The firm of Aaronson and Levy, solicitors, is a long-established one, and if age is not a reliable measure of venerability, its durability through tough times seems nonetheless an achievement. It has grown only slowly since the days when Nehum Aaronson and his partner Daniel Levy first went into practice together as two partners sharing a tiny office, while the neighbourhood has altered around it. The two old friends are now long dead, and Nehum’s daughter Naomi, who has retained her unmarried surname for business purposes, is herself considering the timing of her retirementafter a lengthy and largely satisfying career.
There are still only two equity partners, the other, Clifford Gunnell, a grey-haired, rather myopic 53 year old, bought into the firm several years since. There are four general partners, and a varying population of junior fee earners. Among the latter is Joel Parker, qualified and admitted to practice twoyears ago, and now six months into his first regular employment as a lawyer. His only work since completing his articled training was to be kept on without a contract, month by month, in the office where he trained. New professional employment is difficult to find, and he knows a number of his fellow students from the College of Law have not yet foundany. Joel is anxious about his future prospects, and keen to make a favourable impression. This is bound up more intricately than he could explain with winning his father’s approval.
Joel’s mother arrived in the country as 2 year old Patience Smith, brought by parents keen to escape South Africa, where their active membership of the banned Communist Party had brought them trouble, and intending now as parents to continue some of their political work in exile. Joel barely knew his maternal grandfather, dead while Joel was an infant, but his grandmother is still alive, at 79, and as feisty anindividual as ever. ‘An original Granny Smith’, she used to tell Joel, insisting that in her youth she was apple-cheeked(years passed before Joel wondered about the greenness of Granny Smith apples). Patience’s marriage to Kenric Parker was not a happy one. From the outset there was friction between him and the Communist in-laws, and as grandma Smith became a widow, and aged alone, her tolerance of Kenric’s acquisitive ambitions dimmed. That her daughter lived up to her name in the face of Kenric’s coldness infuriated her, but while something of his mother’s learned timidity persisted in Joel, she warmed to her only grandson. Joel spent much time with her, away from the bitterness of his home life. Eventually his parents separated, and Kenric at first refused to support his son’s studies. He has always disparaged Joel’s hopes, and made clear his opinion that Joel would never amount to anything. Long ago, Joel learnt that fighting with his father produced no advantage for him. His strategy must be to prove that he could achieve something of his own. School and college gained him consistently good but not outstanding results. He needs more.
The firm in which he is now so concerned to make good hasin its history relocated more than once, but each time within the same district. It now occupies a conversion, a double front in one of the old terraces, a street spared in the general clearance that has swept the district, being more substantial than most. Around it, the old cramped Victorian terraces of working class homes have mostly gone, replaced with tower block estates. There were once as many churches here as pubs, and formerly a small synagogue, but those that escaped the bombing of the Second World War have mostly been recommissioned, becoming furniture stores, a cinema that is already declining, and a community centre. In place of the churches there is a large, newly-built mosque, with tall twin minarets, and the call to prayer rings out regularly along the district’s high street.
Some things continue. Through the decades the prevailing colour has always been grey, previously dark and grimy in the narrowness of those old streets. The tearing down promised light, air, but what so often came was an emptiness, a hollowing of the character of the district, as newer buildings stretched up, replacing the endless lateral creep of the old streets along and around which community flowed. These developments promised greenery too, but the spaces created have remained stubbornly drab. Colour is now present, despite this, crowding shop windows and street signs along the main roads, bubbling into brightness in sarees and popular fashion.
Always a crowded, poor area, it has through these years seen various waves of immigration, Jews from Eastern Europe in the earliest days, followed by the Irish, a Caribbean cohort, and then more recently a community with roots in Pakistan. Aaronson and Levy has been witness to each community’s arrival, settlement, and slow move to acceptance and prosperity, proved by its gradual migration away to more salubrious neighbourhoods. Each successsve influx has nonetheless left traces on what has become a vibrant, cosmopolitan district.
Change has not always been smooth, and the neighbourhood has down the years seen more than its share of conflict. Nor has the firm remained immune. Old methods and new, contrasting ways of seeing the world and its problems, jealousy and blame, winners and losers; Aaronson and Levy has had to ride the waves of change, and the nature of its work has altered.
