for lunch.
‘So, which members of Chambers have you spoken to already?’ he asks, slurping his soup.
‘Well, not many, actually. I haven’t really had the chance…’
‘Well, you must make the time to do it. Don’t forget… election campaign. Very important that you don’t forget the social side of Chambers.’
I might have sodding time if you weren’t working me so bloody hard.
‘Sid seems nice,’ I say, oh-so-casually, before chomping into a ham and cheese panini.
‘Oh God,’ he groans, rolling his eyes. ‘Now, listen to me, Amanda, and listen very carefully.’ He’s serious now; he’s even put down his coffee for this bit. ‘You’re not the first woman to fall for Sid Ryder, and trust me when I say you won’t be the last.’
‘But…’ I intervene.
‘Yes, I know… the suave demeanour, the piercing eyes, that cheeky smile, not to mention his unique style of advocacy…’ he continues, as I look at him, absolutely embarrassed beyond belief, not to mention flummoxed by the possibility that Skylar has a far bigger crush on Sid than I do.
‘…But to start an intimate relationship with another member of Chambers, at this stage in your career, would be professional suicide.’ He glares at me for several seconds, just leaving this last bit hanging in the air, so as to emphasise the point dramatically.
‘Well, Richard, I can assure you that I do not harbour any feelings towards Sid, nor would I ever consider doing so throughout the currency of my pupillage,’ I state. ‘Besides,’ I ask, already knowing the answer, ‘I think he’s just got out of a relationship, hasn’t he?’.
‘With Clarinda, you mean? Yes. They were quite the glamorous couple at one point but it all went sour. I care for Sid, as an ex-pupil, but he has an eye for the women. He’ll no doubt make a play for you at some point, but I would advise you very much against it. You know the consequences…’
Yes, don’t I just.
Thankfully, I am saved from any more cringeworthy relationship chat by a young brunette woman coming over to talk to Skylar. She’s probably best described as ‘very curvy’ or voluptuous, and is wearing a very short skirt suit with huge heels (higher than mine!) and patterned tights so swirly it looks like her legs are being attacked by snakes. She’s caked her face in so much foundation you can see the line where it stops.
‘RICHARD! HOW ARE YOU? DID YOU GET A GOOD RESULT THIS MORNING?’ she bellows.
She has the most ridiculous voice I’ve ever heard. It’s so loud that diners actually turn to see who is making that godawful noise. Her accent is startling. She is trying to sound very posh and every word is overemphasised. Skylar gives me a subtle, raised-eyebrow look.
‘Angela, have you met our new pupil, Amanda?’ he enquires, seemingly ignoring her original questions. For a second, Angela looks really pissed off at this and her (very false) grin drops momentarily.
‘Richard! Ahahahaha! You are TOO funny! How many times have I told you about this?!’ she shrills, turning to me, offering her hand out to shake. ‘Hello, Amanda, my name is Ang-ella actually, like “Nigella”. Not An-gel-a. Angela Waites. Pleased to meet you.’
I shake her hand and (lie when I) say that I am pleased to meet her too.
‘Oh honestly, Richard, I’m having such a trying day. I got to court early to meet my client, only to find out…’ And she went on. And on. And on.
In fact, by the time she had finished, I had not only eaten my panini, but also finished my coffee and it was time to get back to Chambers.
‘…So, in the end it was adjourned and we have to come back tomorrow! Isn’t that the worst day?!’ she finally concludes.
‘Traumatising, Angela,’ Skylar replies sarcastically. He is still calling her Angela (hahaha!). Sensing she won’t be indulged here, Angela moves away and goes to join her ‘girls’, a gaggle of immaculately groomed women occupying the middle of the bistro.
‘So, what do you make of Angela?’ Skylar asks. I feel like asking him whether this is a trick question, given that the only true answer can be ‘false and highly irritating’.
‘She seems… enthusiastic,’ I reply.
‘Well, you can learn a lot from her. If I ever hear you speaking with a false accent like that, I will personally beat it out of you, understood?’
‘Yes,’ I giggle.
‘She’s also a member of the infamous Hot Bar Bitches Club, which you need to be aware of,’ he warns, glancing at the cackling gaggle without moving his head.
‘The what?’
‘It’s a club a group of women started years ago. They go out every Friday night. They have a name…’
Actually cringing to death.
‘But it’s a joke, though? It has to be a joke…’ I half-laugh.
Skylar screws his face up. ‘I think they’re actually quite proud of it. It defines them. Anyway, Angela is in it, as is Clarinda…’
I take a sly look over and, indeed, there she is; the ex of swoony Sid Ryder. Only this time, she isn’t being menacing in a calm and collected way, but obviously talking about something very animated because she’s using her hands and wild eyes to communicate everything. She looks quietly crazy.
‘There are about five or six of them,’ he goes on. ‘Influential, some would say very bitchy, women you don’t want to make enemies out of. Just be aware of them’
‘Right. Okay. Hot Bar Bitches, though? My God,’ I whisper.
‘Oh, I know, Amanda, I know…’
‘There isn’t a male version, is there?’ I ask, wincing at the thought.
‘What do you think? Of course there is…’ he laughs.
We can’t stay long for lunch. I’ve a feeling Skylar is the kind of person who will always find something for you to do, even when you’ve done everything.
We have to slide past the Hot Bar Bitches on the way out, who are all perched on tall stools, gossiping about some undeserving, poor soul, no doubt. They’re obviously the mean girl group that all schools have and look like they go to spas every weekend, drinking champagne as they sit in hot tubs, secretly plotting the downfall of people they don’t like.
As I’m walking ahead of Skylar, he says something to me and I whip my head round to ask what he said, only to catch my hair on something and do a very vocal ‘OUCH!’
Naturally, I’ve caught a large clump of my hair on Clarinda’s suit-cuff button. I mean, of course.
FUCKING HELL.
‘Babe! Are you okay?’ Clarinda says in the most patronising way imaginable. ‘What a terrible thing to happen! I haven’t ripped your extensions out, have I?!’ I hear her ‘bitches’ laugh as I’m bent over, desperately trying to untangle my hair. What a tragic scene.
I want to smack her in the face.
By the time I’ve messed around getting my hair free, I’m flustered and furious.
Be cool. You want to play the fake-nice game? Okay.
‘Ahh no, please don’t worry! And this is all my own hair, actually. No extensions here.’ Said with the sweetest smile ever.
Even Skylar can sense the female bitchslapping in the air because he’s saying, ‘Thank goodness that’s sorted. Let’s go, Amanda,’ as he physically tries to push me out of their firing line.
Clarinda looks at me for a few seconds before uttering, ‘It