‘Not much hope of my achieving that,’ admitted Sir Julian, as he continued to circle the room.
‘Self-defence, where I just about held my own.’
‘No chance with that one either,’ said Sir Julian, ‘unless it was a verbal attack rather than physical.’
‘And then, finally, you have to swim three lengths of the pool in uniform, holding a truncheon, without sinking.’
‘I’m exhausted just thinking about it,’ said Grace.
‘Your father’s failed on all three counts so far,’ said his mother, ‘so he would certainly have to spend the rest of his life as a constable on the beat.’
‘Does the police force have any interest in mental acuity,’ demanded Sir Julian, as he came to a halt in front of them, ‘or is it just about who can do the most press-ups?’
William didn’t admit that there wasn’t actually a physical test, and he’d simply been winding his father up. But he was still determined not to let the old man off the hook.
‘After that came the practical tests, Dad. It will be fascinating to see if you fare any better with them.’
‘I’m ready,’ said Sir Julian, setting off on his perambulation again.
‘You have to attend three crime scenes so the examiners can see how you’d react in different circumstances. I did quite well on the first test, when I had to breathalyse a driver who’d been involved in a minor prang. The test result was amber, not red, indicating that he’d been drinking recently, but he wasn’t over the limit.’
‘Did you arrest him?’ asked Grace.
‘No, I let him off with a warning.’
‘Why?’ demanded Sir Julian.
‘Because he didn’t actually fail the test, and also the police national computer revealed that he was a chauffeur with no previous offences, so if I’d arrested him, he might have lost his job.’
‘You’re a wimp,’ said Sir Julian. ‘Next?’
‘I had to follow up a robbery at a jewellery shop. One of the staff was screaming, and the manager was in a state of shock. I calmed them both down before radioing for assistance, then sealed off the crime scene and waited for back-up to arrive.’
‘You seem to be doing very well so far,’ said his mother.
‘I thought so too, until I was put in charge of a team of young constables who were attending a protest march in support of nuclear disarmament, and it started to get out of hand.’
‘What happened?’ asked his sister.
‘It appears that I didn’t respond calmly enough when a protester called one of my men a fascist bastard.’
‘I can’t imagine what they would have called me,’ said Sir Julian.
‘Or how you would have reacted,’ said Marjorie.
Everyone laughed except Beth, who wanted to know how William had responded.
‘I kicked him in the balls.’
‘You did what?’ said his mother.
‘Actually, I only drew my truncheon, but that wasn’t what he claimed when we got him back to the station. It didn’t help that I failed to mention what actually happened in my report.’
‘I can’t pretend I’m doing any better,’ said Sir Julian, slumping back in his chair.
‘Father, let’s face it,’ said William, handing him a cup of coffee. ‘You’d have locked up the drunk driver, told the shop manager and his assistant to stop being so pathetic, and undoubtedly kicked the protester in the balls a second time. Excuse my French, Mother.’
‘You said there were three parts to the exam,’ said Sir Julian, trying to recover.
‘The third part is a written exam.’
‘Then I’m still in with a chance.’
‘You have to answer sixty questions in ninety minutes.’ William sipped his coffee and leant back, before indulging his father. ‘If you picked some wild daffodils from a neighbour’s garden and then gave them to your wife, would either of you have committed a crime?’
‘Most certainly,’ said Sir Julian. ‘The husband is guilty of theft. But was the wife aware that he’d taken the daffodils from their neighbour’s garden?’
‘Yes, she was,’ said William.
‘Then she’s guilty of receiving stolen goods. An open-and-shut case.’
‘I don’t agree, m’lud,’ said Grace, rising from her place. ‘I think you’ll find the relevant word is “wild”. If all parties concerned were aware that the flowers were wild and had not been planted by the neighbour, my client was entitled to pick them.’
‘That was my answer,’ said William. ‘And it turns out that Grace and I are right.’
‘Give me one more chance,’ said Sir Julian, readjusting his non-existent gown.
‘At what age is a young person responsible for a criminal act? Eight, ten, fourteen or seventeen?’
‘Ten,’ said Grace, before her father could respond.
‘Right again,’ said William.
‘I confess I don’t defend many juveniles.’
‘Only because they can’t afford your exorbitant fees,’ said Grace.
‘Have you ever defended a juvenile, Grace?’ asked her mother, before Sir Julian could continue his cross-examination.
‘Yes. Only last week I represented an eleven-year-old accused of shoplifting in Balham.’
‘No doubt you got him off, after claiming he’d come from a deprived background and his father beat him regularly.’
‘Her,’ said Grace. ‘Her father abandoned the family home soon after she was born, leaving his wife to hold down two jobs while bringing up three children.’
‘It should never have come to court,’ said William’s mother.
‘I agree with you, Mother, and it wouldn’t have if the girl hadn’t unfortunately been caught stealing the finest cuts of meat from her local supermarket and dropping them into a foil-lined carrier bag, to evade the store’s security detectors. She then walked a hundred yards up the road and sold them to an unscrupulous local butcher.’
‘What did the court decide?’ asked Marjorie.
‘The butcher was heavily fined, and the child has been taken into care. But then, she didn’t have the advantage of being brought up by loving middle-class parents, in a comfortable country cottage in Kent. She’d never strayed more than a mile from her own front door. She didn’t even know there was a river running through the city she was born in.’
‘Should I be regarded as guilty, m’lud, simply for having tried to give my children a decent start in life?’