Once in two months or so there is a partners meeting at which the two seniors confer with the salaried partners, and at irregular intervals, perhaps two or three times a year, the firm holds a meeting for all fee earners. There is room for discussion, and the senior partners may be open for new ideas, but big decisions rest with the two who own the business. At Joel’s first meeting the firm’s finances are the major item on the agenda, a part of the meeting led by Gunnell, duringwhich he sets out strict billing targets for each of them. This was usual, but worrying for Joel: he isn’t finding it easy to bring in the money expected of him. Still inexperienced, hehasn’t had time to build up a network of clients who will look to him. As the most junior lawyer in the office he is assigned work that the partners find unattractive, and is required to assist them in their routine work, drafting, billing, researching, sometimes taking clients’ instructions.
Joel has already earned Gunnell’s disapproval over a piece of work. He was required to calculate a client’s losses in a personal injury claim but overlooked certain possible items, and this, because of the total sum claimed, made a differenceto the appropriate court procedure. This was the first time Joel had drawn up a claim like this, and he was given little help. The missing details were corrected, but Gunnell holds Joel responsible for the extra time and work involved. He mentions the incident at the fee earners meeting, without naming Joel, but he hardly needs to: everyone can work out who is meant. Joel feels hard done by; he was not supported, simply criticized, but tells himself he has ceased to be a trainee, and is going to have to find his feet.
The one area that is specifically his is immigration law. He was recruited to replace another junior who had fared badly and departed under a cloud, leaving only a small caseload, and that in poor order. In these early months Joel has been struggling to establish himself. After his bruising experience at the first fee earners meeting Joel is apprehensive at what the second will hold.
The second meeting, like the first, takes place in Aaronson’s office. It is not a large room, and is crowded with ten people present, so that latecomers have to stand. Much of the room is filled by a voluminous leather-topped desk, as old as the woman who sits behind it, wearing a pale blue twinset, greeting each arriving colleague with a vague, kindly smile.The desk is neat, with only a few papers, and framed photos with their backs to her staff, the office uncluttered, in marked contrast to the room Joel shares with two other juniors. When the others arrive Gunnell is present, his back to the door and his steel grey hair bent over his papers, as the two have been planning the meeting, and he doesn’t look up as his junior colleagues enter.
Before the agenda items get under way, Aaronson leads into the meeting by taking some time, as she did on the previous occasion, with a gentle, rambling reminiscence of the firm’s past. Removing her glasses and with an unfocussed gaze, she speaks of the spirit of its earliest days, ‘before the war’, which Joel takes to mean the 1930s, how they worked with refugees from Nazism. Joel is interested, this is a history that appeals to him both professionally and personally, but the others show little sign of listening. Perhaps they have heard it all before.
Gunnell then outlines their current financial position, expressing grave concern that, after a period of stabilization,the number of new cases opened has recently fallen. Looking up from his papers, he glares over his spectacles, that usual tight frown of concentration as his gaze passes around the room. Is it Joel’s anxiety that makes it seem as though thoseeyes linger particularly on him? There must, Gunnell insists,be closer attention to recording billable time. He has devised an extension to the office software which will ensure all the time spent with clients will in future be recorded simultaneously on spreadsheets. He will give a demonstration of how the new package will work. It is not universally popular. Objections are raised, that sitting behind a computer will create a barrier between client and lawyer.
Gunnell will have none of it. Professional relations will always, for him, be formal and businesslike. Theirs is a business, and must function as one, relying on the tools that any successful business has. Joel feels particular anxiety but won’t express it. This way of working might suit Gunnell’s own field, of domestic and commercial property work, far better than his own. Joel’s clients are often vulnerable, many of them have limited language skills, and may need reassurance before clear instructions can be taken or advice given. This can take time which he does not think his clients should be charged for, though he has no alternative.
