That’s what you’ve always done when you lose a case, blame someone else. You should have advised your client properly, taken a closer look at the papers instead of indulging your penchant for bully-boy tactics … But Kemp knew better than to voice his thoughts; he didn’t want a brawl on the steps of the court.
‘What sods we’ve got on that bench … Soapy shopkeepers who don’t know their arse from their elbow when it comes to law …’ Stoddart was still splattering blame around like hailstones.
Kemp shrugged. ‘Some you lose, some you win. Don’t take it to heart, Nick, you’ve had victories in your time.’
But Stoddart only glared at him. ‘I can do without your advice, thank you, Kemp …’ He muttered, ‘You … you just watch your own step …’
He swung away across the crowded floor of the entrance hall cannoning into a hapless usher on his way to the door. She was not the only one to stare after him in surprise. Kemp had long since buried his hostility towards Stoddart. There had been a future for the man with Gillorns, he had been well thought of at the London office. Did he still blame Kemp for what had amounted to dismissal? It had all happened years ago and he and Stoddart had met several times since Nick’s return to Newtown, yet until today he had never wondered about any lingering bitterness … Those blasted letters … They were making him look askance at everyone.
On Friday evenings Kemp closed the office early, a custom which pleased the staff mightily, though it was not intended solely for their benefit. But it enabled the partners, the qualified assistants and the articled clerk to reserve a table in a local hostelry for refreshment and an informal chat about the week’s work. There was little enough time for them to meet during office hours, each being in a sense compartmentalized within their own sphere, so it was an opportunity to raise issues, air particular problems and give voice to complaints on a more personal level than was possible within earshot of the clerical staff.
It was from such meetings that Kemp took his soundings as to the health, or otherwise, of his small establishment.
For the most part they were congenial get-togethers; policy decisions might be taken or abandoned, tricky points of law argued where diverse opinions were better than just one; occasionally, as on this evening, they were merely social. Now it was congratulations to Tony Lambert upon his getting engaged.
Glasses were raised to him. ‘Never thought you’d get round to it, Tony … What brought you to the brink?’
Tony pushed at his large spectacles, a habit he had when embarrassed. The gesture tended to draw attention to a certain owl-like solemnity he had, an asset with his elderly clients. ‘I suppose it was meeting someone like Anita,’ he said, simply answering the question.
‘Miss Allardyce …’ Michael Cantley turned to Kemp. ‘You’ve met her?’
‘I’ve seen her about,’ said Kemp. ‘I gather she’s at Guildford studying law.’
‘She comes down here weekends to stay with her brother. He works for the Development Corporation … That’s how we met.’ Tony was flushed and happy. ‘Which reminds me, I hope you’re all coming to our party on Tuesday night out at The Leas – that’s Zachary Allardyce’s place … He and Anita got together on the invitations …’
‘Glad to see you settled at last.’ Kemp meant what he said. He valued his young colleague highly, and knew his circumstances. Tony was a native of Newtown, his parents on the lower end of the local gentry, owning land in the original village. Tony, their only child, had lived with them, succoured them in their old age like a dutiful son, and mourned them when they died within months of each other.
In the past Tony had been seen around with various perfectly proper young women but the relationships had somehow never quite ‘taken’ … He was a serious type, though not a prig, and modest about his considerable intellect. It was said the Allardyce girl was bright … Kemp wondered if it was loneliness after his parents’ death that had brought Tony to take this step towards marriage. At least people can’t say that about me, he thought – I’d been on my own for so long I’d got used to it. He looked across at Tony who smiled back as if they followed the same line of thought.
‘I’m only following your example, Lennox. Taking the plunge doesn’t seem to have done you any harm …’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Sally Stacey, ‘I don’t get the tax figures from Mr Kemp as quickly as I used to. I think his mind’s on other things …’
‘And I had to remind him about a maintenance hearing last week which he forgot,’ said Perry Belchamber. ‘Time was when it was him did all the reminding round here.’
‘You have been distrait …’ Michael Cantley had been happily married for years, and was prepared to make allowances. ‘You did rather take the whole place on your shoulders before this, and now you have your own worries setting up home and all that …’
This was surely the time to tell them … Explain that the reason his mind had not been entirely on business lately had nothing to do with Mary or his marriage. They had the right to know about the letters, these colleagues and friends of his … They would exhibit astonishment, outrage, but he would have their sympathy.
But Franklyn Davey, their young articled clerk, was rather nervously putting a question about a recent case in the Court of Appeal, and as everyone clamoured to give their point of view, the moment passed.
Kemp was to regret its passing …
‘You’ll be sure to bring Mary to Anita’s party next week,’ Tony said to him as the meeting was breaking up. ‘We’ve seen so little of her, and I always liked her when she worked in the office. She might find it a little awkward, of course, seeing us all again in such different circumstances …’
Kemp laughed.
‘I’ve come to the conclusion that my wife can handle any situation, but thanks for the thought. We’ll both be delighted to come …’
Once again he would like to have drawn Tony aside and told him about the threats and the break-in, if it was only to share the burden with someone … Yet he hesitated, unwilling to strike a sour note on the evening of the younger man’s celebration. In the past it had been Tony Lambert who had shared his confidences when Kemp felt it necessary, now the timing for such things was all wrong …
Yet as he walked home through the darkening streets he had a premonition that somehow he had missed a chance which would not be given again. He should have grasped it firmly when it was to his hand, not let it be whisked away in a moment of indecision.
One of the maxims by which he lived was never to lose control of events; he had the uneasy feeling that that was exactly what he had done.
No day in the week separated the married from the single as much as Saturday. Hitherto, Kemp had taken the cessation of work lightly but by Sunday evenings, he had tended to return to the office, if only in spirit, out of a certain deprivation, though he would not have called it boredom. He was not a man of hobbies; what went on under the bonnet of his car was a mystery to him and he had never owned a garden until now.
Since his marriage, however, he looked forward to the weekends, and the time they allowed for him and Mary to be by themselves, enjoying each other’s company and planning expeditions into the
