"Yeah, that's what she was apparently saying to the paramedics when they got to her," confirms another.

"Matthew called me last night," continues the first "Absolutely devastated. At least they haven't got any kids to look after. He's just relieved she's vaguely in one piece."

I turn my chair away from them, still feeling guilty that I've benefited from someone else's misfortune. Roger's words come floating back to me "...I've spoken to Corr and whilst he's not happy about this..." What was that meant to mean? I can understand that Corr is unhappy about the whole situation, but for him to be unhappy he has me specifically? That's a bit unwarranted. I know I'm not as senior as Samantha and there's not much time for me to learn the ropes but... but... oh God, there really isn't much time for me to learn the ropes. Less than two weeks to go and I'm sat in the pub? I look at Serena who, alarmingly has already polished off her g and t.

"I'd better get back. They've taken all of my cases out but I still have one in next Monday for trial, just a quickie but I need to prepare the Hobbs case now too."

She drains the last of her drink with her straw and places her glass down onto the table.

"You're so lucky Lauren. Everything always just seems to fall in your lap. First pupillage, now this."

I try to laugh and finish my juice too.

"You're conveniently forgetting everything in the middle! Normally the only thing that falls into my lap is a piece of jam covered toast when I'm running late in the morning!" I stand up and on cue topple the empty glass in front of me. "See! I'm a magnet for disaster, not success!"

As I scoop under the chair and fish underneath for my bag, she speaks.

"Did you send that cheque?"

"No! But as luck would have it it's in here somewhere."

Serena watches in disbelief as I upend the contents of the bag on to the table in front of us. Soon, the whole surface is liberally coated with goods including what appears to be half of the MAC counter, old diaries, loose change, various receipts, photographs of me and Sebastian and enough biros to supply an entire office block for a month. I rummage through the detritus and eventually retrieve my cheque book from near to the bottom of the pile.

"Got it! Who do I make it out to?" I ask, handing her the accompanying letter and looking for a pen that works.

I find one and she reels off the details of the recipient. As I stuff the documents into a dog-eared envelope it dawns on me that I haven't got any stamps. I look up and see Serena holding one out on her index finger.

"Cheers!" I laugh, "I'll pop it in Chambers' outgoing mail in a minute."

"Make sure you do! I'm not joking, if I have to sit next to someone boring then I'll hold you personally responsible"

We make our way back into the building and Serena wanders off to talk to this week's work experience students. By the time I get back to my desk the promised papers have arrived. I look with a rising feeling of panic at the numerous green lever-arch files stacked neatly on my desk. I haven't got the foggiest where to start.

I decide to delay the inevitable and a quick check of my mobile reveals a missed call from a number I don't recognise. Happy to have a legitimate excuse not to start work, I press redial and wait.

"Corr" comes the brisk voice. Shit. I should have thought this through. I'm tempted to hang up, but I didn't withhold my number.

"Hi George," I start, "It's Lauren. Lauren Chase. How are you?" There's a long pause and I check the display to make sure we're still connected. His deep voice is sharp and devoid of any conversational pleasantries.

"As I'm sure you now know, I could be a great deal better, but what's done is done. I expect you to be fully conversant with all aspects of the evidence by Friday at the latest and ready to draft any amendments to the case summary by Monday as I want it faxed to me before midday."

I gulp. He continues.

"Further, when you get to the agreed facts can you cross-reference them with all of their corresponding exhibits? I need to be confident they're word and number perfect for the jury. I'll see you in Chambers next Thursday so if you have any questions I trust they can wait until then."

I'm speechless. He seems to be waiting for some sort of response.

"Of course!" I say, my voice sounding impressively calm "Not a problem."

"I should hope not" he replies before hanging up.

Right, well today is Wednesday, so I have two days to read twelve folders full of papers and digest them enough to understand everything about this brief. I'm sure it's not impossible. That's it, positive mental attitude. That's all this'll take.

I send Sebastian a text letting him know what's going on and tell him that I won't be home for dinner. I know that I'll need shed loads of caffeine to get through this so I go to the kitchen and put the kettle on, happily remembering my secret stash of pro-plus somewhere in my bag.

Chapter Eight.

It's Tuesday evening and I know that I look like something the cat's dragged in. I'm convinced that people in Chambers are actually walking past my room on purpose so they can get a glimpse of me in my bedraggled state. I can hear the sniggers as the progress down the corridor.

I've managed to nip home to grab the odd shower and a clean outfit, but without the usual hour spent with my ghd's and liberal application of grooming products, I'm really a sight to behold. To be honest, I'm not overly concerned with the state of my hair at the moment, I've got bigger fish to fry.

Having spent the entire weekend reading all of the witness statements, interviews and experts reports in the Hobbs trial, I've just been handed my trial for tomorrow, Ms Goodridge and her benefit fraud. I could really do without it, but it should be finished in a day. The good news is that Serena is prosecuting me; I haven't had time to answer any of her calls or meet her for drinks since last week so it'll be good to catch up.

It's funny being against each other, you have to temporarily put your friendship to one side and focus on your side of the case. Luckily, we always manage to laugh about it afterwards and the loser buys the first round.

