At the appointed hour, twelve thirty, I pressed the buzzer at the anonymous, unimpressive door (it cost me a quid, dropped in the can of the beggar over whom I had to step to reach it), announced myself as a guest of Mr January, and was admitted. (Actually it had cost me more than that quid. When I had left Monaco I’d travelled light, so I’d had to visit Edinburgh’s other Harvey, Nichols, to pick up some appropriate clothing. It wouldn’t have done for me to embarrass my brother-in-law.)
He was waiting for me in the foyer when I reached the top of the stair, in the three-piece outfit that is the advocate’s uniform. He wore a striped shirt, his badge of professional rank. It’s true: in that historic but strange institution, the Faculty of Advocates, junior counsel traditionally have worn plain shirts while seniors have always worn stripes. It’s all changing, of course, as more and more women reach QC status. (Those who swore that such a thing would only happen over their dead bodies have all now passed on to that state. I wonder if they look up as the black high heels step over them: bet they do, the dirty old sods.)
He walked me through to the lounge for a pre-lunch drink, which in my case was a John Panton. . ginger beer and lime with a dash of angostura, named after the famous golfer who’s credited with inventing it. Harvey had a La Ina sherry, chilled.
We made small-talk for a while as we looked out of the picture window, across Princes Street to the castle, its skyline altered by the scaffolding stands that would seat the crowds at the following month’s military tattoo. Harvey was as relieved as the rest of us at my dad’s progress, and as pleased when I told him about Carol Salt’s installation as locum, and about Mac the Dentist’s agreement to become just plain Mac for the rest of his days.
I found myself asking him how he was settling into fatherhood or, at least, the step variety.
‘I’m astonished,’ he confessed, ‘how much I’m enjoying it. There was never any prospect of children in my first marriage. I was too busy, and my wife had other priorities in her life. I know I’ve missed a large chunk of it, the early years, but at any stage it’s great to watch children and become a part of their lives.’
‘Better not let Jonny hear you call him a child,’ I advised him. ‘He thinks of himself as an adult, these days.’
‘He’s starting to behave like it too. Between you and me, his mother’s becoming a bit concerned that he should be properly prepared for manhood, and the responsibility that it brings with it: duty of care and all that, you know what I mean. With his girl-friend being seventeen, Ellen thinks I should. .’
I had to laugh. ‘Harvey, all due respect, but I can’t think of anyone less qualified for that task. Tell Ellie not to worry, the job’s done.’
He looked at me gratefully. ‘Thanks, Oz. I should have known, for that lad worships the ground you walk on.’
It’s true that there’s a special bond between Jonny and me, but I try to discourage worship. After all, I’m a bit of a false god, as you know. ‘Don’t underrate your own influence on him, Harvey. He asked me what I think of the law as a profession.’
‘I know. We’ve discussed it: he told me that you approve of the idea.’
I shrugged and grinned at him. ‘I don’t like to lie to my nephew, but in the circumstances. .’ Harvey’s face fell. ‘Joke!’ I called out. I like him, but I’ll never take him to a stand-up comedy club.
‘Good,’ he said, rising to his feet, ‘because I’ve spoken to a couple of friends of mine at Edinburgh University, and to the director of training at the Faculty of Advocates. They’ve all agreed to give him a preview of what it will involve.’
‘Fine, but just remember, he is only sixteen, so don’t be too disappointed if he turns round next year and says he wants to be a zoologist, or a golf pro or something equally bizarre.’
‘Or an actor?’
‘That’s an ambition I will definitely not encourage. My business is full of crazy people.’
Harvey chuckled as he led me into the dining room. ‘So’s mine: usually we call them clients.’ I began to rethink the idea of a night at the stand-up club.
The lunch wasn’t nouvelle cuisine, but that was okay with me: I was brought up on Scotch broth and haddock fried in breadcrumbs, the more chips the better. It wasn’t until the cheeseboard had arrived that my brother-in-law-proved my dad right by getting down to the real business of the day.
‘I’ve got something on my mind, Oz,’ he said, ‘and I’d like your advice.’
‘Plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the judge.’
He smiled weakly, as befitted a pretty weak wisecrack. ‘I might need a mirror to do that soon,’ he replied. ‘What I’m going to tell you has to remain confidential, until an announcement is made.’ He glanced around. ‘Half the members of this place might know about it, but they’re within the institution, as it were, and it’s important that it doesn’t leak outside. The fact is, I’m going to be elevated to the Bench: a vacancy’s arisen, I’ve been proposed and the Judicial Appointments Board has nodded its head. My installation will take place within the next three weeks.’
‘Supreme Court?’ I asked.
‘Of course. If they’d offered me a Sheriff’s position I’d have turned it down flat.’
‘Well, congratulations. I knew you were headed there some day, but I thought you were still too young.’
He shook his head. ‘In the old days I would have been, but things have changed. The new system isn’t afraid to trust a forty-three-year-old to produce sensible judgments.’
‘Quite bloody right too,’ I told him. ‘I have to say that I’m more than a little chuffed that you chose to confide in me, but what the hell do you need my advice for? Is Ellie giving you grief about it?’
‘Not at all. I wouldn’t have gone for it without her full support. No, it’s my first wife who’s the problem.’
I frowned: I know more than most about troublesome ex-wives. ‘Why should that be?’ I asked. ‘She’s been off the pitch for over ten years now, hasn’t she?’
He pursed his lips. ‘Pitches, as you put it, mean nothing to Madeleine. I haven’t seen her in over five years. . and then it was by accident. . but I’m quite certain she still takes an interest in my career.’
‘What makes you certain?’
‘When our decree was granted, she promised me that she would. She didn’t take the civilised option when it came to ending the marriage. I had to sue for divorce on the ground of adultery: her counsel rather foolishly tried to nail me for a ridiculous sum as aliment. I had the Dean of Faculty in my corner. The judge listened to him, as he would, and she was awarded one pound a year. My costs were awarded against her too, but I didn’t pursue her for those.’
‘Bloody generous of you.’
‘That’s exactly what the Dean said: in the circumstances, he had to waive his fee as a courtesy to a fellow silk, even though I was still a fairly junior QC in those days.’
‘Remind me never to sue a lawyer.’
‘The odds would be against you, I concede. Maddy should have known that too, but you couldn’t tell her anything. She was livid with the judgment: she talked about appealing it, but her solicitor point-blank refused to help her. Finally she went off, clutching her pound, throwing me many a withering glance, and promising to take a special interest in my career.’
‘Has she remarried?’
‘No, and she still calls herself Madeleine January.’
‘When did you last hear from her?’
‘When Ellen and I were married: Maddy sent her a sympathy card.’
‘Jesus!’ I spluttered, then glanced around to make sure there were no clergymen in the room this time. ‘How did my sister react to that?’
‘She set a new world record for tearing a greetings card into small pieces. It looked like confetti when she was finished. She was all for posting it back to her with a note saying that she’d do the same to her next time, but I headed her off that. She couldn’t have anyway: I don’t know where Maddy is.’