‘Sure. Two new care cases came in for you yesterday. Natasha had an injury. Did you hear?’
‘Yes. I did. Poor girl.’ He looked as if he wanted a chat. She smiled and said, ‘Catch up later?’ as she headed to the computer room, the room where three months ago, Natasha had scanned her emails. It was empty. She sat down. Voices clamoured in her head.
‘Plead not guilty. You need to keep working.’
‘Plead guilty. How can you stand up in court again?’
‘Everyone in chambers will know about the charge.v
‘The media will love it.’
‘What will you tell Jacob?’
Just as she felt as if her head would explode, she remembered the advice her own pupil supervisor had given her more than twenty years ago. Take it slowly. Stage by stage. Law is only a form of common sense. No magic in it. It’s problem solving. Like life. And don’t forget to breathe.
For long minutes she sat alone, breathing, trying to empty her mind. Then she opened her eyes, picked up the phone and asked the receptionist to put her through to her head of chambers, Jeremy Troughton, QC. It was time to go public.
Chapter Thirty-six
Mel
Bridge Court was not a wealthy set of chambers and even its head, a busy QC with a large murder practice, had only a small room to himself. The window looked out over a tiny sunken courtyard. Its very modesty brought up a tangle of emotions.
Jeremy Troughton QC stood up when Mel entered, inviting her to sit in the leather upholstered chair facing him, the one usually occupied by clients. She felt herself trembling as she sat down.
He was the only member of chambers who met the public’s fantasy of what a barrister should look and sound like: the stern gaze, the head of thick grey hair swept back from a high forehead, the deep public-school voice. He asked how he could help, and she outlined her edited version of what had occurred.
He listened attentively and, as she spoke, the enormity of her possible loss punched her heart. She had been a tenant in this place for twenty years, a pupil here when a small group of high-minded criminal and family barristers had broken away from another set to focus on Legal Aid work. Some of those people were now taking on private work to survive and, like most chambers, it had grown. At that stage there had been only eight of them. Now there were more than fifty.
Bridge Court was her second home, her other family. After Claude left her, it had been a comfort to walk in from the hurly burly of London courts to meet fellow tenants in the scruffy communal kitchen for a cup of tea. They would compare notes about judges, opponents, solicitors. When everything had changed at home, it was a place holding some sense of continuity. Increasingly her colleagues worked remotely, and she missed the chambers’ companionship. But it was still there if you looked for it. There was usually someone around to bounce off the latest case law or, more likely, court gossip.
‘Speak to the Bar Standards Board,’ said Jeremy. ‘Self-report before anyone else passes it on. Natasha’s solicitor might have contacted them already. They’ll want details immediately but they’re unlikely to act while there’s a trial pending. As to work, unless and until they say otherwise, it’s up to you.’
‘I don’t see how I can carry on. Natasha’s still here. I’m not allowed any contact with her. She’s got another two months of pupillage to complete. After that she might want to squat.’
‘Paula’s offered to take her on as a pupil. And there’s no need for you to meet. I’ll speak to the clerks. Just let them know if you’re planning to come in. As for squatting, I don’t think that would be wise.’
‘She might have a job with CPS. I wasn’t prepared to write a reference but I expect someone will.’
Jeremy lowered his eyebrows. His thin mouth tightened. It was impossible to read his thoughts.
‘I’ll have a word with Donald.’
‘Tresiger?’
Donald Tresiger was Director of Public Prosecutions and had overall responsibility for the CPS. A word in his ear would surely assist Natasha’s recruitment. It crossed Mel’s mind that in several other countries a word in Tresiger’s ear could lead to the CPS dropping the charge, but this was the English legal system, revered throughout the world for its honesty and integrity.
‘The same. We were at Magdalen together. I’m sure he can sort it.’
Difficult as it was to accept that Natasha might get away with her sickening behaviour, Mel couldn’t help feeling that a job with the CPS might be the best way to shut her up, the best way to put a brake on her reckless conduct. The image of Jacob’s naked body rose in her mind. Natasha must know that Mel would not hold back if the photos were posted to the world. For the first time in her life, Mel was grateful for the old boys’ network.
‘No point in you leaving immediately. It’ll be months till trial.’
‘They may want to expedite matters because of the pregnancy.’
‘Well, we’re not going to ask you to go. As far as Bridge Court is concerned, you’re innocent until proved guilty. I won’t go into Natasha’s motivations. That’s a matter for your legal representative. Mel, you know as well as I do that a barrister’s trained to keep calm in a storm. When the going gets tough the tough get going and so forth. Apply it to yourself and you’ll be fine. I’d be surprised if it goes as far as trial. Any witnesses?’
‘My mother.’
‘Perfect. She’ll back you up. They’ll drop it.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Have you thought who you’ll use if it gets that far?’
‘Maybe Alisha.’
‘Good choice. I imagine she’ll do it pro bono.’
‘I hope so.’
Alisha Mehta had recently left Bridge Court for a more prestigious, human rights set. She was highly regarded and, having moved on from Bridge Court, she would be able to represent Mel without any suggestion of special interest.
‘You’ve a son, haven’t you?’ As Jeremy asked about Jacob, she saw another, softer, side to her head of chambers and remembered that Jeremy too had a son, a wayward lad with drug problems.
‘Yes, Jacob. He’s just sixteen.’
‘You’ll need to keep working.’
‘If it’s all right with you I’ll do what’s in my diary for the next two months. After that I’d prefer to take a sabbatical till it’s all over.’
‘Your decision. If it helps, I’m on the board of the Barristers’ Benevolent. You could always apply for funds to tide you over.’
‘I’ll be OK.’
‘You should prepare a statement for your solicitors. I’ll happily look it over for you. Natasha might have put something on social media.’
‘I expect she has. I don’t intend to hide anything. I’ll do what you advise. Whatever happens I’ll lose work.’
‘You’d be surprised. Solicitors and clients like a bit of excitement. After an acquittal your practice will bounce back. You’ll soon make up for the lost time.’ He stood up, ending the interview. ‘Thank you for coming to see me, Mel. I know we barristers can seem wrapped up in our own work. But Bridge Court has always had a heart. We all support you. Stay strong.’