Law and Disorder (17 page)

After OldRuin had left for the day, I opened the drawer of my desk and took out TheBoss’s magic book and looked at it a little ruefully. It fell open at the following quote: ‘He who wishes to fight must first count the cost.’

Friday 23 March 2007

Day 122 (week 25): JudgeJiggles

There’s something about being a barrister that changes the way many of them speak. Over the years the voice travels further back into the throat until by the time they’re a QC like OldSmoothie it’s sometimes impossible to believe that their families hadn’t been Suffolk gentry since time began. Today I was following TheBusker and his opponent was one such person, though his accent was still in a state of transition. Which was a bit like his voice was breaking all over again with ‘sarf Landon’ occasionally breaking into his otherwise cut-glass west-London submissions. As if the accent was jumping in to expose and maybe cock a snook at pretentiousness.

It really started to go wrong for him whilst he was cross-examining a witness who was obviously proud of his south-London roots. The more the witness talked the more the accent rubbed off, popping out in a sort of yodel as posh flew south a few words at a time. This was exacerbated by contrast with TheBusker who couldn’t be more down to earth with a manner which is so laid back you’d think he’d just strolled off the beach. Then there was the judge herself who today was the glamorous JudgeJewellery. As the accent started to slip more frequently backwards and forwards she suddenly turned away and started to stare intently out of the window. Then she started looking even more intently at her notebook. Her face was a kind of constipated agony and however unbelievable it was to witness, I think it was fairly obvious to us all that the expression was not one of judicial rumination or gnashing of legal teeth. No, it was nothing more than a suppression of the giggles. A fully fledged, colourfully robed bearer of high office with the judicial giggles. Or maybe the jiggles?

Meanwhile, the emails between Ginny and TopFirst are now becoming more regular. The only problem is that they’re also starting to get just a little flirty, which is definitely not my bag, I can tell you. In fact let’s just not go there. But this is war, and in a conflict there are different rules. Well, no rules, truth be told.

I’ve got an appointment with the bank next week.

Monday 26 March 2007

Day 123 (week 26): ThirdSix

Today was possibly the worst start to the week imaginable. Just as I’m making some progress in my battle with TopFirst, we are all told that for the second six months of pupillage we will be joined by a ‘third six pupil’. This is basically a barrister who failed to get taken on in his own chambers and is giving it another go elsewhere. ‘Git orrrf ma land’ was the pretty universal reaction to the news as we got together to discuss it in the wine bar around the corner after work. However much the four of us are in competition (and don’t imagine for a minute that it’s only me being sneaky), there remains a kind of honour among thieves. Whatever we get up to, we’re all in it together.

‘I mean, it’s one thing for Big Brother to bring someone new in to spice up the mix,’ said BusyBody, ‘but for a barristers’ chambers to do it in pupillage . . . well . . .’

‘It’s just not cricket,’ I said.

‘And have you seen his CV?’ said Worrier. ‘It even puts TopFirst and BusyBody into the shade with his Oxford first and then his scholarship to Harvard.’

You could tell that she regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth and she immediately blushed and looked down at the table. ‘Not that I’m trying to say that you all aren’t clever. I mean. You are. Oh, you know what I mean.’ She clammed up and carried on staring downwards.

Then TopFirst stepped in, trying to take control.

‘Well I think we should all make sure that we watch out for each other first and foremost. It’s just not fair him trying to muscle in now when he hasn’t had to go through half the pupillage. Don’t you all agree?’

No one really knew what to say. That’s the only good thing, I guess: that it further destabilises TopFirst.

But even so, it’s just not cricket at all.

Tuesday 27 March 2007

Day 124 (week 26): Hail fellow, well met

After having been warned about ThirdSix yesterday, we were all gathered together this morning and were formally introduced to him by HeadofChambers as we slowly moved from one awkward silence to another. To be fair (not something I like to make a habit of), he didn’t seem as awful on first impressions as we’d all have liked to imagine. Not the geeky swot I’d been expecting. Instead, he’s very much a ‘hail fellow,well met’ kind of hearty,rugby-playing type. Clubbable (though in mentioning that word a baseball bat springs to mind) and extremely normal. Kind of a Clark Kent-type look without the glasses, his dark hair combed very neatly and his suit perfectly fitted as if trying to take the attention away from the fact that he looks the part of a sportsman rather than a barrister. All of which makes it worse. BusyBody and Worrier only added to the problem as they stood there salivating at this attractive new addition to the pupillage game. It was as if ‘ThirdSix’ now referred to their scores for presentation in some ridiculous ‘Pupillage on Ice’ routine. Scorecards held aloft and showing all the sixes in rapturous approval. With all this charm on top of his ridiculous qualifications, I can’t understand why he wasn’t taken on in his previous chambers. Which is a question I need to be investigating a little more closely.

As for TopFirst, he asked Ginny for a photo of herself today which means that I need to find someone to play her, fast. The problem is, from where? I hardly want to go round ringing those numbers you see posted in phone boxes.

Wednesday 28 March 2007

Day 125 (week 26): Up to your neck

Had a meeting with TheBoss today. He’s decided to go on the counter-offensive against his firm of solicitors.

‘You’re in up to your neck in this, you realise,’ he told me.‘If I go down, you go with me.’

This was the last thing I needed to hear.

‘I don’t think so. All I did was to keep quiet about seeing that set of papers.’

‘That may be so, BabyB, but it looks far worse than that now, and you know it. You knew everything about the plan itself and then even worse for you is that you’ve since officially denied knowing anything about it. You’d better start realising that soon.’

‘So what do you want from me? Why would you want to implicate your pupil?’

‘Well, since you’re asking . . .’

