ I lied.

‘But don’t you get lonely, BabyB? On those long nights when you’re sitting there preparing a brief, with no one to share the little things that make life so special?’

‘Er, I guess, maybe occasionally.’

‘It comes to us all at some time or other, BabyB. We all crave companionship. Keeps us sane. Gives us meaning. But . . .’

She looked at me and tried to strain her stretched features into an expression I could tell was meant to seem coy, but which actually just looked like she was pulling a face. ‘Don’t you miss the physical side? Just holding someone close? Waking up next to them?’

The horror. On so many levels, none of which you’d want to dwell on for too long. Then she went on, ‘You know, BabyB, if I were twenty years younger . . .’

The image of a female praying mantis devouring the head of her mate sprung into my mind. As I tried to work out how I was going to extricate myself diplomatically, I felt her foot brush my ankle under the table and I almost shot cartoon-like into the air. I was off. ‘Er, UpTights. I’m afraid you’ve just reminded me that I was meant to meet Claire about an hour ago. Have to go now. So sorry. I’ll see you Monday. Bye.’

Off. Gone. Out of the lair. There are many things I would do to get tenancy. But that is not one of them.

Monday 20 August 2007

Day 225 (week 47): PupilGeek

Thankfully UpTights has taken today and tomorrow off which will hopefully allow the dust to settle on Friday’s little episode. Meanwhile I had the pleasure today of being against PupilGeek, who’s created an online game for pupils to play from their phones whilst they are in court. It’s basically a fight game between two bewigged barristers and the last one standing wins. Sounds easy enough but the skill is getting the blows in without the judge noticing that you are playing. Today we both had the benefit of lecterns which hid our little consoles from the judge and it would have all gone unnoticed if my opponent hadn’t suddenly called me something it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to repeat here, never mind to utter in a courtroom, after I’d knocked him onto the canvas. The judge looked up immediately.

‘Mr PupilGeek. I’ve been called many things in my time but never in my whole career have I ever been addressed in such a manner.’

‘Er, Your Honour. I’m terribly sorry.’

‘Sorry. I should say so. Sorry. You’ll be sorry, I assure you.’

Despite the fact that he was my opponent and I wanted to win the case, the injustice of the whole situation rankled even with my competitive spirit, particularly as I’d just smashed his head in online. ‘Your Honour, I’m afraid that the comment may have been directed at me.’