We got there, we finally got there! Into a mediation, that is.

No, this wasn’t one of those obstinate farmer cases, and I’ve had a few of those. Almost without exception they come proud, implacable and, above all, right. Put two of them in separate rooms (they will rarely sit in the same one) with a row about a partnership, or a contract by one to store the other’s spuds, or a right of way over the other’s land, and you have a challenge for a mediator with the patience of a saint. But a spade is a spade and you know exactly where you stand. You can so clearly make out the case for settling on the terms available, but no, “I’m going to take the b**** to the cleaners”. Simple logic has no power – thus is the mediator deprived of his most powerful weapon.

Nor was it a partnership bust-up. Why is it that those who have worked together in perfect mutual respect for many years behave like fighting cocks when trust is broken? And when the business partnership is also a civil partnership, watch out. The sparks really can fly and vindictiveness is truly unleashed. How can I forget the gay women who wanted me to help them settle the separation of their business interests, against a background of allegations of schizophrenia, poison and ground glass? Fortunately, it was just as obvious to them as to me that these should be ‘proximity talks’; same building but strictly separate rooms and a security escort for trips to the loo.

Nor was it a family breakdown. I’ve seen all that, mother against son, would you believe, and siblings against one another. I recall five middle-aged siblings, including twins, inseparable allies, farmers both (who had yet to see the world beyond Devon’s borders or, it seemed, a bath). The day had to be arranged so that, twins apart, none would meet another. High emotion, but ultimately realism prevailed.

No, my toughest mediation was tough before I ever reached the mediation proper. I was first aware of it when Jane, In Place of Strife’s case administrator extraordinaire, started copying me in on the email traffic which aimed to find agreement between the parties on an appropriate date and venue. The occasional look of utter despair, totally out of character, confirmed that this was way out of the ordinary. One look at the size of the admin file, usually containing only a few sheets of A4, proved the point – this was our most labour intensive case so far.

Why so? Well, the story was not such an unfamiliar one. A building site was being cleared and the ground prepared for a new structure. An underground electrical cable was damaged. The utility company sought damages. In the firing line were four parties, the groundworks contractor, the main contractor, the piling sub-contractor and the engineers. Never was there such a cry of “not me, Guv!”. Each party was genuinely indignant that they had been caught up in expensive and time consuming litigation, the more so as it slowly emerged they had been round this course before – a water main had also been damaged on the same site with the same parties in the frame. That one was worth millions and settled with great difficulty post mediation – someone else presiding. This one was worth less, but that made the high costs involved more irritating and even more contentious as between defendants. Those who felt they contributed more than their fair share that time, this time wanted to get their own back.

Eighteen months it took of cajoling and persuasion and the day arrived. I had spoken with each solicitor and, as always, put together an attendance list. My heart sank. Claimant attendees were fine: two commercial guys from the utility company, one a director with seemingly all the right authority, and their solicitor. Main contractor: small private company represented by share-holder/director, counsel and solicitor, but not from the sort of firm that usually acts for insurers. (Sure enough, there was no insurance, it turned out, and a bad day at trial would be terminal.) Groundworks contractor: represented by just one solicitor. Would she mind if I added to the list the name of her insurer client? No problem, but he would not be leaving his desk in Scotland. Piling subbie: Counsel alone would be attending. No client, no solicitor, no insurer. Engineers: would be represented by three executives, one apparently with ‘full’ authority. No solicitor, no counsel, no insurer. Not exactly perfect balance.

The day started badly. The lonesome Counsel had not seen the Mediation Agreement (sent out as a specimen to all solicitors in advance to avoid such problems), it was news to him and he wanted changes. Forty-five minutes of bad-tempered mediation of the Mediation Agreement ensued. It was amended and signed by all.

Further bad temper ensued in a round-table session, largely of the “my expert’s better than yours” variety. A meeting of the defendants without the claimants resulted in remarkable agreement on the size of the pot that needed to be filled to satisfy the claimant’s realistic aspirations, but each one believed their contribution should be zero, and in one case, that others should contribute to their costs. The pot remained empty.

Contractor’s plea of poverty was met by the usual request for evidence and the usual absence of it. Slowly the pot filled as the prospect of a wasted day loomed larger. The solicitor with the absent insurer made a ‘final’ offer and said her insurer had gone home without giving her a telephone number. I exploded in genuine rage. She smiled sweetly – and later almost doubled the offer. Gradually everyone’s bluff was called and the pot was filled. The claimants, bored into submission and at risk of missing the last train, accepted less than ever they had imagined possible at the start.

Another file closed, but what a file!