Read Law and Disorder Online

Authors: Tim Kevan

Law and Disorder (5 page)

So, I settled into them, gently getting a feel for the case. It involved an accident on a British Navy ship back in September 2004. Looked pretty straightforward. In fact, liability appeared to have been admitted. Started writing the advice on the value of the claim which, with a loss of a career in the Navy, looked like it could be as much as half a million pounds.

Worked on it until lunch and then went off to meet a friend who was also doing pupillage. Pretty relaxed day all in all. Got chatting and what with one thing and another I mentioned the case.

‘Have you issued yet?' he asked.

‘No, why? No need at this stage. Might even settle and we've got until next September anyway.'

‘No you haven't.'

‘What?'

‘Limitation. It's not three years when the accident occurs on a ship. It's two.'

‘What?'

‘No doubt about it. Had to deal with it in my first week. It's definitely two years.'

Oh.

This did not look good. At all. The first dilemma was who to tell and when. TheBoss was incommunicado. Should I call him at home? Would he actually be at home? Knowing TheBoss as I already did, I figured that there was at least a small chance that he was not. Should I phone his mobile and interrupt whatever he was doing? Or should I just ask the clerks or even OldRuin?

I went for a walk around the garden in Gray's Inn and took a few deep breaths. Maybe this was the opportunity I'd been waiting for. Maybe I could help TheBoss. One thing of which I was certain. I needed to give him a discreet heads up without alerting anyone else. I therefore left a message on his mobile yesterday afternoon. And yesterday evening. And this morning. But there has been no sign of him all day.

Thursday 2 November 2006

Day 24 (week 5): The return

TheBoss was back today with the only explanation given being ‘trouble and strife'. OldRuin, uncharacteristically, was also around for the third day in a row. It meant that it wasn't going to be easy getting time alone with TheBoss without giving the game away. In fact it had to wait until mid-morning when OldRuin popped out to the loo and I asked TheBoss if it would be possible to talk to him in private.

‘You got a problem with OldRuin?' he asked, in his usual slightly bullying way.

‘No,' I replied. ‘I think there's a problem with one of your sets of papers.'

‘Yeah, that they haven't settled yet,' he chuckled, clearly thinking himself very smart and witty.

‘I think you've missed limitation on one of your cases.'

‘What do you mean? Which case? My papers? What?'

OldRuin then re-entered the room and I bowed my head. TheBoss glared but said nothing more. Eventually, he very unsubtly suggested I might like to join him for coffee on Chancery Lane. OldRuin looked at me conspiratorially. There was obviously something up, as such a gesture was wholly out of character from TheBoss. Nevertheless, a few minutes later we were indeed heading off to a café down the main legal thoroughfare in London.

‘So, what are you talking about?' he asked as he tucked into the large doughnut he'd ordered to accompany his coffee.

‘Just what I said. Your papers for the solicitors on the shipping case have passed limitation during the time they've been sitting on your shelf. It's an accident on a ship and you've only got two years.'

After a brief bout of Tourette's that shocked an old lady walking by, he started to think it through a little more carefully. True to character, his only form of defence was attack.

‘What were you doing going through my private papers? You had no right.'

‘I'm your pupil. That's my job.'

‘You were only to touch papers that I told you about. There could be all sorts of confidential documents in there.'

‘But you told me that I was to do as many of your sets of papers as I was able and that there was no need to ask you about them

– just to get on with it.' ‘I didn't mean go and cause this sort of trouble.' By that point, I'd had enough. Even a pupil has a tipping point. ‘I'm extremely sorry you feel that way,' I said, raising my head

and catching his stare. My sudden bout of confidence appeared to unnerve him and he changed tack immediately.

‘Anyway, I suppose I should also be grateful to you for spotting

it. What do you think we can do about it?' ‘Well, we haven't told the solicitors yet. That might be a start.' ‘Who else knows, exactly, except you?'

‘No one.' I hadn't wanted to involve my friend from the other chambers and so had refrained from saying anything else to him.

‘Let's sit on it today. I'll try and think of a solution by tomorrow morning.'

And that was that.

Friday 3 November 2006

Day 25 (week 5): Faustian pact

Today I compromised myself. It is not the first time and will probably not be the last, given my initial impression of this mighty profession. But today I crossed a line that, until now, delineated the boundary between the bad and the wholly unacceptable.

TheBoss arrived this morning and put forward a solution: that I would forget that I had ever seen the papers. He would then write a short advice and print it off for his own records dated July 2006. This would include a gentle reminder about limitation. He would then change the records in chambers showing the papers had been returned in July along with the advice and a fee note. This was one of the advantages of giving members of chambers full access to their own parts of the system. Come Monday, he would ask the most junior clerk to phone the solicitors politely asking about the progress of the case. So long as he could show that the papers were not on his shelf, the responsibility would then lie with the solicitors.

TheBoss explained that he'd had a misconduct issue in the past and that if this came out it could be the end of his career. Also, it was only a tiny thing. Just amending the records. Not a big deal and ultimately it would be the insurance which would pay up, if anyone. Furthermore, the solicitors were in the wrong even if he hadn't sent an advice. It was just an adjunct to their primary liability in any event. All not a big deal. Just making things clear.

I have to admit that despite being shocked, in the heat of the moment I also saw this as an opportunity. I asked him how it might affect my pupillage.

‘Only positively,' he replied.

The deal was done.

