Clive Reader strode up the steps of Shoe Lane Chambers, his briefcase at his side. The case was empty, but he'd thought it would help to make a good impression. Today was the first day of his pupillage.
Looking at him, nobody would be able to guess how nervous he felt. He had become skilled at hiding his emotion. All those nights silently crying himself to sleep at school, hiding out in the library at breaks so they couldn't get to him, the humiliation of always being picked last for games. The bullying had died down somewhat in his last two years at school, maybe because he had gotten taller and better looking, maybe because everyone was preoccupied with studying for their A Levels, but he still hadn't been popular. Oxford had been a revelation. Not only had he actually had friends for the first time, he had discovered that women quite liked him. He had to laugh at the reputation he had built up for himself as a womaniser. He hadn't so much as kissed a girl until he was nineteen, for God's sake. But he liked the image he had managed to cultivate of himself. He was going to be a success. Getting this far had been two fingers up to the boys who had once made made him feel so miserable and ashamed. He had shown them. He would show them all.
As he entered the Chambers and let himself in to the room where he had had his interview, he saw that someone was already there, a petite blonde with hair twisted up in a ponytail and very red lipstick.
"Hello," he said, automatically going into flirtatious mode as he closed the door. "You must be the other pupil."
He was surprised when she answered him in a broad Northern accent: "Yes. Alan Cowdrey told me to wait for him here."
"Clive Reader" he said, offering her his hand to shake, which she accepted. "Martha Costello." He held her hand for slightly longer than was necessary until she glowered at him and he let go. She resumed pacing the room, chewing her lip nervously.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"Bolton. I went to university in Manchester."
"You studied law there?" She nodded. "I went to Oxford, did a degree in English. Then I did the law conversion."
"So you didn't always want to be a barrister?"
He gave the same pre-rehearsed answer he had given in interview. "I wanted to explore my options before settling on the law, but I always wanted to make a difference." She looked unconvinced and he decided to just be honest. "Actually, that's bollocks. I just wanted to make lots of money."
Her lips twitched reluctantly. The door opened and Alan Cowdrey entered. "Ah, I see you two have met. Come on, I'll show you around."
Clive gestured to let Martha go ahead of him. His eyes lingered slightly on her behind as he followed her out of the room.
Martha finished unpacking the last box in her flat. She reflected on her first day at Chambers, wishing she had someone to talk to about it. She had tried calling her mother twice in the last hour, but had got no answer. Part of her still felt guilty for leaving after her mother had begged her not to. But could she help it if she wanted more? Growing up on that council estate, she had become determined to make something of herself. While the other girls in her class were getting pregnant and dropping out of school, she had got into university. Accepting the place had meant leaving behind her dad, who hadn't been able to remember her the next time she had seen him. Her eyes swimmed with tears at the memory. She wished she could talk to him about her day.
She had met all sorts of different people at uni, and then at bar school. She had been far from the only person from a working class background there. But being called to the bar was one thing, actually getting a pupillage was another. Now she had finally got her foot in the door, she was constantly being reminded that she didn't fit in, from the way her fellow pupil had eyed her up like a piece of meat to the slightly patronising way her pupilmaster Alan had spoken to her, compared with how he spoke to Clive. Clive Reader seemed to represent everything she was up against, with his slicked back hair, his posh accent and his assured mannerisms. Eton or Harrow? she'd wondered cynically, as soon as she had laid eyes on him. He belonged in this world. She knew that it was likely that only one of them would be kept on by the Chambers when their pupillages had finished. Maybe she was just fodder. Well, she wouldn't let that happen. She had to prove herself.
She would show them all.
Billy Lamb was the last person left in Chambers, sitting at his desk in the Clerks' room. As he idly flicked through the papers in front of him, his mind wandered to the two pupils who had started today. The posh kid who had waxed on about human rights in his interview. Great bullshitter, he'd go far. Then there was the Northern lass. He'd felt a kind of respect and affinity for her as someone who had obviously, like him, worked her way up from a working-class background. He thought about his own childhood, his lack of a father figure, the poverty they had lived in. With his background he could easily have become a criminal, but he'd become a clerk instead.
He'd seen many pupils come and go in his time at Shoe Lane and wondered if these two would go the distance. He doubted whether either of them had given him as much as a second thought. You didn't worry about what the junior clerk thought of you on your first day as a pupil.
"Still here, Billy?" Alan's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Just finishing up. I thought you'd gone, sir."
"Just had to pop back for a brief." Alan held up the folder under his arm.
"What do you make of the new pupils, sir?" Billy asked as Alan made to leave again.
"Oh, I give them twelve months. Tops."
"Right,"Billy murmured as Alan went. For some reason, he hoped he was wrong.