Confessions of a Barrister

‘Look,’ Vicky continued, ‘he just wants out. He thinks next time she’ll kill him in his sleep. He tells me that if you drop the injunction, he’ll accept cross-undertakings not to see or hurt each other – and he’ll bung in the house.’

I considered this quickly before I responded.

‘The house?’

‘Yes, and it’s mortgage free. He tells me that as far as he’s concerned, she can have it all. It’s a really great offer for her; it’ll mean that when the marriage ends, they won’t have to go through a prolonged process of ancillary relief.’

I nodded, trying to remember what a prolonged process of ancillary relief was.

‘So, let me get this right,’ I said carefully, ‘no injunction, he agrees not to hurt her, she agrees not to hurt him, and he gives her the house.’

‘Precisely.’

I wondered if there was a catch in this, if I was being done up like a kipper by a more experienced hand. But Vicky wasn’t like that, and she was right, any Judge worth his salt was not going to be impressed by the fact that the supposed victim attacked her assailant with a hairdressing appliance.

‘I’ll take instructions.’

I made my way back to the conference room, where Porky Phi and the incredibly aloof Kelly were still sat.

‘Hi,’ I said with forced positivity. ‘Good news, I think.’

Porky’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she awaited my ‘good news’.

‘Mr West’s barrister has told me that if you drop your injunction and the two of you make what’s known as cross-undertakings, which are a promise that you make before a Judge, not to use violence against each other, he’ll give you the house.’

‘The house?’ said Phi.

‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘That’s pretty good, isn’t it?’

‘I have to promise not to use any violence?’

I nodded again as Phi contemplated this, biting her bottom lip as she did.

‘I want the car as well,’ she said.

‘The car?’

‘Yes,’ said Phi, ‘the shiny silver one with no roof.’

I looked at her, then looked at Kelly for some kind of reaction – there was none. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘the shiny silver car. Leave it with me.’

I went back to speak to Vicky. ‘She wants the silver car with no roof,’ I said.

Vicky’s face formed itself into an expression of exasperation. ‘Bitch,’ she said, ‘I’ve half a mind to tell her to sling her hook and advise my lad to take her on before a Judge.’

I shrugged. ‘Those are my instructions.’

‘Right,’ said Vicky, ‘stay here.’

Five minutes later, Vicky returned to tell me, grudgingly, that Phi can have the silver convertible, which actually turns out to be a pretty nifty Audi TT.

Half an hour after that, we were before a District Judge, a rather kindly fella called Pertwie, who nodded with indifference as we told him that both parties had agreed not to use or threaten violence against each other, and Mr West had agreed to give his wife a five hundred thousand pound mortgage-free house and a fancy German sports car.

I left court feeling fairly happy with my day’s work. As I did, Mrs West smiled and shook my hand. ‘Thank you, Mr Winnock,’ she said.

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I said, modestly, ‘just doing my job.’

She smiled again. I turned to Kelly, hoping for an equally gushing response from her, but I didn’t get one.

I walked back to chambers with a spring in my step. I wondered if I’d get any more work from Whinstanleys, I wondered what I’d have to do to make the lovely Kelly Backworth smile at me. I quickly forgot about Mr West and his burnt chest.

NIHWTLBOE (#ulink_52eb036d-0f89-5a60-bdaa-e256aa6a546b)

After rewarding myself with lunch of beef and ale pie and a pint of bitter, I returned to chambers, walking in through the old front door and checking my pigeonhole, where I found a cheque for 55 pounds, payment for a bail application I did six months ago, and a note telling me to go immediately to the Senior Clerk’s room.

I assumed that I was going to be praised. I assumed that I was going to be thanked for doing a sterling job securing my client a car and a house worth nearly half a million quid. In my mind I was about to have a conversation with Clem, in which he begged me to do more Family Court work and I told him that I’d think about it.

I was wrong. I was so wrong.

As I entered his office, I could see that Clem was accompanied by two women. One was the surly Kelly Backworth, who was sat looking sheepishly at her feet, and next to her was a rather butch- looking woman whose facial expression reminded me of a volcano that had been grumbling for a few months and had now forced the evacuation of a nearby town. Clem was sat at his desk. As I walked in, smiling, he and Butch woman looked up at me.

It was at this point I realised that I was not about to be praised.

‘Please close the door, Mr Winnock,’ said Clem. He shot me one of his looks inviting me to guess what was about to happen.

‘This is Mrs Murdoch from Whinstanley and Cooper,’ he told me. He ignored Kelly Backworth.

‘To cut to the chase,’ he continued, ‘she’s not very happy with the way you conducted the case of Mrs West this morning.’

‘That I am not, Mr Wilson,’ she said, turning from Clem to me.

I felt my face drop. In fact I felt my whole being drop, my soul, my consciousness, the very essence of my existence, all hit the floor as I realised that not only was I about to be bollocked by the volcanic Mrs Murdoch, but that she had actually left her office and made her way across town to deliver the bollocking in person. This was unprecedented.

‘Mr Winnock,’ continued the volcanic Mrs Murdoch, ‘when I instruct someone to go to court and get an injunction, that is what I expect them to do.’

I was truly gobsmacked. Porky Phi left court with a house, a car and a big grin on her chops.

‘I don’t understand,’ I muttered.

‘It’s quite straightforward,’ said Clem, ‘you’ve got yourself confused, haven’t you?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘no, I haven’t.’

I looked at Kelly, hoping for some support, but she continued to look at her shoes. Mrs Murdoch wasn’t buying the confused line either. ‘My instructions couldn’t have been more simple,’ she growled, ‘this was a woman who needed the protection of the court, that is why we sought an injunction, and when we instruct Counsel we expect those instructions to be followed.’

‘But,’ I stammered, ‘Mrs West left court with a car and a house.’

‘Those were undertakings, Mr Winnock, they don’t count for anything. If Mr West changes his mind then they’re not worth the paper they’re written on.’