I re-read Ms Goodridge's case and jot down a few questions that I need to ask her when she tells her side of the story. In essence, it'll all come down to whether or not the jury believe her explanation of things and in theory, should be quite a simple trial. Enough is enough. I throw a few papers into a travel bag I keep in the bottom draw of my desk and switch the desk lamp off. Outside I can see people packing into bars, couples going into a nearby pizzeria and all-round general merriment. I'm tempted to wander down to the bar and see if anyone's about but I know it'll end in tears if they are. The last thing I need tomorrow morning is a hangover.

I double check that I've got everything I need from the Hobbs case and shut the door. I hope Corr was satisfied with my case summary that I sent to him yesterday. I haven't heard anything from him, but I guess that in this case, no news has to be good news.

By the time I've driven home, gotten undressed and crawled into bed it's after eleven. Sebastian is sound asleep next to me and as much as I'd like to wake him for a chat I leave him alone. As I drift off to sleep my dreams are full of being clubbed to death with footballs whilst taking part in a penalty shoot-out.

Our trial has been listed in front of one of my favourite Judges. Young, with a wicked sense of humour and a pronounced twinkle in his pale blue eyes, he is a delight to appear before. He isn't one for messing about and dithering over irrelevant pieces of evidence and he won't stand for any farcical submissions or ludicrous cross-examination. He's in a fine mood this morning I note, as I watch him speed through the short applications to be heard before our trial is called on.

Serena is sat, ready to go in her place on Counsel's row and she looks slightly tense. I can't imagine any reason why this trial would cause her any loss of sleep; all she has to do is read out parts of the evidence and summarise the rest before the Defendant has to face the jury.

The Judge is losing patience with a junior barrister from another set of Chambers. Instead of getting to the whole point of his application, he's skirting around the issue, muddling up various dates and confusing the statutes he's citing. From experience, I know that this judge doesn't suffer fools gladly and will make him repeat his submissions until he gets it right. I don't think he does it to be cruel, I suspect he has a genuine desire to help people learn from their mistakes.

When I was in front of him for the first time, not only did I manage to rely on a piece of law that'd been out of date for the last thirty years, but call him 'Sir' throughout as well. I had been blathering on for what seemed like a lifetime, but in actual fact couldn't have been more than twenty minutes before through our interactions I realised my schoolgirl error and righted the situation. Since then, I've developed a great respect for him, instead of sitting back and letting people perform poorly, he demands the quality of advocacy necessary for his court.

The junior barrister appears to have cottoned on to the point the Judge is making and I slip outside to have a quick word with Ms Goodridge before the jury are empanelled. It's a daunting concept, having to explain yourself to twelve strangers and she looks understandably nervous. Her long curls are tied back today and she's swapped her beaded top for a simple cream shirt and black trousers. The only hint at her usual dress sense comes from a small stud in her nose. She gives me a small smile and stands as she sees me approach her. I can see that her hands are trembling as she puts down her newspaper.

"All set?" I query.

"I think so," she replies. "Are you sure this is worth the risk?"

"It's up to you," I say. "If you've told me the truth you've got a defence. You can plead guilty, but it'd be to something you haven't done. I can't say whether the jury believe you, but that's a decision for you."

She looks at me thoughtfully.

"Do you believe me?" she asks, looking me straight in the eyes.

I laugh and wish I had a penny for every time I've been asked that question. "You've done something quite foolish that, as a woman, I can relate to. Pretending to be someone's girlfriend is always a recipe for disaster but luckily, not a crime in itself. Just remember, people who tell the truth during their time in court always stand out; liars are easily tripped up and don't come across well. Whilst you have nothing to prove, you're going to be judged nevertheless, so this is your only chance to have your side heard."

"Sorry," she says. "I know I'm going on about this, but I just can't face the thought of my kids seeing their mum in the local paper."

"Whatever happens, it's tomorrow's chip paper," I say, happy that she hasn't pushed the point.

Our usher appears from the courtroom, black gown billowing behind him.

"All parties in the case of Gillian Goodridge to court twelve please!"

We file in dutifully behind him and Ms Goodridge assumes her position in the dock. As she is identified and the charges are put to her, I feel a pang of sympathy for her predicament; it's one thing to try and play the system and lose, it's another altogether to be accused and convicted of something you haven't done.

As the jury are being empanelled, Serena passes me a note 'Can't you make her plead? She's obviously guilty!'

I roll my eyes, fold it up and file it deep within my papers before raising a casual eyebrow at her. The names of the jurors to be sworn are being read out to the court and as usual they go in one ear and out the other. I glance briefly over to see if I recognise any of them, but the rows of faces staring at us are unfamiliar. It's a beautifully sunny day today and I can't blame anyone for feeling slightly resentful that they are stuck in a stuffy courtroom rather than enjoying the potential start to our summertime.

To start proceedings, Serena opens the case to the jury, giving them a brief outline of what Ms Goodridge is supposed to have done: "You may all be familiar with the benefits system by one way or another, but I'm sure, Members of the Jury that each and every one of you know that it is a privilege and not a right that the weak are supported by the strong of society."

Uh oh, it appears that Serena's been reading the Daily Mail again.

