Page 16 of Behind Frenemy Lines

Razia, shyly: “I wanted to say, it’s really meaningful to see Asian people in senior positions in law. Thanks for answering my questions.”

This time she was talking to me, too.

CG: “It was my pleasure.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kriya

The work experiencestudents made me feel about a million years old. They reminded me of what I’d been at their age. Ignorant and insecure, but also idealistic, full of hope and promise.

Had I made good on that promise? Best not to ask. I could look after myself and my parents, and I didn’t have to do anything more strenuous than sit at a desk to do it. My Thaatha would have thought I’d got it made. He’d supported seven children on a rubber tapper’s wages. Who was I to complain?

Only around half of the programme cohort ended up coming with me and Charles to the pub. They clumped together, chatting about coursework, tutors, and friend drama—nothing we aged senior associates could comment on.

I’d been on all evening and I didn’t mind taking the move as an excuse to relax, too. I cast up next to the bar with Charles, a little way away from the rest of the group.

“I liked what you said to Razia, about how our work contributes to the rule of law,” I said. “I’ve never seen it in that light before.”

Charles blushed right up to his hairline. “Oh, I don’t know. It was a bit earnest.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being earnest.”

“No. I suppose not.”

I looked down at my G&T. Charles had got both our drinks; he was having a beer.

“I know what you mean, though,” I said. “I think it’s easier to be cynical about what we do. It’s that or trotting out the approved corporate lines, right?” I shook my head, rueful. “You know, Razia asked me what I was working on and I told her about this corporate acquisition we’re supporting. I said, ‘It’s very interesting.’ Which, if I’d said that to anyone in the firm, they would have nodded along, right? Razia looked at me, astonished, and said, ‘Really?’”

Charles joined in the laugh with me. He had a nice laugh.

“She’s going to have to improve her poker face if she wants a job in the City,” I said.

Charles nodded. “To be fair, it does sound interesting, the matter you’re working on.”

“It is,” I said judiciously, “compared to some of my other matters. But I don’t think I’ve got your passion for the work.”

Charles blinked, as though taken aback at being accused of being passionate about anything. “I don’t know if I would call it that.”

“But you’re really interested in what you do, right?” I looked at him wistfully. I’d drunk enough to sand off the rough edges of the world. I felt loose-jointed, relaxed. “I don’t know that I have that. I applied for a training contract because I needed a stable job that would pay me well and meant I could stay in the UK. I like some things about it—the intellectual challenge, and some of my clients, like Rosalind. But there are a lot of things I could do without.”

Charles looked thoughtful. “What else would you have done? If money and the rest weren’t a consideration.”

He’d abandoned his jacket and pushed up his sleeves. My eyes skipped from his forearms to the line of his collarbone,visible through the open collar of his shirt. I swallowed and looked away.

“I would have liked to do something that was more about helping people,” I said. “I pick up pro bono work when I can, but it’s hard to juggle with the billable stuff.”

Plus, Arthur got shirty if I filled up my time with too much do-gooding. But I didn’t mention that, out of an obscure sense of loyalty.

“What would you do, if you could do anything else?” I said.

“Well…” Charles hesitated.

Was he about to reveal dreams of running away to the circus? Maybe he secretly yearned to be a Zumba instructor, or an oncologist?

“I did a seat in Tax Law as a trainee,” he said. “It might have been interesting to specialise in that. But there were no jobs when I qualified, and I found Litigation equally stimulating.”

I laughed despite myself.

---