“We had this last week!” I howl in frustration. “What do you think I’m going to do? Give someone a makeover?”
Interpreting my insolence as a guilty conscience, the security guard decides to start the search of my bag again.
Frustrated, I turn to check out the two men that Corr came in with. One is late fifties, about six feet tall with a thick head of pewter coloured hair. He has a deep tan and dark brown eyes which are darting about, inspecting members of the public as he passes through the security checks. As the top of his bag is opened by one of the security staff I see some familiar green lever arch folders. This must be Peter Quinn QC. Also based in London, he normally spends his time down there defending major gangland crooks. He has an impressive air of authority about him, but it seems like he’s permanently on edge, constantly watching who is around him.
I turn my attention to the second man behind him, who’s just removed his sunglasses and placed them into his pocket. My heart stops. He has the most piercing pair of bright blue eyes I’ve ever seen. His hair is jet black and swept off his face, although occasionally a tendril falls into his eyes. His cheekbones are high and pronounced and I’m sure that if he’s not a lawyer, he must be a model. He’s tall, about six feet with a slender build. He bends to retrieve his case and I try to look as if I’m not staring.
As Quinn walks past me, the man follows, his arm brushing mine. He turns briefly towards me and our eyes meet. I’m immediately caught in his gaze and blink to break the spell. He gives me a brief smile and leaves to catch up with Quinn.
What the hell was that? I mentally chastise myself, reminding myself about Sebastian. In the three years we’ve been together I’ve never so much looked at another man, let alone, well, looked at another man. I pull myself together and snatch my bag from the counter. With some considerable difficulty I drag my suitcase over to the lift and push the ‘up’ button. I tap my shoe on the tiled floor; annoyed to have been delayed to meet Corr. As the lift finally arrives, a familiar voice comes from behind me
“Oh my God, I saw those shoes too! I thought about buying them but decided they looked a bit trampy. Looks like I was right.”
Perfect, Lucinda. I have two options, I can either engage in our usual bitchy repartee or be grown up about things and ignore her. I go for broke and turn round.
“Didn’t you see the sign on the door Lucinda? No dogs allowed in court.”
“You’re like sooo hilarious Lauren. Obviously the lack of sleep is taking its toll on you; I could put my papers in the bags under your eyes.”
“Yeah well, one of the perks of being a barrister. You know, the end result of all those years of legal education. Oh no wait, I forgot, that didn’t quite work out for you did it?”
I load my bags into the lift and press the button for the second floor. Lucinda watches me with an annoyingly smug look on her face.
“I’m going to take the stairs. It’s called exercise.” She looks me up and down, “You’ve obviously never tried it.”
I could scream as the doors shut. I study my refection in the mirror lift. I know I’m far from obese but being taunted by a stick thin witch really does a number on your self-esteem first thing on a Monday. I take a few steadying breaths and try not to think about all of the biscuits I ate this morning.
As I make my way to our courtroom, I hope that Corr isn’t looking for me. The last thing I need is for him to blame any loss of focus on me. As I step inside, I’m taken aback at the sheer volume of papers heaped up on the rows of seats and the numerous books and boxes stacked up everywhere.
“Lauren, put the exhibit bundles next to my laptop and order the statements alphabetically over here.” Corr has spotted me and is now pointing at an empty spot on the bench.
So much for ‘hello.’ I hurry over and start emptying the contents of my suitcase onto an empty seat. Any ideas I’d had about attempting to make small