‘No one witnessed this so-called criticism.’
‘How could they? He was sweet as pie when there were people around.’
‘Mrs Driver, you’re a strong woman.’
‘Was a strong woman. I’m a wreck now.’
‘You give as good as you get.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Not only were you yourself critical of Mr Driver, but on several occasions, you lashed out at him.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘What you call criticism was nothing beyond the usual marital disagreement.’
‘More bullshit.’
The judge intervened. ‘Mrs Driver, please refrain from using foul language in court. It does little to assist your case. A simple “yes” or “no” would serve you better.’
‘Sorry, Your Honour, but she’s talking crap.’
‘Please proceed, Miss Baker.’
‘Your husband has already apologised for upsetting you.’
‘So?’
‘He is prepared to overlook your behaviour in the interests of your daughter.’
Mrs Driver was red-faced and shaking.
‘Don’t you bloody bring my daughter into this.’
It was going well. She might not have destroyed the evidence, but she had angered the witness. The judge could see this wife was no helpless victim. He allowed the husband back into the marital home, ordering him to confine himself to a separate living area. It was a crazy solution, but her client was delighted.
‘Thanks, Miss Baker, you did a great job. I’ll get my solicitor to ask for you if I need another brief.’
‘Let’s hope you don’t,’ said Natasha, smiling and shaking the client’s hand. ‘But if you do need help, she’ll know where to find me.’
Or would she? The tenancy interviews were two months away. Andy had told her they were looking for people who could bring in the work. It sounded like the client would be giving a good report to his solicitor, and Andy would be sure to ask.
* * *
The following day she was shadowing Mel on an Interim Care application for a Miss Felicia Gonzalez who had a child called Pedro. She spent most of the two hours at court sitting with the unhappy Felicia as Mel ran in and out of the conference room, negotiating visiting arrangements for Pedro with the social workers. They were only in front of the judge for five minutes. It was disappointing. She’d had more fun watching commercial disputes with her other supervisor.
Mel looked tired and there was a red mark on one side of her eye. Natasha decided not to mention it, even when she had to grab Mel’s arm to stop her walking in front of a bus on the way back to chambers.
‘Sorry, I wasn’t concentrating,’ said Mel when they reached the other side of the Strand.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Natasha.
‘Yes, fine.’
Mel’s face appeared twisted, as if she was in pain and Natasha suspected she wasn’t fine at all. Then she told Natasha she needed to pop into Carphone Warehouse to pick up a new phone.
‘I’ll join you in chambers in half an hour. You might find a desk in the computer room.’
A few minutes later Natasha was back in chambers, but she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Mel seemed to expect her to learn just by following her around. And now, when they should be talking through the afternoon’s hearing, she had disappeared to sort out a phone. It wasn’t exactly incompetent, but it was certainly disorganised.
Her Civil supervisor, Gerald, had been a dominating man but at least he’d given her clear instructions. Unlike Mel, he’d always asked her for her comments at the end of a conference. She took out her laptop and looked over an Opinion she was preparing for him. Fifteen pages of closely reasoned legal advice for a solicitor whose client had suffered serious spinal damage after negligent surgery. She had spent most of the weekend researching the law. Luke brought her snacks and cups of tea, but she could tell he was pissed off when she told him she couldn’t go out. He needed to realise her work came first. Not that she’d be paid much. Gerald would get the full fee and give her half if she was lucky. Still it was work.
When Mel turned up almost an hour later she simply nodded at Natasha and switched on one of the desktop computers that lined the wall below the window. Out of the corner of her eye Natasha could see she was going through emails.
‘Did you get your phone?’ asked Natasha.
‘Yep. Sorted,’ said Mel without glancing up from her screen.
It was five o’clock. Natasha had finished work on the Opinion and wished she could go home but there were no set hours, pupils were expected to wait till their supervisor made it clear it was time to go.
She looked about her. The room was just below ground level, the only view consisting of rectangles of light through the barred windows, occasionally crossed by passing legs in dark trousers, wheelie bags or trolleys loaded with Lever Arch files on their way to the Royal Courts of Justice. No pictures, no plants, not even law books to break up the monotony. Not what she had imagined when she’d been offered a pupillage in the Temple.
Natasha liked books. She was one of the few students at Bar School who looked up paper law reports instead of googling. She had loved the quiet of the university library, the soft footfall on parquet, the occasional cough and rustle of paper, the scent of leather and wood polish. Law reports were puzzles and she was good at solving puzzles. One of the other tenants popped her head round the door and asked if they would both like a cup of tea. It was Jess, the woman who’d taken her to court on her first day. She was staring hard at Natasha who remembered that making tea was her job.
‘I’ll make it,’ she said, jumping up and going to the tiny galley kitchen. When she came back five minutes later, Jess was sitting next to Mel with her arm around her shoulders.
‘It’s nothing. I’m being stupid,’ Mel was saying.
‘No, you’re not.’
‘I’m a bit shaky. But basically, I’m fine. I mean, not hurt.’
‘You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be in court,’ said Jess.
A man’s bulky frame filled the doorway. He was clutching a small laptop and a bundle of papers. His waistcoat was loose across his chest. His collarless shirt was unbuttoned round the neck and a mist of sweat wafted across the room.
‘Hi, Georgie,’ said Jess, ‘I thought you were in Birmingham.’
‘Case collapsed. I argued abuse of process and no case to answer.’
‘There goes your trial fee,’ laughed Jess.
‘Some of us have ethics, Jess. I am not prepared to prolong a case unnecessarily. Anyway, the guy deserved to get off. The police behaved like thugs.’ Then turning to Natasha with a big smile he said, ‘How do you do, I’m Georgie.’
‘Hi, Georgie, I’m Natasha.’ Mel should have introduced her, but she seemed totally out of it.
‘Mel’s pupil,’ explained Jess.
Georgie turned to Mel. ‘So, what’s this about a mugging?’
‘I’m OK.’
‘You should take time off.’
‘You know that’s not possible. Anyway, I was fine this morning.’
Fine? Mel had done a lot of running backwards and forwards, but the woman’s kids were still in care. Plus, she’d nearly killed herself and Natasha on the way back to chambers. Nobody had said anything to her about a mugging.