Weeks in Naviras by Chris Wimpress

‘So, are you two from London?’
    ‘Not originally, but living there now, yeah,’ said James. It took a bit of teasing out before they would admit to working for the Conservative party, Rav finally saying so sheepishly. Although I didn’t tell them, I’d actually voted Tory at the previous election. It hadn’t helped them much since they were languishing in opposition, their previous leader ejected from Downing Street. James told me how he worked in the research department, perhaps he’d hoped it would impress me. All I said was that I’d never seen him in the papers.
    ‘Well, good,’ James replied quickly. ‘That means I’m doing a decent enough job, I guess.’
    ‘I suppose so. And you?’ I turned to Rav.
    ‘I’m in the political department,’ he said. ‘I work out our attack lines, or try to.’ Rav seemed quite drunk, his eyeballs distinctly mobile.
    ‘And how about you,’ asked James.
    ‘Just completed bar exams,’ I said, lightly, as though they’d been nothing. ‘Looking for a pupillage at the moment, that’s not going so well.’
    ‘What sort of law?’
    ‘English law,’ I said, and James laughed. It hadn’t been funny. ‘No, probably litigation, that’s where the money is, of course. Definitely not criminal.’ I explained how I’d been a solicitor for a few years before making the transition.
    ‘That’s an unusual path to take,’ said Rav, pouring our fourth brandy mel. ‘I mean most people...’ He didn’t finish.
    ‘Most people don’t go for the Bar when they’re as old as me, you mean?’
    Rav looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I was just basing that on people I know.’
    ‘Oh, I’m not daft,’ I said. ‘I know it’s going to be tough to get into chambers at my age, but I’m willing to give it a go.’
    ‘You know, the Tories have a society of lawyers,’ said James, perking up a bit. ‘That might be good networking for you.’
    ‘That’s not usually how it works,’ I said. ‘Not everything’s about who you know.’
    ‘I know,’ said James. ‘But most things are.’
    ‘My father’s a lawyer, too,’ I went on. ‘In-house, but he knows everybody. If it were as simple as just asking Daddy for help..’
    ‘You’re competing with embryos for a job, I suppose,’ said Rav.
    ‘Yep, hundreds going for every pupillage, and everyone probably thinks I’m about to get knocked up,’ I said. ‘Not that that’s about to happen.’ That last bit came out unintended.
    James was smiling. ‘Still, how about I put you in touch with some lawyers in the party, anyway? You might like them.’
    ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘But don’t tell Gail we’ve had this discussion. She’d kill me if she thought I was hanging out with Tories.’
    ‘Well, Tories don’t really hang out ,’ said James.
    ‘You two seem to be doing a reasonable job of it,’ I replied.
    James laughed, genuinely, with straight teeth and tiny creases around the sides of his mouth. I caught Rav smiling to himself, a patient tolerant smile.
    Lottie had probably heard the laughing. She came down the stairs from the vestibule slowly, one hand holding the handrail, wearing a full-length lavender dress with many sequins.  Because it was so dim in the restaurant they didn’t sparkle, they glinted. In her other hand was the complaints book.
    It’s obvious to me now that Lottie never really liked James. I’d soon learn that the stag party had trashed their dorm bedroom on their first night, Luis had spent much of that afternoon repairing the curtain rail. James insisted he and Rav had been among the more sober stags, but their cards had been marked. Perhaps she’d already decided she liked me though, because Lottie came up to me immediately, putting the book down on the bar.
    ‘Hello again, my dear, how are you, settled in?’ She didn’t let me answer. ‘It’s a lovely room isn’t it? Just a perfect, perfect view, not so high up as it’s in the wind. Well I see you’re alright for drinks. Do you three