Barking Read Free

Barlotti, Singh, Bowden Allshapes, the Atkinson Will Trust - all the sleepers, cupboard-skeletons and too-difficults that lurked in the places in his filing cabinet where he was too scared or too ashamed to go. It was, Duncan decided, a bit like the Last Judgement would be, if Margaret Thatcher was filling in for God. With an effort he tuned out the voice and did a few quick calculations. A three-point-whatever shortfall wasn’t bad enough for the sack, so the only possible way for the ordeal to end was The Speech. And, sure enough—
    â€˜Duncan,’ she said, tightening the apertures of her eyes down to pinpricks, ‘let’s make no bones about this.’
    Thought so. And, of course, he’d heard The Speech before. Parts of it he could recite along with her. Somehow, though, knowing exactly what was coming didn’t make it any easier to handle. If anything, the reverse. Like injections: you know it doesn’t really hurt, far less actual pain than a paper-cut or stubbing your toe. But as you sit there in the waiting room, your knees can’t help shaking and the knot in your stomach slowly gets tighter than a schoolboy’s tie; and then when the buzzer goes and it’s your turn—
    â€˜Actually—’
    He’d said it before he’d realised he was speaking. Pure reflex: he didn’t have anything to say. A bit like raising your arm to shield your face when a fifteen-storey building’s about to fall on top of you.
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜No, sorry. You first.’
    The look on Ms Sidmouth’s face quickly reduced Duncan from three dimensions to two. ‘As I was saying,’ she said, ‘in the final analysis, it all comes down to attitude. In this business, Duncan, we’re all predators.’ Her nostrils twitched slightly, as if scenting the prey. ‘There’s no room for herbivores in the legal profession. You can’t just mumble along, chewing the cud. If you want to eat, you’ve got to hunt and kill. We’re not just a team, you know, Duncan, we’re a pack ; and a pack runs at the pace of the fastest dog. So it’s no good waiting for work to come to you. You’ve got to go out there into the long grass and flush it out; and when you’ve got hold of its neck, you’ve got to bite . Letting clients off the hook just because you’re sorry for them isn’t predator thinking, Duncan. That’s your dinner you’re letting get away from you. If it moves, you go after it; that’s the rule you’ve got to learn to live by. Remember: we’re here to get paid, so if you’ve done the work, you’ve got to charge, and charge, and keep on charging—’
    â€˜Like the Light Brigade.’
    As already noted, using humour against Jenny Sidmouth was pointless, like trying to stab a dragon with a rose. ‘Exactly like the Light Brigade, Duncan, yes. No matter what the enemy throws at you, no matter how tough it gets along the way, you’ve got to keep going until you get there. It’s survival of the fittest, it’s natural selection, it’s the thrill of the chase and the law of the jungle . . .’
    â€˜Ah,’ Duncan said sagely. ‘Only I didn’t do jungle law at college. Timetabling screw-up: you could do either jungle law or tax and probate, and I thought—’
    â€˜Attitude.’ She stared through him, as though he was one of those transparent tropical fish and she was a cormorant. ‘That’s what it comes down to. In this business, you’re either a wolf or a sheep; and I want to you ask yourself, really deep down: which one are you?’
    Baa, Duncan thought. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Now you’ve explained it to me, I think I understand.’
    â€˜Excellent.’ A smile you could’ve shattered into chunks and stuck in gin and tonic. ‘I’m so glad.’ Jenny Sidmouth looked past him, towards the door.