The first six months of the pupillage is always assumed to be easier, and Ronald Knox certainly hoped that had been true.
He navigated through the seemingly endless rows of law books, and plunged into the depth of the chamber's archives, barely finding a chance to breathe and wondering how in the world Alan Humphries managed to store all these information in his head.
Seriously, he was appalled by Alan's memory. No wonder the man could earn this job title at an age not much older than himself. Every time Ronald was out of his depth, which was often when his supervisors tasked him with finding some unheard of cases from some infinite cabinets, he would sneak to Alan's desk to consult the all-knowing senior clerk. He knew he was not supposed to do that, but Alan promised to never tell his two supervisors.
Yes, his two supervisors, by the way, are bizarre people, for the lack of a better word.
Making their way back to the chamber from a court hearing, Grell and Ronald caught sight - through the window - of a man chatting with Alan by his desk.
"Eric…" Ronald muttered.
Grell asked in surprise, "How did you-wait, do you know him?"
Ronald nodded, "I thought the name rang a bell, but I had no idea it's the same Eric!" he leaned forward to whisper to his supervisor, even though they were on the street and there was no chance for the pair inside to know what they were saying, "He probably doesn't remember me, but everyone knew him back in the Inn. You do not want this guy at your parties."
"Really?" Grell stared curiously at the tall man from a distance, "Is he a bad drinker?"
"Quite the opposite. He never gets drunk, starts every conversation with 'I'm not interested in girls' but has at least two gals at his heels at all times. Lads like me just don't stand a chance."
"Goodness, I should write it down." Grell smirked.
"But I heard he's a nice guy and-" before he finished, Grell had pushed through the entrance into the chamber.
"Good afternoon, Ms Sutcliff." Eric waved at the pair with a wide smile on his face, "And look at this fine young man, you must be Mr Knox." he offered a firm handshake which Ronald's wrist would remember for the rest of the day.
"Please call me Ronald."
"The name is Eric Slingby." he shielded his mouth with a hand and asked Ronald out loud, "I hope she's not driving you too crazy."
"Eric!" Alan exclaimed, "That's rude."
Grell chuckled, "Unlike you, Eric, I have standards." before going upstairs.
Ronald briskly followed.
Eric shrugged dismissively, "I heard you are getting clients through direct access now, Grell. I guess you won't be needing good old me around very soon."
Grell continued her way up, not looking down at the solicitor, "Don't you worry, my friend. I'm sure Will still prefers to work with someone like you."
When the two returned to Grell's office, Ronald asked, "So people have direct access to you now, Ms Sutcliff?"
"Why not? It always bugs me a little to have solicitors as the middleman anyway. Will always prefers a solicitor over direct access. He doesn't like people and he'd do everything in his power to keep interpersonal interaction to the minimum. I, on the other hand, resent filtered material. Of course it helps me to make objective arguments, but wouldn't you feel like walking on thin ice when you can't have direct contact with the client and hear the whole story? I do trust Eric, without a doubt, but you also have to admit that's a boring way to do your job. Don't you agree?"
Ronald was too early into his pupillage to even consider that kind of question, "I guess we all have our own way of doing things."
Grell sneered, "That's also a boring answer."
"But wouldn't direct access increase your workload, given that now you have to talk directly to the client and expose yourself to the case? Things could get messy."
"That's the point, Ronnie." Grell put her feet on the desk as she sank into her chair, "The messier the better. Why shut yourself from the thrill of a disoriented story only to reach a balanced conclusion? The big picture is always more interesting. Will would disagree, but he is also incapable of human joy."
Ronald listened carefully before adding, "You know Mr Spears very well."
Grell blushed a little before turning around to face the window, "He and I go way back. I feel like I've known him forever. We were closer back in the Inn though."
Ronald wasn't sure if he should keep on talking, but the question just slipped out of his mouth, "What happened?"
"Nothing." Grell answered without hesitation, "We still work in the same chamber, close to each other. We're fine."
Ronald asked William about direct access the next day, and his answer was not much different from Grell's.
"Having a solicitor, especially someone I had worked with for many years, is just a more efficient approach. I'm sure she'd disagree. I guess that also explains why you have been tidying up her office lately, since she never has the time to do it herself."
Ronald groaned bitterly, "But your room, in comparison, is so inhumanly neat, it's as if no one has ever opened a book or had coffee on your desk. It seems impossible."
"Not if you have good time management, which I'm certain is something Grell Sutcliff is still struggling with up to this day."
