Brothers In Law (8 page)

Shortly afterwards they parted. Henry went home and Roger went back to chambers. When he arrived there, he was greeted by Alec.

‘There's a brief been sent down to you, sir, for next Friday.'

‘For me?'

‘Yes, sir. I thought you might know about it. The solicitors are something Merivale. Someone you know, I expect?'

‘Gosh,' said Roger. ‘Joy's uncle already.'

 

It was a divorce case. Roger picked it up lovingly. It looked so beautiful in its fresh pink tape with ‘Mr Roger Thursby' typed neatly on it and almost as important, the fee – the fee that someone was going to pay him for his services. Seven whole guineas. He had never earned as much before in his life, though he had once earned a few guineas by tutoring a boy advertised as ‘Backward (nothing mental).' He was a nice boy with a fiercely obstinate disposition and determined to learn nothing that his parents wanted him taught. He could recognize almost any bird or flower and many tunes from classical music. His parents were not musical, so he used to turn on the Third Programme. Funny, thought Roger, how one train of thought leads to another. Why should I be thinking of Christopher because someone's sent me a brief? A brief. His very own. Mr Roger Thursby. Five and two, total seven. And at the bottom ‘Thornton, Merivale & Co, 7 Butts Buildings, EC4. Solicitors for the Petitioner.' The Petitioner. The life and happiness of one man or one woman had been entrusted to him. Man or woman, which was it? The outside of the brief, which was entitled ‘In the High Court of Justice. Probate, Divorce and Admiralty Division (Divorce). Newent E v Newent K R,' did not disclose whether the petitioner was to be a beautiful blonde. Perhaps it was an actress – Sally's mother might know her – no, that wouldn't do – it was Joy's uncle who'd sent the brief. What a pity it wasn't Sally's. He'd no business to think that. It was most ungrateful. How kind it was of Joy and she was really very pretty. Or was it a man, an admiral, perhaps, or a general or even a Member of Parliament? Well, he could soon find out. He opened the brief. E stood for Ethel. His first petitioner was a woman. Poor thing! What a brute of a husband! Now she had Roger to protect her. It was Roger Galahad Thursby who looked eagerly at the rest of the papers. At the age of twenty-one Roger found that rescuing ladies (in the imagination) occupied quite a portion of his idle moments. At that age the pictures of such events rather embarrassed him. He preferred her to be fully clothed. Roger started to read the brief and was a little disappointed to find that all that Mr Newent had done was to leave his wife – and, as far as could be ascertained, not even for another woman. Roger made the best of it, however, and soon imagined himself giving his client words of encouragement and consolation which would stem the poor girl's grief. Even this idea was slightly shaken when he found that the poor girl was forty-five and that she was what is called ‘asking for the discretion of the Court.' But Roger steeled himself to the task. He was broadminded. He did not in fact approve of infidelity. He had attended several weddings and had always been impressed by the words of the marriage service. He had difficulty in reconciling them with the number of divorces which now take place. But now he was face to face with an unfaithful wife – on paper anyway, and he would soon see her. He could not help feeling a thrill at the prospect. He had never to his knowledge met an – an adulteress before. It was rather a terrible word. The newspapers often covered it up. They talked of misconduct and infidelity. Adulteress sounded much worse. And then he remembered the great words on the subject. ‘He that is without sin among you–' Yes, Roger would speak to this poor, fallen woman in a kindly, understanding way. She would never realize he was only twenty-one. He would speak with such an air of knowledge, such a wealth of understanding, that she would probably cry. And he would say: ‘Madam, you and I have only just met – but I think I know what you have been through.' He paused in his thoughts. What next? Ah, yes, more sinned against than sinning. The lonely, slighted wife, devoted to a husband who neglected her for his business and his billiards. There she was alone at home, waiting, waiting – an easy prey for the handsome seducer. Yes, more sinned against than sinning, that was it. He read through the whole brief, the correspondence, the petition and the discretion statement. This last document was the one in which Mrs Newent disclosed how she came to sin and humbly asked the Court – not to forgive her – but to grant a decree of divorce just the same. Mr Newent apparently was quite willing to be divorced and had not even entered an appearance to the petition. This was a pity, thought Roger. It was difficult to make an impassioned speech against someone who wouldn't fight. And it was very clear that Mr Newent wasn't going to fight. His last letter to Ethel went as follows:

