When Martha Costello woke up on her first morning as a QC, her alarm had yet to go off. She shifted against the pillows and rolled on to her back, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach.

It was the first weekday that she wasn't due in court for as long as she could remember. It would be the first time she had seen Clive since the silk results had been announced. She would also have to face the sympathetic looks from people who knew about the miscarriage, which was most of Chambers.

Sighing, she got out of bed and made coffee before choosing an outfit, something more casual than usual. Nothing that screamed 'QC' - she didn't want to rub Clive's nose in it. Once showered and dressed she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked fine, although a little paler than normal. That was to be expected.

Then it was time to go.

Clive strode into his room at Chambers and came to a halt. The desk that had been Kate's was now empty, but what had stopped him was the sight of a shiny new set of silk robes, arranged on a mannequin by Martha's desk. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to his own desk and flopped into his chair, where he glowered at the mannequin that seemed to be taunting him.

This time last week, he'd been sure that he would be a QC now. He'd also thought that he was going to be a father in six months. Now both of those things had been taken away from him.

Why had they chosen Martha over him? He'd done everything he could to achieve his silk. He'd worked so hard. He'd sucked up to Niamh once he'd discovered that her father would be doing his interview. He'd even agreed to act as Billy's lapdog and grass up his friends. And for what? He was a talented barrister, he knew that. Why had Martha been chosen and not him? Because she's better than you, a voice in his head whispered. He'd said so himself, you couldn't beat Martha Costello for passion.

He knew he should be happy for Martha. She was his friend - his best friend, even though neither of them would admit to that. He cared about her - not like that, she made it clear she wasn't interested - he should be proud of her. He was proud of her. And she had just lost her baby. Their baby. She needed his support, not his jealousy.

But why her and not me? the voice in his head continued to whine.

Maybe it was because of their respective backgrounds. He was a former public schoolboy and Oxford graduate, the stereotypical successful male barrister. Martha, on the other hand, was female, had gone to a comprehensive and, although her accent had softened over the years, you could still tell the moment she opened her mouth in court that she was from the North. Maybe this was reverse discrimination. The thought made him feel better for a moment, disappointment and self-doubt replaced by a sense of righteous indignation. Then he remembered how Martha had clutched at his robes on the court steps last week and felt sickened at himself.

He shrugged off his new leather jacket and went to get a coffee, glaring at the mannequin as he passed.

Martha went to the ladies toilets not long after she had arrived at Chambers. After trying on her new robes she was now back in the casual clothes she had carefully picked out for today. Once in the cubicle she discovered that she was still bleeding a little. She'd expected this, had worn a pad for this reason, but it still gave her a jolt to see what was left of her baby leaking out of her. She changed the pad, washed her hands and reapplied her lipstick.

Clive had greeted her with his usual cheerfulness when she came in, but he now seemed to be avoiding her, until they had to go and meet Mickey Joy together. They smiled awkwardly at each other as they walked to Martha's car.

"You look terrific," Clive said unexpectedly. It was rare for him to comment on her appearance and she beamed at the compliment.

"Vintage lesbian, it's a good look for you, Martha." Clive strode on as she stopped and glowered momentarily.

Clive's comment did the trick and they talked throughout the car journey, any awkwardness between them gone. They seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to talk about the pregnancy, or about Martha beating Clive to silk for that matter. Otherwise, they had slipped back into their usual banter, the strange alliance they had had since they were pupils. Part sarcasm, part disguised affection.

Like nothing had changed between them.

Martha had spent most of the afternoon phoning round her former clients that had to be passed over to Clive - "talking him up" as Billy had put it. She was in a bad mood when she entered the pub and walked over to where Billy was standing at the bar. He hadn't been answering her calls, although he claimed not to have heard his phone ring. She wanted to meet her client tomorrow, without prison guards standing over them or his solicitor answering questions for him.

Martha found Clive sitting at a table talking with an attractive brunette. "He's in for a mention tomorrow," she greeted him.

"Well, I don't have to be there, do I?" Clive said, sounding put out. Martha raised her eyebrows. "Two counsel for a mention? I've got a con in a very sensitive case, with George here," Clive continued, gesturing to the brunette. Martha gave her a quick smile. "What time?"

"Ten," said George. "Ten," Clive echoed. "We need Brendan listed not before twelve then." Martha gave him a meaningful look, then turned and left the pub.

Once outside she turned and looked back at where Clive and George were drinking. By the looks of it, Clive had already moved on to his next woman. She shouldn't be surprised. After all, he had moved on to his own pupil less than two weeks after they had slept together. Of course he would move on again, now that their baby was no longer in the way. She knew that wasn't fair, really. She was the one who had rejected Clive after their one-night-stand, who had told him that the pregnancy didn't change anything. She couldn't really blame him for taking her at her word.

But why did he have to move on so quickly?

She tore her gaze away from Clive and looked at Billy, who was laughing with Mickey Joy. Something about that alliance made her feel uneasy. She pressed Billy's number on her phone. Billy answered this time. "Brendan's mention, not before twelve tomorrow." Martha hung up before Billy could argue. She took one last look at Clive and George through the window before she started to walk down the street, her hands in her pockets and her footsteps slow and dragging. Clive had moved on and she had to as well.