Law and Disorder (25 page)

Then Claire was at her from another angle. ‘I see you’ve been on the sunbed again. Did you get bonus hours or something? Looks great.’ A dramatic pause and then the right hook: ‘For buffalo hide.’

Went on for about twenty minutes and all I can say is that from the off I wasn’t just a little out of my depth. I was well and truly in the deep end and floundering. Silence wasn’t a choice. It simply happened as I watched the whole gruesome scene unfold. I have to say though that despite TheVamp’s reputation for the killer put-downs, it was Claire who won this particular showdown, albeit on points. Eventually TheVamp started to feel the strain of fighting away from home and sidled off with a parting crack.

‘I’ve heard about going out with protection, BabyB.’ She looked at Claire. ‘But I do wonder whether you’ve perhaps gone a little too far with this guard dog. Anyway, I look forward to seeing you in court next week. Without her around I’m sure we’ll be able to come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement.’

She was back to flirtation mode and sidled off to see her next victim. I just hope Claire and TheVamp are never against each other in court.

Friday 8 June 2007

Day 174 (week 36): HoneyTrap countdown

Been organising the final showdown between TopFirst and Ginny the HoneyTrap. Emailed him from Ginny’s account saying that she would be visiting London in a couple of weeks and asking whether he was free to meet up one evening. Would he be free? Or would he have a last-minute pang of conscience for his beloved? Not TopFirst. He replied in a flash telling Ginny to name the day and he’d be there. So I went to check his diary on the chambers network and suggested a day when he was booked in on a case in Manchester. It’ll be interesting to see what he comes up with to get out of the case. To his credit, TopFirst didn’t let on about his difficulties when he replied saying that he looked forward to it. Oh, but silly me. It completely slipped my mind to tell him that Ginny won’t actually be available that evening. Guess I’ll leave it a little while until I do. Wouldn’t like to make things too easy. He might get suspicious.

Monday 11 June 2007

Day 175 (week 37): DataMining

There’s a squat in Camden which I heard about from a friend whilst I was at Bar School who used it whenever he was having an affair. Bunch of hippies running a nice little business allowing ‘their’ house to be used as a postal address for people who want to give false details but still receive the mail. Apparently they have a strictly no-drugs policy which keeps the police off their backs. The reason I mention this is that I visited it this evening as FakeClaims&Co are now insisting on a postal address from me.

‘Yeah, what do you want?’ It was a tall, doped-out hippy in T-shirt and jeans who answered the door with a matching hippy chick under his arm. I mentioned the name of my friend from Bar School and they relaxed a little, which didn’t surprise me given the amount he’d used their services.

‘So how can we help?’ He was about as businesslike as a real hippy can get.

‘I just need a postal address.’

‘So why did you come dressed in that ridiculous tie-dye outfit? We don’t demand fancy dress, you know.’

It was a fair comment, really. I’d spent ages trying to work out what disguise to wear and tie-dye old-school nineties traveller-hippy was my best effort. Unfortunately, with my short hair and clean-shaven face I looked like a cross between Gordon Gekko and Swampy the anti-road campaigner.

‘Er, that’s a fair cop, I guess.’ I smiled and then he beamed back. ‘Don’t worry about it. Look, come in and let me get you a cup of tea.’

‘So what’s the deal with this forwarding service?’ I asked as we sat down around the table.

‘Well, it’s ten pounds a letter.’

‘That sounds like pretty good value. How many letters do you do a day?’

‘About two hundred at present,’ he replied and he looked at his girlfriend. They caught me doing the sums in my head.

‘Yeah, dude, I know what you’re thinking. How can a bunch of anti-capitalist hippies be bringing in half a mill a year. Go on, say it.’

‘Well, I was . . .’ I trailed off.

‘Look. It’s what you do with the money that matters.’

I didn’t ask any further but since we were chatting and they were being so businesslike about everything, it also occurred to me that I might be able to use the address for another bit of mischief on the side.

‘Do you also allow us to sign up with a false name as well as this address?’ In fact this would mean two false names for me.

