Brothers In Law Page 3

  ‘If your Lordship pleases,’ said Charles and sat down.

  ‘Don’t you want to ask him anything about the trousers, Mr Hepplewhite?’

  ‘The trousers, my Lord?’ said Charles unhappily. The judge appeared to have made it plain at the outset that he did not want to hear too much about the trousers. And now here he was inviting him to go into the matter. The fact was that the plaintiff had been somewhat knocked about in cross-examination over the trousers. The judge was not sure that he had done himself justice in his answers to Mr Ferret. The witness was a nervous young man and had been rather over-persuaded to agree to things to which the judge was not at all satisfied he intended to agree. A few well-directed questions in re-examination might have restored the position. But Charles was quite incapable of asking them.

  ‘The trousers, my Lord?’ he said again.

  What on earth would I ask? thought Roger. This is a pretty nerve-wracking game. I wonder if I ought to have gone on the Stock Exchange.

  Seeing that Charles was quite incapable of dealing with the matter, the judge himself proceeded to ask the necessary questions and a few others too, some of them leading. Mr Ferret grimaced. He couldn’t stop the judge asking leading questions and he saw what was going to happen. Until Mr Grimes returned, the judge was in effect going to conduct the case on behalf of the plaintiff and by the time Mr Grimes did return, he would have got so used to it that he might have become unconsciously in the plaintiff’s favour. Justice is a funny thing. It can never be perfect. Roger learned in due course that sometimes the poorer counsel wins a case just because he’s so bad that the judge has to step in. So what seemed unfair to the one side becomes unfair to the other.

  After the running down case had been going on for some little time, Roger felt someone touch his arm. It was Alec.

  ‘Have you seen Mr Hallfield anywhere?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘I haven’t, I’m afraid,’ said Roger.

  ‘Well, would you come with me, please, sir,’ said Alec. ‘It’s rather urgent.’

  Roger went clumsily in front of Charles, brushing some of his papers to the floor in the process, got out of counsel’s row and was soon trotting after Alec through what seemed like endless corridors. He wanted to ask Alec all sorts of questions but the pace was too fast. Eventually they reached a Court.

  ‘In here, sir,’ said Alec.

  Mr Grimes was on his feet addressing the Official Referee.

  ‘If your Honour pleases,’ he said, ‘I submit that in meal or in malt the onus of proof is on the defendant.’

  ‘Why meal or malt, Mr Grimes?’ said Sir Hugo Cramp, the Official Referee.

  ‘If your Honour pleases,’ said Mr Grimes with a deferential smile.

  ‘Yes, but why, Mr Grimes? You’re always saying in meal or in malt, and I can’t think why, I really can’t.’

  ‘Just a phrase, your Honour, just a phrase.’

  ‘Well, you’ve said it three times in half an hour. I made a note of it.’

  Indeed, that was the only note that Sir Hugo had so far made. The stage for making notes had not yet arrived and he hoped that it never would – except for doodling and the like and making notes of Mr Grimes’ stock expression. The case ought to be settled. So should all building references. And in Sir Hugo’s Court they nearly always were. It was a good thing for everyone. It saved the parties expense and Sir Hugo time, and it resulted in the next litigants’ cases coming on earlier for trial – or settlement.

  ‘Take a note, my dear fellow,’ whispered Mr Grimes to Roger.

  ‘What in?’ asked Roger.

  ‘A notebook, my dear fellow – I’m sorry, your Honour. I was just arranging with my learned friend Mr – Mr Thorburn–’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Sir Hugo, ‘but these devilling arrangements should be made beforehand. I take it that I’m going to be deprived of the pleasure of hearing your further argument, Mr Grimes.’

  ‘Only for a very short time, your Honour. I’m on my feet before Mr Justice Nettlefold.’

  Sir Hugo removed his spectacles and looked at Mr Grimes, with a puzzled air for a moment, ‘Oh, of course,’ he said. ‘The prophetic present. Well, I mustn’t keep you, Mr Grimes. Very good of you to have come at all and I’m sure your learned junior will fill your place admirably while you are away.’

  ‘It’s very good of your Honour,’ said Mr Grimes and with a few whispered words to Roger – ‘Ye’ll be all right, my dear fellow, just tell him the tale, just tell him the tale,’ Mr Grimes was gone.