Ronald stopped in his track, "So how long have you known each other?"
William turned around, obviously surprised by the pupil's question, "We graduated together, but I have known her before that. Why do you want to know?"
"So you guys were like…friends?"
"We'd be late for the meeting, Ronald Knox."
It was as if the two barristers lived in different universes, only colliding against each other in the most unthinkable circumstances, or so it appeared to be.
Ronald would sometimes catch them having lunch together in one of the sandwich places nearby. He didn't know what they were saying, or if they were talking at all, but what he could not get out of his mind was the way Grell looked at William when the latter wasn't paying attention. Having a girlfriend was not Ronald Knox's priority at that point in life, but he knew he wanted to be looked at that way if he ever had one.
Winter was approaching and Ronald noticed Grell was staying in her office way behind her usual hours. Working at the Bar is time-consuming job, but Ronald would do everything he could to remind his supervisors that the clock had struck six and it's time for them to send him home. It surprised him at first when both of them complied, but later he learnt from Alan that neither of them could stand staying in the chamber after six either.
And that's why it was so strange that Grell would linger by her desk after dark without complaint.
Ronald noticed that she had been reading from a red folder lately. He assumed it was an important case, but unlike other cases, all of which she happily shared with him, Grell always kept that red folder in her suitcase, never putting it out of her sight. She never talked about it, and he never asked.
It must be one of the interesting cases, he told himself.
It was late-October and the signs of winter only became more obvious. The clock had struck nine when William walked into the entryway of the chamber. Apparently Ronald had misplaced some of his documents so he had come back to retrieve them. Fixing someone else's mistake was the last thing he wanted, but he would make that clear to the kid first thing tomorrow morning. As he climbed up the stairs, he noticed that Grell's door was still half-open.
"Honestly…" he adjusted his glasses, wondering what got into the redhead's mind to make her forget to lock the door up properly. But when he peeked through the narrow gap, he understood why.
Grell was fast asleep on her desk, hair spilling all over her files and running down the edge like a red waterfall.
William shut the door behind him, put down his suitcase and walked up to her, "Grell Sutcliff."
There was no response.
"Grell Sutcliff, wake up."
Still nothing.
William bowed to gently shake her shoulder, "Wake up, Grell." when the redhead suddenly shot up from her chair, almost knocking him over.
"Will! Why are you here?"
"To retrieve some documents. Why are you still here?"
Grell looked around aimlessly before shoving a red folder into her suitcase, "I-I must have fallen asleep while reading. I hope I didn't drool on anything." she joked nervously.
"Big cases?" William asked as he picked up his suitcase and moved to the door.
"Nothing I can't handle, my dear." Grell followed him out after putting her coat on, "Who knows when I'd wake up had you not been here!" she cozied up to him by circling her arm around his. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, I'm so glad you came."
They locked the door, quickly went inside William's office to pick up the missing files, and dove right back into the cold.
"So chilly." Grell breathed into her palms before sneaking a hand over to gently pull at William's scarf, "It's the one I gave you for Christmas a few years back, isn't it? I didn't know you'd still wear it."
William looked down and answered calmly, "It keeps me warm."
Grell blushed at his words, "Should I get you a new one this year?"
William frowned, "Why would I need a new one? This one is perfectly fine."
Grell chuckled as she pressed her burning cheek against William's shoulder, "You are not good at getting rid of old things, are you?"
"I just don't see the point of replacing them when they are good as new. It's too much trouble and a waste of money."
"Do you know how much you sound like an eighty-year-old, Will?" Grell sighed, burying her icy nose in William's collar, "I wonder why I'm so obsessed with you."
"Me too." said William without the slightest indication of irritation.
"Are you escorting me home, by the way?" she asked playfully, "You did wake me up from sleep, Prince Charming. Would be nice if you could do the whole package."
"May I ask what else is in this package? Because dropping you off at the door is the final task that I am willing to complete."
Grell giggled into his coat, "That's all I'm asking for, silly man. What else were you thinking?"
"Nothing." he answered, apparently embarrassed by the question.
It was a freezing yet pleasant night. As the two walked into the underground arm in arm, William couldn't help but ask himself why this has become a rare occurrence. He wondered what had changed between them, and, as he inhaled her perfume, the scent of which he was all too familiar with, if they could still go back to where they used to be, back to the days when they could do everything together.
In retrospect, after that quick glance over her desk, William wished he had also asked her more about the murder trial of one Baroness Angelina Dalles-Burnett.
T.B.C.