I caught a train to work the next morning. The thrill of winning the murder trial had already leached away. My confidence took a battering when I lost the Milic trial. This one restored it and gave me valuable experience. But it would do little to advance my career. There is no league table of barristers tracking wins and losses, no barrister rating system on the internet - well, not yet, anyway. The only two people who would really remember the trial were Tuan Ho and me. It would quickly dissolve in the minds of everyone else involved.
I stepped into the reception area of Thomas Erskine Chambers and saw several colleagues scurrying back and forth, preparing for court, while their solicitors and clients sat waiting. They reminded me that only the next trial is important.
I wasn't in the mood to do serious work. Instead, I sat at my desk and surfed the net, catching up on current events.
Just after ten o'clock, I got a call from Clint Anderson, who said: "I phoned Goran Milic at Long Bay; I told him how, at Tuan Ho's trial, you beat the hell out of Hanrahan and said he now has strong grounds to appeal his conviction."
"How did he react?"
"Got very excited and kept screaming that Hanrahan should be executed. I said the court can't order that. He said he's going to sue the State Government for compensation."
"So he wants to appeal?"
"Of course."
"Did you say you were going to brief me?"
"Yep."
"He didn't object?"
"No. I don't think he bears you any ill-will. It's not his decision anyway - it's mine. I'll send you a formal letter of instructions, but start working on the grounds of appeal as soon as you like."
No point trying to negotiate a decent fee. I would have to accept whatever paltry sum Legal Aid was prepared to pay. "Will do."
The opportunity to remedy the unjust result of the Milic trial shook me out of my lethargy. I put down the phone, strolled over to the window and, while pedestrians scurried past below, mentally composed the grounds of appeal.
I heard an unmistakable voice behind me. "Why aren't you in court? What happened? Did you get smashed?"
I turned and saw Wayne Newhouse leaning against the doorframe, wearing his standard leer.
"Nope, I won: 'Wrong' Stevens invited the jury to acquit and they stampeded for the exit."
"No kidding? I thought you had a stinky defence."
"I did. But I reached deep into a hat and pulled out a huge bwunny wabbit. You have no idea how surprised everyone was."
His eyebrows rose high. "You don't say. Buy me a cup of coffee and you can bore me shitless about your triumph."
"It's a deal."
I rose and we strolled around the block to Macquarie Street, where we sat at our regular table outside our regular cafe. Today, the sun had its hat on and refused to take it off. A cool breeze pushed leaves along the pavement and slapped around the cafe's umbrellas.
A waiter appeared and we ordered coffee.
Wayne sighed. "OK, superman, tell me what happened."
I spent ten minutes explaining how the Tuan Ho trial unfolded without minimising, in any way, my central role in guiding events. I finished as our coffees arrived.
He took a sip. "Wow, that's quite a story. So, let me get this straight: during the trial, you potted three detectives for murder, obstruction of justice and associated crimes, and got two clients acquitted?"
"It was a good day at the office. But I haven't got Milic off yet."
"You'll have no trouble persuading the Court of Appeal to free him. Even those lunatics will see he's innocent." He shook his head. "My goodness, you're obviously a much better barrister than I thought. You'll be a silk before you know it."
I shrugged. "It was a nice win. But it won't do much to help my career. Clint Andersen will probably send me more Legal Aid briefs, though I'm not sure I want more. That's the best I can hope for."
He smiled. "True. But at least, right now, you're not wondering if you're to blame for your client getting convicted."
"True."
I knew Wayne had spent the last few days defending a conman who stole the life savings of an old lady. "How did your trial go?"
He eye-rolled. "Badly. It lurched from farce to tragedy and back again."
"What happened?"
"I advised my client not to get into the witness box. Did he listen? Of course not. He thought that, because he was a conman, he had a duty to bullshit the jury. It was a matter of professional pride. Did it work? Of course not. He ended up telling three different versions of what happened - three, for Christ sakes - and emitted a horsey laugh every time he lied. It sounded like we were in a stable. It took the jury only 30 minutes to convict him."
I giggled. "Too bad. What's happened to the sexual harassment claim against Hoogland?"
"Oh, that? We had a compulsory settlement conference last week. Didn't settle, of course. Hoogland refused to offer Tania any money. Just kept glaring at her until she started crying."
"Bastard. When's the hearing?"
"Next Wednesday."
"Good luck."
Alan pushed out his jaw. "I won't need it."
I changed the topic before he launched into another diatribe against Hoogland. "What are you doing this weekend?"
"Pam and I are going skiing. Do you ski?"
"Nope. There are lots of cheaper and easier ways to break a leg."
"Hah, it's not that dangerous, if you're careful."
"And you are?"
"Of course."
If that was true, his whole character changed on the ski slopes.
He paid for our coffee and we strolled back towards Chambers. We had almost reached Queens Square when I saw Helen Lawson strolling towards us with a tall guy I assumed was a barrister, because I'd often seen him wandering around this locale. The pair obviously knew each other well, because they were holding hands. I'd been wondering if she was in a relationship. Now I knew.
She smiled and stopped in front of us. "Hello, gentlemen. Have you two met Thomas Parker?"
I said: "No, though I've seen you around."
"Thomas belongs to Owen Dixon Chambers. We've, umm, just got engaged."
I said: "Congratulations."
Wayne said. "Yes, congratulations, though I'm very disappointed: I thought you might become the fourth Mrs Newhouse. According to my present wife, there is a slot opening up."
Thomas Parker laughed. "Sorry, she's mine."
She turned towards Parker. "Brad had that huge win yesterday that I told you about. Amazing, really."
He smiled. "Congratulations. I'm very impressed."
I shrugged. "Thanks. It was just great to finally win one."
They laughed and she said: "Anyway, we're off to coffee. See you guys later."
They continued on their way, and Wayne and I resumed out journey. I remembered Clint Andersen's assertion that she was keen on me and laughed.
Wayne said: "What are you laughing about?"
"We're hopeless at judging other people, are we?"
"You've got that right."
When we stepped out of a lift into the reception area of Thomas Erskine Chambers, I told him to be careful on the ski slopes and headed for my room.