  It had all happened so quickly that Roger had difficulty in realizing that he, Roger Thursby Esq, barrister-at-law, aged twenty-one, called to the Bar two days previously, had been left in Court to represent one side or the other (he did not know which) in a building dispute before a judge called an Official Referee, of whom he had only vaguely heard. He looked round the Court. There was not a face he knew. Something inside his head began to go round and round and the Official Referee’s face started to approach him with alarming swiftness. He realized that he must pull himself together or faint. Sir Hugo addressed him: ‘Now that the wind has dropped, Mr Truefold, would you continue your learned leader’s submission?’ Roger wished he had fainted. He rose unsteadily, and looked blankly in front of him.

  ‘Your learned leader was saying,’ went on Sir Hugo who, without intending to be unkind, enjoyed this sort of scene immensely, ‘let me see – what was he saying? Something about malt, I believe. Strange, in a building dispute. Ah – no, I remember – he was submitting that the onus was on the other side. No doubt you would like to elaborate the submission?’

  Roger continued to look blankly in front of him. It was not that the power of speech had left him, but he simply did not know what to say. He had sufficient presence of mind to realize that, if he started, ‘Your Honour’ and then paused, the Official Referee would, after waiting a decent interval, say, ‘Yes, Mr Truefold?’ and then he would either have to repeat, ‘Your Honour’ or lapse into silence again. It was better not to break it at all unless and until he could think of one sentence which meant something. The only sentence he would think of was: ‘I want to go home,’ and that wouldn’t do at all. It flashed through his mind that he could pretend to faint and he cursed himself for having resisted a moment before the genuine impulse to do so. But he had a natural inclination to tell the truth. This was sometimes embarrassing in his relations with Sally and Joy, but they were a long way from his mind at this particular moment. He remained standing and staring and thinking for the thoughts which would not come.

  ‘Come, Mr Trueband,’ said Sir Hugo affably, ‘it’s quite calm now. Shall we proceed?’

  There was nothing for it. ‘Your Honour,’ he began – and then came the inevitable pause. Sir Hugo looked enquiringly at him, and so did counsel on the other side and, indeed, nearly everyone in the Court.

  The pause had already passed the stage at which it became unbearable when Sir Hugo duly came in with the expected ‘Yes, Mr Truefold?’ to which Roger replied with the only words he had so far learned: ‘Your Honour,’ and again there was that terrible pause. Eventually Sir Hugo broke it with: ‘I suppose you say that the defendants, having admitted that the work was done and that it has not been paid for, it is for them to show that parts of it have not been properly done?’

  With relief which he could not conceal, Roger added a word to his repertoire. ‘Yes, Your Honour,’ he said, and getting bolder – ‘I do.’ Then, ‘Your Honour,’ he added, in case the emphasis sounded rude.

  ‘An admirable submission, Mr Truelove,’ said Sir Hugo, ‘and very succinctly put. But,’ and he paused and frowned for a moment. ‘But,’ he went on, ‘isn’t it for the plaintiff in the first instance to give evidence that he has performed his contract – and can he do that without showing that the work was properly done?’

  Roger’s boldness vanished. The only truthful answer he could make would have been: ‘I don’t know.’ But that wouldn’t do. So he adopted his first line of defenc
e, of standing and staring, keeping a ‘Your Honour’ in reserve for use if necessary.

  ‘You can’t very well rely,’ went on Sir Hugo, ‘on the maxim omnia rite, etc – incidentally, I never can remember exactly how it goes.’

  ‘Omnia rite ac sollemniter esse acta praesumuntur,’ said Roger, thanking his patron saint for making him learn that legal maxim for his Bar examinations.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Tredgold,’ said Sir Hugo, ‘thank you very much. But you can’t rely on that maxim in a case such as the present, can you?’

  At any rate, there was an answer to that which made sense.

  ‘I suppose not, Your Honour.’

  ‘Or can you, perhaps?’ went on Sir Hugo. ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps you could refer me to one or two of the authorities on the point.’

  At this juncture, Roger’s opponent could not resist getting up and saying: ‘Surely, Your Honour, there is no presumption in law that a builder always does the right thing. If there were any presumption I should have thought it would have been the other way about.’

  ‘Well, to whom does the presumption apply, do you think?’ said Sir Hugo, mercifully directing his question to Roger’s opponent. ‘To Official Referees, perhaps?’

