me!”
“But it’s half twelve?”
“Doesn’t matter, it’s six somewhere in the world! This needs to be celebrated!”
As expected the bar already has four members of Chambers in it despite the early hour. We buy our drinks, apple juice for me and a gin and tonic for Serena and go to sit near them. I can hear them talking. Unsurprisingly, the topic of conversation is Samantha’s accident.
“Well I heard that her brakes just went and she shot across into the path of an oncoming lorry,” comments one.
“Yeah, that’s what she was apparently saying to the paramedics when they got to her,” confirms another.
“Matthew called me last night,” continues the first “Absolutely devastated. At least they haven’t got any kids to look after. He’s just relieved she’s vaguely in one piece.”
I turn my chair away from them, still feeling guilty that I’ve benefited from someone else’s misfortune. Roger’s words come floating back to me “...I’ve spoken to Corr and whilst he’s not happy about this...” What was that meant to mean? I can understand that Corr is unhappy about the whole situation, but for him to be unhappy he has me specifically? That’s a bit unwarranted. I know I’m not as senior as Samantha and there’s not much time for me to learn the ropes but... but... oh God, there really isn’t much time for me to learn the ropes. Less than two weeks to go and I’m sat in the pub? I look at Serena who, alarmingly has already polished off her g and t.
“I’d better get back. They’ve taken all of my cases out but I still have one in next Monday for trial, just a quickie but I need to prepare the Hobbs case now too.”
She drains the last of her drink with her straw and places her glass down onto the table.
“You’re so lucky Lauren. Everything always just seems to fall in your lap. First pupillage, now this.”
I try to laugh and finish my juice too.
“You’re conveniently forgetting everything in the middle! Normally the only thing that falls into my lap is a piece of jam covered toast when I’m running late in the morning!” I stand up and on cue topple the empty glass in front of me. “See! I’m a magnet for disaster, not success!”
As I scoop under the chair and fish underneath for my bag, she speaks.
“Did you send that cheque?”
“No! But as luck would have it it’s in here somewhere.”
Serena watches in disbelief as I upend the contents of the bag on to the table in front of us. Soon, the whole surface is liberally coated with goods including what appears to be half of the MAC counter, old diaries, loose change, various receipts, photographs of me and Sebastian and enough biros to supply an entire office block for a month. I rummage through the detritus and eventually retrieve my cheque book from near to the bottom of the pile.
“Got it! Who do I make it out to?” I ask, handing her the accompanying letter and looking for a pen that works.
I find one and she reels off the details of the recipient. As I stuff the documents into a dog-eared envelope it dawns on me that I haven’t got any stamps. I look up and see Serena holding one out on her index finger.
“Cheers!” I laugh, “I’ll pop it in Chambers’ outgoing mail in a minute.”
“Make sure you do! I’m not joking, if I have to sit next to someone boring then I’ll hold you personally responsible”
We make our way back into the building and Serena wanders off to talk to this week’s work experience students. By the time I get back to my desk the promised papers have arrived. I look with a rising feeling of panic at the numerous green lever-arch files stacked neatly on my desk. I haven’t got the foggiest where to start.
I decide to delay the inevitable and a quick check of my mobile reveals a missed call from a number I don’t recognise. Happy to have a legitimate excuse not to start work, I press redial and wait.
“Corr” comes the brisk voice. Shit. I should have thought this
“But it’s half twelve?”
“Doesn’t matter, it’s six somewhere in the world! This needs to be celebrated!”
As expected the bar already has four members of Chambers in it despite the early hour. We buy our drinks, apple juice for me and a gin and tonic for Serena and go to sit near them. I can hear them talking. Unsurprisingly, the topic of conversation is Samantha’s accident.
“Well I heard that her brakes just went and she shot across into the path of an oncoming lorry,” comments one.
“Yeah, that’s what she was apparently saying to the paramedics when they got to her,” confirms another.
“Matthew called me last night,” continues the first “Absolutely devastated. At least they haven’t got any kids to look after. He’s just relieved she’s vaguely in one piece.”
I turn my chair away from them, still feeling guilty that I’ve benefited from someone else’s misfortune. Roger’s words come floating back to me “...I’ve spoken to Corr and whilst he’s not happy about this...” What was that meant to mean? I can understand that Corr is unhappy about the whole situation, but for him to be unhappy he has me specifically? That’s a bit unwarranted. I know I’m not as senior as Samantha and there’s not much time for me to learn the ropes but... but... oh God, there really isn’t much time for me to learn the ropes. Less than two weeks to go and I’m sat in the pub? I look at Serena who, alarmingly has already polished off her g and t.
“I’d better get back. They’ve taken all of my cases out but I still have one in next Monday for trial, just a quickie but I need to prepare the Hobbs case now too.”
She drains the last of her drink with her straw and places her glass down onto the table.
“You’re so lucky Lauren. Everything always just seems to fall in your lap. First pupillage, now this.”
I try to laugh and finish my juice too.
“You’re conveniently forgetting everything in the middle! Normally the only thing that falls into my lap is a piece of jam covered toast when I’m running late in the morning!” I stand up and on cue topple the empty glass in front of me. “See! I’m a magnet for disaster, not success!”
As I scoop under the chair and fish underneath for my bag, she speaks.
“Did you send that cheque?”
“No! But as luck would have it it’s in here somewhere.”
Serena watches in disbelief as I upend the contents of the bag on to the table in front of us. Soon, the whole surface is liberally coated with goods including what appears to be half of the MAC counter, old diaries, loose change, various receipts, photographs of me and Sebastian and enough biros to supply an entire office block for a month. I rummage through the detritus and eventually retrieve my cheque book from near to the bottom of the pile.
“Got it! Who do I make it out to?” I ask, handing her the accompanying letter and looking for a pen that works.
I find one and she reels off the details of the recipient. As I stuff the documents into a dog-eared envelope it dawns on me that I haven’t got any stamps. I look up and see Serena holding one out on her index finger.
“Cheers!” I laugh, “I’ll pop it in Chambers’ outgoing mail in a minute.”
“Make sure you do! I’m not joking, if I have to sit next to someone boring then I’ll hold you personally responsible”
We make our way back into the building and Serena wanders off to talk to this week’s work experience students. By the time I get back to my desk the promised papers have arrived. I look with a rising feeling of panic at the numerous green lever-arch files stacked neatly on my desk. I haven’t got the foggiest where to start.
I decide to delay the inevitable and a quick check of my mobile reveals a missed call from a number I don’t recognise. Happy to have a legitimate excuse not to start work, I press redial and wait.
“Corr” comes the brisk voice. Shit. I should have thought this
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