"This woman," she says in a theatrical voice, pointing at the dock, "This woman has abused our system. She lied to the Department, told them that she was single, living alone, when in fact she had a partner. She knew that fact would reduce her ill-gotten gains and that's why she concealed it when her claim was up for renewal!"

I know I could stand up at some point and point out that claiming benefits is not 'ill-gotten gains' per se, but I let it pass. The Judge's eyebrows are almost in his fringe so I know I haven't heard wrong.

Serena then proceeds to read out various statements taken from the mothers at the school gates who have seen the pair canoodling each morning. I drift off, familiar with the various versions of their antics, ranging from an innocent peck on the cheek to a brazen bum squeezing incident. She progresses to a short statement from a council officer detailing that the total amount that has been overpaid to Ms Goodridge is just over fifteen thousand pounds.

After reading through my notes, I next become aware that Serena is reading out the full transcript of Ms Goodridge's interview. Have I missed something? I turn around to see my solicitor behind me also looking puzzled. Serena reaches the final page of the interview and with a flourish, speaks.

"Your Honour, that is the case for the prosecution."

This means that she had presented all of her evidence and intends to put nothing else before the jury. Instead of thanking her and allowing me to call my client, the Judge frowns deeply.

"Jury out," he requests of the usher.

Serena turns and looks at me in bewilderment as the jury are shepherded out of the small door. When they're all successfully through and the door is shut firmly behind them, he speaks, each word carefully considered.

"Miss Taylor, is it your opinion that now is an appropriate time for you to close your case?"

Serena looks affronted.

"Yes. All of the evidence I've read out has been agreed and there's nothing else I can or want to give them."

What she hasn't spotted is that she's failed to adduce the benefit form that Ms Goodridge signed declaring that she was living as a single woman; without it there is no case. It's a technicality, but a crucial one.

The Judge picks up a copy of the charge sheet and takes a minute to read it to himself.

"You will of course appreciate that after you close your case then I will not allow you to introduce any further evidence?" He says slowly.

"Of course," she replies haughtily; rather than acknowledging that he is trying to help her for some reason she seems to be taking his comments as negative interference. I know that some judges would just tell her that she's missed something huge, but this one prefers to be more subtle. The relevant documents are literally spread out in front of me and as she looks over, I'm tempted to hide them under the rest of my papers. I refrain and keep my eyes forward.

"Well, if you are satisfied that you have made out your case? I am perfectly happy to give you a little time to reflect on your answer?"

"I don't need any time," she insists "I'm ready now."

"So be it."

He turns to the court usher and indicates that the jurors are to be returned to their positions. I shuffle in my seat as they resume their places, a knot of anxiety forming in my chest. When they are all in their seats, Serena continues where she left off.

"Your Honour, that is the case for the prosecution."

She takes her seat with a satisfied expression on her face. Rising to mine, feeling like a complete bitch, I clear my throat.

"Your Honour, a point of law has arisen. I wish to discuss it in the absence of the jury."

Grumbling, the twelve selected made their way out for the second time, shooting me evil looks in the process. I address the Judge when they are out of earshot using the shortest sentence I can manage to get the job done.

"Given that the prosecution are no longer able to prove the charge against Ms Goodridge, it is my submission that there is no case for her to answer. Accordingly I invite you to stop the case and invite you to direct the jury to enter 'not guilty' verdicts."

Serena looks at me openmouthed. Before she has a chance to challenge this, the Judge addresses her.

"You accept Miss Taylor that you can not prove that the Defendant has dishonestly failed to declare a change in her living circumstances?"

"I do not!" she explodes. "The Defendant has signed a declaration stating that she is a lone female, when in fact she was living with a man, who was effectively her spouse."

I swear I can see a look of pity in our Judge's eyes.

"That may be so Miss Taylor, but where is the evidence before the jury of that?"

"It's, it's-"

She tails off as the penny drops. Serena picks up some pages from the bench in front of her and shuffles through them. We sit in silence as she turns them over in order before stopping at the relevant exhibit. I can see that in her hand she has found her copy of the form signed by Miss Goodridge relating to her latest claim to benefit. She looks at it, then at her pile of notes, then at me. It's almost like she's expecting me to save her, to tell the Judge that actually, it's ok and I'll let her fix her problem so we can carry on. Sadly, I'm not going to do that and I wouldn't even if I could.

The Judge speaks again and I can clearly detect an air of sympathy in his tone.

"I'm very sorry Miss Taylor, but as things stand, there is no evidence at all that the Defendant had claimed or had failed to notify the Department that her living circumstances had changed."

"But she doesn't accept that they had," she bleats.

He looks at her with something bordering on exasperation.

"That may well be so, but at this stage of the case I have to look at what the jury have been told, and without the final claim form, no properly directed jury could find her guilty in any event. Is there anything you wish to add Miss Chase?"

In a very small voice, I reply.

"No. Thank you."

I turn around to see how Ms Goodridge has taken the news. Perhaps unsurprisingly she looks totally baffled at the exchange that has just taken place. I'd better go and explain.

"Your Honour, I wonder if I could have a moment at the back of court?" I ask.

He nods.