time to meet with my client before we went into court.
After showering I moved through to our bedroom, needing work clothes, frowning as I tried to recall why it was I had spent the night on the sofa. It really didn’t seem to matter any more. Luke had left my coffee on the chest of drawers, a banana next to it. I pulled out my clothes for the day.
I knew I needed to call Grandad back.
Luke came in and sat on the edge of the bed, two hands wrapped around his own mug. Coffee, no milk. He was watching me as I clipped my bra, bent down to pull on my tights.
‘Don’t go to work, Lottie. Can’t you call someone in chambers, they co—’
‘I need to go, it’s too last-minute to call off and my client needs me.’ I cut him off, tugging my tights up high and reaching for my shirt.
‘But surely if you told them w—’
The words came out hard and quickly. ‘You know I can’t, Luke.’
I could see Luke straining not to raise his voice, keep a level expression on his face. ‘Your grandad will be—’
‘I know I need to call him,’ I said, my voice getting louder, snapping at him as if spoiling for another fight. I was so quick to lose my temper these days, the shock of the news and the lack of sleep only making me feel more out-of-body.
I felt anxious, panicked, nothing made any sense. I just needed to get dressed, get out of the flat, look over my work, get to court, represent my client. I just needed to get through the day. Then I could think. I couldn’t cope with anything else at the moment.
‘OK. Look, make sure you call me, OK? Let me know how you’re doi—’
I had already left the flat before he had time to finish the sentence.
Four hours later I was standing in court attempting to focus on what the man in the dock was telling me. He was a massive man, barely contained in the witness box, and he was swearing passionately that he had not hit my client with a chair leg. I was about to bring on a witness who was adamant he had, but that witness was also the sister-in-law of the man in the dock’s ex-girlfriend, and he had already claimed she was lying. My head was spinning to keep up.
The phone call to my grandad had been short and desperately sad, made moments before I met with my client outside the courthouse, the facts of the case blurring in my mind. I had arranged to see Grandad that evening, blocking out the disappointment in his voice as he asked where I was.
‘The funeral director’s already here, they’re taking her body away . . . ’
I could barely focus on the case, the other barrister’s latest objection, the judge’s lined face glaring down at me as I stumbled to respond in any sort of decent time. ‘Do you need a moment, Miss Campbell?’
The relief as we were released for the day was enormous. I barely remembered walking out of the courthouse with my client, shaking his hand, agreeing the details of the next day.
My parents had called from Singapore and I attempted the world’s most disconnected Skype chat while nursing a coffee in Starbucks. They had lived out there since I was seventeen, when Dad got a big promotion for the trading company he worked for. I had refused to move with them, wanting to finish my A-levels. I went to live with my grandparents instead and somehow I had never moved out there.
I mainly spoke to Mum, who seemed to be peering over the lip of her laptop, the angle distorting her face. ‘Your dad is dreadfully sad, obviously.’
Grandma and he had been close when growing up and Grandad had always hinted that Dad’s emigrating had broken her heart a little. Dad moved into the screen over Mum’s shoulder, tired eyes and mouth turned down. The distance between us seemed greater than ever. Coupled with the bad reception and delay, the conversation was stilted and sad.
Staring desolately out of the window at people passing, the day muggy and still, I felt an urge to hear Luke’s voice, to apologise for flying off the handle the night before, to tell him I loved him. Today had been tiring and lonely and I kept thinking back to the way I’d felt when he’d wrapped his arms around me on the sofa that