Law and Disorder (15 page)

It’s often hard to tell with my mother if she’s actually being funny or just literal, but this time she was smiling as she answered, which showed she already liked Claire. ‘Oh, he’ll come back and put on his wig and gown and start all “Yer Honouring” in front of the mirror. Very important he looks too.’

‘It’s what my public-speaking coach recommended,’ I said, rising to the bait and blushing, despite the fact I knew they were only teasing.

‘Bless his little horsehair wig,’ said my mother, finishing me off completely.

‘Thanks, Mum,’ I commented with a wry smile.

‘Well, can’t have you getting above yourself, now can we? Just because you’ve been to Oxford and hang out with posh barristers and all that.’

‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any risk of that,’ said Claire. She smirked and added, ‘Not when I can always remind him about doing his little stand-up routine in front of the mirror, anyway.’

Then she brought the conversation back to the race for tenancy. ‘You’re right though, it certainly isn’t easy what we’re having to go through.’

‘I know. It’s the uncertainty, I think, that’s the worst. It just gnaws away at your soul,’ my mother replied in a way which suggested that she understood that type of suffering more than she was letting on.

‘Yes, we have to be careful that it doesn’t drag us down.’ Claire looked at me as she said this. Which made me wonder if she knew more than she was saying. I don’t know what it was, but at that moment I suddenly experienced a feeling of supreme guilt as I sat listening to the two of them talking about me. What would they really think if they knew quite how far I was prepared to go to get that tenancy? But as soon as the thought came to me, I forced it from my mind. There was no way I could confess, since to do so would put each of them in a difficult position. Probably they would try to discourage me from going any further, but then how would that help our situation? As I was thinking this, my mother said, ‘Sometimes I wish he was in touch with his father, you know, just so that he’d have him to talk to at times like these.’

‘It must be hard.’

‘Oh, we’ve got by. Just the two of us and I know it’s out of loyalty to me that BabyB doesn’t contact him.’

‘Come on, Mum. I really don’t think Claire wants to hear about the ins and outs of our family history.’

She smiled at Claire and said, ‘There he goes again. Never wants to discuss it. Buries it away and hopes it will all disappear.’

But she was sensitive enough to move on and for the most part the evening seemed to go smoothly. That was until about ten thirty when my mother started moving into embarrassing mode, rushing around tidying before disappearing off to bed with a horribly unsubtle knowing look in my direction. ‘Well, don’t get up to anything I wouldn’t,’ she giggled as she left us sitting together on the sofa watching
Newsnight
on the television. I have to admit that there was an awkward moment at one point as Claire accidentally spilt her wine on the floor. Over the last few weeks we’ve got into the habit of playing the blinking game quite randomly, and it started up as we were both bent over clearing it up. She flicked a strand of hair back over her right ear as we both looked at each other, unblinking. I’ve always been aware that she was beautiful. Not just obvious beautiful like TheVamp, though in fact she is that too. Not even just intelligent beautiful though she has that in spades. She’s beautiful in a way that is, above all, private. A dignified beauty that I think I’ve always tried to ignore in my own head so as not to be intimidated.

At that moment I found myself longing for the courage to reach over and kiss her. But the tiny distance between our heads as we continued to out-stare each other seemed like an abyss over which I dared not jump. Perhaps it was the fear of ruining a friendship with a thoughtless lunge or maybe it was just plain cowardice, but before I had time to reconsider the moment had passed. Perhaps she saw the doubt flash across my face, but no sooner had the thought been there than she broke off the stare with the words, ‘You win, BabyB’, and then she was on her way.

