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  Roger felt very important sitting at such a table and even the ordinary nature of the food and the noise made by Mr Grimes in getting rid of his as fast as possible did not spoil his pleasure. Between the bites and swallows, Mr Grimes asked Roger if he thought he’d learned anything and how he liked his first morning. Before Roger could reply, he went on to criticize Queen’s Bench Judges, Official Referees and his opponents in each of the cases, finally ending up his criticisms with the pronouncement: ‘But there you are, my dear fellow, they will do these things, they will do these things.’

  Five minutes later they were off again, this time at only a very fast walking pace. They went to a place known as the ‘Bear Garden’ where Mr Grimes had a summons to dispose of before a judicial officer called a Master. It was to be heard by Master Tiptree. Before they went into the Master’s room, Mr Grimes was joined by Alec and the clerk from the solicitors instructing him. Mr Grimes greeted the clerk most affably and then proceeded to say something to him in a low voice. Roger could only catch that it began with: ‘I don’t mind telling you, my dear fellow – ’ but what he didn’t mind telling him, Roger never heard. Fortunately they did not have to wait long and soon they were in front of Master Tiptree. Roger knew from his Bar examinations that various applications in the course of an action were made to a Master, but he only had a slight theoretical knowledge of such matters. A Master appearing in a question in an examination paper is very different from an actual live one sitting in his room.

  ‘This is an application for discovery of specific documents, Master,’ began Mr Grimes.

  ‘Where’s the affidavit?’ asked the Master.

  ‘Oh, Master, before we come to the affidavit, I’d like to tell you something about the action.’

  ‘I dare say you would, Mr Grimes, but I want to see the affidavit.’

  ‘If you please, Master.’

  Mr Grimes obtained a sheet of paper from the solicitor’s clerk and handed it to the Master.

  He glanced at it, threw it back at Mr Grimes and said: ‘What d’you call that, Mr Grimes?’

  Mr Grimes looked at the offending document. ‘I’m so sorry, Master. It’s the wrong affidavit.’

  ‘I am only too well aware of that, Mr Grimes. I want the right one.’

  ‘Here it is, Master. I’m so sorry.’

  Mr Grimes handed another affidavit to the Master, who read it quickly.

  ‘This won’t do, Mr Grimes. It doesn’t say the alleged missing document relates to the matters in question.’

  ‘Oh, but Master, if you’ll be good enough to look at the pleadings, you’ll see it must be material.’

  ‘I dare say, Mr Grimes, but Order 31, Rule 19A is quite definite and has not been complied with.’

  ‘Oh, but Master–’

  ‘It’s no good saying, “Oh, but Master,” Mr Grimes. You know as well as I do your affidavit is defective. D’you want an adjournment or shall I dismiss the summons?’

  Mr Grimes’ opponent then intervened.

  ‘Master, I ask you to refuse an adjournment and dismiss the summons.’

  ‘I dare say you do, but I’m not going to. You can have the costs thrown away.’

  ‘But Master–’

  ‘I’ve made up my mind. You can go to the judge if you don’t like it. Now Mr Grimes, have you made up your mind?’

  ‘Yes, please, Master. I ask for an adjournment to put the affidavit in order.’

  ‘Very well.’

  The Master started to write out his Order.

  Mr Grimes whispered to Roger: ‘Just stay and take the Order, my dear fellow,’ and without another word he was off towards Mr Justice Nettlefold’s Court.

  The Master wrote for a few moments. When he looked up he saw that Mr Grimes had gone.

  ‘Pupil?’ he asked Roger.

  ‘Yes, Master.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Today.’

  ‘Order 31, Rule 19A mean anything to you?’

  ‘Not a thing, Master.’

  ‘I should look it up when you get back to chambers, if I were you. It’s the only way to learn the practice. You can’t learn it in a vacuum. But if you look up everything that happens, you’ll get a reasonable knowledge of it in time.’

  ‘Thank you very much, Master.’

  ‘Not at all. Good luck to you.’

  Roger left the Master’s room with the solicitor’s clerk. ‘Never heard Master Tiptree so agreeable,’ said the clerk. ‘He threw a book at me once.’

