Chapter 88

Wednesday's mail brought me my report that I'd passed the Ethics exam with 98% I wondered whether I'd mis-spelt something, or forgotten a semi-colon ... or whether it was merely impossible to achieve 100%. (After all, James Stephens had pointed out that "nothing is perfect" in The Crock of Gold [1912].)

It also brought a larger envelope: a Certificate on heavy paper that I had qualified together with a letter informing me that I'd "achieved" the third-highest aggregate grades of 2015. I was quite pleased. Rachel gave me a big kiss (and promised more) when I showed it to her.

I then phoned mum, told her the "news," read her the letter. She acted as though I had received the Nobel Prize. I then phoned dad at the Museum. He was calmer, but congratulatory.

"You know this is public knowledge?"

"What?"

"The ranked list is published. I expect you'll begin getting job offers on Friday or next Monday."

"Oh, God! You're right! Should I phone Ardler?"

"No. Let him phone you. But may I give you advice?"

"Of course."

"Listen and be polite to the callers. You might prevaricate a little. Point out that you've still got the Bar Practice Course. And that you certainly won't be making a decision prior to that hurdle. Tell them how much you appreciate their consideration."

"Gotcha."

"You really don't want to have a major firm or a distinguished barrister thinking badly of you. That can wait till they know you."

"Stinker!"

"Of course, I'm your father."

"Thank you. Really."

"You're off in two weeks?"

"Just about."

"Let us take you out for a celebratory dinner before you go."

"Sure. I'll have my social secretary call yours." Dad laughed.

"Right. Take care. And congrats."

"Did you see today's Herald?" Rachel asked.

"I think so, why?"

"What Abbott said: 'What we do is we stop the boats by hook or by crook because that's what we've got to do and that's what we've successfully done and I just don't want to go into the details ... The important thing is to stop the boats.' He's like Thrasymachus!"

"In The Republic? I guess so. Might is right. Do it 'by hook or by crook.' Yes, he's quite the Sophist. It's hard to imagine him in a seminary."

"Maybe that's why he dropped out."

"Anyway, I'm not going to work for his government, but for NSW, if it works out."

"It'll work out. Are you going to call Sarah?"

"Why?"

"To tell her the news."

"No. She doesn't call us when she has exams."

"OK. Different topic. Can we talk about my honours work?"

"Certainly. What's the problem?"

"Organization. I don't know how to order the catalogue."

"What's customary?"

"I don't know. There seem to be several different bases. There's straight chronology; there's subject matter – portraits, landscapes, etc.; there's medium – oils, watercolours, pencil, etching. I even saw one ordered by base."

"Base?"

"Works on paper, works on canvas, works on wood."

"Well, my guess is with Heysen there are oils, watercolours and drawings. Is that it?"

"Probably. Pencil drawings and charcoal. And there are some pieces that are pencil and watercolour."

"Hmmm. Since there's at least one mix, then medium is tough. Is there anything that's neither on canvas nor on paper?"

"I don't think so."

"There you are: two parts, works on canvas and works on paper. I'd make each chronological."

"Brilliant!"

"Elementary, my dear Watson. It was the dog barking at night."

"Not the giant rat of Sumatra?"

"No. The world's not yet ready for that." We both broke up laughing.

"That's why I love you," Rachel declared.

"Because I've read Conan Doyle?"

"No, because you can both solve a problem and be silly."

"Can you solve the next problem?"

"What is it?"

"Where to go for dinner."

Dad was right, beginning just past 10 on Thursday, calls began: several notable civil, business, and criminal law firms were interested. I tried to be formal and alert, but pointed out that until the end of September I really was involved in "becoming qualified," and didn't want to put the cart before the horse. At least two of my callers said they'd be getting back to me in October.