A Matter for the Jury (13 page)

Ben rose to his feet and stood in front of her. He offered both hands. She accepted. He pulled her to her feet and brought her shoes. She put a hand on his shoulder to support herself as she put them on.

‘I usually meet Simon at Waterloo at midday,' he said. ‘Kenneth and Anne live down in Surrey, so they put him on the train. I pick him up, we have lunch, and it gives us plenty of time to get to Upton Park. But I can arrange to pick you up later along the way, if you prefer.'

‘No. Waterloo at twelve would be fine,' she said. ‘Let's meet under the clock. I look forward to it.'

She walked slowly towards the door, then suddenly stopped, and turned to face him. Her face suggested concern.

‘Oh, there is just one thing I think you should know…' she began. Ben's heart began to sink again. He felt his anxiety return.

‘What's that?'

‘My father and brothers support Arsenal,' she replied. ‘Is that a problem?'

‘Only if you do,' he smiled.

Harriet Fisk passed Jess in the doorway, as she was coming in and Jess was leaving.

‘My word, you two have been busy,' Harriet said, with approval. ‘It seems you had a more productive day than I did, trying to get a county court registrar to listen to me.'

‘Yes, I think we did rather well,' Ben replied with a smile.

19

7 March

They stood together
at the end of Platform 9, and waved to Simon until his train was almost out of sight. She took his arm and they turned to leave the station. He was still crestfallen.

‘I'm sorry, Ben. They had an off-day, didn't they?'

‘They certainly did. Losing 2-0 at home to that lot. I don't know what the world is coming to.'

She laughed. ‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘I know it's not funny. But you and Simon were such a pair. I've never seen two such glum faces.'

Ben grinned ruefully. ‘I know,' he said. ‘It's the price you pay for being a fan. But apart from that, did you enjoy it?'

‘I did, actually. Honestly, I wasn't sure I would. But it was really exciting, all those people cheering their team on when they were attacking, groaning when the other side scored. I got quite carried away. I would do it again. And the least I can do is try to cheer you up – unless you have other plans?'

Ben shook his head. ‘No, none at all. What do you have in mind?'

She tucked her arm more tightly under his. ‘We're going to start with a brisk walk over Waterloo Bridge – unless you have had enough of cold, damp fresh air for one day?'

‘No, that sounds good.'

‘It will blow the sad thoughts away, and remind you that there is always next week.'

‘Never was a truer word spoken,' Ben groaned. ‘We are playing Manchester United again next week, in the Cup.

‘Exactly my point,' she said. ‘The Hammers have every incentive to make sure it doesn't happen twice.'

They walked slowly together out of the station and along the approach to Waterloo Bridge. It was after 7 o'clock and already growing dark. A cold breeze was blowing across the river; there was a very slight mist and the suggestion of rain in the air. As they approached the bridge, the lights of the buildings on the far side of the river twinkled through the gathering gloom. St Paul's Cathedral loomed into view to their right, the Houses of Parliament almost tucked away in a corner to their left as the river took a sharp turn. Traffic was light, and only one or two pedestrians passed them on the bridge.

‘How did you come to meet Simon?' she asked.

‘It was while his mother was getting her divorce,' he replied. ‘Kenneth was acting for her.'

He sensed Jess turn her face towards him.

‘And now Kenneth and Anne are…?'

‘Yes,' he replied. ‘It was rather quick. There were all kinds of rumours. But they had known each other years before. I suppose it all re-kindled. Anyway…'

‘Anyway…'

‘Anyway, I was in Chambers on a Friday afternoon. I can picture it exactly. It was the same afternoon Merlin gave me Bourne & Davis's brief for Sergeant Mulcahy.'

‘Your first case.'

‘My first case. I was about to go home for the day. But I was passing the clerk's room, and I saw this little boy sitting in the waiting area, looking completely forlorn. He was wearing a West Ham scarf. So I approached him and talked to him. Anne was in conference with Kenneth, or she was in his room, anyway. I didn't find out the details of the case until much later, but Simon was having a terrible time of it. Anne's husband was violent towards her when he was drunk, which was almost every night, and Simon saw a lot of the violence. I didn't know any of that when I first saw him. He just struck me as sad, and he seemed so lost, so alone, sitting there.'