 

Monday 6 November 2006

Day 26 (week 6): JudgeJewellery

There's a vicious rumour going around about one of the district judges who I shall call JudgeJewellery. It apparently started with a barrister friend of hers and has been doing the rounds for weeks. It seems she unwisely confided to her garrulous friend that she has a penchant for stealing cheap jewellery from a certain high street shop I will call CheapnNasty. Whips it straight into her Gucci handbag and then she's away without anyone daring to accuse someone so glamorous of such petty theft. If that isn't enough, she then likes to show off her wares in court the next day like some sort of trophy. Sounds completely unreal but although the chain of Chinese whispers was fairly protracted, the gossip did come from reliable sources.

Today I was with a junior barrister called Teflon, so called apparently due to the fact that whatever trouble he gets into, none of it sticks. He was appearing in front of JudgeJewellery and she was certainly sporting some gaudy-looking earrings. Yet despite the fact that they clashed with her judicial uniform, she carried it off with enormous style. It's not merely that she is beautiful. She seems somehow to be above all the hustle and bustle of the arguments going on around her, easily reducing Teflon to rubble with one of her slightly amused smiles. All of which kind of makes even her pilfering seem kind of cool. Which of course it isn't. But hey. I don't think I'm the only male member of the Bar who is suffering from this mild, if somewhat inappropriate, infatuation.

When I got back from court TheBoss had left a set of papers on my desk with the instruction ‘Email me the advice by tomorrow morning' scrawled on a Post-it note on top. Great. Just what I needed at six in the evening. Then, with impeccable timing, Worrier strolled in looking for help. Not that I wasn't pleased to see her. In fact I've already grown to like her very much, partially based on our mutual dislike of the other two goody-goodies. It's just that I already had work which would probably take me past midnight and Worrier's little queries never tended to be quick.

‘I'm in a panic, BabyB. I've got to finish an advice by tomorrow morning and I'm completely stuck.'

‘You and me both,' I replied.

‘Oh, sorry.' She stopped in her tracks and looked slightly forlorn.

Immediately I felt bad for taking my impatience out on her.

‘How can I help, Worrier?'

‘Well, I've done a first draft. I just need someone to have a read through for me. But if you don't have the time . . .'

‘Of course I have the time. Let's have a look.'

‘It's quite long,' she warned.

‘Let's see.'

She handed me the advice, looking slightly embarrassed.

‘Worrier, it's forty-five pages long.'

‘That's the problem, BabyB. I'm having difficulties working out what needs to go in.'

To leave Worrier to hand in that particular piece of work would have made her a laughing stock. To correct it would probably leave me getting a couple of hours' sleep at most. But I have to say Worrier really did look in a state, and as I looked at her again I heard myself saying, ‘Pass it here. Let's see what we can do.'

Tuesday 7 November 2006

Day 27 (week 6): Sorted

Today TheBoss has been dealing with the fallout from his plan. Or to put it more accurately, the lack of fallout. He amended the entries on the system without a hitch. It wasn't designed to protect against corrupt barristers and so it was easy to do so without any trace. The junior clerk then made the call yesterday afternoon. This morning, the solicitor called TheBoss. Despite the calm in his voice, he was swivelling around nervously on his expensive orthopaedic chair. I only heard TheBoss's side of the conversation.

‘I was just wondering how the case was getting on.'

. . .

‘Oh. Didn't you get my advice?'

. . .

‘Oh. That's strange. It was sent back in July. I can dig out a copy

and fax it over after this call.'

. . . ‘No. Not at all. It would be my pleasure. Very strange. Must have been a problem with the post.' . . . ‘Oh, by the way, I assume you've issued by now?' . . . ‘What? Oh, no. Oh, no. Did you not realise that limitation for cases involving ships is two years? I did mention it in my advice but to be honest, I thought you'd know that anyway.' . . . ‘Hmm. I don't know what you can do at this stage. It's pretty serious. I'd certainly suggest that you report this to your professional indemnity insurers and seek their guidance before doing anything further.' . . . ‘No, no. I'm sure it must have been the postage. I wouldn't want you to start blaming your internal post.' . . . ‘Oh. It's my pleasure. If I can help you further with this, please just ask.'

Looking particularly smug, TheBoss turned to me and said, ‘Some might say, BabyB, “Case closed”.' How worryingly easy it was. Makes you wonder.

Thursday 9 November 2006

Day 29 (week 6): Flirt

Pretty much back to normal now. TheBoss is his old arrogant self and I'm making coffees and photocopying. BusyBody's been at her worst today. Sniffing around our room under the pretence of researching through the law reports there. Worse though, was TheBoss's reaction to her presence.

‘That's a nice blouse,' he kicked off with, to which BusyBody was all, ‘Oh, do you like it. I just bought it at the weekend.' Then he followed up with more questions than he's asked of me in the last five weeks. ‘Where are you from?', ‘What university?', ‘Ooh, what college?', right down to questions about parents and siblings. At first I just noticed that he was being peculiarly nice, but within about ten minutes it was obvious he was in full-on flirt mode. BusyBody of course was lapping it up and wasted no time in returning the compliments and looked positively reluctant to leave when the call came in from her own pupilmaster demanding her return.

After that performance I needed to get out and managed to persuade Claire to bunk off at 5 p.m. under the standard excuse of ‘research in the library'. Then it was down to what has become our local wine bar, The Cheeky Monkey.

‘So what's your pupilmistress had you doing this week?' I asked.

‘Dry-cleaning Monday, food shopping Tuesday and then researching packages for her Christmas holiday today.'

‘Still saving the world then.'

‘Quite.'

‘Well, you should be so lucky. Got to be better than drafting schedules of loss and photocopying duty.'

‘Sometimes I do wonder.'

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