Law and Disorder (32 page)

I went to visit OldRuin at his home last night where he is still convalescing. Lovely train journey through the Hampshire countryside and then a five-minute walk through a quiet village to a beautiful old house at the end of a long drive. A nurse greeted me at the entrance and took me via rather a grand hallway and stairway up to his bedroom. The house was a reflection of OldRuin himself, with book-lined walls, ageing furniture and oils on the wall. He was sitting up in bed but looked frail.

‘How are you, OldRuin?’

‘Oh, they say I’m going to be back and fitter than I’ve ever been in no time,’ he replied.

‘I’m so pleased. It’s lovely to see you – and what a wonderful house. I particularly liked the stream running through the front garden.’

‘Yes, it’s always been my favourite part of this place. Used to tickle trout from it as a youngster, you know.’

Despite his condition, OldRuin had invited me over for dinner and had organised for his nurse to serve it to the two of us in his room. ‘I wanted to thank you properly for saving my life,’ he said.

‘I wouldn’t go that far, OldRuin, but I was glad to have been able to help.’

I didn’t make any mention of the trouble I’d got into with HeadClerk as that would only have made him feel worse. Nor was I going to mention anything about TheBoss and the disciplinary hearing. As I hesitated over what to say, I think he sensed that everything wasn’t quite as it should be. ‘Is everything all right, BabyB? Tough time at the moment, what with tenancy coming up and everything.’

‘All fine, OldRuin. Getting through it.’

‘You do look a little tired, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.’

I definitely couldn’t mention TheBoss and so I simply said, ‘Had a bit of an argument with my friend Claire yesterday. All about nothing really. Very silly. Not as if there’s anything between us. But I don’t like arguing.’

OldRuin had met Claire a few times when she was around in chambers. ‘I’ve always had a soft spot for Claire, you know,’ he said. ‘Very fond of you she is, I’d say. How is she?’ He sounded genuinely concerned.

‘Oh, she’s all right. Building up a pretty successful practice,’ I said, avoiding the real issue.

‘Yes, I’ve no doubt. You know what stands out about her?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Manners, BabyB. Little footprints of the soul and Claire’s are impeccable. Understated, modest and kind. I might sound old-fashioned when I say this but in my view they’re the key to success at the Bar. With solicitors, with clients and above all with judges.’ He mused a little and then continued, ‘Many’s the time that I’ve had an opponent who I have to admit to finding more than a little irritating. But if he wanted to interrupt my submission in front of the judge then I would always give way. You know, the arrogant and rude will always stab themselves in the foot so long as you let them. Hoist themselves up on their own petards.’

Then he did what he has often done in the past and alluded to knowing far more than he was letting on. ‘Let me take your colleague TopFirst as a counter-example to Claire. Airs and graces galore but no manners.’ He paused before continuing. ‘She’s a bright lady, our Claire. Got a lot to teach us all, BabyB.’

After he had said all of this he gave me one of his kindly looks and whispered, almost as if in private reflection,‘It’s love that makes us real, BabyB. Carries us through the difficult times. Without it, we are nothing but shadows. Empty vessels trudging through life.’ Again he gave me one of those long, lingering, thoughtful looks before continuing very gently, ‘You’ll be all right, BabyB. Don’t worry.’

Later I gave Claire a call and left a message on her voicemail inviting her out to lunch next week.

CHAPTER 12

September: Tenancy Decision

Pretend to be weak, that [your opponent] may grow arrogant . . . Feign disorder and crush him.

Sun Tzu,
The Art of War

Tuesday 4 September 2007

Day 235 (week 49): BuskerCard

Had the most annoying opponent you could imagine this morning. He was a fellow pupil but as he explained at length he was about ten years older and somewhat overqualified having done a PhD and then taken a medical degree before the Bar. Which made him a doctor, doctor, as far as I could see, though he wasn’t impressed by my reference to the jokes.

