Errors of Judgment(28)

‘So did I. Maybe I am. But the idea has its attractions. I wanted to talk it over with you two, find out what you think.’

‘I think,’ said Michael, crossing his spindly legs and frowning into his whisky, ‘that you’re mad. I mean, think of the drop in earnings! You’re at your peak right now.’

‘I know that. On the other hand, if I want to qualify for the full pension entitlement, I need to serve twenty years on the bench. Judges retire at seventy. I’ll be fifty next year. Perfect timing.’

Anthony couldn’t believe Leo, of all people, was sitting here talking about pension entitlements. Leo, who lived life for the moment, who despised conventions and those who lived by the rules, whose mercurial character he had always assumed to be above such mundane considerations, was actually making purse-lipped calculations about his retirement, like some accountant from the suburbs. ‘Very prudent of you,’ he observed. ‘You’ll be buying a pipe and slippers next. And a cardigan. How about a potting shed while you’re at it?’

‘You may sneer,’ said Leo mildly, ‘but when you’re my age, such things become important.’

‘What – potting sheds?’

Leo smiled, saying nothing, and finished his whisky.

‘I’ll get another round,’ said Michael, and rose to his feet. ‘Anthony?’

‘I’m fine for the moment, thanks.’

‘You don’t seem too happy about my possible career move,’ said Leo to Anthony, when Michael was out of earshot.

Anthony said nothing for a moment. A vision had been building in his head of chambers without Leo, without the sound of Leo’s voice, his laugh, his footstep on the stair, his knock on the door. It would be lifeless, dead. From the first day Anthony had set foot in 5 Caper Court eight years ago, Leo had been, for Anthony, the scintillating heart of the place. His remarkable intellect, his exceptional eloquence and his brilliance as a cross-examiner set him apart from all the other solid, drab, clever members of chambers, including kind, pedantic Michael. On the surface he was the perfect embodiment of a successful barrister, destined to forge a career leading from the High Court Bench to the Court of Appeal, and to the ultimate pinnacle of the Supreme Court. Anthony knew all that. But he knew too that there was another side to Leo, a darker, more dangerous side. He knew Leo as a man who, free from the trammels of his professional life, took his pleasures where he chose, men or women, who had finessed the art of seduction, of love, of life itself. He had taught Anthony many things – including things which Anthony sometimes wished he’d never learnt. He simply didn’t believe that this side of Leo would be content with the humdrum life of a High Court judge.

When he spoke, all he could find to say was, ‘Chambers won’t be the same without you.’

‘For heaven’s sake, I haven’t even applied yet. Even if I do, the Judicial Appointments Commission could well turn me down. It happened to Jeremy. Twice.’

‘I doubt if they’d turn you down,’ said Anthony. ‘You’re too good. And they’re crying out for decent people.’ Michael returned at that moment with the drinks, and Anthony added, ‘Michael’s right – it’ll mean a massive drop in income.’

‘I’m not too concerned about the money. As long as I have enough to live comfortably, and to educate Oliver. One has to keep a balance in all things. No point in earning huge fees if the work is killing you.’

‘I didn’t realise it was that bad,’ said Michael.

‘Perhaps that’s overstating the case, but the fact is, I’m tired. I just seem to go from one big case to another, and the workload is beginning to get to me. In fact, I feel exhausted most of the time.’ Leo picked up his fresh drink. ‘Plus, I’m not getting any younger. Cheers.’

‘Of course, the title’s always an attraction,’ mused Michael. ‘I imagine more than a few chaps finish up on the bench because their wives fancy being called Lady whatever.’

‘That certainly isn’t high on my list of priorities.’

‘They say it can be a lonely life. Did you know Hugh Laddie?’ Anthony shook his head. ‘Leo will remember him.’

‘Patent barrister,’ said Leo. ‘Invented the Anton Piller order. Nicest man you could hope to meet.’

‘Tremendous chap,’ agreed Michael. ‘The least stuffy person you can imagine. Great fun. Exceptionally clever. Became a High Court judge, but found the job so boring and lonely he packed it in. First and last judge ever to do so.’

‘It’s not the most convivial life, I grant you,’ said Leo. ‘That said, grafting away on big cases gets pretty lonely. As for boring – I’ve reached the point where I feel as though I’m doing the same work over and over.’