Nick Laird - Utterly Monkey

‘I know…Quite…Well, I looked at him for a moment and said If that’s the way you want it we’ll have no option but to seek an injunction. It was either put up or shut up. We have them by the balls…Yeah, fuck’em…Okay, we’ll talk soon…Okay…take care…Bye…Bye bye.’

Adam swivelled slightly, and with one fluent gesture succeeded in both replacing the phone and waving Danny into the room. Danny. Yes, great. Come in, come in. Shut the door.’

Danny was tempted to nod at the telephone and solemnly ask ‘How is your Mum?’, but thought better of it and stepped inside. He sank slightly into the deep-pile carpet.

‘Sit down. Now, how are things?’

This means, in law firms, Can you do this piece of work for me, this piece that I am keeping up my sleeve? If you are seriously considering saying no, you need a reason better than I have no time or desire or consciousness or limbs.

Danny could have quite enjoyed these non-conversations, where both sides spoke in this unwritten code, like pig Latin, if they didn’t result in pain for him, which they invariably did. There were several responses to Adam’s question, and none of them could save him. Danny’s favoured one was to hedge as much as possible until the work had been described and then try to sidestep it or, if it looked okay, enthusiastically accept it. First off, Danny liked to describe how busy he was, at great and enthusiastic length, in order to strengthen his hand when he would try to brush off the incoming work. He replied, ‘Fairly stuffed at the moment. I’m working on this massive arbitration between a Brazilian company, our client. and a German electronics manufacturer. That’s with Carol and Alastair. And I’m running the disclosure on a new claim for Cartwrights against a ballbearing manufacturer. That’s with Jonathan. We’re fighting over the size of it at the minute.’ Adam’s eyes were scanning a point about six inches to the right of his head. Danny couldn’t remember whether there was a mirror behind him. I haven’t finished yet, he thought, so at least look me in the face. ‘And a couple of pro bono issues have just gone live. The homeless charity I work with are disputing marketing fees, and my death row case in Jamaica is up for review by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights. Then there’s also the coroner’s inquest that I’ve been doing with Amanda.’

Adam, rather shamelessly, looked bored. ‘Right, right, great. Now I’ve a piece of work I’d like you to look at for me. It’s fairly intensive but really interesting.’ Danny’s simultaneous translation ran on: Stop fucking around. I know you have work. We all have work. And you are about to get some more. And it’s going to be horrific. C’est la fucking vie. Still, even this was unusual. There was normally the pretence of an option. He’d have to force it. ‘Well Adam, I’d really like to help you on it.’ I’m not doing all of it mate. ‘But I really will have to check with the other partners on my matters, Carol and Jonathan, as to whether or not it’s feasible.’ I have friends in powerful places and they will come through for me. Back off tiger.

‘I’ve already spoken to them and they’re fine about it, as long as you get everything done of course.’ Checkmate. Stop your snivelling. You ‘re fucked for the foreseeable. Forget about your holiday, your friends, your sleep.

‘Okay, great.’ Dead man walking, dead man walking. Danny heard a bright, happy voice come out of his own mouth. ‘And will there be someone on this to help me?’ If I really really have to do this, I need to share the shit around.

‘I’m sure you’ll be able to find a willing trainee.’ Screw you wiseguy. ‘Here’s the file.’ I’ve cleared my desk! I’ve cleared my desk! ‘Hard work is character-building, Danny.’ Go fuck yourself.

‘Of course, of course.’ I’m eating it up. ‘Though my character’s already built, thanks.’ Fuck you too.

‘Look, Danny, the thing is, it was one of Scott’s projects and he’s had to clear out to Australia for a while unexpectedly.’ We all know what happened so settle down. ‘We’re in a bit of a bind.’

Scott Atkins had come home from work on Monday, at 1 a.m., to discover that his wife had moved back to Australia. She had left a factual note on his pillow telling him that they had spent a total of two hours together in the last five weeks, aside from sleeping in the same bed, and that she was going home to Melbourne.

Danny nodded. Adam continued, It’s the Ulster Water takeover. You know what I’m talking about? It’s not really your line but things being as they are the Corporate boys need all the help they can get.’ Don’t misunderstand me, I think you’re a piss-poor lawyer.

‘Ulster Water?’

‘Yes.’

‘My part of the world.’

‘Really? I always thought you were Scottish.’

‘No.’

‘Oh. Well, Syder Plc are launching a takeover offer for them. Yakuma are making a rival bid. We’re acting for Syder. You’ll have a quick conference call after lunch with the Syder MD, a Mr Tom Howard, where you can introduce yourself.’ You’re on your own. I know nothing about this. ‘I understand he can be a pretty difficult customer. In the meantime you need to go speak to the Corporate department. You’ll be overseeing the litigation due diligence and maybe heading off to the head office this weekend. In Belfast. John Freeman’s the partner on it. Okay? Thank you.’ He turned abruptly but neatly in his chair and started reading his e-mails.

Danny started back up the corridor. He hadn’t heard of John Freeman. He started listing all the consequences that had flowed from previous hospital-passes, those spinning cases that you catch in mid-air and which end with a sudden high tackle or headbutt from nowhere. One, involving a counterclaim between crisp bag manufacturers, or more specifically between a crisp bag manufacturer and the company that manufactured the machines that manufactured crisp bags, had caused Danny to begin taking anti-depressants. Another, involving suing the Bulgarian Government for reneging on promised subsidies for a hydro-electric power station, forced him to miss his grandmother’s funeral. Danny spent approximately ten per cent of every working day looking at job sites on the Internet.

Albert was waiting in his office. He was sitting in Danny’s seat, clicking out a length of lead from a plastic pencil, one of several that peered out of the handkerchief pocket of his jacket. He’d walked past Adam’s office and witnessed Danny nodding sagely as Adam stitched him up. Rollson had been returning from the stationery stores in the basement with a new haul. He visited them every few days to check out any new pens, pencils or interesting objects that might have arrived and hadn’t been listed on the intranet stationery ordering facility.

‘Well?’

‘I’m in serious trouble.’

‘What on?’

‘Takeover of Ulster Water. One of Scott’s old cases.’

‘The due diligence on that’s huge. You are fucked mate, truly.’

‘I need a trainee on it.’

‘You might get the lovely Ellen.’

‘Fat frigging chance. Come on, get out of my seat.’

The lovely Ellen. Danny and Albert had been having lunch about two months ago when they agreed on a girl. This was noteworthy because it was rare, rare enough to have never happened before. Though neither liked a specific type (aside from Albert’s self-hating weakness for sloans, pearls, turned-up collars) each would say about the target of the other’s amorous (read lewd) remarks, that she was too tall, too small, too fat, too thin, too loud, too quiet and so on. Albert had pointed her out to Danny in the canteen. She had been expertly gathering tomatoes at the salad bar with two primitive wooden utensils, the sort that look like souvenirs from a holiday in Tonga. She was wonderful. They agreed on Ellen. Everyone agreed on Ellen. Albert knew who she was, of course, and which office she was sitting in. Danny had since looked her up at least five times on the intranet to see her picture: those almond eyes levelly staring the camera down.