‘It’s a nice little warm-up session for me today,’ he eventually said.

‘Sorry?’

‘Our chambers gives us these meaningless cases to limber us up.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes, I’m in the Court of Appeal tomorrow, you know.’

Well bully for you. He seemed determined to continue patronising me. After he’d asked me which university I went to and then where I did the Bar course (both of which actually turned out to be better than where he’d been), he then asked, ‘Where do you practise?’

I decided to be obtuse just to wind him up. ‘Oh no need to practise, me. I just turn up and give it a go. Practise is for girls, I say.’

‘No, I meant where are you based?’

‘Oh, I see, where am I based?’ I feigned ignorance in the face of his extremely unamused response. ‘I live in London. How about you?’

‘No I meant . . . oh, never mind. What is your Inn?’

‘Oh, I’m very much an in one ear and out the other kind of guy myself.’

When we went into court I decided that his nickname should be LatinLover (though if you saw him you’d appreciate the irony) as he just couldn’t help overusing that ancient language. All
ex post facto, a fortiori, locus in quo, bona fide
s and the like which in a car case sounded just plain silly and even had the judge raising his eyebrows. As I sat there and listened to him drone on for well over an hour about the value of the case and the various technical arguments it raised, I tried to think what TheBusker would do in these circumstances. When it came to my turn, I drew myself up to my full height and put on my most serious face, which basically meant furrowing my brow. I then said in as deep and slow a voice as I could muster, ‘Sir, there are only a few things which it is appropriate for grown men to fight over and the value of whiplash injuries is not one of them. This case is worth £1,500. No more, no less.’

I sat down and cringed to myself. It was the first time I’d actually managed to play a BuskerCard but there was no knowing whether I’d receive the wrath of the judge or perhaps his gratitude for not wasting his time further.

‘Thank you, Mr BabyBarista. I agree wholeheartedly and I have to say it is a great shame,’ at which point he stared for a little too long at LatinLover, ‘that other members of your side of the profession don’t approach their cases with the same maturity. £1,500 it is.’

Wednesday 5 September 2007

Day 236 (week 49): ClichéCard

Fresh from playing my first BuskerCard yesterday, I decided that I might try my hand again today. Once more, as I stood up the brow became furrowed, a day older and wiser even than yesterday. ‘Sir,’ I started, but realised I had forgotten the deep voice of yesterday. I coughed a little and started again, an octave lower. ‘Sir.’ No, too low this time, but I cracked on. ‘Sir, life is but a sparrow’s flight through a great hall. It is a will-o-the-wisp. A candle in the wind.’

Ouch. It was so cliché-ridden as to hurt. The voice of TheBusker had deserted me. Run off into the ether, no doubt chuckling at my miserable effort.

‘Mr BabyBarista, what on earth are you wittering on about?’

‘Er, just taking my run-up, Sir.’

‘Well, get on with it. It’s turning into the sort of run-up of which even the great Fred Trueman would have been proud.’

‘Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. Er, all I was trying to say was that life is too short to be arguing about such matters.’

‘Mr BabyBarista. At this rate your life, at least at the Bar, will indeed be short. But I’m afraid to say that whilst you may have philosophy to be contemplating, the rest of us mere mortals have jobs to do. For myself, I have spent many happy years arguing over far less interesting and weighty matters than that which now sits before me. I suggest that from now on you play up and play the game.’

The magic BuskerCard, it seems, remains best played by TheBusker himself.

Thursday 6 September 2007

Day 237 (week 49): Apology

‘I want to apologise. I’m so very sorry for lying to you the other day.’

Claire had finally agreed to meet me for lunch.

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘There are other things that have gone on this year and I shouldn’t have denied it. They’re to do with pupillage. I did want to tell you, but I just can’t right now.’

‘Thank you, BabyB. I’m so relieved to hear you say that. I really thought for a moment that I might have lost you.’

‘I thought I might have lost you too.’