The discussion is cut short, the decision is already made. Gunnell emphasises that his own work, along with the civil litigation work which Aaronson still leads, is the strength thatcarries the weaker areas, including the immigration work, which, by Gunnell’s figures, barely breaks even. He pointsout, too, what they all know, that work funded publicly through legal aid has become less remunerative by the year.There is really no answer to his insistence that the firm must beome more efficient if it is to survive. It must focus its work.Joel knows this means his work, and the principles he tries to work by, will come under even closer scrutiny than before. Heknows he has to prove himself or lose his position, and despite his junior position will need to work harder than the others.
There is another standing item on the agenda, reviewing the work of each fee earner. When it comes to Joel’s turn, at the end of the line, he mentions a new matter he thinks might be interesting, and which he hopes will show his resourcefulness. A small but unusual issue, concerning a visa application made in Pakistan. For reasons unknown, the office there has failed to process it, and he has sent off a letter before action, warning that if no decision is made promptly he will apply to the High Court for an order of mandamus to force their hand, with costs.
At this, Gunnell turns to Joel, his heavy-rimmed glasses amplifying his skeptical gaze. ‘Really? You think you could?In Pakistan, eh?, not even in the jurisdiction. Or are you intending to issue proceedings in Lahore? Perhaps you have standing in the courts there.’ He smirks at this and glances around the meeting as if expecting approval. Joel feels he has to justify himself.
‘Oh, there are precedents, none that I know for exactly this type of situation, but we can make a case easily enough if we need to, there are parallels, and policy statements we can cite.Anyway I don’t expect to have to go that far.’
‘And are we in funds for this little adventure of yours?’
‘Well, not for the application, actually, no. The family paid just for the letter so far, but as I say I don’t think we’ll need it, and of course I explained what the financial implicationsmight be. I’ll review it with them after we see how the visa office responds.’
It’s recent and fresh in Joel’s mind. He had been assigned an appointment for advice, and was told only that it concerned a family visa, so assumed he would be asked to advise on the requirements for the entry permit. Straight from the publishedrules, then. Sounded simple enough.
When he reached the little interview room the family were already waiting, but all rose to their feet as he entered. Joel motioned with one hand, urging them to sit, and glanced at each of them as unobtrusively as he could. Three people, evidently parents and daughter. The father, Hanif Nawaz, the owner of a cash-and-carry warehouse. A tall, thin man,perhaps a little over 50, but a lined, weathered face that made it difficult to judge his age. No moustache but a full beardwhich was hennaed red, presumably to cover grey. He wore a long shirt, tan in colour, with a stiff round collar, falling over some pyjama style cotton trousers of a similar colour, tapered narrow at the ankles, but long, so that they produced a number of ruffled folds over a pair of black leather shoes whose extended narrow toes curled upwards. Everything about him seemed long, an effect emphasized by leaning back, and speaking as if from a height. His round faced wife, Momtaz,appeared small in comparison, her chair placed a little back, behind her husband. She was dressed in an ankle length pleated skirt, covered with a pattern of large red flowers, and with a scarf which she kept readjusting. She did not look at Joel. The daughter Shireen, 20, wore a simple shalwar kameez, common for girls in the streets of their neighbourhood. She was quiet, reserved, holding her hands in her lap, and keeping her eyes lowered unless spoken to directly, saying very little other than to confirm what her father said. Very demure, Joel thought, a typical Pakistani girl.
Father did the talking. ‘This my daughter Shireen, going to marry. Husband is Firoz. He is schoolteacher in Multan, Pakistan, and he is son of cousin from her mum’s side. Now it has been three months ago when he did visa application, but no answer they give him.’ Joel learnt it had been agreed the wedding should take place in the UK, because Momtaz was ill and unable to travel. He ran through with them each of the requirements set out for fiancé visas, to find that the family appeared to have covered everything well. He was impressed that the young man had obtained the necessary certificate of ability in English, and also that the family had brought with them copies of the documents submitted. No obvious difficulty in any of that, so he checked other possible obstacles. Had there been any deception, or previous failed applications, did Firoz have a criminal record in Pakistan?Nothing.
‘Well, then,’ Joel concluded, ‘I agree they should make a decision, one way or the other, even if it is to refuse, becausethen he would be able to lodge an appeal. He can’t if there’s no answer at all. But don’t worry, there are steps we can take.’
