Capital Offence

Chapter 4

Jamie was devastated to learn of the death of the policeman. But screwing up his own career wouldn’t bring the man back. He had to fight the trauma, to make something positive out of his own close shave. He pursued his legal studies at Edinburgh with manic enthusiasm. He felt wretched about Dave getting a stretch in Edinburgh’s Saughton Jail, but reassured himself that Dave had made a conscious sacrifice to help him to make the most of his career. There was clearly no point in Jamie putting his own reputation at risk visiting his brother. He knew that Dave would understand that he was doing his utmost not to undermine the point of that sacrifice. So he kept clear. But, God, did Jamie owe him one!

Jamie moved into a flat in Rose Street Lane, an old mews which had been converted into an office, then a rather eccentrically laid-out two room flat. He tried to see his folks fairly regularly, but as his social life became more extensive his visits tended to become erratic – triggered from time to time by the size of his laundry pile.

He put his usual energy into his law studies. The subject suited him. He seemed to get good marks without busting a gut. And it was interesting who you met in class. In fact “class” was the key word. Not many law students came from poor families. There were sons and daughters of lawyers and judges - smart kids all of them. Some were from exotic places like South America where Daddy was not just a lawyer but probably el Presidente as well. Hell, he probably owned judges!

Jamie lapped it up.

He started to hang out with what his parents would have described as a bit of a “fast set”. These weren’t tearaways. They might be a bit loud, but more to draw attention to themselves and their possessions. They drove open-topped sports cars - the odd Morgan, maybe an MGB or at least a Sprite. What’s green and goes at ninety miles an hour?  An Austin Healey Brussel Sprite. The joke only makes sense if you hang out with people who pronounce it that way. Brussel sprites. A nice hice in the country, where you live with your spice.

At centre stage was Linda. She oozed confidence. She was always immaculately dressed - sexy, with a lithe figure kept trim by horse riding and shown off to perfection by designer clothes. One afternoon after a tutorial she suggested a spin to North Berwick for a pint. As Jamie relished the wind in his hair and the jealous glances from male drivers he felt a passing twinge of conscience. Shit! He’d said he would meet Vaila in Teviot Row Union bar that evening. Bedlam Theatre Company had a show on, and she’d bought a couple of tickets. Bugger! No way was he going to suggest to Linda that they should turn back. And he was sure Vaila would find someone else to go with.

Quite honestly, Jamie felt that Vaila really didn’t fit in with his new friends. They found her impressive but scary. Their idea of dangerous was always socially acceptable - skiing too fast down Alpine pistes, shooting game birds with a few drams down your neck. (Famous Grice?) Vaila’s idea of dangerous was just too unpredictable for them. He felt guilty about standing her up, but afterwards he also felt she made a bloody awful fuss about it. In front of his new mates too. Luckily Linda wasn’t there when the drink was thrown, and from then on Jamie stopped hanging out at the Teviot bar.

He felt more at home in the Tilted Wig down in Edinburgh’s New Town, with its red walls and fake old oil portraits and trompe l’oeil books on shelves. It was there that he met Linda’s dad. The place was a hang-out for New Town professionals as well as upper crust students, some of the more affected of whom gave it its other name - the Wilted Prick. Jamie was very impressed when someone whispered in his ear that Linda’s dad was a judge. And a Lord too! The Honourable Lord Ainslie. (Just call me Rollo...) Jamie liked him. He was funny and splendidly indiscreet for such an old bufty. God, the guy must have been in his fifties! Still liked a dram though.

So the exams went well, and Jamie found himself an appropriate social set. And the two things weren’t so wide apart as they might seem. Jamie had that knack shared by achievers in all walks of life. He realised subliminally that it’s not what you know that makes the difference, but who you know. Not that he had to make a false effort to develop his contacts - he was genuine and sincere. But he possessed that instinct for the right connection which was a constant touchstone as his career developed.