Mine. J.L. Butler
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me? Comment on the new leather bag I had brought with me?
‘The attendance of counsel isn’t necessary at these preliminary meetings,’ I said, feeling my heart pound faster.
‘Then why are you here? And why’s Donna got two barristers?’
I glanced at David Gilbert and shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
‘Games,’ I said with as much authority as I could muster. ‘Two barristers at a First Appointment is the legal equivalent of a military show of might. The Russians parading their weapons. But it’s pointless, unnecessary and expensive. I’m all for a bit of posturing, but within reason. Robert Pascale, on the other hand, is an expert at spending other people’s money.’
‘But perhaps that’s why he’s so successful. Spend to earn.’
‘Martin. You have to trust us.’
Our eyes locked and I saw a softening apology in his expression. I knew I had to take everything less personally, but it set my resolve to do whatever I could for him.
‘It’s almost ten,’ I said, scooping up my files. ‘We should go.’
We walked in silence to chambers, one of the small courtrooms used for more informal proceedings.
The judge was already in the room at the head of the long conference table. Jeremy Mann and his junior were also sitting down. Robert was standing in the corner of the room checking his messages. I could not see Donna Joy anywhere.
I took a seat opposite Mann and arranged my papers and collected my thoughts. I put my pen horizontally above my file, pointing to the left. A mechanical pencil and a block of Post-it notes were put to the left and right like a knife and fork.
Soft murmurs rippled around the room, otherwise all we could hear was the ticking of the clock on the wall.
It was now a few minutes after ten o’clock and still there was no sign of Mrs Joy. I glanced towards District Judge Barnaby and caught his eye. He was a judge of the old school, on the verge of retirement, irascible but efficient, and I could tell by the arch of his brow that he was anxious to get on with another day at the coal-face of the breakdown of human relationships.
‘Are we ready?’ asked District Judge Barnaby finally.
Robert Pascale looked unhappy.
‘We’re just waiting for my client,’ he explained.
Barnaby tapped his pen lightly against the table.
‘And are we expecting her soon?’ he said pointedly.
‘Any minute,’ Pascale said glancing at his watch. ‘I’ll just go and wait outside for her. She might have got lost.’
I didn’t dare look at Martin, who had started muttering to David in such a low voice that I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Robert left the room for what seemed like a very long time. When I heard the door open again, I couldn’t resist turning round, expecting to see her, immaculate and unflustered despite her late arrival, but instead it was Pascale, looking unusually agitated.
‘No sign,’ he said.
‘Have you called her?’ asked Jeremy Mann pompously.
‘I’ve tried, but it’s going straight to message. I spoke to her yesterday, and she was all set for today.’
‘Maybe there’s bad traffic.’ Martin said it as if he didn’t believe it.
‘Five more minutes,’ said Barnaby witheringly. ‘I have a very busy court list.’
‘I suggest that we start without Mrs Joy,’ said David, looking at me for approval. I knew what he was about to ask without him saying anything.
Robert objected but District Judge Barnaby raised a hand.
‘Fine,’ he said, looking seriously unimpressed.
‘Well, that was embarrassing,’ spat Martin as we left chambers forty minutes later.
‘Her presence really wasn’t necessary,’ reassured David.
We watched Robert and his team disappear down the corridor.
Martin was still shaking his head.
‘Are you going to speak to her?’ I asked.
He gave a light snort. ‘I don’t think anything I say will have any impact on her behaviour.’
‘Behaviour?’
‘It’s just so bloody typical of her.’
David looked sympathetic. ‘It’s not the first time a client hasn’t turned up to court. Happens more often than you might think. And perhaps Robert had implied that it was just a fairly rudimentary hearing …’
I tried to catch Martin’s eye, tried to work out what he was thinking but he looked unhappy and distracted.
‘What happens now?’ He focused his entire attention on David. I felt a heavy thump of disappointment.
‘As you saw in there, we set out a timetable for events. Now we need to gather information, liaise with Robert, wait for a date for the FDR.’
‘Which should be when?’
‘Six to eight weeks, with a bit of luck. If the forensic accounting doesn’t hold us up.’
‘Let me know. I’m off to Switzerland tomorrow; it’s been booked for a while and I don’t want to cancel, but it’s only for a week.’
I knew this information already. It had been mentioned in passing at the Spitalfields loft and at the time I wondered if he had been gearing up to fob me off.
‘Will do,’ said David, shaking his hand.
Martin turned to me to repeat the gesture.
He took my palm and held it a moment longer than necessary. As his fingers curled against mine, I thought about them inside me. Where they had been on Tuesday night. Where I wanted them to be right now.
‘See you next time,’ I said finally.
He nodded, and turned to leave without another word. I watched his form retreat into the distance and I was so transfixed I didn’t even stop to wonder if David Gilbert had noticed any spark or awkwardness between me and our client.
‘One day people with money will find themselves some manners,’ said David when he was out of earshot.
‘Martin?’ I asked with panic.
‘The wife. It’s so bloody disrespectful.’
‘Maybe she’s ill. Or got the wrong day.’
‘Maybe,’ said David cynically.
‘I think we should consider a researcher,’ he added after a pause.
‘What for?’
‘I handled a divorce recently. It was pretty unremarkable from a legal point of view, but it was a soap opera of a story. That wife didn’t turn up to her First Appointment either. We thought she was just being cavalier until I found out that she’d moved to LA without telling her husband. Hooked up with some multimillionaire record producer out there, all the while trying to screw my client for fifty per cent of his business.’
‘So you don’t trust Donna Joy either.’ I was aware of the glee in my own voice.
‘I just want to know what we are dealing with at her end,’ said my instructing solicitor. ‘If we can prove she is seeing someone … a rich new someone … that might help our cause.’
‘I know just the person who can help us,’ I replied.
There was little left to say to David. His thoughts had already turned to his next meeting, another client. We said our goodbyes and I stood in the lobby wondering how