Chapter 5

Five

“What time did you get to bed last night?” I ask Mum the next morning as we walk to the train station. Abigail got a call before we finished our meal and ended up excusing herself for a “work emergency.” Mum and Robert had been stealing glances at each other while the other wasn’t looking pretty much the whole time. Once Abigail left, I took the opportunity to leave them to it, claiming I needed to do more unpacking and find my uni stuff before my first day.

“Not too late...” she hedges, cheeks turning pink.

“I didn’t hear Robert leave, so it must have been after I went to bed,” I push.

“We had tea and sat on the front porch for a while. To be honest, I didn’t look at the clock.”

“He seems nice.”

“We have known each other for a couple of years, but of course we hadn’t met in person until yesterday. We would talk on the phone most weeks before we moved—to discuss the billing for the jobs, of course.”

“Of course,” I agree, with a smirk to myself.

I look back over at my mother, and although she looks a little tired, maybe from the late night or the stress of the move, she definitely has a glow about her. She must feel me watching her, and she turns to look at me, cheeks flushing again before lowering her eyes to watch where she is walking.

We approach the station and join the mass of people waiting for the train. Although we actually don’t live far from the city, traffic can be a bit of a nightmare during peak hour with all the commuters, and without guaranteed parking, we’ve decided that training it most days will be our best bet.

The train arrives, surprisingly on time, and is quite clean—even more surprising. We manage to get a pair of seats together, and both watch the scenery pass by out the window in comfortable silence.

About twenty minutes later, we all pile out of the train onto the underground platform at the last stop, then walk with the crowd through the station and up the stairs to street level. We cross the road when the pedestrian lights turn green and head into the CBD. We decided to catch the earlier train to give us time to enjoy our first look at the city and not have to rush.

Crossing the main road at the next lights, we wander into Rundle Mall, which is for pedestrians only, and stop at a coffee cart near the entrance. Mum, of course, orders herself a tea. I still don’t understand how she can function on one coffee a day. I order a ridiculously large double shot mocha, hoping the caffeine and sugar buzz will get me through the first classes of the day.

I missed orientation week during the move, but with maps of the campus available on my phone, and the lecture halls being so close together, I’m not too worried about getting lost on my first day. My uni has multiple campuses throughout the city, as well as in the outer suburbs, but the law campus is practically across the street from Mum’s office, which is an added bonus. We’ll even be able to have lunch together once or twice a week.

We head down one of the small arcades between the mall and Grenfell Street, where we are both destined, strolling slowly past the boutique shops, and weaving our way through the patrons seated in the centre, waiting for their various café orders. Stopping at the end of the arcade, we step out of everyone’s way to get our bearings. I bring up “maps” on my phone, with Mum looking over my shoulder.

“Your building should be right there,” I say, pointing back up the street, and we both spot the unusual glass atrium at the front of her building.

“At least I have a landmark to aim for.” She smiles nervously.

“I will just follow them,” I say, pointing out the group of younger adults, all with University of South Australia, School of Law satchels and backpacks.

Mum looks up the street towards her building and then back at me. “You sure you don’t want me to walk you? I still have plenty of time before I am due to start.”

“I think I can handle it, Mum. Besides, a wise woman once said that to be on time is to be late.”

“That damn wise woman will be the death of me,” she says with a laugh.

“I’ll message you in the breaks, and I will swing by the office to grab you when you finish work so we can catch the train home together, okay?”

“Okay, princess.”

She starts to lean in, but hesitates, glancing at another group of students passing by. Wrapping her up in a quick hug, I whisper, “I am never too old for a hug, Mum.”

I pull away and catch her soft smile before turning to head down the street, looking for the pack of students to follow again. I spot them a couple of shops up, and hurry away, but glance back once I catch up with them. Mum is standing in the same spot, watching with worry on her face, but smiles and waves when she registers my attention.

Turning back with a small wave of my own, I trail the group as it enters an old building to the left only a few steps later. I check the signage to confirm which floor the auditoriums are on and swipe my student ID card at the elevator bay when I get to the front of the long queue.

A stack of students crowds into the elevator with me when it arrives, and they pour out like a wave when it stops on the second floor. I follow the sea of bodies through the hall, breaking off with a smaller group when we get to a set of open doors with a large “2” on top. I quickly find a chair in the middle of the curved, tiered seating, and take out my notebook and pens.

Most of the students mingle, either knowing each other from school or having met at orientation, I presume, but they rush to their seats as a smooth voice directs them to do so from the bottom of the hall a short time later. As my field of vision is cleared, my eyes widen at the young man standing at the lectern, starting up the large screens on either side. “For those who weren’t here for orientation, my name is Anders Cleave. I am an Associate with Abbott & Blair, and the teacher’s assistant for this class.”

Criminal Law 101 flashes up on the screens at the front of the hall when he turns.

“If you are not here to learn about defending and prosecuting criminal offences, you are in the wrong hall,” he says, looking over the student body before him. No-one moves. “Excellent. Looks like you are either in the right place, or I have piqued your interest enough to stay and maybe consider changing your degree.” He turns to the screens with a smirk on his face.

I take a moment to enjoy the view. He looks tall, though it’s a little hard to tell with the tiered seating, and he’s impeccably dressed in black suit pants and a grey button-down shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows to reveal well-tanned arms dusted with dark hair that matches the hair on his head, which is cropped close on the back and sides, with the top left a little longer, though no less neat. His black-rimmed glasses only enhance his high cheekbones and straight nose. A strong, clean-shaven jawline just begs to be nibbled on, and he has what I think is a small cleft in his chin. I can’t tell what the colour of his eyes are from this distance, but I decide right there and then that I will happily take the whole hour watching closely to work it out. I glance around the room and notice almost every female in here has the same look of interest on her face. Not surprising. He is sinful to look at.

“Mr Blair, who is a principal at my firm, has been called to court this morning, so I will be taking you through the subject structure, your assessment calendar, and the basic housekeeping today, but he should be back for the tutorial session on Wednesday and you can all meet him then.”

I’ve never had much interest in criminal law, with my focus having always been more angled towards corporate and commercial law, but this is one of the core subjects for the double degree, meaning I have no choice in taking it.

Maybe the view will keep me interested and engaged, even if the course material doesn’t.