  With difficulty Roger found his way back to the Court. The judge was giving judgment in favour of Mr Grimes’ client. No sooner was it over than there was a frantic dash back to chambers, where Mr Grimes had several conferences.

  Charles and Roger went into the pupils’ room together. Henry was there reading The Times.

  ‘Where’s Peter?’ asked Charles.

  ‘He went off to the Old Bailey,’ said Henry. ‘Said building cases weren’t in his line. Gosh!’ he went on. ‘You don’t mean to tell me Thursby got landed with it instead?’

  ‘He did,’ said Charles, ‘but he’s still breathing.’

  ‘Poor fellow,’ said Henry. ‘Tell me about it in your own unexpurgated Billingsgate.’

  Roger told him.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Henry. ‘He wins one case and settles the other and, knowing Grimeyboy, his client won’t have lost on the deal. What I say is fiat justitia ruat Grimes, or, as the poet says:

  “So justice be done,

  Let Grimeyboy run.”’

  Chapter Four

  At Home

  Mrs Thursby, Roger’s widowed mother, was, she hoped, making a cake when Roger arrived home after his first day as a pupil.

  ‘Darling, how nice,’ she said. ‘You can give it a stir. I want to go and try on a new dress. Aunt Ethel sent it me. She’s only worn it once. Just keep on stirring. I’m sure it’ll be all right. Anyway, we can always give it to Mrs Rhodes. Oh, no, she doesn’t come any more. Let me see, who is it now–’

  ‘Mother, darling,’ said Roger, ‘I’ve had my first day in the Temple.’

  ‘Of course, darling, how silly of me. Did you enjoy it? I won’t be a moment. Just keep on stirring.’

  And Mrs Thursby went to her bedroom. She was a young forty-eight. She had lost her husband soon after Roger was born. For some reason that neither she nor Roger, after he grew up, could understand, she had never married again. She was attractive and kind and plenty of men have no objection to butterfly minds. Roger’s father, who had been a man of the highest intelligence and intellectual capacity, had adored her. So did Roger.

  He stirred the mixture in the pudding bowl and as he did so he went over in his mind all that had happened during the day. Now that he was safely home it gave him a considerable thrill to think he had actually spoken in Court. He must tell his mother, though she wouldn’t really take in the significance. But he must tell Sally and Joy. Which first? He stopped stirring and went to the telephone. It was Joy’s turn really, he supposed.

  ‘Joy – yes, it’s me. Are you free this evening? I’ve quite a lot to tell you. Oh – what a shame. Can’t you come and have a drink first? Yes, do, that’ll be lovely. Come straight over. See you in ten minutes.’

  He went back to the kitchen.

  ‘Roger,’ called his mother, ‘do come and look.’

  He went to her bedroom.

  ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it? And I did need one so badly. I can wear it for the Fotheringays. Don’t you like it?’

  ‘I do, darling. D’you know I spoke in Court today?’

  ‘Did you really, darling? How very nice. What exactly did you say? Don’t you like the way the skirt seems to come from nowhere?’

  ‘It suits you to a T.’

  ‘D’you really think so?’

  ‘Of course I do. I didn’t actually say very much.’

  ‘No, of course not. They couldn’t expect very much to begin with. I expect you’ll say more tomorrow.’

  ‘Joy’
s coming round for a drink. You don’t mind?’

  ‘Of course not. I think she’s a sweet girl. It makes me look thinner, doesn’t it?’

  At last Joy arrived and Roger was able to tell someone all about his first day.

  ‘I think you’re wonderful,’ said Joy. ‘I should love to come and hear you. When can I?’

  ‘Well, of course, I don’t know exactly when I shall be speaking again.’

  ‘Was it a murder case?’

  ‘Well – no, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Breach of promise?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, it was a building dispute.’

  ‘It sounds terribly dull. Weren’t you bored?’

  The one thing Roger had not been was bored.

  ‘You see, things which don’t sound of interest to the layman are very interesting to lawyers.’

  ‘I don’t think I should terribly care to hear a building dispute. All about houses and things. Still, I suppose you have to start somewhere. Must take time to work up to a murder case.’

  ‘Joy, dear, you don’t work up to a murder case.’

