The course Billy sends Martha and Clive on to prepare them for their silk interviews is, as expected, tedious. They are probably the youngest people there, all the other silk candidates being in their late forties at least. They end up giggling at the back of the room and being glared at by the QC giving the lecture, like a couple of naughty schoolkids.
There are a few useful tips offered: don't bad-mouth your colleagues ("that includes me, you know," Clive says in Martha's ear), keep your answers concise and summarise why you want to take silk in six words or less. "To get a better wig," Clive suggests as he and Martha help themselves to biscuits in the break. "To ask leading questions," she shoots back.
She has a slight twinge in her stomach as they sit back down and winces, putting her hand to where the baby is. "Are you okay?" Clive asks, concerned.
"Yeah, fine."
"Is it kicking?"
"It doesn't have legs yet, Clive."
"If you're feeling ill you should go home. I'll make your excuses."
"Nice try." She laughs. "You're not sabotaging my silk application that way." He looks a little hurt and she adds, "I'm joking, Clive."
The pain soon passes and the lecture finally comes to an end, Martha and Clive still throwing six-words-or-less answers at each other as they leave the conference hall.