Читать книгу The Law of Attraction: the perfect laugh-out-loud read for autumn 2018 - Roxie Cooper - Страница 15

CHAPTER 7

Before I know it, Halloween tat is starting to fill the shops and I’m glugging pumpkin-spiced lattes like nobody’s business. There’s that lovely late afternoon sun in the sky, the one which casts beautiful, bright, tangerine-orange light over everything at about 3 p.m. A little pop-up stall on the Quayside has appeared, selling jacket potatoes, chestnuts and other cold-weather fodder, and it shoots all kinds of delicious aromas around the area whenever I leave Chambers on an evening.

When did it suddenly become autumn?

One thing which has amazed me in recent weeks is the amount of hoop-jumping one must do as a pupil – it really is never-ending. In addition to going to court, all the work Skylar sets for me and remembering everyone’s names (still only mastered approximately eighty-seven per cent of Chambers, which is rather shameful), I also have to attend various pupil courses. Forensic accounting, advocacy, ethics… you name it, there’s a course for it. To make it worse, they’re usually held in a conference suite miles away and I’m exposed to other pupils all day, most of whom are only interested in bragging about who is the most intelligent/loudest/irritating (always Marty).

By the end of October I’ve been on three of these courses and I’m starting to wish I had a vice to turn to which was stronger than wine but not quite heroin. I’m sure there must be a happy medium somewhere on the vice spectrum… hmm… Absinthe, perhaps?

Ultimately, being governed by the Bar Council, Chambers must comply with various regulations if they want to take pupils on year after year. In practice, this means they have to assign senior members to various roles and responsibilities.

One rainy Monday morning, Skylar drags Marty and I into a conference room, sits us down and glares at us both from across the table. Seems he is the designated Chambers person to deal with procedure and complaints.

‘Pupils,’ he declares, with a fancy hand movement. It’s utterly impossible to ever know where he is going with these chats. Since the Mess, I’ve had to endure all kinds of nonsensical talks. He leans back in his chair, making his now signature ‘temple’ with his hands, resting underneath his chin.

‘Back in the olden days when I joined the Bar, things were a lot simpler than they are now. The Bar Standards Commission et al weren’t necessary. If someone in Chambers gave you the ‘glad eye’ you simply got on with it. You either shagged them or told them to “fuck off…”’

The way Skylar says ‘fuck off’ is exactly the same way my mam says ‘lesbians’ when she’s gossiping about the neighbours on her estate; an extremely overexaggerated mouthing of the word, barely even a whisper.

‘…But now you have all sorts of rights, apparently, and so I am here to tell you all about them.’

Crikey. Doesn’t sound like Skylar is perhaps the best person to be doing this chat but, as it’s obviously a box-ticking exercise, I don’t think Chambers are too bothered by it.

‘Okay,’ he sighs. ‘So discrimination on the basis of gender, race, religion or any other factor is NOT acceptable within this Chambers. It will not be tolerated either directly or indirectly,’ he goes on. ‘Understand?’

‘Yes,’ Marty and I say in unison.

‘Right, that’s that done. Next – harassment…’

God, this is painful.

‘Obviously, you must never harass anyone else in or out of Chambers – sexually or otherwise…’ he warns, looking directly at Marty. ‘But if you should find yourself the victim of such behaviour you must first inform your pupilmaster UNLESS they are the perpetrator of such unwarranted behaviour…’

Lord alive. I dare not even imagine.

‘…In which case, you must direct your complaint to the Head of Chambers. Okay?’

‘What if he’s the perpetrator?’ I ask, genuinely wanting to know.

‘What?’ Skylar hisses at me.

‘Well, what if it’s alleged he’s the one doing the sexual harassing? To whom does one complain then?’

‘Erm, well it’s all hypothetical anyway...’

‘But shouldn’t we know? Just in case?’ Surely Richard Skylar isn’t lost for an answer?

He looks momentarily puzzled. He clearly can’t be arsed with this.

‘Amanda, Mr de Souza is a very busy man,’ he clips. ‘He has better things to do than concern himself with chasing skirt around Chambers.’

‘Right, okay. I’m glad we cleared that up.’ I smile.

‘One more thing. Not so much guidelines…’ – he says ‘guidelines’ with contempt as he waves his hands about, almost as if he is wafting the word away like paper in a breeze – ‘…as sound advice…’

I am intrigued. There’s something about senior barristers giving pupils unscripted advice. The stuff that doesn’t come from a book at law school. Passed down through the profession, through generations, learned only through years of experience and hard work…

There’s a brief silence as we both lean in, and he looks at us both in quick succession.