‘Whatever you like, man. So long as you’re not dealing or money laundering or anything like that we ask no questions. Kind of like a Swiss bank, really.’ He looked pleased with that one. ‘Yeah, I think I might even use that one in our marketing.’

Actually, it couldn’t have been further from what they were, but I understood what he was saying.

‘Sounds good. I’ll have two please, one with a made-up name.’

‘What name do you want? No Disney characters please. Just not cool.’

‘I’ll have, er, let’s think. Yes, I’ll have “ThirdSix”, please.’

On my return home I then rattled off a letter in ThirdSix’s name addressed to his old chambers in which I made a Data Protection Act request for all information they held on him. I mentioned that they must not contact him in chambers for obvious reasons and that they should simply send him the information to his home address
(i.e. the hippy dead drop). Very little to lose, and depending upon what they have, if the chambers simply replies without checking the address there may be a lot to gain.

Wednesday 13 June 2007

Day 177 (week 37): An uplifting offer

Yesterday was the big day for my case against TheVamp. First thing I got a call from my instructing solicitor telling me that our client had rung up to say that he wouldn’t be turning up. Not just today. Not ever. Given that he was our only witness in defending the claim, my instructions were clear: settle. All of which TheVamp was unaware of when she arrived at court. Just to reinforce this information gap, as I came out of my conference room to talk to her, I popped my head back in the room and shouted into the emptiness, loud enough to be heard outside, ‘You just read your witness statement and we’ll have a chat later.’

Desperate as I knew she was to settle, TheVamp came over and with a kind of self-mocking pout and flick of the hair said, ‘Come on, BabyB, how about just a teeny-weeny little offer? Just for me. Promise to vote for you in tenancy.’

Which was a nice opening gambit and made me wonder how far she was prepared to go. The skirt, I noticed, had risen since the last hearing making me wonder if it was giving away more than merely a glimpse of her legs. Perhaps her bargaining position had weakened. Or maybe it simply reflected the fact that today was the one that mattered.

‘Believe me,’ I replied, ‘I’d love to settle, but I’m going to need more even than your sweet words to convince me to tell my solicitor to cave in at this late stage. Sorry, no deal.’

‘Look, BabyB. We’re not going to solve the world’s problems with that kind of approach. Maybe we should agree to put aside our differences for now and we can talk about them later over dinner at mine this evening? How does that sound?’

‘And what will be on the menu?’ I asked.

‘Oh, BabyB, you should know me well enough by now. I may have been accused of many things, but being a tease is not one of them.’

‘Well, dinner might be a good time to put the world to rights. Maybe I could just give my solicitor that call. After all, if we can’t agree on something as easy as this, what hope is there for the world?’

‘Quite, BabyB. Very constructive, if I may say so.’

And so we settled, subject to costs which we went in front of the judge to argue.

‘And what do you say about my uplift, BabyB?’ TheVamp purred her question to me in front of the judge and made a point of bending over her papers as she said it. What could I say? Barbara Windsor couldn’t have delivered the line better. The lady might be a tramp but she had a certain something. Even the (male) judge got the innuendo and, obviously demob happy from getting a free day due to the settlement, added, ‘Yes, Mr BabyBarista. What do you say about your opponent’s, er, uplift?’

‘Sir, it is the finest uplift in all the Bar,’ is what I might have replied. Instead I went for, ‘On careful reflection, Sir, and considering it from all angles, I have no objection whatsoever to my learned friend’s, er, uplift. None. At all. The uplift is, might I say, just right.’

‘My thoughts entirely,’ the judge responded. ‘I shall make an award for your uplift . . .’ He peered over his glasses at TheVamp and paused for a long moment, before continuing, ‘in full.’

As for what happened later, I shall only go so far as to report that I eventually arrived home from court at seven in the morning. Maybe after TheVamp’s voted for me at the tenancy meeting I might just tell her that there had been no need for such generosity on her part, given that I didn’t even have a client.

As I struggled home in the morning with a hangover, I have to admit that the person at the forefront of my mind was Claire. Not that there’s anything going on between the two of us, it’s just that I know she’d be disappointed.

