Court Out (10 page)

“Appears we have a problem Miss.”

I decide that silence is perhaps the best option and say nothing. I sit on my hands in an attempt to stop them from shaking and watch, fascinated as he takes another drag on his cigarette. The ash falls delicately onto a pile of newspaper clippings below.

“It’s Miss Harte, had a nasty accident,” he drawls.

This snaps me out of my trance and I stare it him in horror.

“What’s happened? Is she ok?” Hands forgotten, I run them through my hair. Roger flicks the cigarette in the general direction of where his ashtray is.

“Car accident Miss. Nasty business. She was driving home last night when she got involved in a fight with a HGV on the dual carriageway. Needless to say the HGV won.”

“How is she though? Is she hurt?”

He continues with his customary bluntness.

“She’ll live. Broken leg, arm, ribs. You name it, it’s in plaster. Out of action for a while though Miss. That’s why I need to speak to you.”

I’m so relieved that Samantha’s ok that his words hardly register.

“What? Do you need me to take something to her or cover a few of her cases?”

“Something like that Miss. Does the name Ryan Hobbs mean anything to you?”

No way. It’s a minute before I dare to ask the obvious question that is on the tip of my tongue.

“Are you saying that I’m being drafted in as junior?” I pause and wait for him to start laughing hysterically, telling me that he just wants me to do some research for her about the previous cases. It doesn’t come.

“Got it in one Miss. Trial starts a week Monday. I’ve cleared your diary save for one trial they won’t move, some benefit fraud. I’ve spoken to Corr and whilst he’s not happy about this, there’s nothing any of us can do.”

“Won’t the court delay the Hobbs trial until she gets better?” I venture.

He laughs in disbelief.

“Given that it’s a murder and this is the third trial at that, I’d have more luck in convincing the Pope that Buddhism is the way forward.”

I nod silently. I can’t believe this. I know I shouldn’t ask but...

“Why me? Surely there are more senior people available?”

He frowns whilst getting to his feet and walking over to the office floor.

“Ask me no questions Miss, just thank your lucky stars.”

I realise I’m being dismissed so bid him a quick goodbye and hurry back up to my room, barely noticing the eyes that follow me through the clerks room.

I sit in silence for the best part of twenty minutes before reality kicks in. Fear and excitement run through my veins as I consider the upcoming trial. I’ve never been trusted to do anything as serious as this before and I can only imagine the amount of work I’m going to have to do to prepare; If anything happens to Corr during the course of the trial then the rules state that I have to take over. Me! Prosecuting a murder. How on earth have I ended up with this brief?

I sit and reflect on my good fortune for a few minutes but I’m hit by thoughts of Samantha and sobered instantly. A quick call to the hospital tells me that she’s currently in surgery and won’t be able to accept any visitors who aren’t immediate family for at least a week. I ask the nurse to pass on my regards and look up the number of a local florist. I’m torn between a garish arrangement of orange and yellow lilies and calming white roses when Serena bursts through the door.

“Fancy a cuppa?” she asks, holding up my usual ‘Buffy’ mug.

I can tell she’s bored senseless by the way she’s managed to plait her hair into cornrows; an endeavour that must have taken the best part of an hour.

“Sure” I respond.

As she makes her way to the kitchen I quickly place an online order with ‘Floral and Hardy’ for an enormous bouquet of sunflowers and close my laptop. She returns with two mugs and sits at the desk opposite mine that belongs to a quite family law barrister called Malcolm. He’s very rarely in Chambers so Serena often takes over his desk when she comes in. She hands me my drink and places hers on top of a large brief in front of her, staining it with tea in the process.

“Have you heard the news?” she asks.

“Everyone’s talking about it, Sam Harte’s in hospital. Crazy. I heard that her married lover’s wife found out about their affaire and attacked her. Can you imagine! Although, Bill said that she’d been found doing loads of coke and attempted to commit suicide to prevent the scandal getting out.”

This is so typical of the Bar grapevine.

“Sorry to disappoint, but she was in a car crash. No sex, drugs or rock and roll involved.”

Serena rolls her eyes at me.

“Whatever. I bet she’s just having loads of plastic surgery.”

