Читать книгу The Law of Attraction - Roxie Cooper - Страница 13

CHAPTER 5

Hideous. Just hideous.

I manage to get through the horrendous ‘introduction’ without divulging our ‘history’ (in other words, his being a nasty, awful sex pest). He, on the other hand, looks far too pleased with himself, going on to say, ‘I’m really looking forward to working with you in a professional context.’

He means it.

I make an excuse about having to leave so I can be back ‘bright and early’ in the morning and leave. Emergency drinks with Heidi are required.

‘Why don’t you just tell them all he’s a right smart-arse who nobody liked at law school?’ she asked, rather naively, swigging at her Chilean red in one of the super-chic bars overlooking the river on a warm, September evening.

‘I’ll look like a venomous bitch! You should have seen them, Heidi, they were all over him. He’s obviously fooled them already,’ I reply, sighing at the end of the sentence for effect. ‘I just can’t believe he has done this. This was supposed to be such an important day for me. Now it’s ruined.’

‘Always the drama queen, Mandy!’ Heidi proclaims (yeah, like she can talk). ‘Why don’t you just ignore him? His true colours will show through eventually. What are you worried about?’

I can’t really answer. If truth be told, I’m not sure why I am so bothered. Is it because he is stealing my thunder? Because I know how false he is?

‘Unless you’re worried that he’ll impress Chambers more and win the tenancy,’ Heidi throws out there.

‘Don’t be stupid. Of course I’m not,’ I reply, absolutely incredulous Heidi would even suggest such a thing. I don’t think that for a second.

That’s exactly what I’m worried about.

As if pupillage isn’t hard enough without this. He’s obviously bewitched them with magic in some way to get into Chambers. Or bribed them, or something.

Well, however he’s done it, I’ll just have to deal with it.

‘Keep calm and carry on. Martin is a bullshitter. They’ll see through him in a few weeks. There are far worse things that could have happened on a first day. Sounds to me like everything else was fine,’ Heidi (quite rightly) points out.

‘Yes, I know. But, Christ alive… Martin Gregg!’ I squeal, with utter disgust and amazement in my voice, screwing my face up as I do so. Heidi simultaneously picks up my glass of wine and thrusts it into my hand.

‘To pupillage, and beyond!’ she proclaims, holding her glass aloft.

‘Quite. May the best woman win!’ I smile, as we clink glasses and take a slug.

After the first glass of wine oils the pipes, we get a second in and move on to more pleasurable topics, like Sexy Sid. Once I reveal there’s a fit bloke involved, I have Heidi’s undivided attention. She sits in complete silence, her big brown eyes fixated on me, only interrupting to ask the really important questions, like ‘Did he look at you a few seconds longer than was necessary?’, ‘Was he wearing a wedding ring?’ and ‘Did he look like he’d be filthy in bed?’ – don’t know, nope, and YES.

The great thing about Heidi is that she knows me so well and always cheers me up when it comes to boy woes. I remember one time at university when I was unceremoniously dumped by a guy I was really into. She secretly pinched my iPod and created a playlist entitled ‘The Twat’, filling it with empowering songs by Beyonce, Pink and Whitney Houston. I was absolutely over the loser after listening to it on loop for a week. This woman is wasted in the law. She really ought to be some kind of life coach.

However, as I describe Sid to Heidi, I am very aware that I must sound like a schoolgirl. At the same time, I am more than aware that nothing could ever happen between us, for so many reasons – not least Skylar, who would literally kill me to actual death if I even so much as placed my lips on that gorgeous mouth of his. Having romantic relations with any work colleague is a bad idea at the best of times, let alone when the subject of one’s desire is effectively determining your future in what is basically a one-year interview process – no, sorry, election campaign-come-X-factor-talent-show.

Its been a really long day and our second glass of wine is our last. We chat on the way home about Heidi’s job. She has been there for a week now and has already put the fear of God into the other trainee solicitors. She is every inch the ruthless commercial solicitor and she loves it. She would rather sell her soul than deal with criminals every day; she likes her clients clean, sanitised and not stinking of urine, which is fair enough.

***

I wake up the next day feeling hopelessly optimistic and trot off to work in a positive mood. In fact, I don’t trot; I sashay. I am confident in my own abilities and I am a strong woman. If Martin Gregg wants a fight, then I’ll give him one. So what if my first day didn’t quite go as I had expected? Today is a new day and I am ready and focused on the task ahead.