Friday 9 March 2007

Day 112 (week 23): Dr4Hire

Even in the most honourable of professions, there is the occasional bad egg, and Dr4Hire ticks all the boxes. He’s a professional expert witness, an opinion for sale, and today he belonged to us. Well, to TheBoss, who had a conference with him. He’s an orthopaedic surgeon whose CV boasts that he completes over 1,500 medico-legal reports each year. Which, at over £600 a pop, means he’s bringing home almost £1 million a year just from this and that’s on top of his two-days-a-week NHS practice. That’s £600 for a copy-and-paste opinion after a ten-minute ‘examination’. Luckily for him, most cases settle. Today was one of the few that slipped through the net. It was a case in which the other side were alleging that the claimant’s injuries were caused not by the accident on which Dr4Hire had reported, but by a completely separate accident which happened later on. With the client not in attendance TheBoss and Dr4Hire could speak frankly. Here’s how parts of the conference went:

‘Why didn’t you mention the second accident in your original report?’

‘Because I didn’t want to damage our case.’

‘Yes . . . I understand. Now, let’s see if that can perhaps be phrased more . . . how shall I put it . . . objectively. Might it be that you considered it such a minor accident as to be irrelevant?’

‘Yes, that might very well be. Quite.’

‘And what do you have to say about the second accident?’

‘Well . . . what do you want me to say?’ The top of his head was completely bald and, being offset by a little hair just below, gave the impression of a monk’s tonsure. As he answered, despite the fact that the smile remained, his forehead showed a slight frown and he rubbed the top of his head, which I noticed for the first time was as shiny as I had ever seen a head to be.

‘We’ve worked together many times, Dr4Hire. You know that I can’t tell you what to say.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘However, it would be right to say that although he continued working after the first accident, it caused him enormous pain. I suppose you might want to comment on that.’

‘Yes, that’s a good idea. I suppose I might. In fact, I think that the fact that he soldiered on in such a way shows what an honest and reliable witness he is.’

‘Quite so, Dr4Hire. Quite so.’

‘Glad you agree. Would you like me to put that into a report?’

‘Why not?’

And so it went on. Independent? Hardly. Hippocratic oath? Hypocritical oath, more like. Dr4Hire’s only redeeming feature was a certain type of humour. This came out quite unexpectedly when I asked, ‘What does that acronym “TUBE” stand for in the medical records?’

Dr4Hire and TheBoss looked up at each other and smirked.

‘He’s never been told?’ asked Dr4Hire.

‘Seems not,’ replied TheBoss.

Dr4Hire turned to me and put on a rather amused lecturey-type expression and said, ‘You know, BabyB, medical records are quite literally littered with coded acronyms. In-jokes for the medics who don’t dream that those same records might one day end up in a court of law. The one you’ve asked about was very common in the past and stands for ‘‘Totally Unnecessary Breast Examination’’.’

‘Oh.’

Dr4Hire warmed to his theme. ‘Then there’s ‘‘NFN’’ or ‘‘Normal For Norfolk’’ which refers, perhaps unfairly, to that particular county’s reputation for inbreeding.’ He was getting into his stride by this point, almost as if it was an issue of some academic importance. ‘Curiously, the Scots apparently use Fife instead of Norfolk. Now, one that you’d hope not to see on the record of anyone you are fond of is ‘‘TF BUNDY’’ which means ‘‘Totally Effed But Unfortunately Not Dead Yet’’. Oh, and of course, there’s ‘‘LOBNH’’ which is ‘‘Lights On But Nobody’s Home’’.’

I can think of one for at least a couple of members of chambers with no work: ‘MUPPET’ or ‘Mostly Unemployed Person Pretending Everything’s Terrific’.But Dr4Hire hadn’t finished.‘Then,of course, there’s the question of how we describe the patient in medico-legal reports. If a doctor calls someone an ‘‘attractive lady’’ then you can guess what he was actually thinking. On the other hand ‘‘somewhat large’’ might be a polite way of telling the reader that she couldn’t actually fit through the door.’

All of which caused me to revisit Dr4Hire’s own report after the conference to see if I’d missed any of the nuances from this secret world of medical reporting. Sure enough, though I’d skipped over it previously, I realised that Dr4Hire had outdone himself. Under ‘Marital status of the claimant’ he had written: ‘Single. Right-handed.’