There was a long pause as she looked at me, and then she smiled. ‘Don’t worry, BabyB. I’m not asking to be your confessional. I just wanted to hear you tell the truth.’

‘I appreciate that Claire and I also appreciate your standing up to me. More than you can ever imagine. Thank you.’

Friday 7 September 2007

Day 238 (week 49): A favour

Word has it from Worrier that TopFirst is considering telling ThirdSix to stuff the evidence he has threatened to produce about his trying it on with Ginny and then battling on till the tenancy decision. If I can possibly help it this is something I want to avert as TopFirst probably remains the most likely candidate for tenancy right now. With that in mind, I kind of figured it had become necessary to suggest to him that Ginny, the woman with whom he had associated so closely, was in fact a prostitute. Another lie, I know, but hey, who’s counting?

Dear TopFirst,

I am sorry for being so harsh with you in the past. I’m afraid I have an admission. I am not quite who you think, and I am now in a little trouble. Last night I was arrested for soliciting as well as possession of cocaine and I was wondering if you would defend me? I wouldn’t normally ask but given how fond you said you were of me, I thought you might consider it. Clearly I do not intend to tell anyone, least of all your head of chambers, of your association with someone I am sure you would describe as a common escort girl. Perhaps you might return the favour?

I look forward to hearing from you,

Ginny (actually my real name is Gina)

No mention of ThirdSix, as that would risk TopFirst presenting him with the email as evidence against him. But it’ll hopefully be enough to force him to withdraw from the tenancy race for fear of ThirdSix exposing this illicit connection.

Monday 10 September 2007

Day 239 (week 50): StitchUp

TopFirst came to visit me today.He wanted to go out for a drink after work and so we met in the local wine bar earlier this evening. ‘I’ve got to put an end to this once and for all.’

My heart sank. He’d somehow twigged that I was behind Ginny. Maybe I’d pushed it just one step too far. ‘Put an end to what?’ I asked. As if I didn’t know.

‘ThirdSix. Completely and utterly stitched me up. I mean all’s fair in love and war and all that, but surely there are boundaries?’

‘Do you mean the Facebook thing?’

‘Worse even than that, BabyB. He filmed me being chatted up by a girl and now I think he must have set up the whole thing.’

‘No.’ You don’t say.

‘Yes. Then to cap it he’s threatened to send the film to my fiancée.’

‘No.’

‘Yes. But there’s more. Now I’ve had the girl herself contact me and reveal that she’s in fact a prostitute and she’s threatening to tell HeadofChambers about our friendship unless I help her with some legal case.’

‘Golly. You’re in trouble.’

‘I’d say. I just had to pass it by someone. I know we’ve had our differences, but you’re the one person who knows exactly what we’ve been going through this year. I thought you might understand.’

Part of me wondered whether TopFirst was simply testing to see whether in fact I was involved in all the trouble. But just in case his question was sincere I was happy to oblige. ‘Well, if I can help I will. What exactly happened with this call girl?’

‘That’s the irony of this whole thing. It’s a tower of innuendo. I never got anything out of it at all.’

Good old TopFirst. Consistent to the end in his lack of insight and utter shamelessness. He is obviously still smarting at Ginny’s rejection.

‘Let’s look at the options. If you call their bluff what happens?’

‘I risk losing the possibility of tenancy and my fiancée.’

‘And if you withdraw from the race?’

‘Then I probably just lose tenancy this time round. I’m sure they’ll let me squat here until I find somewhere else and I doubt this girl will tell HeadofChambers if she knows it can no longer cause me damage.’ The word ‘squat’ was not a reference to some kind of weird yoga position but instead to being allowed to stay on in chambers on an informal basis.

‘Well it’s your decision. I really wouldn’t like to advise you either way.’

‘No. You’ve been a great help. Really. I think it’s pretty clear I have no option other than to withdraw. Thank you, BabyBarista.’