She squeezed his arm.

‘So I asked him if he would like to come to Upton Park with me for the next home game. Anne didn't seem to mind, so we went. Once the divorce was final, and the husband had some access to Simon at weekends, I thought that would be that. But he can't take Simon to all the games, so now we work it out between us.'

‘Well I think it's really wonderful that you do that for him,' she said. ‘I could see how much it means to him. He seemed really happy – except when Manchester United scored the two goals, of course. Sorry, won't mention that again.'

Ben laughed. ‘I'd already forgotten about it,' he said. He paused. ‘I'm glad I can do something for Simon. But I get a lot out of it, too. It takes my mind off work. If I go to a game on my own I'm usually pre-occupied with some problem in a case, but with Simon I have to concentrate on what's going on here and now. It's good for me. It also reminds me of how lucky I am to have my family.'

‘Do you have a big family?'

‘Not huge, but more than enough. They all live in Whitechapel, near the family business.'

‘Oh?'

‘Yes, Schroeder's Furs and Fine Apparel in Commercial Road. The family has been in the business for generations, but we are originally from Vienna. We moved to London at the turn of the century, settled in the East End, and started up the business again, just as it was in the old country.'

‘Tell me about your parents. Do you have brothers and sisters?'

‘One of each. Larry is almost seventeen and Ella is thirteen. My father, David, is the main partner in the business. He runs it with my uncle Eli. My mother, Ruth, worked there too for a long time, but she stayed home with Larry and Ella. She is a fantastic cook, among other things. Then there is my grandfather, Joshua. He actually came to court for Sergeant Mulcahy's case, without telling me. He sat in the public gallery and didn't announce himself until it was over.'

She laughed. ‘Good for him.'

‘Yes. Then there are all kinds of uncles and aunts and cousins who descend on us at Passover and Hanukkah. To be honest, I don't know who all of them are, or how they are related to us, but no one seems to mind. It can be a bit chaotic at times, but it has always been a warm, loving home.'

He paused.

‘The family has done quite well financially. But we have – I don't quite know how to say it – something of an identity crisis. We are not sure who we are: Austrian, English, Jewish, all of those things. So we have always tried hard to be part of the community. Part of that is the synagogue, of course. The family is observant, but my parents didn't bring us up to be too strict, certainly about food. We keep away from pork, but we are not kosher. But we also try hard to be English and Londoners, specifically East Enders, so we support West Ham and all the rest of it. And…'

‘And..?'

‘And I never talk this much. I must be boring you to death.'

‘Not in the least. Talk to me all you want. It's interesting.'

They had crossed the river and were walking the few yards towards the Strand and Aldwych.

‘Are you hungry?' she asked.

‘Starving. It seems a long time since lunch.'

‘Do you like Indian food?'

‘I've never tried it. There are one or two Indian restaurants open now in Commercial Road. I keep meaning to try it, but I never have.'

‘Ah,' she said. ‘Well, it's high time you did. We don't have to go as far as the Commercial Road. There is one not far from here, within striking distance of the Temple. Barratt introduced me to it. People from the firm go there for dinner quite often.'

They turned right on to the Strand. The restaurant was unobtrusive, apparently part of a small commercial hotel, its presence marked only by a small, dark sign. They had to climb three flights of stairs to reach it. The restaurant was dim and sparsely furnished, with small framed chairs and tables with chipped formica tops.

‘It dates back to 1946,' Jess smiled, as they were seated, ‘and I don't think they have altered, or even decorated the place at all since then. It's one of London's better-kept secrets. You wouldn't be likely to find it if you didn't know it was here. And if you didn't know how good the food is, you would probably think twice about staying, even if you did find it.'

A waiter brought menus, and they ordered beers.

‘Why don't you let me order for you?' she suggested. ‘Indian food can be quite spicy and it's best to start off with something fairly mild until you get used to it.'

Ben sipped his beer happily.

‘Order away,' he replied. ‘I'm sure I'm in good hands.'

‘Are you the first in your family to go to the Bar?' she asked, as the waiter retreated towards the kitchen with their order.

Ben nodded.

