Judicial Whispers by Caro Fraser Page B

applying to take silk, that his conduct should be utterly blameless. Vexation and guilt fuelled his irritation with his clerk.
    ‘Well,’ said Mr Slee in answer to Leo’s question, ‘I gather the solicitors are having a bit of trouble with their clients. You know how it is.’
    ‘Bloody Church and Moylan are always having trouble with their clients,’ retorted Leo sharply. ‘Can’t you chivvy them a bit?’
    Mr Slee folded his arms above his broad stomach. ‘NaturallyI’m doing my best, sir, but we don’t want to go upsetting them too much. Might start taking their work elsewhere, otherwise.’
    ‘We shouldn’t be taking work without money up-front. You know what these bloody Iranians are like. Quite frankly,’ added Leo, ‘I wish they
would
take their work elsewhere.’
    He snapped the paperclip in two and leant back. Mr Slee waited. He had known Leo for twenty-two years and was aware that a storm of minor irrelevancies always preceded some more important issue.
    ‘William,’ said Leo after a pause, ‘how do you think it would be if I applied to take silk?’ Mr Slee looked at him attentively, concealing his surprise. ‘I mean, how do you think the work would stand?’
    Mr Slee pursed his lips and tried to look nonchalant. He had not expected this. When Stephen Bishop had confided in him, two weeks ago, his own intention to apply for silk, Mr Slee had regarded it as a sensible and timely move. One that might have been made two or three years earlier, but still, better late than never. There were already four silks at 5 Caper Court – Sir Basil, Roderick Hayter, Cameron Renshaw, and Michael Gibbon, who had taken silk only last year – and that was quite a lot for a chambers of their size, but Mr Slee had thought the thing would work. He was confident that Leo, Jeremy Vane, and the younger tenants, William Cooper, David Liphook and Anthony Cross, would generate enough work to keep five QCs busy. But now Leo was thinking of applying, too. This altered the picture entirely. Mr Slee leant back against the bookshelves and said nothing for a few seconds. Leo raised his eyebrows enquiringly.
    ‘Well,’ said Mr Slee, shifting his weight, ‘I would hope that there would be enough work to go round. Anthony is bringing in a good deal, and Sir Basil is thinking of taking on another two juniors …’ He ran his thumb along his lower lip. As a matter of confidentiality, he could not tell Leo about Stephen’s application,but it was regrettable that they should both choose to apply in the same year. He did not like this. He did not like it at all. It was always possible that the Lord Chancellor’s Office might give preference to Stephen, as being the more senior in chambers, but he felt in his heart of hearts that, of the two, Leo was more likely to succeed. Mr Slee had spent years talking to lawyers, clerks and judges, had spent the better part of his life immersed in the grey mysteries of the courts and their workings, from the minutiae of the daily grind to the cogitations of the highest law officers in the land, and he felt this in his bones. Leo would succeed, and Stephen’s nose would be put badly out of joint. Tensions would inevitably arise in chambers. That one member should leapfrog another in the matter of taking silk would not be well regarded. Still, Leo must have his own reasons. Mr Slee eyed him. For all his dapper good looks, for all his careless charm and good humour, he knew Leo to be flint-hearted in his ambition. Not that Mr Slee liked him the less for it. That was just the way Leo was.
    ‘You don’t sound very certain,’ remarked Leo, swivelling from side to side in his chair, his eyes fastened on the clerk’s face. It was very important, he knew, that William should support him in this.
    ‘No – I was just thinking,’ replied Mr Slee quickly. ‘Just thinking about figures. No, I’m sure enough work would come your way. Not a doubt of it.’
    Leo nodded. ‘Let’s talk about those