  At that moment Alec came into Court, although Roger did not see him. Mr Grimes had managed to take over the reins from Charles in the running down case, not without a little obstruction from Mr Justice Nettlefold who disliked Mr Grimes’ habit of chopping and changing and who, besides, was now running cheerfully along with the plaintiff. ‘Mr Hepplewhite is deputizing very satisfactorily for you, Mr Grimes,’ the judge said quite untruthfully – except in the sense that, as the judge was doing all the work for the plaintiff, it was quite satisfactory from that gentleman’s point of view. However, eventually the judge allowed himself to be persuaded and Mr Grimes took over. The plaintiff did not do quite so well after that. This was no fault of Mr Grimes’. It is just the way things happen. Once Alec had seen Mr Grimes safely into Court before Mr Justice Nettlefold he returned to the Official Referee’s Court to see what was happening there, ready to send the junior clerk – who had now come over with him – sprinting round to fetch Mr Grimes if disaster seemed imminent.

  ‘Anyway,’ went on Sir Hugo, ‘isn’t there anything to be done in this case? Is there a Scott Schedule, Mr Truebland?’ and he turned pleasantly and enquiringly to Roger. Roger was still standing and the relief when the Official Referee started to address his opponent was so great that he had begun to feel the warm blood moving through his veins again. But at the mention of ‘Scott Schedule’ it froze again. What on earth was a Scott Schedule? He thought of Sir Walter Scott and Scott the explorer. He thought of Scotland. Perhaps Sir Hugo had said Scotch Schedule. Just as people sometimes have an insane urge to throw themselves in front of tube trains, Roger suddenly had an urge to say: ‘No, Your Honour, but I think there’s an Irish stew.’ That would be the end of his career at the Bar. Short and inglorious. But over. No more standing and staring and freezing and boiling. Which is worse, a cold sweat or a hot sweat? All these thoughts crammed themselves confusedly into his mind as he stood miserably waiting. Then he heard a voice from the ceiling of the Court: ‘A Scott Schedule, Your Honour?’ it said.

  He knew that it was his voice really, but he did not feel himself speak and he never knew his voice sounded like that.

  ‘Yes, Mr Trueglove. Is there one? Or perhaps Mr Grimes ran away with it.’

  Roger endeavoured to smile, but it was very difficult. After what seemed an age his opponent came to his rescue.

  ‘I’m afraid there isn’t, Your Honour,’ he said.

  ‘And why not?’ asked Sir Hugo. ‘How am I expected to try this case without a Scott Schedule? How many items are there in dispute?’

  ‘About fifty, Your Honour.’

  ‘Fifty,’ Sir Hugo almost screamed. ‘This is intolerable.’

  ‘It’s the plaintiff’s responsibility,’ said Roger’s opponent. ‘He has the carriage of the proceedings.’

  ‘I don’t care whose responsibility it is,’ said Sir Hugo feigning an indignation which he did not in the least feel. It was a first-class opportunity for browbeating the parties into settling the case. ‘It’s quite outrageous. You and your opponent had better put your heads together. I shall rise now for ten minutes and after that time I expect to be told that you and he are well on the way to a compromise. This is an expensive court, you know.’ He frowned for a moment and then looked cheerfully at counsel. ‘It doesn’t matter to me in the least,’ he went on, ‘whether you settle or not. If I don’t try this case, I shall try another. I’m just thinking of the parties.’

  Roger looked enquiringly at his opponent, who gave him a faintly perceptible wink.

  ‘And in any event, I’m not going to try it without a Scott Schedule. The case will have to be adjourned anyway, but I’ll give you a chance to settle it first.’

  Sir Hugo rose, bowed to counsel and withdrew to his room.

  As soon as Alec had seen what was happening he had sent his junior at full speed to fetch Mr Grimes. Meantime, Roger’s opponent, a man named Featherstone, turned to him and said: ‘Well, my boy, there we are. What shall we do about it? I’ll give you a hundred and fifty. Not a penny more. You’d better take it, or you’ll only have the costs to pay. You know what the old boy’s like about costs. No Scott Schedule, indeed,’ and Mr Featherstone rubbed his hands. ‘No Scott Schedule, my dear boy. What d’you think of that?’ and he laughed heartily.