  ‘But surely, Roger, you’re wrong. I’ve always understood you start with silly things like debt collecting and business cases, like your building dispute, I suppose, and eventually work your way into real cases like murder and blackmail and divorce and so on. Anyway, what did you say? Did you make the jury cry? It must have been very clever of you if you did with a building dispute. But then you are so clever, Roger, that I wouldn’t put it past you.’

  ‘They don’t have juries with Official Referees.’

  ‘Sounds like football.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t. An Official Referee is a judge. You call him “Your Honour”. He’s very important. This one was called Sir Hugo Cramp.’

  ‘Well, what did you say to him?’

  ‘Well, among other things – I quoted a legal maxim to him. He thanked me very much.’

  ‘Did it win you your case?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly my case.’ He paused for a moment. Then very seriously he said: ‘Joy, d’you think I’ll ever be any good? I was terribly frightened.’

  ‘You frightened? I can’t believe it. You’re pulling my leg.’

  ‘I’m not. Really, Joy, I’m not.’

  ‘What’s frightening about it? You just get up and say what you want and then sit down.’

  ‘And suppose you don’t know what to say?’

  ‘Then don’t get up.’

  ‘But I had to.’

  ‘But I don’t see why. It’s a free country. Anyway, next time make certain what you want to say, get up and say it and sit down.’

  ‘You make it sound very simple.’

  ‘Well, Uncle Alfred’s a solicitor. Which reminds me – I suppose he might send you a brief one day. Would you like that, Roger?’

  ‘Oh, Joy, it would be wonderful.’

  ‘What would you do if I get Uncle Alfred to send you a brief?’

  ‘What would you like me to do?’

  ‘There’s something I’d like you not to do.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not see Sally.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Roger, unhappily. ‘D’you think that’s quite fair?’

  ‘It’s just as you like. I’m sure Uncle Alfred has got lots of young men to send briefs to. He’ll bear up.’

  ‘But, Joy dear, it’s so difficult. And it wouldn’t be fair to Sally.’

  ‘That’s right, dear – always the little unselfish one, thinking of other people. You’re too good for this world.’

  ‘Who are you going out with, anyway?’

  ‘A friend of mine.’

  ‘So I gathered. Do I know him?’

  ‘Who said it was a him?’

  ‘I did. Who is it?’

  ‘D’you want to know all that much?’

  ‘Not if you don’t want to tell me.’

  ‘Then why ask me?’

  ‘Oh, Joy – don’t let’s quarrel. It’s my first day at the Bar. And I want you to share it with me.’

  ‘I’d love to share it with you – but not with you and Sally.’

  ‘I rang you before her.’

  ‘You went out with her last night.’

  ‘How d’you know?’

  ‘Now I know you did. Oh, Roger, why can’t we just be married and live happily ever after?’

  ‘We’re so young, Joy. We don’t any of us know our minds yet. I’d marry you both if I could.’

  ‘Thanks very much. P’raps you’d like power to add to our number. It’s George Utterson as a matter of fact.’

  ‘That oaf.’

  ‘He’s not in the least an oaf. He’s going to be Prime Minister one of these days. He’s not frightened to talk in public. I heard him at a meeting the other day. He was grand. They applauded like anything.’ She stopped for a moment. Then much more softly she said, ‘Oh, Roger, if you’d give up Sally – I’d never see him again. I wouldn’t even see him tonight.’

  Chapter Five

  Around and About the Law

  The next day was calmer at No. 1 Temple Court. Mr Grimes was in chambers all day and, except for rushing out for his lunch and rushing back again, his presence in chambers was only noticed by the procession of clients who came for conferences and by the occasional sound of ‘Goodbye, my dear fellow, bye, bye, bye’ as he saw one or two of the more valued clients to the door. In consequence, Roger was able to ask Henry a number of questions.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Henry, ‘is an important day. I’m in Court. I have to appear before His Honour Judge Boyle at a County Court. P’raps you’d like to come with me. You won’t see anything of County Courts with Grimeyboy.’

  ‘D’you think Mr Grimes would mind?’ asked Roger.

  ‘Grimes, not Mr Grimes,’ said Henry. ‘I meant to tell you about that before. Once you’re called you call everyone at the Bar by his surname.’