‘Never, EVER shag your clerks. Ever.’

Holy hell. As if.

‘I have seen careers ruined because of this. Seriously…’ he says, raising his eyebrows, as if to emphasise the seriousness of the situation, his eyes magnified through his enormous black-rimmed glasses.

‘Yes, a pretty new girl or handsome new clerk starts working in Chambers, you start flirting, you have a fling, you might even get a bit of work from it and it’s all fun and games until one of you dumps the other and it all goes down the crapper.’

‘Richard, absolutely sound, sensible advice there. Sheer lunacy to compromise your position in Chambers,’ Marty pipes up as if from nowhere.

Skylar shoots him a look that might as well say ‘out of everyone in Chambers you’re the most likely person who would do this’ and ignores everything he’s just said.

‘I mean, all of this is extremely important, isn’t it, Richard?’ Marty goes on. ‘I’m all for it.’

‘What are you “all for”, exactly?’ Skylar probes.

‘You know, the rules set by the Bar Standards Commission. Guidelines, diversity…’ he says sarcastically, glancing at me.

‘Sorry, I’m not with you?’ Skylar announces.

‘I just think it’s really great they encourage quotas that allow applicants from poor backgrounds to have a crack at pupillage. They won’t get tenancy, but it’s nice they can have a go…’ Marty reels off without a hint of shame in his voice.

Skylar glares at him straight in the eye for a few seconds before adding, ‘I disagree, Martin. If it was up to me, I’d scrap quotas. They’re patronising. Places should be given upon merit. There are far too many stuck-up, privileged toffs at the Bar who get here because they think it’s their birthright. Most of them aren’t good enough to be here. True talent always shines, though, always…’

Marty looks furious. Why he thought he could take Skylar on, I don’t know. But that’s always his downfall; he thinks he’s cleverer than everyone else. It’s going to get him into trouble one day (hopefully).

I love it when Skylar has my back, though. It makes me feel all warm and teary. Never has someone made me feel like that before.

‘Oh, by the way, Mandy, I didn’t see you at Rafferty’s fiftieth birthday bash on Saturday night. Busy, were you?’ Marty asks.

I’m genuinely confused. ‘Birthday party? I didn’t know…’ I trail off, glancing at Skylar, who is looking at Marty like he wants to murder him.

‘Ahh. Awkward. Well, I just assumed you’d been invited seeing as everyone from Chambers was there…’ Marty recounts with far too much smugness in his voice.

‘Rubbish!’ Skylar interrupts. ‘Half of Chambers was there and the rest were a load of Rafferty’s boring old friends from university. I stayed out of courtesy for a few hours and then left. You did well to stay away, Amanda. Watching paint dry would have been more fun.’

I attempt a smile, so grateful to Skylar for saving me in front of Marty. But I feel like I’ve been thumped in the stomach. To be excluded like this makes me feel horrible. I’m sure it was boring, but it would have been nice to be asked.

‘Well, there we have it,’ Skylar abruptly announces as he jumps up. ‘Amanda, we’ve got work to do, but not before you’ve made me a coffee. Come on, Barbie!’

***

Only a few days later, Sid comes into the library (suit-jacket-less) looking rather flustered, asking if I am busy.

Good grief.

Turns out he needs some urgent legal research doing for a huge case he’s defending with de Souza QC – a murder! – and it has to be done there and then. I ask Skylar if I can assist, to which he agrees, on the condition I don’t ‘go out drinking afterwards’ (i.e. didn’t sleep with anyone).

It feels proper barrister-y, sitting in the big conference room with the other senior lawyers, surrounded by books and files, rain slamming down outside. Like something out of a film. I have to nip to the library to grab some more resources, only to find Marty skulking around, desperate to know what I’m up to. I really have to concentrate on not laughing directly in his face because it appears that, in a desperate attempt to fit in with the men of Chambers, he’s started slicking his hair back with gel. The problem is, because he’s utterly useless with the application of such things (and most things in general, actually), he puts far too much on, so it just looks like he’s been gunged on one of those comedic game shows. I bet his wig is going to be disgusting once he starts wearing it. Anyway, I can’t take him seriously when I talk to him and it’s a real effort not to just fixate on his hair.

