SIXTEEN
A second day sitting behind a counter, facing a line of young unemployed citizens, the shorter queue proving a disadvantage as Emma struggled to keep work and court segments separate. There were no helpful comments from her buddy to break the thought cycle, Marise having decided her protégée could work alone today. In the event of problem cases, she’d told Emma to send an e-message requesting assistance.
By morning break, Emma’s anxiety had risen to such an extent that she slipped into the toilet to send a text to Penelope, not caring whether her plea for information were ignored, or provoked a reprimand. Swallowing weak tea a few minutes later, she censured herself for impatience and succumbing to nerves. If, as expected, Judge Naumann dismissed Jack’s case, Penelope would text