I throw my stapler at her.

“No, really. She had an accident last night. She’s broken pretty much everything but thank God she’ll be ok.”

Bizarrely, Serena looks quite deflated by this piece of information. Obviously the rumour mill has no use for the truth.

“You’re such a ghoul,” I add. “The reason I know is because I’ve been asked to take over from her in the Hobbs case.”

Serena’s face freezes “What?” she whispers.

“I know, I can hardly believe it myself.”

“Seriously? You, you’ve picked up the brief?”

She looks at me with an expression of absolute amazement on her face.

“Yep. God, that means we’ll be working together doesn’t it!” I laugh as I remember Serena’s role in the trial. “That’s fantastic, you’re being paid to take a note so I don’t have to!”

She winces slightly and a troubled look crosses her face. It passes and she smiles broadly.

“Well this warrants a proper drink! Come on, first round’s on me!”

“But it’s half twelve?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s six somewhere in the world! This needs to be celebrated!”

As expected the bar already has four members of Chambers in it despite the early hour. We buy our drinks, apple juice for me and a gin and tonic for Serena and go to sit near them. I can hear them talking. Unsurprisingly, the topic of conversation is Samantha’s accident.

“Well I heard that her brakes just went and she shot across into the path of an oncoming lorry,” comments one.

“Yeah, that’s what she was apparently saying to the paramedics when they got to her,” confirms another.

“Matthew called me last night,” continues the first “Absolutely devastated. At least they haven’t got any kids to look after. He’s just relieved she’s vaguely in one piece.”

I turn my chair away from them, still feeling guilty that I’ve benefited from someone else’s misfortune. Roger’s words come floating back to me “...I’ve spoken to Corr and whilst he’s not happy about this...” What was that meant to mean? I can understand that Corr is unhappy about the whole situation, but for him to be unhappy he has me specifically? That’s a bit unwarranted. I know I’m not as senior as Samantha and there’s not much time for me to learn the ropes but... but... oh God, there really isn’t much time for me to learn the ropes. Less than two weeks to go and I’m sat in the pub? I look at Serena who, alarmingly has already polished off her g and t.

“I’d better get back. They’ve taken all of my cases out but I still have one in next Monday for trial, just a quickie but I need to prepare the Hobbs case now too.”

She drains the last of her drink with her straw and places her glass down onto the table.

“You’re so lucky Lauren. Everything always just seems to fall in your lap. First pupillage, now this.”

I try to laugh and finish my juice too.

“You’re conveniently forgetting everything in the middle! Normally the only thing that falls into my lap is a piece of jam covered toast when I’m running late in the morning!” I stand up and on cue topple the empty glass in front of me. “See! I’m a magnet for disaster, not success!”

As I scoop under the chair and fish underneath for my bag, she speaks.

“Did you send that cheque?”

“No! But as luck would have it it’s in here somewhere.”

Serena watches in disbelief as I upend the contents of the bag on to the table in front of us. Soon, the whole surface is liberally coated with goods including what appears to be half of the MAC counter, old diaries, loose change, various receipts, photographs of me and Sebastian and enough biros to supply an entire office block for a month. I rummage through the detritus and eventually retrieve my cheque book from near to the bottom of the pile.

“Got it! Who do I make it out to?” I ask, handing her the accompanying letter and looking for a pen that works.

I find one and she reels off the details of the recipient. As I stuff the documents into a dog-eared envelope it dawns on me that I haven’t got any stamps. I look up and see Serena holding one out on her index finger.

“Cheers!” I laugh, “I’ll pop it in Chambers’ outgoing mail in a minute.”

“Make sure you do! I’m not joking, if I have to sit next to someone boring then I’ll hold you personally responsible”

We make our way back into the building and Serena wanders off to talk to this week’s work experience students. By the time I get back to my desk the promised papers have arrived. I look with a rising feeling of panic at the numerous green lever-arch files stacked neatly on my desk. I haven’t got the foggiest where to start.

I decide to delay the inevitable and a quick check of my mobile reveals a missed call from a number I don’t recognise. Happy to have a legitimate excuse not to start work, I press redial and wait.