There’s nobody else in Chambers when I arrive at 7.25 a.m. so I get into the library and start looking at the briefs Skylar has given me. Before I know it, it’s 8.45 a.m. and I realise I haven’t made everyone their coffee.

Shit!

I sprint to the kitchen, only to find Martin coming out, carrying a large tray with a load of mugs on it, steam arising from each one.

‘Oh babe, sorry, were you supposed to be doing this? I wouldn’t have done it but people were asking when they were getting their drinks so I took it upon myself…’

Oh dear God. I hate him.

‘No worries,’ I say with a very false grin. ‘But Martin, don’t call me “babe”.’

‘Yeah,’ he smirks, before passing me to deliver his hot beverages. I mean, what the hell is he supposed to be? Bloody perfect tea boy? I secretly berate myself for not getting in there sooner and make a mental note to do it tomorrow because I simply can’t be making errors like this on Day Two.

‘Oh, Amanda, just one more thing…’ he quips as I’m walking off.

I stop and turn around, prepared for anything this utter weasel has to say to me.

‘…I did warn you. Such a shame, you’ve worked so hard to get here and to fall at the final hurdle…’

‘That’s why you’re here? Just to ensure I can’t get tenancy? My God, how pathetic of you…’ I say to him.

‘Well, it makes no difference to me where I get tenancy. I’m not bothered. So, I figured if I can fuck you off in the process then it’s just an added bonus,’ he offers.

My God, the arrogance of the guy.

‘Martin, unless you’ve suddenly acquired a brain in the last four months, I’m not worried in the slightest. And I know you didn’t get into these Chambers through the normal route. Who owed your father a favour, I wonder?’ I ponder, sarcastically.

Martin grips the tray so hard, presumably through anger, that it starts shaking ever so slightly and his knuckles go pale, even though he tries to hide it in his face.

‘Everything okay?’ Skylar appears at the door in his hat and coat.

‘Yes, Richard, I’m ready to go,’ I say. I collect my bag and we head over to Crown Court.

As it turns out, one of the cases Skylar is prosecuting this morning is against Sid Ryder. I thought this would cause some kind of conflict of interest but apparently not; it happens all the time.

We go for a coffee in the advocates’ café and Skylar’s opponents come over to chat to him about the cases. I sit, trying to look clever and highly intelligent, saying nothing… wig still looks utterly ridiculous.

Sid strides over and parks himself next to Skylar, so I’m sitting opposite, trying not to look at him.

Don’t stare at his face. Or eyes.

Or mouth.

Oh, he just has an air about him. Like the kind of man who demands respect but simultaneously earns it. He is confident but not cocky. He is obviously popular but he isn’t arrogant about it. And as I watch him chatting to Skylar about sentencing guidelines, I want him to rip my knickers off. I realise, far too late into this high-school scene, that I am now staring at Ryder, which isn’t a good tactic, and so I drag my eyes somewhere else before he catches me drooling at him. He’s sporting stubble on his face today. Does he even know the effect this has on women? He must do.

‘How are you getting on?’ he asks me with a little smile that might as well say ‘I know you were staring at me’.

‘Oh, great, thanks!’ I reply, before putting my head down and writing complete gibberish in my blue notepad to make me look busy. Some wise soul told me that pupils should be seen and not heard, and I am fine with that. The less you speak, the less chance you have of pissing someone off. Martin, of course, appears to be immune from this convention. We have both been in Chambers for a matter of hours, but already I feel that he is getting on with people more than I am.

I caught him this morning, as I left Chambers, gurning away as his pupilmaster, the ever-hateful Dolus, was telling him about his completely dull yachting holiday last year. The crazy, wide-eyed, ‘I-desperately-want-to-please-you’ face appeared to be working. I have promised myself not to resort to such tactics. And that’s another thing: Martin appears to have reinvented himself as ‘Marty’ out of nowhere, like he’s trying to make himself cooler (not possible). It’s irritating.

Skylar is feeling charitable at lunchtime again so we head to the lovely little bistro next to Chambers for lunch.

‘So, which members of Chambers have you spoken to already?’ he asks, slurping his soup.

‘Well, not many, actually. I haven’t really had the chance…’

‘Well, you must make the time to do it. Don’t forget… election campaign. Very important that you don’t forget the social side of Chambers.’

I might have sodding time if you weren’t working me so bloody hard.

‘Sid seems nice,’ I say, oh-so-casually, before chomping into a ham and cheese panini.