A week or so after the fee earners meeting, and less than three weeks after his letter to the visa officer in Pakistan, well within the notice period Joel stipulated, a reply arrives. A short, courteous letter. He reads that the officer understandshis concern, but, without providing an explanation, urges him to speak to his client about the matter.
Joel is pricked by a misgiving, and realizes he needs to talk with Shireen without her parents. He checks, but the contact details on file are of the father and of the family home. It will require some ingenuity to track her through the community;what can he do? After worrying for a day or two, he decides to approach the firm’s receptionist, Shahnaz. He knows she lives locally, is probably only a few years older than Shireen, around Joel’s age, and from what he has seen of her interaction with clients, she appears to have extensive contacts in the area. By her ready smile she has shown herself approachable, but still Joel feels some embarrassment speaking to her about tracing a girl. He is apologetic, explaining that he has been asked to do some work on Shireen’s behalf, and needs to speak to her without her father.Does Shahnaz have any idea how he might contact her?
‘Of course, I can ask around. It should be easy.’
‘I didn’t mean for you to do it, I wasn’t asking-‘
‘No, it’s okay, honestly.’
‘This isn’t billable work.’ Joel voice drops in further awkwardness.
Shahnaz gives a gentle laugh, and tosses back her long black hair. ‘I know. This isn’t work, it’s just a favour, don’t worry.’
Joel feels a burden fall away. ‘Thanks, Shahnaz, I owe you.’ Her willingness is so obviously genuine and her manner so warm that he feels he has established a connection, the firstperson in the office whose absence would sadden him.
Shahnaz’s enquiries take some time, but succeed. An appointment is set, and Joel is taken aback to see her, unrecognizable as the demure daughter of the previous appointment, now wearing old blue jeans and a tie dyed T-shirt over a long sleeved black top, and scuffed trainers. She is chewing gum, and removes earphones as he enters. He tells her of the reply from the visa office. She is unsurprised.‘Yeah, my parents organized everything. I wrote to the visa office, told them I didn’t want him to get the visa, like. I know him, okay, he’s alright, but I got a boyfriend here. Don’t tell my parents, yeah?’
‘No, of course not.’ The hunch Joel felt on reading the letter is confirmed. It’s clear that the visa office couldn’t refuse, although there would be reason enough to do so, because they would need to state the grounds for the decision, and Shireen says she asked them not to disclose the fact she’d written.
He thinks about it afterwards, marvelling at the difference between the two sides he has seen to Shireen, how she can appear at the same time a good Pakistani daughter and a young street-wise British woman. True, the two roles depend on others too, how she is treated by her parents, or by British society, so that she cannot have full control over how she lives, but he admires her adaptability, the sense she has of different sides to her being. It makes him think of the changes his maternal grandparents had to make, and wonder how much he has thrust out of his life in his desire to build a career that will win respect.
His thoughts soon turn to the dilemma Shireen has presented. How did he get himself in this situation? ‘If I was a woman I could probably have insisted on seeing her alone in the first place,’ he thinks. ‘Why was I so quick to defer to the father?The visa officer was ahead of me. I’m reinforcing cultural stereotypes that I should be challenging. How am I supposed to take instructions from clients in situations like this?’
And then it occurs to him that the most pressing problem her revelation creates is what he is going to say to her father Hanif. He had allowed the father to do all the talking, and it was clear that funding for whatever action Joel might take on their behalf would come from him. Joel is going to have to tell him something, but has agreed with Shireen not to divulge what she has told him. The visa officer had no such difficultyin merely delaying, he reflects ruefully. This is a real dilemma, for which Joel has no answer. For the time being he will simply avoid it, and say nothing, in the hope he can think of something. He cannot lie about it, that would be unthinkable, but neither can he tell the full truth.
Although Joel is on easy terms with most of his colleagues, he hasn’t found it easy to make friends among them, he is too often serious, and has earned a reputation for earnestness. He joins a few of them after work one Friday evening, drinking at a nearby pub, the White Lion, a regular spot for some of the single staff. They order separately, and Joel decides to follow the example of the two men among them, and takes a pint of what the pumps at the bar describe as ‘best’. The place is noisy, so conversation is mostly conducted at high volume.Joel is keen to talk, and finds seats in a corner where the din is less, where he can chat to Rachel Isaacs, one of the general partners. Snub nosed, with short chestnut hair that bounces with energy, she is at odds with Joel’s prior conception of a lawyer, and that appeals to him. Conversation inevitably turns to the two seniors.