“Corr” comes the brisk voice. Shit. I should have thought this through. I’m tempted to hang up, but I didn’t withhold my number.

“Hi George,” I start, “It’s Lauren. Lauren Chase. How are you?” There’s a long pause and I check the display to make sure we’re still connected. His deep voice is sharp and devoid of any conversational pleasantries.

“As I’m sure you now know, I could be a great deal better, but what’s done is done. I expect you to be fully conversant with all aspects of the evidence by Friday at the latest and ready to draft any amendments to the case summary by Monday as I want it faxed to me before midday.”

I gulp. He continues.

“Further, when you get to the agreed facts can you cross-reference them with all of their corresponding exhibits? I need to be confident they’re word and number perfect for the jury. I’ll see you in Chambers next Thursday so if you have any questions I trust they can wait until then.”

I’m speechless. He seems to be waiting for some sort of response.

“Of course!” I say, my voice sounding impressively calm “Not a problem.”

“I should hope not” he replies before hanging up.

Right, well today is Wednesday, so I have two days to read twelve folders full of papers and digest them enough to understand everything about this brief. I’m sure it’s not impossible. That’s it, positive mental attitude. That’s all this’ll take.

I send Sebastian a text letting him know what’s going on and tell him that I won’t be home for dinner. I know that I’ll need shed loads of caffeine to get through this so I go to the kitchen and put the kettle on, happily remembering my secret stash of pro-plus somewhere in my bag.

Chapter Eight

It’s Tuesday evening and I know that I look like something the cat’s dragged in. I’m convinced that people in Chambers are actually walking past my room on purpose so they can get a glimpse of me in my bedraggled state. I can hear the sniggers as the progress down the corridor.

I’ve managed to nip home to grab the odd shower and a clean outfit, but without the usual hour spent with my ghd’s and liberal application of grooming products, I’m really a sight to behold. To be honest, I’m not overly concerned with the state of my hair at the moment, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

Having spent the entire weekend reading all of the witness statements, interviews and experts reports in the Hobbs trial, I’ve just been handed my trial for tomorrow, Ms Goodridge and her benefit fraud. I could really do without it, but it should be finished in a day. The good news is that Serena is prosecuting me; I haven’t had time to answer any of her calls or meet her for drinks since last week so it’ll be good to catch up.

It’s funny being against each other, you have to temporarily put your friendship to one side and focus on your side of the case. Luckily, we always manage to laugh about it afterwards and the loser buys the first round.

I re-read Ms Goodridge’s case and jot down a few questions that I need to ask her when she tells her side of the story. In essence, it’ll all come down to whether or not the jury believe her explanation of things and in theory, should be quite a simple trial. Enough is enough. I throw a few papers into a travel bag I keep in the bottom draw of my desk and switch the desk lamp off. Outside I can see people packing into bars, couples going into a nearby pizzeria and all-round general merriment. I’m tempted to wander down to the bar and see if anyone’s about but I know it’ll end in tears if they are. The last thing I need tomorrow morning is a hangover.

I double check that I’ve got everything I need from the Hobbs case and shut the door. I hope Corr was satisfied with my case summary that I sent to him yesterday. I haven’t heard anything from him, but I guess that in this case, no news has to be good news.

By the time I’ve driven home, gotten undressed and crawled into bed it’s after eleven. Sebastian is sound asleep next to me and as much as I’d like to wake him for a chat I leave him alone. As I drift off to sleep my dreams are full of being clubbed to death with footballs whilst taking part in a penalty shoot-out.

Our trial has been listed in front of one of my favourite Judges. Young, with a wicked sense of humour and a pronounced twinkle in his pale blue eyes, he is a delight to appear before. He isn’t one for messing about and dithering over irrelevant pieces of evidence and he won’t stand for any farcical submissions or ludicrous cross-examination. He’s in a fine mood this morning I note, as I watch him speed through the short applications to be heard before our trial is called on.

Serena is sat, ready to go in her place on Counsel’s row and she looks slightly tense. I can’t imagine any reason why this trial would cause her any loss of sleep; all she has to do is read out parts of the evidence and summarise the rest before the Defendant has to face the jury.