‘Oh God,’ he groans, rolling his eyes. ‘Now, listen to me, Amanda, and listen very carefully.’ He’s serious now; he’s even put down his coffee for this bit. ‘You’re not the first woman to fall for Sid Ryder, and trust me when I say you won’t be the last.’

‘But…’ I intervene.

‘Yes, I know… the suave demeanour, the piercing eyes, that cheeky smile, not to mention his unique style of advocacy…’ he continues, as I look at him, absolutely embarrassed beyond belief, not to mention flummoxed by the possibility that Skylar has a far bigger crush on Sid than I do.

‘…But to start an intimate relationship with another member of Chambers, at this stage in your career, would be professional suicide.’ He glares at me for several seconds, just leaving this last bit hanging in the air, so as to emphasise the point dramatically.

‘Well, Richard, I can assure you that I do not harbour any feelings towards Sid, nor would I ever consider doing so throughout the currency of my pupillage,’ I state. ‘Besides,’ I ask, already knowing the answer, ‘I think he’s just got out of a relationship, hasn’t he?’.

‘With Clarinda, you mean? Yes. They were quite the glamorous couple at one point but it all went sour. I care for Sid, as an ex-pupil, but he has an eye for the women. He’ll no doubt make a play for you at some point, but I would advise you very much against it. You know the consequences…’

Yes, don’t I just.

Thankfully, I am saved from any more cringeworthy relationship chat by a young brunette woman coming over to talk to Skylar. She’s probably best described as ‘very curvy’ or voluptuous, and is wearing a very short skirt suit with huge heels (higher than mine!) and patterned tights so swirly it looks like her legs are being attacked by snakes. She’s caked her face in so much foundation you can see the line where it stops.

‘RICHARD! HOW ARE YOU? DID YOU GET A GOOD RESULT THIS MORNING?’ she bellows.

She has the most ridiculous voice I’ve ever heard. It’s so loud that diners actually turn to see who is making that godawful noise. Her accent is startling. She is trying to sound very posh and every word is overemphasised. Skylar gives me a subtle, raised-eyebrow look.

‘Angela, have you met our new pupil, Amanda?’ he enquires, seemingly ignoring her original questions. For a second, Angela looks really pissed off at this and her (very false) grin drops momentarily.

‘Richard! Ahahahaha! You are TOO funny! How many times have I told you about this?!’ she shrills, turning to me, offering her hand out to shake. ‘Hello, Amanda, my name is Ang-ella actually, like “Nigella”. Not An-gel-a. Angela Waites. Pleased to meet you.’

I shake her hand and (lie when I) say that I am pleased to meet her too.

‘Oh honestly, Richard, I’m having such a trying day. I got to court early to meet my client, only to find out…’ And she went on. And on. And on.

In fact, by the time she had finished, I had not only eaten my panini, but also finished my coffee and it was time to get back to Chambers.

‘…So, in the end it was adjourned and we have to come back tomorrow! Isn’t that the worst day?!’ she finally concludes.

‘Traumatising, Angela,’ Skylar replies sarcastically. He is still calling her Angela (hahaha!). Sensing she won’t be indulged here, Angela moves away and goes to join her ‘girls’, a gaggle of immaculately groomed women occupying the middle of the bistro.

‘So, what do you make of Angela?’ Skylar asks. I feel like asking him whether this is a trick question, given that the only true answer can be ‘false and highly irritating’.

‘She seems… enthusiastic,’ I reply.

‘Well, you can learn a lot from her. If I ever hear you speaking with a false accent like that, I will personally beat it out of you, understood?’

‘Yes,’ I giggle.

‘She’s also a member of the infamous Hot Bar Bitches Club, which you need to be aware of,’ he warns, glancing at the cackling gaggle without moving his head.

‘The what?’

‘It’s a club a group of women started years ago. They go out every Friday night. They have a name…’

Actually cringing to death.

‘But it’s a joke, though? It has to be a joke…’ I half-laugh.

Skylar screws his face up. ‘I think they’re actually quite proud of it. It defines them. Anyway, Angela is in it, as is Clarinda…’

I take a sly look over and, indeed, there she is; the ex of swoony Sid Ryder. Only this time, she isn’t being menacing in a calm and collected way, but obviously talking about something very animated because she’s using her hands and wild eyes to communicate everything. She looks quietly crazy.

‘There are about five or six of them,’ he goes on. ‘Influential, some would say very bitchy, women you don’t want to make enemies out of. Just be aware of them’

‘Right. Okay. Hot Bar Bitches, though? My God,’ I whisper.