Rachel says ‘I like to think of Gunnell as the brains of the firm and Aaronson as its soul.’
‘How?’
‘Perhaps I mean he’s the muscle of the place but then Naomi is its conscience. He runs the business now. She keeps saying she’s retiring, but she clearly can’t leave the place, more out of sentiment, I suppose. She doesn’t have a large caseload now, but everyone still looks up to her. And he won’t go against her. What she says counts.’
‘She must have a special place. I mean, the firm hasn’t changed its name.’
‘Aaronson and Gunnell. No, he clearly wants the tradition of it. Who knows what’ll happen when she goes, though.Aaronson and Levy would be finished, anyway. She’s why we stay, and he knows that. Some partners would leave if he was sole principal.’
‘Really? Would you?’
Rachel has been looking at her wine glass, idly running a finger around the rim, but she looks up at this, glances round at Joel, and then looks across to where their colleagues are laughing together at the bar. ‘Depends. We’re not there yet. I’d want to see what the general mood was at the time. Thing is, without him the place would crumble, without her it has no purpose.’
‘Keeps things pretty tight?’
‘Clifford? Oh he’s okay. As long as you hit your targets you can ignore him. He’s hot on wasting time.’ And then she adds, as though it had just occurred to her, ‘But you know he has a down on immigration work.’
‘Uh huh.’ This comes as little surprise. ‘Why do you think that is?’
‘If it was his choice, we wouldn’t do it. Naomi believes we should, because the people we work with want it. But he’s unhappy about admin law, generally, of course.’
‘Ah, of course,’ though in fact Joel’s analysis of Gunnell’s attitudes has not achieved that level of abstraction. ‘What’s his problem, exactly?’
‘Our Mr Gunnell can be a little obsessive. Not just because it doesn’t earn. He actually doesn’t like it. Thinks it’s unpredictable, you can’t measure judicial reviews the way you can the kind of work he does. And I think he doesn’t like the idea of pitting ourelves against government bodies like that.Just the way he is, I suppose. Sometimes you have to though, don’t you?’
Joel doesn’t know if she means this as a general, reluctantproposition about the practice of law, or is acknowledging his own problems in the firm, and he gives a non commital grunt.
‘Mm. Only got worse with Nadia, I suspect.’
‘Nadia? You mean my predecessor? I knew things hadn’t gone well but I don’t know any details.’
‘No one told you? Nadia, yeah, she took up some JRs and had a bad run, got criticized in court over one, and that was it, as far as Gunnell was concerned.’
Joel’s anxieties about the way Gunnell views him and his work are confirmed. He will need to be particularly wary of the man.
A week or two after this conversation, Joel is in the front office sorting out his appointment schedule with Shahnaz. He is laughing at something she has said when Gunnell walks through.
’Oh, Parker.’
Shahnaz turns to resume coordinating the fee earners’ weekly calendars as Joel swivels to him. ‘Hmm?’
‘How did that little wheeze of yours work out?’
‘Er, sorry?’ Joel is genuinely perplexed.
‘That bright idea of holding up a department of the State because they didn’t jump quickly enough to bring in yet another Mirpuri peasant.’ Shahnaz looks up sharply, thenquickly turns away. Joel’s senses are on high alert now. There is nothing to gain in disputing Gunnell’s prejudice about the fiancé, an educated urban man; the purpose of the remark was to antagonize. Curtly, he explains that it didn’t, because the intended fiancée here was the cause of the delay, not wanting the marriage to go ahead.
Gunnell stops for a moment to take this in, then gives a short barking laugh, and leans in a little closer, so that his eyes, through the glasses, seem magnified. He gazes at Joel for a moment, but despite the implied menace, Joel is determined not to step back.
‘You mean to say you hadn’t checked? Couldn’t you tell who your client was? Did you think that benighted fellow was going to marry the father?’ Gunnell laughs again. ‘You’ll have to back down, then, tell them how foolish you were.’