‘They must be very proud of you.'

He sighed, and leaned forward with his arms on the table.

‘I think so. I know my mother and my grandfather are. It was a problem for my father.'

‘Why?'

‘Because, as the oldest son, I am supposed to take over the business when he dies. Which means that I was supposed to work in the business as soon as I was old enough.'

She sat back, nodding.

‘Yes, I see. A long tradition?'

‘Long enough. But I just could not see myself doing it. I knew before I left school that I wanted to come to the Bar. But I had to persuade…' He stopped and laughed. ‘If I tell you this, you are going to think we are all very strange. I'm sure you do already.'

‘No. Go on.'

‘Well, before anyone in the family takes a major decision, it has to be the subject of a round-table conference, with all available adult family members present. I used to call it the family council. My decision to become a lawyer was discussed several times. I am sure you can imagine. My father would be talking about how I was betraying the family. But my grandfather and my mother, and even my Uncle Eli, stood up for me. My grandfather gave me the money to join the Middle Temple and find a pupillage. But not before we had discussed every aspect of my becoming a barrister, including how it might be the end of civilisation as we knew it.'

Jess's eyes had opened wide. ‘That sounds terrifying!'

‘Actually,' Ben replied, ‘it was good practice for the Bar in a way. I had to argue for what I wanted; I had to explain it, justify it.' He laughed. ‘They would not have minded half as much if I had decided to become a solicitor.'

‘Oh?'

‘That might have been useful to the business.' On an impulse, he mimicked his father, holding his hands out wide, the voice with its modulated East End accent pitch perfect. ‘Do you know how much we pay Morton Levenson year after year?'

She laughed, then became serious.

‘So, that's quite a burden you've taken on yourself.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘To prove to your father that you have done the right thing, even if it means breaking with tradition; to show the family council that they were right to give you that opportunity. Don't you feel that as quite a responsibility?'

Ben thought for some time.

‘Perhaps,' he replied. ‘But they have never held it over my head. I'm sure it still rankles with my father, but he has never brought it up. They all take a keen interest in what I'm doing. And I've always had confidence in myself. For me, the real question is…'

The waiter returned with chapatis and condiments, hot pickle, and a dish of chopped onions. Jess could sense Ben's hesitation. She wanted to reassure him that he did not have to open up to her.

‘Ben…'

‘For me, the question is whether I fit in. Barristers generally come from very different backgrounds to mine. They mostly went to public schools and either Oxford or Cambridge, they belong to the right clubs, they…'

‘Most of them are not Jewish kids from the East End,' she said, matter-of-factly. ‘No, they are not. And that's why it is so good that you have made it to the Bar. You are breaking two traditions, not just one.'

‘I felt it when I was taken on in Chambers. I know that there is at least one member who didn't want me.'

She nodded.

‘But here you are.' She paused. ‘Ben, you have been very frank with me, which I really appreciate. In return, I want to tell you something which you probably don't realise.'

He nodded enquiringly.

‘Do you know why Barratt Davis likes you so much?'

Ben shrugged. ‘I've always thought it was because I won that case for Sergeant Mulcahy.'

She shook her head. ‘That is part of it. But all the barristers we use get good results in court. That's why we go to them.' She sat up straight. ‘No, he respects the way you have fought your way into the profession, as well as how good you are in court. He knows you have had to stand up and assert yourself, both in and out of court. That's something Barratt admires – because it's something he could never do himself.'

Ben opened his eyes wide.

‘It's true. Barratt is very good at what he does. He is a model solicitor. He is wonderful with clients. They trust him, they talk to him, they give him information, often without even knowing it. He is also well organised and efficient. But if he lives to be a hundred, he will never stand up in court and do what you do. He won't even appear on his own in the magistrates' court to do a guilty plea. The very thought of speaking in public terrifies him. His partner, Geoff Bourne, does it. He is in the magistrates' court and the county court all the time. But not Barratt. Oh, he has a good line of banter about being a mere solicitor, and about barristers being superior, which I am sure becomes irritating after a while. But the thing is, he actually means it. He is in awe of the Bar – and of you. He will never say that to you, not in a million years, but that doesn't mean I can't say it.'