Monday 12 March 2007

Day 113 (week 24): Prisoner’s dilemma

TopFirst telephoned me over the weekend. Said he wanted to talk about pupillage. To keep the upper hand, I said I wasn’t around but could meet on Monday.Today, therefore, we had lunch on Chancery Lane and he immediately started setting out his thoughts.

‘Look, BabyB, we’re all in competition for tenancy, but let’s be realistic about this. Worrier and BusyBody are both now dead in the water and it’s developed into a straight fight between you and

me.’

‘OK.’ No prizes for that one, Mr Brainbox.

‘Well, look, I’ve been thinking. You ever heard of the prisoner’s dilemma?’

‘Is it something to do with economics?’

‘Yeah. Shows that cooperation’s often better than fighting.’

‘So why don’t you just say so then?’

‘Look, I’m getting to it, OK?’

‘You’re suggesting a truce. Fine by me,’ I lied.

‘Exactly so. Fight and we may both die. Cooperate and there’s at least a small chance that maybe we’ll convince them to take us both on.’

‘Makes sense,’ I lied again. ‘You can count on me.’

This seemed to satisfy him and he went off in rather a cheery mood. What he failed to mention about his prisoner’s dilemma is that if one prisoner betrays the pact he wins outright. Either he’s trying to pull a fast one or, despite his intelligence, he’s more naïve and foolish than even I give him credit for.

Whatever it is, there will be no cooperation.

Wednesday 14 March 2007

Day 115 (week 24): ElephantTrap

‘I’m worried about BusyBody.’ It was Worrier.

‘You think she’s having a breakdown?’ I asked.

‘No, I think she might be pregnant.’

‘What? Why do you think that?’

‘Well, I hate to say it but I heard her being sick in the women’s loo the other day over at the library.’

‘But that could be alcohol, food poisoning, anything . . .’

‘Well, that and the fact that I spotted a pregnancy-test kit in her handbag when I went round to her room yesterday.’

‘You were going through her handbag?’

‘Not at all. I think I might have surprised her when I entered and it was sticking up from the bag for all to see.’

‘Oh.’

‘So, do you think it’s after that night with FanciesHimself?’

‘It could be.’

She fidgeted, obviously wanting to share further but looking uncomfortable about doing so.

‘What is it?’

‘I hate to be a gossip, BabyB, but I’m concerned for her and I guess I know this won’t go any further.’

‘Of course not,’ I lied. ‘What is it?’

‘Well, I think she might have been seeing OldSmoothie around the same time. Just something she alluded to a few weeks ago and I didn’t push it any further at the time.’

‘So she might be pregnant and if she is then it could be by either FanciesHimself or OldSmoothie.’

‘You can see why I’m worried for her.’

Golly.

But needs must, and with all the sympathy in the world for BusyBody, opportunities have to be grasped – and this was a prime one to set something of an elephant trap for TopFirst, who has fast become the chambers gossip. A lot of scope for him to put his foot in it if he is just fed
slightly
inaccurate information. So in our new spirit of cooperation I popped round to his room for coffee this afternoon when his pupilmaster was out.

‘BusyBody’s been sick the last couple of mornings, apparently.’ Just to get the ball rolling.

‘Heavy nights or something?’

‘Don’t think so, she’s been off the booze for the last few weeks since . . .’

‘Yes, don’t blame her, the way it affects her. Couple of gins . . .’

‘Yes, and she drops her briefs. You told me that one last week.’

‘I mean, what was she doing with FanciesHimself of all people?’

‘I know . . . Not as bad as TheBoss, though.’

‘What do you mean? Her and TheBoss too? Surely not?’

‘No, I’m sure you’re right.’

But we’ll let it ferment a little. As he’s prone to do when his mind is whirring (you can almost hear it), TopFirst cleaned his glasses with his tie and straightened them up on his face. He’d be a dreadful poker player and he’s definitely going to have to get rid of some of these nervous tics if he ever wants to bluff in court.

‘You don’t suppose she’s pregnant, do you?’ he mused.

‘No.’