‘What are you doing in there with de Souza and Ryder?’ he blurts out, desperately trying to peek at the books I’m carrying.

This is going to be sweet.

‘Oh, they asked me to assist with some legal research for that murder they’re defending. I’ve been in there all afternoon. They probably didn’t want to bother you with it. It’s very complex stuff.’

‘Well, I’m sure they would have asked me, had I been here.’ Even he knows this isn’t true.

‘I think they wanted someone who would actually do the work, Martin. Not someone who would bullshit their way through the conference and tell jokes.’

‘Well, I’m sure if you undo a few buttons of your shirt you’ll leave a lasting impression, Mandy.’

‘No need, Martin. My work will do that.’

‘Well, it’s pretty obvious why Ryder wanted you in there. Sounds like there’s already discrimination in action here. Might go and have a little word with de Souza…’

‘Oh my God, are you serious? Do you have any idea how stupid you’ll look if you do that? Actually, with that in mind… go ahead, I’m all for it.’

‘You think you’ve got this tenancy in the bag, don’t you? Swishing around, leading all the guys on…’

‘I’ve never led anyone on, Martin’

‘Apart from me…’

I’m actually staggered by his arrogance.

‘If, by leading you on, you mean being forced to matriculate in the same room as you, then… yeeessss, I suppose I did. But that’s about it,’ I say, sarcastically. ‘Everything else outside the classroom was pure contempt for you. Hope that clarifies the situation.’

As usual, he has no witty comeback so I leave him fuming. Feels good to have one up on him for once.

The conference lasts until 5.45 p.m. when the other lawyers call it a day. De Souza, as predicted by Skylar, asks everyone if they’re going for a drink… including me.

Even though I have Skylar’s words ringing in my ears, and knowing I have to be back at Chambers at 7.30 a.m. tomorrow, I say I’ll go for one. I can’t let an opportunity like this slip – especially given how rubbish I felt after finding out I wasn’t even invited to Rafferty’s party. And my decision to go is in no way influenced by the fact it means it will give me an opportunity to speak to Sid outside of work.

No sireee.

It’s a Tuesday night so the pub we go to is practically empty. De Souza buys everyone’s drinks. I’m with five men so I don’t have to put on an act – bottled beer it is, and yes, I’m drinking it from the bottle.

Weirdly, despite the fact I’m with my Head of Chambers and some of the most senior lawyers in town, I don’t feel intimidated at all. We’re in a proper old pub, which is more like the surroundings I grew up in. They’re all very friendly, talking among themselves but being very polite and including me in the conversation where they can.

Sid comes to sit next to me and I smile, trying not to look like I’m about to have an orgasm.

We have general chit-chat about this and that, even touching upon the pupillage interview process. Sid volunteers that Marty’s dad is very close friends with the hateful Dolus, so I’m guessing nepotism is still very much a thing and that this was his way into Chambers.

It’s not long before Sid moves on to my incident with Clarinda.

‘So, I hear you’ve made quite the impression with the women of the Bar?’

I laugh, and don’t need to ask what he’s referring to.

‘Ah, yep. So you heard about the incident with your ex-girlfriend?’

‘Oh yes. She’s made sure everyone knows about it. Embellished it, of course. Well, she had to. Nobody outsmarts Clarinda O’Leary and comes out of it well,’ he laughs. When Sid laughs or smiles, his eyes crinkle up and you kind of want to drown in them.

‘She truly is… charming. I’m sure she must have had some redeeming qualities for you to go out with her,’ I offer, hoping he detects the sarcasm in my voice.

‘It was complicated,’ he laughs. ‘She held herself out to be something she wasn’t. Men are ultimately stupid and fall for these female tactics.’

‘Yes, why is that?’ I ask in an overexaggerated way.

‘We don’t think with our brains a lot of the time,’ he says, a bit too honestly.

‘Well, from what I’ve heard about you in particular, you definitely don’t.’

Oh, way to go, Amanda. Insult the guy you fancy – you truly are the Queen of Seduction.

‘Really? What have you heard about me?’ He’s suddenly gone serious.

‘That you’re a player, ladies man, womaniser… need I go on?’

‘Well, you really shouldn’t believe everything you hear. Rumours are used like weapons at the Bar. Don’t forget that. I’m actually a nice guy if you get to know me.’

‘Oh really? Well, that’s one I’ve never heard before.’

Sid looks at me for a few seconds. It’s like I can see the cogs cranking in his head, trying to work me out.