Dear Ethel

It is no good asking me to return. I told you when I left that this is final and it is. I had one year of happiness with you and five years of the other thing. You cared much more for your beastly boarding house and some of the boarders than you did for me, though I shall be surprised if you make more of a success of that business than you did of our marriage. ‘Service with a smile' you used to put in your advertisements. Having regard to the charges you made and the little value you gave for them, I should have expected service to be with a smile, not to say a broad grin. If you don't treat your guests better than you treated me you'll lose them too. Most of them, that is. But then some people never learn. I have. And I'm not coming back to ‘Sans Repos' – which is what it ought to be called. But you wouldn't understand. You can understand this, though, that I'm not coming back – no never – whether you divorce me or whether you don't. I hope you will because I'd like to be free. Not that I've met anyone else. I'll be darn careful about the next one, believe me. But if I can't be free, at any rate I'll be happy. I don't wish you any harm, Ethel. Maybe there is some man who'd be happy with you, but it's not

Yours

Kenneth

This letter had been written in reply to a very short one by Ethel which had simply said:

I'm writing for the last time to know whether you propose to return to me. If you do not I shall take such action as I may be advised.

The material parts of the discretion statement were as follows:

After I had been married to my husband for some years he ceased to take any interest in my business of a boarding house proprietress, although he knew when we married that I was very keen on my business and wanted to continue with it after marriage. He had agreed to this, but nevertheless he was always asking me to give it up and make a home for him. At last he refused even to look after the accounts, and one of the boarders, who had been with us for some years and who did a little accounting in his spare time, very kindly started to do them for me. As a result of this I got to know this gentleman, a Mr Storrington, rather well. One night he asked me to go to a dance with him, and, as at the time my husband was staying with his parents (one of whom was ill), I did not think there would be any harm in it. We went to a dance and unfortunately I had rather too much to drink. I am not a teetotaller, but very rarely drink intoxicating liquor. During the evening I had several drinks and though I felt all right during the dance, when we left I felt dizzy and faint. Mr Storrington very kindly offered to help me to my bedroom and somehow or other he came in and adultery took place. I felt very ashamed the next morning and told Mr Storrington that it must never happen again or he would have to leave. Mr Storrington promised that it would not occur again. Since my husband left me I have seen more and more of Mr Storrington and an affection has developed between us and, if this Court sees fit to grant me a decree of divorce, I wish to marry Mr Storrington and he is willing to marry me. Although Mr Storrington and I are living in the same house on affectionate terms adultery has not occurred between us except as aforesaid, nor have I committed any act of adultery with any other person. To the best of my knowledge and belief my husband was and is wholly unaware of my adultery.

It was a pity in some ways, thought Roger at first, that Mr Storrington was still about the place. For it meant that the petitioner already had a companion and friend. But Roger soon adjusted himself to the new situation, and decided that the poor little woman who had never known happiness with her husband should be given a new and happy life with her new husband, and it would be Roger who would be responsible for giving it her. After he had been through the papers several times Roger asked if he could see Mr Grimes, and eventually Alec managed to sandwich him in between two conferences.

‘Well, my dear fellow, what can I do for ye?'

Roger mentioned that he'd had a brief for the petitioner in an undefended divorce. Might he ask a few questions about it?

‘Of course, my dear fellow, of course. But ye won't have any trouble, my dear fellow. Not like it was in the old days. That was a very different cup of tea, a very different cup of tea, my dear fellow. Nowadays it's like shelling peas, my dear chap. In one door and out the other before you can say “knife.”'

‘This is what they call a discretion case. Does that make any difference?'

‘Oh, that's all right, my dear fellow, just tell the judge the tale, tell the judge the tale.'

‘As a matter of fact my client committed adultery before her husband left her. Does that make any difference?'

‘Did he know of it, my dear fellow?'