Thursday 14 June 2007

Day 178 (week 37): Private and confidential

Almost by return of post, the hippy house received an A4 brown envelope today from ThirdSix’s old chambers. It contained photocopies of a bunch of documents accompanied by a covering letter addressed to ThirdSix. It gave rise to much interesting reading. Seems he had an affair with a client who then complained to chambers about him after he finished it. When the internal investigation (read: ‘kangaroo court’) got under way, he denied the affair entirely, only to be forced into an embarrassing climb-down when the ex-client presented as evidence a pair of his underpants which had tags emblazoned with his name and Oxford college carefully sewn into the hem. Bless. It was agreed by all concerned that the client would receive an apology and that ThirdSix would leave chambers. As part of the compromise, it was also agreed that nothing more would be mentioned about the matter around the Bar.

Until now, that is. I neatly packed the papers into another brown envelope addressed to ThirdSix and marked it ‘Private and confidential: highly sensitive and personal information’. I then put it in TopFirst’s pigeon-hole, which is right next to that of ThirdSix. We’ll see if TopFirst bites.

Friday 15 June 2007

Day 179 (week 37): Announcement

Today BusyBody announced publicly that she’s pregnant. Very publicly in fact. In chambers tea.

‘Excuse me,everybody,but I’d like to make a little announcement. Some of you might already have heard but I would just like to say that I’m going to be having a baby. I will finish my pupillage and then take a few months out before returning to the Bar. Thank you.’

Stunned silence and a few open mouths from those who had no idea. Others simply nodded as if they knew already, which probably explains BusyBody’s direct approach. Obviously no mention of the identity of the father and according to Worrier there’s no prospect of her trying to find this out either. In the meantime, FanciesHimself (who knows nothing of the possibility of OldSmoothie being the father) got wind of this announcement and quietly took BusyBody to one side and proposed to her in the photocopying room. She apparently thanked him very much but declined. Somehow I don’t foresee OldSmoothie taking on the same level of responsibility. Since the announcement, he has disappeared from chambers and is apparently off next week ‘at the dentist’.

Monday 18 June 2007

Day 180 (week 38): Ask BusyBody

It’s all starting to kick off in chambers following the envelope I left in TopFirst’s pigeon-hole about ThirdSix and his affair with a client. Predictably, TopFirst couldn’t resist and got to work on the rumour mill pretty sharpish. By Friday lunchtime Worrier had come round to my room asking for advice.

‘BabyB, have you heard about ThirdSix?’

‘I have, yes. TopFirst did mention something in passing although I didn’t really get the full details.’

‘Well, it seems that he’s not as squeaky clean as he first appeared.’

‘Something about an affair at his last chambers, wasn’t it?’ I said vaguely.

‘More than just any affair. It was with a client.’

‘Golly, I hadn’t realised that.’

‘The problem is, BabyB, I’ve been fretting about what I should do.’

Oh, here we go. Worrier doing what she does best. ‘How so?’ I asked.

‘Well, I know he’s our competition and everything but it does feel pretty bad knowing that all this nasty stuff’s being said behind his back and he knows nothing about it at all.’

‘And what were you thinking?’

‘Well the last thing I want to do is interfere. But at the same time it seems pretty unfair for TopFirst to be spreading these rumours without giving him any chance to answer them. I just don’t know what to do actually. I was hoping you might be able to help.’

‘Oh, I’m not really sure. I can certainly see the difficulties,’ I said, trying to look as thoughtful and sensitive as possible. ‘Sounds like the sort of thing that BusyBody might be able to help with, though.’ A suggestion made knowing full well that BusyBody would live up to her name. Sure enough, by this morning BusyBody had had a long talk with ThirdSix, who had in turn had gone to Worrier and asked how TopFirst had got hold of this information. It won’t take long for him to find out that a Data Protection Act request was made to his old chambers and TopFirst is going to have difficulties explaining how he came upon the information, given that he did in fact open a letter addressed to ThirdSix.