‘I’ve already written to the visa office.’ Joel is anxious not to be pressed about any contact with the family, whom he has so far avoided. He starts to explain his new letter, ‘done as you suggested … fully appreciate … be advised no action from us,’ but Gunnell isn’t listening.
‘So the whole thing was a complete waste of time. Mr Parker’s little squib goes off with a damp fizzle.’ Gunnell is delighted, perhaps as much with his metaphor as with Joel’s discomfort, and Joel snaps back. ‘It’s done. I’m not involved in it now. I have other work, you know.’
‘Ah,’ says Gunnell, grinning, ‘”Stiff in opinions, but always in the wrong, Was everything by starts, but nothing long”.’
Joel realizes Gunnell is quoting, but has no idea where it’s from. Shakespeare? He feels outmanouevred, and can’t think of a quick response, though he tries, as Gunnell strides off, still laughing. Joel then turns to Shahnaz, who raises her eyebrows and opens her eyes wide, with a sideways nod in the direction of her departing boss, who has taken no notice of her during this conversation. Joel feels diminished, sharply conscious that Gunnell’s apparent humour is a thin cover for deep antagonism, and is pleased that only Shahnaz is there to witness his discomfort, his inability to hold out against his adversary. He succeeds in raising a grin, but his eyes remaintroubled. It comes as a surprise that this little incident has such importance for Gunnell.
Joel tries to put it all behind him, to think of the episode as a mistake he must learn from. Some weeks go by, in which he still makes no attempt to contact Hanif Nawaz, until one dayas he passes through the waiting room to reach the front office he hears two elderly men speaking Urdu, not an unusual occurrence here, but he looks and sees that one is Nawaz, come to see a colleague about something unrelated. Joel realizes he can’t delay any longer, so goes to speak to him, but without knowing what he can say. He begins by apologizing for the delay, then tells him that if any further action is to be taken it will have to be in Shireen’s name, not in his, and she would need to make an appointment. Nawaz says ‘My daughter going Pakistan for visit now, I and mother not going, only she and brother. Daughter can’t come now.’ Joel is greatly relieved at this, a potential problem at least booted into the future.
A couple of months later Joel is working at his desk and receives a call from the front desk. Shahnaz asks if he can spare a few minutes to speak to a client who has noappointment. Gunnell wouldn’t approve of him encouraging clients to drop in, and he worries about time recording on the firm software, but when Shahnaz adds ‘It’s Shireen Bhanu’, Joel’s conscience is pricked. He hasn’t given a thought to the matter in several weeks, but this is unfinished business. He isn’t particularly busy, and promptly agrees to come down to speak with her.
Shireen’s appearance is, once again, a surprise. This time she’s wearing a long blue cotton top, a kurti, with three-quarter length flared sleeves and emroidered details, over narrow black trousers. Her naturally dark eyes have beensubtly made up. She could sit in for a TV announcer, Joel thinks, and would not look out of place in a corporate boardroom. He is struck once more by how she can switch registers, move in and out of identities.
‘Hi. Sorry for not ringing first. Just wanted to let you know. I made my decision. Been back to Pakistan. Just got back. I’m going through with it. I confirmed it to the visa officer, and Firoz’s visa has been approved. He’s due to come soon. We’re still gonna marry in this country, not in Pakistan, it’s what my mum wants.’ And she adds ‘I told him how it happened by the way, Firoz, he knows.’
Joel is taken by surprise by this last, and without thinking, asks ‘And he’s okay with that?’ Realizing, his eyes involuntarily squeeze shut, as though he has been hit. This is not something to say to a client. He quickly controls his response, though Shireen will have noticed.
She pauses a moment, gazing at him impassively. ‘Got to, innit, if he reckons to come and live over here. This is my country, like, not his. What’s he gonna do about it?’
‘Yeah, of course, I- I’m sorry, I mean, no, I hope it’s all going to work out well for you, that you have a happy and successful married life, really I do.’
Shireen smiles, and there is warmth in her eyes. ‘We’ll be fine.’