  ‘Would you very much mind telling me what a Scott Schedule is, please?’ asked Roger.

  ‘Haven’t the faintest idea, my dear boy. Never come to this Court if I can help it. But it’s something the old boy wants. No Scott Schedule, that’s bad, isn’t it? Well, what about it? Will you take a hundred and fifty?’

  ‘I think I’d better wait till Mr Grimes comes back,’ said Roger.

  ‘Wait till he comes back? We’ll be here all night. He’s probably on his way to the House of Lords at the moment, just giving a friendly look in to the Court of Appeal on his way. He won’t be back. Not on your life. No Scott Schedule, now I ask you!’

  At that moment Roger heard with a mixture of relief and distaste a sound he recognized. It was Alec giving a loud suck.

  ‘Mr Grimes will be here in a minute. I’ve sent for him.’

  ‘What’d I better do?’ whispered Roger.

  ‘Just hang on, sir,’ said Alec. ‘Don’t agree to anything.’ Alec emphasized this last remark in the usual way.

  Roger turned to his opponent.

  ‘Mr Grimes is on his way.’

  ‘I’ve heard that one before. Well – I hope he won’t keep us all night. P’raps he’s gone to fetch the Scott Schedule. You’re a pupil, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How d’you like it?’

  ‘I only started today. I find it a bit hair-raising, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You’ll soon get used to it with old Grimes. I wish he’d be quick. I’d like to go and have a cup of coffee. D’you know where he is as a matter of fact?’

  ‘He’s doing an accident case before Mr Justice Nettlefold.’

  ‘Is he, by Jove? Well – he won’t let him go.’

  At that moment in Queen’s Bench Court 6 Mr Grimes became aware that his junior clerk was making urgent signs to him. He was in the middle of cross-examining a witness.

  ‘I had no chance of avoiding the crash,’ said the witness.

  ‘So that’s what ye say, is it? We shall see,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘We shall see.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t make these comments,’ said the judge. ‘I know they don’t mean anything and that we may never see and that, as there isn’t a jury, it doesn’t much matter whether we do see or we don’t, but cross-examination should be used for asking questions and asking questions only. You can make your comments when you address me.’

  ‘If your Ludship pleases. So ye couldn’t avoid the accident, couldn’t ye?’

  ‘
No.’

  ‘Why didn’t ye put on your brakes?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Oh, ye did, did ye? Then why didn’t ye stop?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Oh, ye did, did ye? Then why did the accident happen?’

  ‘Because the plaintiff ran into me.’

  ‘Oh, he ran into ye, did he? I suggest ye ran into him.’

  ‘It was the other way round. The damage to the cars shows it.’

  ‘Oh, it does, does it? We shall see,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘We shall see.’

  ‘Mr Grimes,’ began the judge, but he was too late. Mr Grimes was on his way out.

  A minute later he came, panting, into the Official Referee’s Court.

  ‘At last,’ said Featherstone.

  ‘I’m so sorry, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘So sorry to have kept ye. Now, what’s it all about?’

  ‘The old boy wants us to settle.’

  ‘Oh, he does, does he? Well, that’s simple enough, my dear fellow. You just pay and it’s all over.’

  ‘I’ll pay you something.’

  ‘That’s very good of ye, my dear fellow, very good of ye. Ye’ve had all the work done and ye’ll pay something! Ye wouldn’t like us to build another house for ye as well?’

  ‘Well, you’ll need to, I should think. This one’s falling down already.’

  ‘Is it really, my dear fellow? Funny your clients are still living in it then.’

  ‘Come on, let’s go outside. We’ve got to settle it somehow. The old boy isn’t going to try it.’

  The upshot of it all was that eventually the defendant agreed to pay Mr Grimes’ client £300 and all his costs, and there was then a rush back to the other case, where they arrived just in time to find the judge rising for lunch.

  ‘Come on, my dear fellow,’ said Mr Grimes. ‘Come and get a bite while there’s time. So good of ye to have helped me. Thank ye so much.’ He led Roger at a fast trot to the restaurant in the crypt at the Law Courts. There Mr Grimes helped himself to a plate of meat and salad, asked for a cup of coffee and took it to a marble-topped table which was no different from any others, except that it bore a notice: ‘The seats at this table, are reserved for Counsel from 12 o’clock until 2 o’clock.’