‘Oh, I know, Amanda, I know…’

‘There isn’t a male version, is there?’ I ask, wincing at the thought.

‘What do you think? Of course there is…’ he laughs.

We can’t stay long for lunch. I’ve a feeling Skylar is the kind of person who will always find something for you to do, even when you’ve done everything.

We have to slide past the Hot Bar Bitches on the way out, who are all perched on tall stools, gossiping about some undeserving, poor soul, no doubt. They’re obviously the mean girl group that all schools have and look like they go to spas every weekend, drinking champagne as they sit in hot tubs, secretly plotting the downfall of people they don’t like.

As I’m walking ahead of Skylar, he says something to me and I whip my head round to ask what he said, only to catch my hair on something and do a very vocal ‘OUCH!’

Naturally, I’ve caught a large clump of my hair on Clarinda’s suit-cuff button. I mean, of course.

FUCKING HELL.

‘Babe! Are you okay?’ Clarinda says in the most patronising way imaginable. ‘What a terrible thing to happen! I haven’t ripped your extensions out, have I?!’ I hear her ‘bitches’ laugh as I’m bent over, desperately trying to untangle my hair. What a tragic scene.

I want to smack her in the face.

By the time I’ve messed around getting my hair free, I’m flustered and furious.

Be cool. You want to play the fake-nice game? Okay.

‘Ahh no, please don’t worry! And this is all my own hair, actually. No extensions here.’ Said with the sweetest smile ever.

Even Skylar can sense the female bitchslapping in the air because he’s saying, ‘Thank goodness that’s sorted. Let’s go, Amanda,’ as he physically tries to push me out of their firing line.

Clarinda looks at me for a few seconds before uttering, ‘It IS gorgeous! I could never pull it off. That colour would look so… tacky on me. On most people, actually. I think you have to be a really special kind of person to wear it so well… and as naturally as you do.’

Oh, the gloves have come off now. I can feel Skylar almost telepathically warning me not to get involved with this but she’s gone to far. He glares at me anxiously, like I’m a wild animal who needs to be tamed.

I laugh sarcastically. ‘Nah. I think anyone can wear blonde well naturally… but it takes a special kind of person to wear a peroxide blonde well. It’s such a strong look. Anyway, sorry for interrupting your lunch! Bye now!’ Then I powerwalk out, hoping Skylar is behind me.

As soon as we are outside, Skylar just looks at me as I wait for him to tell me to pack my stuff up and get the hell out of Chambers for being so aggressive. He stands opposite me, his eyes narrowed and head slightly tilted, like he’s trying to work me out. I have no idea what’s going to happen next, and so I can’t meet his eyes.

‘You’re not scared of people, are you?’ he asks, sounding mildly impressed.

‘Not of people like that, no,’ I reply in my best hoity-toity voice.

‘Not quite how I wanted your first run-in with them to be, but I have to say… smooth, very smooth,’ he replies, with a wry smile.

I smile back and, right there, I know that, no matter how hard he works me, Skylar is on my side.

Telling Heidi about the entire bitch-fest later that evening when I get home is great fun. She pulls all the outraged faces and keeps uttering ‘what absolute bitches!’ sporadically throughout the story.

‘You know, you really should get hair extensions, just to see the looks on their stuck-up faces then!’ Heidi suggests in all seriousness, and at one point I consider it. However, we both reach the conclusion that extensions, in addition to wearing the wig, might just be too much ‘stuff’ to wear on my head on a daily basis (in a weird TOWIE-meets-Rumpole kind of way).

By the end of the rant, she is furious on my behalf and I have to stop her seeking out Clarinda on social media and giving her a piece of her mind.

‘Mandy, it’s simply unacceptable that you must endure this kind of behaviour. They’re only jealous, you know,’ she says, filling my wine glass up.

‘It’s hard, though,’ I point out. ‘I can’t go into proper, full-on slaying mode because Skylar has warned me not to be bitchy, and he’s right. My career depends on this.’ I stretch out on the sofa, taking a large gulp.

‘Well, just do your best to avoid them. I can meet you every day for lunch if you want? Moral support? I hate to think of you alone in the middle of that bollocks,’ she kindly offers.

I smile at Heidi. I know she’s trying to help, but I need to do this myself. And I can’t run away from it.

‘Thanks, sweets. But Skylar has my back, and it’ll take more than a few catty comments about my hair to drag me down,’ I laugh, hoping I’m right.