‘Oh – no.'

‘Then that's all right then, my dear fellow. What the eye sees not, the heart grieves not.'

‘I just wondered if it was desertion for a man to leave his wife if she'd committed adultery.'

‘Oh, yes, my dear fellow, so long as he doesn't know, that's desertion all right. You look up
Herod and Herod
. That'll tell you all about it. And there are some later cases in the Court of Appeal. Now is there anything else I can do for you, my dear fellow?'

‘No, thank you very much. It's most kind of you.'

‘Not at all, my dear fellow. Very glad you've had your first brief. Had to wait much longer in my day. But everything's faster these days. I don't know what we're coming to. Judges on the Bench that haven't been called twenty years. I don't know, my dear fellow, I don't know. But there it is, they will do these things, they will do these things. Goodbye, my dear fellow, goodbye, bye, bye.'

Roger went back to the pupils' room, very pleased with life. But, easy though his task was going to be, he wouldn't leave anything to chance. First he would master the facts, then the law and then – then – glorious moment – he would have a conference with his client.

‘Hear you've got an undefended,' said Peter. ‘I think they're a bore.'

‘Have you done one?' asked Charles.

‘No, but I've heard hundreds. Simple as pie – but an awful bore. No, give me something a bit meatier for my first brief.'

‘Haven't you had one, then?' said Roger.

‘As a matter of fact,' said Peter, ‘it's not a terribly good thing to have a brief too early in one's career. Might come an awful cropper. Of course an undefended's different. But I just don't care for the sound of them. Shouldn't want my friends to send me one of those. If that's all the use they've got for me I'd rather they went somewhere else.'

‘“Said the fox,”' said Charles, ‘“adding to his wife, ‘they always give me indigestion, anyway.'”'

‘I don't know what you're talking about,' said Peter. ‘Anyway I can't afford to waste my time here. I'm going down to the Bailey.'

‘Hope you get that dock brief,' said Charles. ‘That'll be a start.'

‘Well done,' said Charles when Peter had left. ‘Who sent it you?'

‘Uncle of a girlfriend.'

‘Good show. I never seem to be lucky that way. Are you going to have a conference?'

‘I suppose so. It's marked on the brief – two guineas.'

‘That doesn't mean a thing, as a matter of fact. They pay it whether you have one or not.'

‘How odd,' said Roger.

‘I suppose it's the same with every job. There are always things which are difficult to explain to people who aren't in it.'

‘I suppose there are. But I think I ought to have a conference, anyway.'

‘Is it sticky then?'

‘Oh, I don't think so. I spoke to Grimes and he said it was all right. But I think I ought to ask her a few questions.'

‘When'll you have it?'

‘I don't know. What ought I to do about it? Speak to Alec?'

‘Yes, I should think so. I've never had one yet.'

‘You've never had a conference?'

‘No, as I told you, we haven't all got girlfriends with solicitor uncles.'

‘I am lucky.'

‘I should say you are. That'll make up for what happened on your first day. Very different going into a Court knowing all about it – with your own case too. What's it about?'

Roger told him and then went to arrange with Alec for a conference.

‘You usually see them outside the Court, sir,' said Alec, ‘but I can get them down here if you'd like.'

‘Yes, I think so, please,' said Roger feeling very daring at giving orders to his clerk. Outside the Court did not seem to be the real thing.

After that he went to the Bar Library and read the case of
Herod v Herod
and several other later cases in which it had been approved. It seemed clear enough. Then he looked up every other point of law he could think of. He went back to chambers with a note of what he had read. Then he went home.

His mother was out. So he went straight to the telephone to thank Joy. ‘It's terribly good of your uncle, Joy.'

‘He's a dear old boy and if I give him a nice kiss, he'll do quite a lot for me. Shall I give him lots more kisses, Roger?'

‘Oh, please, Joy.'

‘What'll you give me then?'

‘We'll go and dine.'

‘Lovely. Where? When?'

‘Well, I haven't had the cheque yet. I wonder when they send it.'

‘I'd better give him another kiss, don't you think? I like talking about kisses to you, Roger. Don't you?'