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Bar?’
    It was then that Leonard looked at me in some surprise. ‘Hilda,’ he said, ‘can I guess what you are thinking?’
    â€˜I’m thinking,’ I told him, ‘that you should do all you can to help Rumpole to become a QC.’

10
    â€˜A woman came to see me about young Peter.’ Bertie Timson spoke with some amazement.
    We had met in Pommeroy’s, my favourite wine bar. I had organized a meeting there with Dennis, at that time the head and undisputed leader of the Timson clan and with whom, after an unhappy difference of opinion when I was defending Dr Khan on a charge of terrorism, I was back again on friendly terms. He had turned up in the company of Bertie, who delayed the matter of business by describing the joys of parenthood during the dying years of the now deeply caring government. I passed a glass of Château Thames Embankment to silence him but he had a strange story which clearly had to be told.
    â€˜She said she was a “state nanny” and she had been selected to advise me on parenting, seeing that young Peter had an ASBO.’
    â€˜I’m sorry about that. It hurts me to remember our unsuccessful defence.’
    â€˜No. Peter’s very grateful for what you’ve done for him, Mr Rumpole. He really is. He’s ever so proud of the ASBO.’
    â€˜He’s got to be careful now,’ I warned his father. ‘The present government’s dead keen on putting children behind bars.’
    â€˜Perhaps that’s why she wanted me to do “parenting”.’
    â€˜Did you get to understand what she was talking about?’ Dennis seemed mystified.
    â€˜Well, she asked if I read to him in bed. And I told her I didn’t. So she left me a book. Something about a bear that kept taking honey. Not very exciting reading, I didn’t think. But she said if I read to Peter in bed regular, it’d keep him from going into the nick.’
    â€˜Did you try it?’ Dennis seemed unable to get enough of this story.
    â€˜When he was in bed. Yes. I sat down and started to read out about this bear liking honey. Oh, and there was a boy in it with a picture of him wearing shorts.’
    â€˜How did your Peter take it?’
    â€˜He said, “Shut up, Dad. I’m listening to my iPod.” It was the iPod you gave him at Christmas time.’
    â€˜That’s all we find in houses nowadays. IPods and sound systems. No one keeps money any more.’ Dennis was nostalgic for the good old days. ‘What else did she tell you to do?’
    â€˜She asked if I had ever sung to him. She never said what sort of songs. Ones we sung down the pub–I didn’t think she’d like them. So I said no, I didn’t go in for singing.’
    â€˜Bertie sang down the pub,’ Dennis confided in me. ‘It was horrible.’
    â€˜She asked about “Ring a ring o’ roses”…that sort of thing. I did try that after tea once. My Leonie said she’d leave me if ever I did that again. So the state nanny wasn’t all that help as it turned out. You were the only one that tried to help, Mr Rumpole. For which we are very grateful.’
    â€˜Any time!’ I had lit a small cigar and now waved it casually in the air. ‘Call on me at any time. I’m always as ready to help young Peter as I am to help any member of the Timson family.’
    After I had refilled their glasses Dennis said, ‘I thought we’d come here so the Timson family could help you?’
    â€˜Well, that’s right,’ I had to admit. ‘You see, I decided that it was high time I put on a silk gown and got promoted to the front row in court.’
    â€˜You mean you want Queen’s Counsel?’ A long life in and out of the Old Bailey had given Dennis Timson a sound working knowledge of the law.
    â€˜You’re right,’ I told him. ‘And I need a judge and a satisfied client to speak up for