Another fee earners meeting, Joel’s third, takes place a week later. The agenda reaches reports on casework, and Gunnel says, with a satisfied smile, ‘Parker, will you update us on that Pakistan visa matter?’ What can Joel say? He knows he is being goaded. Such a small matter. Get it over with quickly. ‘Oh, it’s finished.’ He tells them of Shireen’s recent news, and sees Gunnell’s eyebrows rise in surprise. He is asked if the further meetings and the second letter were paid for by his clients, and has to admit they weren’t.
Gunnell is scathing. ‘So it truly was a complete waste of the firm’s time.’
Joel protests. ‘I couldn’t know how it would work out. I was asked to help, and followed the instructions of my clients.’ He reflects ruefully that it was less a waste than this insistence on taking up the time of the whole meeting, and the inescapable fact stands before him that it is less about what happened with Shireen than it is about him, his place in the firm, his work, and his attitudes.
‘But we test them, Parker, we make sure we know what we’re doing. We don’t go off at half cock. You,’ Gunnell’s tone now is heavy with sarcasm, ‘you’re so keen to have a go at those wicked people in government, you fall over yourself to appear “right on”, or whatever you say these days.’
For a moment Joel wonders whether he should give in, and let it go, but his principles have been challenged. Perhaps he is still too young, too idealistic to compromise. An image comes back to him unbidden, of his Granny Smith, a reminder that her influence on his life led to his commitment to the work he does. There is a woman who would not surrender, however exposed or vulnerable. ‘What happened was a consequence of the clash of cultures. We are right in the middle of it.’
‘There’s no call for you to bring your personal politics into this business. You must learn that we are here to administer the law.’ Gunnell’s eyes, large behind their glasses, cease to focus on Joel, move on to his papers, as if the matter is closed.
The moment is cold, brittle. Joel is alone, and feels as he supposes a shrew might, knowing it is sighted by an owl. Too late to turn back.
‘I meant my client. She crosses cultures, moving between her parents’ world and the world she has grown up in here. And the law is the way these meetings of traditions are mediated. That’s the future, surely.’ Joel is doing his best to appear calm, but his jaw is clenched, and the grip he has on his pen threatens to break it. Gunnell’s smugness is hard to take.
‘And perhaps you intend to guide us there? Your case was pointless, Parker.’
His position is now on the line; Joel has little left to lose, but he is stung, and won’t be quiet. ‘A client like her calls us to work for justice, to serve the community.’
Gunnell’s laugh, part snort, part bark, and quite without humour, has something of triumph about it, as though this was the result he hoped to produce. ‘Does she indeed? Is that what you think? I wonder whose “community” we’re talking about here.’ He surveys the room, seeking to make others present accomplices in his views. Some of them are beginning to shuffle in their seats, and there is a low, growing murmur. Joel shrinks in his chair. He has gone well beyond the circumstances of this small case, and in his naivety has exposed his views to Gunnell’s ridicule, and perhaps to the rest of his colleagues. He wishes this was over, and wonders how much of a future he has left with the firm.
But Gunnell isn’t finished. ‘We are a business, and your hi-falutin principles must either conform to that understanding or find some other forum to prance in. We are not and cannot be a charitable institution. We operate by the law of the land, not some airy fairy liberal credo. Get it into your head that the people you call your “community” don’t see things the way you do. These are not oppressed people fighting for freedom and equality. They are simply people who are after a better life, and think they can come here and grab whatever they can get away with. Remember that the law is there to protect us against those who grab.’
The movement and murmur has grown, and in the corner of his vision Joel sees Rachel Isaacs frowning and shaking her head at Gunnell’s remarks. And then Naomi Aaronson speaks, in the same soft tone she always uses. ‘He has a point, you know Clifford. I can’t see that any harm has been done, the firm doesn’t seem to have lost anything by it, and we probably have the respect of all concerned, the family for our willingness to act, the visa officer for the prompt apology, and certainly the client, which she showed by coming to tell him the outcome.’
Joel is surprised, but Rachel’s assesment of the two partners suddenly makes sense. Gunnell merely nods, and moves to the next item, all animosity shelved, and Joel understands he has come through a trial of his own, and that through laying himself open he has gained a place in the firm in which he can grow, at least for a time. It feels like a battle won, and though perhaps the war may never be done, he has found confirmation.