He then went on to explain that he’d heard rumours about the firm of solicitors that is attacking him. He said that there’s been some suggestion that they’re involved in a fake claims scam but he knows nothing more. He wants me to investigate. ‘You’ll be my spy, BabyB.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ was all I could reply.

Afterwards I told Claire about my predicament.

‘The problem is, the more I try to get out of trouble, the worse it gets. The loan company, tampering with chambers’ computer records and now this.’

‘But if you do nothing, BabyB, then I’ve got no doubt that he’ll carry out his threat, just to spite you.’

‘So what do you think I should do?’

‘It’s not good, BabyB, but I think you’re going to have to try and get something on the solicitors. I mean it’s not such a bad thing to do if they really are involved in fraud. You know the other thing you need to do? Help him to fight his case more effectively.’

‘How?’

‘Well you could start by telling him to get his own computer expert to examine the original hard disk and challenge the other side’s evidence.’

Thursday 29 March 2007

Day 126 (week 26): Cab Rank Rule

My first case in court is on Monday and the papers arrived today. It’s a plea in mitigation and all I have is the charge sheet and a few lines of instructions from the solicitor, which read as follows:

Instructing Solicitors apologise for the scant nature of the paperwork. Suffice to say that the client is no average scumbag or petty thief caught with his hands in the till, though this is what he is being charged with. Counsel will see what Instructing Solicitors mean when he meets the client at court. He is hereby instructed to enter whatever plea in mitigation he sees fit.

Sounds cryptic and not a little peculiar. Out of curiosity, I Googled my client’s name. The instructions then started to make a little more sense. Seems he’s not only a tealeaf but a notorious football hooligan with the Chelsea Headhunters. Worse than that though was a story I stumbled across in which he had been convicted for beating up his own lawyer. Just what I needed on my first day in court. I wondered if there was any way to get out of the case on the basis of this past form.

I phoned the Bar Council anonymously to seek their guidance. No way out, they said. Cab Rank Rule. Like a black cab, if your light is on and you’re available for work then you’re not allowed to pick and choose between the jobs you take. Even so, why do I have to be the one doing it? And on my first day, too?

In my irritation I decided to check out this so-called Cab Rank Rule and hailed a black cab.

‘Can you take me to the top of Chancery Lane, please?’ I asked in my best barrister voice.

‘But that’s only fifty yards away, mate. Just over there. You don’t need a cab.’

‘Yes, but I’d like to travel in a cab.’

‘Just not worth the hassle, mate. Have you seen the traffic jam I’d get caught in over there?’

‘What about the Cab Rank Rule? Don’t you have to take me wherever I want?’

‘Oh.I get it.You’re another of those barristers.I hate ’em.Always reminding me of that stupid rule. Well forget it, mate. Taking the mickey. Report me if you like.’

And with that he drove off.

Friday 30 March 2007

Day 127 (week 26): MoneyMatters

At lunch today I overheard OldSmoothie asking Worrier what area

of law she wants to do when she grows up.

‘Criminal defence,’ the answer came back.

‘Oh, that’ll change,’ replied OldSmoothie. ‘You’ll struggle to push it above two hundred doing that.’

‘Two hundred pounds a day doesn’t sound so bad,’ replied Worrier.

‘Such a lot to learn, young lady. Two hundred grand and that’s in a year. It’s the absolute bare minimum if you’re going to maintain any sort of middle-class life in this town. And that’s assuming your kids get scholarships and that you can put up with living in some grotty terrace in south London.’

Whilst we’re on the subject of finance, I’ve returned to TheBoss and agreed to investigate the firm of solicitors. Let’s call them FakeClaims&Co. I also gave him Claire’s suggestion of obtaining his own computer expert evidence and he seemed genuinely grateful. With all this goodwill going my way I realised that there may have been an opportunity for assistance in funding my Ginny project against TopFirst. I therefore asked him how much he was going to pay me. He didn’t flinch.‘£1,500 to start investigating and £1,500 for any evidence which will implicate them,’ he replied.

Should be enough to be getting on with.

CHAPTER 7

April: First Days in Court

To secure ourselves against defeat lies in our own hands, but the opportunity of defeating the enemy is provided by the enemy himself.

Sun Tzu,
The Art of War

Monday 2 April 2007

Day 128 (week 27): BullDog

I seriously considered calling in sick over the weekend after someone whispered that this was one way of getting around the Cab Rank Rule and avoiding having to represent the less enticing of clients. The problem was, no one would have believed me and the damage I’d have done my tenancy chances would be just too much. So I trotted off to the salubrious surroundings of Brent Magistrates’ Court where I met my first ever client, a short, bald, very fat man in his late forties whom I shall politely call BullDog.

‘So you’re my brief are ya?’

‘That’s right.’

He then looked at me a little more closely and came out with one of the two questions I had been dreading most.

‘How old are ya, mate?’

‘Twenty-seven,’ I lied, my voice rising an octave in the process and my prepared spiel going out the window. This was followed by the only other question I had been fearing:

‘And how long you bin practisin’?’

‘Three years.’ My voice going two octaves deeper as I made a fresh attempt to assert even the tiniest bit of authority. Great. My first words on my first day with my first client and they’re all unadulterated big fat porky pies.

‘No way, mate! You must be one of them new ’uns. It’s April ain’t it? My brief once told me about you lot. Look, there’s another one over there.’

And so there was, all fresh-faced, shoes polished, new suit and wide-eyed earnestness. A replica of myself, in fact. I admitted my inexperience.

‘So, mate. You’ve just lied to your client, have you? Guess you’d better get me a good result today then. Or I might just have to think about reporting you.’

Just what I needed. A client who knew his rights and who now held my professional future in his grubby, fat hands. It doesn’t come much more serious than lying to clients.