Trust No Bitch: Part 2

Alice Jenkins: Wednesday, 9th December, 2015

Hair pulled back in a plaited French up-do, the most refined combination of clothes that she owned, makeup exemplary so as to hide her growing exhaustion, Alice walked into that interview room feeling ready. Feigning confidence came naturally to her, especially when it came to social situations. She knew it all: exactly which inflections of the voice to grin on, which pauses in speech commanded a polite, restrained laugh (which was really more of a toothy exhalation), how to paint a picture with her voice. The finished product was effective, especially with those older than herself; she'd always been that friend that mothers tend to love. Few saw the canvas that lay behind it. Caustic, aggressively determined, unforgiving, especially when it came to the dimwitted. The part which flared up in desperation and made her target feel like they were sat in a police interrogation. Since Cleo's death, she had spent more time than usual as that person than she had the people-pleaser, but she needed the placement, and she would schmooze her way through the interview if needs be. It wasn't like she had a choice; despite the constant reminders from Gemma that she was being too self-critical, in her mind, her degree was going down the drain and consequently, she was relying on the placement at the law firm more than ever. A lawyer was always what her parents had told her she should be. It had been drilled into her with such fervour from such a young age that she'd never really stopped and thought about what she personally wanted to do with her life. She supposed that she wouldn't really know. "Do you want to be a lawyer, Alice, sweetie or does your dad want you to be a lawyer?" Her Aunty Claire had once asked at her 12th birthday party when Alice had told her about her future plans. Alice's dad had laughed falsely and afterwards told Alice "not to listen to Aunty Claire" because Aunty Claire was "a drunk". She'd clung to the idea regardless, because it made her someone.

It was always the same.

She let her parents fill her with ambition, friends fill her with character, teachers fill her with pride. All she was, really, was an empty glass. Easily shattered. Alice didn't spare a thought to that, however, as she took a seat opposite the firm's managing partner, a brash but brilliant American woman called Caitlin. Caitlin had studied with Alice's father at Cambridge Law, and they saw each other on an almost weekly basis, however, they still shook hands as if they were meeting for the first time.

"Alice, Alice, Alice." Caitlin said loudly, contemplating her over the thick lensed glasses she was rarely seen without. "How are you today? I just got off the phone with your dad for the first time in years, would you believe? He was just congratulating me on the Gaskin Vs. Secretary of State for Work and Pensions win, though I think he wanted to get a good word in before your interview. He's a very charismatic man, your dad. Didn't leave a number though, of course. Very busy, these days, I hear." Alice beamed with a small nod. "I suppose you don't see him much?"

"No, but we speak a lot on the phone." Alice lied; slagging off her lawyer father to another lawyer probably wouldn't do her any favours. "He does a fantastic job though, as does everyone here, of course." She added quickly, holding out a commendatory hand, Caitlin, at this point, looking as though she wanted to reach across the table, grab Alice by the face and give her an ancient great-aunt style kiss on the cheek. "And I just wanted to say as well, whether I end up with the placement or not, I wanted to thank you and everyone here for all you've done for me because I'll take away a whole new wealth of knowledge and experience and I really am so honoured to work in such a place. Everyone here is so talented at what they do and have been so welcoming to me throughout-" But Caitlin cut her off with a casual wave of the hand.

"Alice, don't be ridiculous. Of course we're offering you the placement." She said, her words causing Alice to feel her body revived by an energy she didn't know she had lost. It wasn't happiness, nor was it excitement. It was more of a heightened sense of relief. "This isn't so much an interview as a formality. Everyone here sees tenacity in you that we don't see in law school graduates or people twice your age and we all feel that it would be a real privilege to have you on the team."

Alice, grinning like the kid who'd just been told they were going to Disneyland, was lost for words. She really couldn't express herself. It would involve a lot of talk of murder and desperation and blackmail and how her whole life was quite honestly going to shit or an analogy that someone who didn't know all that had happened to her and the others over the past month or so would think was highly histrionic. But there really was only one way to explain it and it involved a push off a cliff and a brief soaring through the air before a hand reached over the edge and grabbed her. It was, however, how she felt. She'd spent the past few weeks reconciling herself to the fact that she was to end up impaled on one of the jagged rocks below.

"Thank you so much, I, I can't..." She stammered, shaking her head. "I mean, I just honestly can't express how much this means to me." Again, Caitlin waved away her sentiments, as if Alice was thanking her for lending a spare 20p for a parking meter.

"I'm sure you'll know that you'll be needing to take the CPE course on the side, right?" She said, Alice nodding eagerly. "But we can work something out. I don't expect you'll need to do the full year with all that you've picked up here. Have you brought your CV along with you as we requested? I'll just need to have a quick scan of it to check it's all okay." Hands trembling slightly, Alice immediately proceeded to rifle through her bag, drawing out of it the brown A4 envelope with her CV enclosed. She'd had it sat on her kitchen countertop for the last few days, poking out of one of her criminology textbooks just to make sure that it didn't get creased. "Fabulous." Said Caitlin, taking the envelope from Alice and sliding the paper out of it. "This is all routine really but-" And then, as if she possessed some invisible mute button that someone had just flicked on, Caitlin fell silent.

She should've seen it coming. In hindsight, the moment was so opportune for a Supplier style intervention, that had it been a TV show, and she been one particularly sadistic viewer, she probably would have lamented them for not using it to fuck her over somehow. It would be a careless waste of potential entertainment.

"Is everything okay?" Alice asked, leaning forward in her chair. Without saying anything, Caitlin passed the paper towards her, taking her glasses off and sliding a prostrate hand down her face. Alice frowned as she picked it up off the desk, turning it round to read it. But there was no need to. It was a photo. Pill bottles, side by side, the powder in the corner, the one the Supplier waved just out of her reach just as Cleo had, stood yelling at each other on the hill. Alice didn't know what to say or do to make it go away. She just knew that the person holding onto her as she dangled off the edge of that cliff had lost their grip and that she was now hurtling through the salty sea air again. Even closer to those craggy rocks below her than she had been before. And then, that she was scrunching the photo up in her fist, letting it tumble to the floor, grabbing her bag and striding down the corridor towards the exit, ignoring the calls of "Alice, wait!" behind her. Instead, out of the building, she loaded up her contacts and pressed on Luca Stone.

"Luca?" She said, climbing into her car and slamming the door shut behind her as the phone finished ringing out. She had to hold the receiver away from her mouth every time she wasn't talking; the heavy breathing might alarm Luca and if he thought something was wrong, he was probably a decent enough person not to give her the one thing she wanted.

"What's up?" It was hard to discern his voice from the background noise. He seemed to be surrounded by murmurs and sniggers.

"Can I meet you somewhere?" She asked, chest beginning to feel as if it were being wrung out like a dishcloth. "I need you to hook me up." The last part came through an embarrassed sob that she tried her best to disguise as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyeliner was smudged by the palms of her hands she had just pushed to her eyes, her dark circles were almost visible, and her skin was undeniably wan.

Her mould of perfection was gone. And there it was: oblivion. No amount of the amphetamines she'd taken that morning, recently arrived in the post from Asia, or any of the other falsely obtained prescription drugs in her bathroom cabinet, recently restocked after the Supplier's pre-rowing race vanishing act, could fix that. But something else could. Something that made her feel, whilst she was on it, as if no mould could contain her, like she didn't even need one. And the risk? Well, she thought, pulling her hair down so that the 2 plaits sat loosely, childishly on her shoulders. You've never been one to turn your nose up at a bit of danger.