  ‘Even a QC?’

  ‘Everyone. Even an ex-Attorney-General. The newest recruit to the profession will call the most distinguished of all plain Smith or whatever it is. And, while I’m about it, you might as well know how to talk to a judge – out of Court, I mean, or if you write to him. How would you address Mr Justice Blank if you ran into him in the Strand?’

  ‘Well, I’d obviously be wrong. How should I?’

  ‘Judge. “So sorry, Judge,” or “do look where you’re going, Judge.” If he’s in the Court of Appeal, call him Lord Justice.’

  ‘And what about an Official Referee?’

  ‘To be quite honest, I’ve never spoken to one – after his appointment. I suppose you could say “Official Referee,” but it’s rather a mouthful. “Your Honour” must be wrong. I don’t care for “Sir Hugo” or “sir.” No, you’ve got me there. The best advice is not to talk to them. There are only four anyway, so you should be all right. Now, what else can I do for you?’

  ‘Sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘My dear boy, I’m only too delighted. Otherwise I’d have to look at these papers. I tell you, I’m bone idle. I’m delighted to have a good excuse for not working.’

  ‘Well, yesterday I heard the clerk talking to someone on the telephone about something called the two-thirds rule. Something to do with fees, I gathered. Can you tell me what it is?’

  ‘Indeed I can. I feel quite strongly on the subject. We had some pronouncements from a Committee on the subject quite recently. Up till a few years before the war if you or I or Grimes or any junior – you know that barristers are either juniors or QCs, and that a QC has to have a junior?’

  ‘That’s just about all I do know.’

  ‘Well, as I was saying, up till a few years before the war, if a junior was led by a QC the junior had to receive two-thirds of the fee charged by the QC. So if you were lucky and led by Carson or F E Smith or someone like that, you might get a fee of 666 guineas for doing a case you’d have been perfectly prepared to do for a hundred, or even less. Doesn’t sound very logical, you say?’

 
‘I don’t say anything,’ said Roger. ‘I’m listening. I must say, though, I like the sound of 666 guineas. Have you ever had that?’

  ‘I have not, I regret to say. Well, a few years before the war it was agreed that the two-thirds rule should only apply to a fee of 150 guineas or less. Above that it was to be a matter of arrangement.’

  ‘No more 666,’ said Roger, sadly.

  ‘Well, some solicitors were prepared to stick to the old rule. Of course some didn’t. But there’s worse to come. The Committee I mentioned has suggested that the rule should be abolished altogether. The point about the rule is this. By and large, barristers are not overpaid. Indeed much of their work is underpaid. This two-thirds rule is the cream which, when added to the skim milk, makes milk of a reasonable quality. The Committee, while recognizing that barristers are not paid too much, have said something like this: “This two-thirds rule increases the cost of litigation. If it’s abolished, barristers will have nothing to make up for the lowness of their other fees, but none the less let’s abolish it and good luck to you all.”’

  ‘What’s going to happen?’

  ‘If you ask me, nothing, but we shall see, my dear fellow, we shall see.’

  At that moment Alec came into the room, took away the papers which were in front of Roger and replaced them with a large bundle.

  ‘Mr Grimes thinks you’d better look at these,’ he said, and went out again. The brief he left was about six to eight inches thick. Roger looked at it for a moment.

  ‘D’you think I’ll ever be able to cope with anything of this kind?’ he asked. ‘It makes me despair just to look at it.’

  ‘Well,’ said Henry, ‘it all depends. If you take to the job and are good enough for it, you’ll be able to tackle anything in due course. But it’ll take time. Let’s hope you only get little stuff to begin with. Otherwise you could come a nasty cropper. When I started I made the most awful bloomer with a case. The solicitors took it away from me in the end, but not before I’d done a lot of damage. Think of a medical student being allowed to play at pulling out a patient’s appendix and grabbing hold of the wrong thing! I don’t even know now whether I was stopped in time. As I said before, it’s funny that we’re allowed to do it. It’s true that the public can’t come to us direct as they can to doctors. But there are plenty of Uncle Georges in the world of solicitors – father Georges even – and, of course, brother Georges – their wretched clients don’t know that it’s your first brief.’