I knew it would never last: Hamish was foisted on Tarquin; Jane was thrown in with Dan; Alex and Liz were forced to cosy up and I was allocated a room all to myself; and not just any room either: a great, big corner room with floor to ceiling windows and a view of the Gherkin.

I have worked at CWS long enough to know that special treatment only means one thing: something bad is about to happen……

“Helen Bailey meet Celine Ivanova, Celine Ivanova, meet Helen Bailey; your new room mate.”

The tallest, thinnest woman with the longest hair I have ever seen is staring at me with a look which hovers somewhere between contempt and sympathy.

“Hello,” I venture, with a quick scowl at Veronica.

“How do you do.” She says this with such imperiousness, I don’t know whether to smile or curtsey.  “I see you have, already, selected a desk……”

“Er, yes, well, I have been here for a couple of weeks.”

“So I understand.”

Her voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Yes, well, anyway.  I didn’t know I would be having a new room mate.  It is a nice surprise,” I flash an accusatory look at Veronica.

“No, sorry about that,” she fusses, “It’s all been a bit crazy, with the move and everything.  Besides, we thought Alistair would have informed you.”

Is she mad?  He works on a strict: what they don’t know, they can’t complain about policy.   Still, it’s not Celine’s fault.

“Well, good to meet you Celine,” I beam, ” I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun together.”

She looks at me as if I have just suggested sharing needles.

“We encourage all our assistants to socialise,” Veronica lies. “We want them to be happy in their roles.”

“I see.”  The thought of socialising appears to bore her.

“Yes,” I agree, “I will introduce you to everyone else and show you around.”

A nod.

“Yes, well, er that’s ok.   I hope you’ll settle in.  So,  what brings you to CWS, anyway, if I might ask?”

“Work.”

“I see, well, we all have that cross to bear!”

“It is not a cross for me.  I adore my job.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice.”  And completely unheard of in this department.

“I am here because of Alistair,” she goes on. “I worked on a case with him at my old place; I told him I was looking to move and he made me a very tempting offer.”

Oh he did, did he? “Lucky you.   May I ask what your old firm was?”

“Imperial Financial.”

One of the firms’ largest clients.   It all falls into place.

“I was based in the legal department,” she explains. “But it was dull.  I was bored.”

So she’s joined CWS for excitement?

“We are very lucky to have Celine,” Veronica explains. “She has a bachelors degree from The Sorbonne, a LLM from Kings College and she’s fluent in four different languages,”

“Gosh,” I enthuse, “You are too qualified to work here!”

“I don’t think so,” she shakes her head. “Alistair said he has lots of foreign cases he needs my assistance on.”

To The Boss “Foreign” means Jersey.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure he has,” I agree.  Lots of nasty trust problems which no one else wants to deal with!

“Well, nice to meet you Helen,” she nods. “Veronica is going to give me an induction course.  I shall be back later to sort out my things.”

“Ok, I’ll see you then.”

She heads off to be “inducted” and  I try skyping Jane on our new video equipment; but it doesn’t work, so I take a good old fashioned trip to her office instead.

She and Dan are arguing about shelf space – again.

“You cannot devote an entire shelf to toiletries,” she tells him.

“Why not?  You have an entire shelf devoted to shoes.”

“That is the curse of being female; we are expected to have shoes to match every outfit.”

“But you only ever wear black.”

“Irrelevant.”

“No it is not!”

“Hello you two,” I venture.

“Ah, thank God!” Dan sighs. “Someone with common sense.  Will you please tell your friend to stop being such a tyrant?”

“I’m afraid not,” I shake my head. “I’ve just met my new room mate and, believe me, she’s set to make Jane look like Princess Diana.”

“New room mate?” This focuses their minds.

“Tell us all!”

“She’s a seven foot, multi-lingual Eurocrat with world conquering ambitions.”

“What on earth is she doing at CWS?”

“The Boss lured her away from Imperial Financial with promises of cases of international importance.”

“Oh, then she won’t be here for long.”

No, not when the UN is crying out for ambassadors.  But in the meantime, I am the one who has to introduce her to the cruel reality of life at CWS.

“This is the stationery cupboard; this is the litigation library, the canteen is in the basement, the post room is on the second floor and down there is the ladies’ toilet.”

“And where is the gymnasium?”

“Sorry?”

“The gym.  I assume you have one?

Do I look like we have one?  “Er, no.  We don’t, I’m afraid.  We don’t have a sauna or a spa either.”

“Oh,” her face falls.

“I’m afraid law firms are not quite as progressive as finance companies.”  No, they think having vending machine is a great advance in employee benefits.

“Then where do you exercise?”

“The Rose & Crown!” I joke.

“Sorry?”

“The pub – that was a joke.  To be honest none of us has much time for the gym; but I think the firm offers membership to one round the corner, if you’re interested.”

“I cannot stand not to exercise,” she sniffs. “I run before I come to the office.  It clears my head.”

“You must be up at the crack of dawn.”

“5am; but that is normal if your work involves international markets.”

I’m lucky if mine involves international time zones.   And 5am is the middle of the night!   Who gets up at that time?  Certianly no one in our team.  They barely surface before nine and don’t speak until three cups of extra-strong coffee.

Just as I am thinking of ways to break this news to her gently, Tarquin rounds the corner.

“Ah, Helen,” he nods. “I understand you have given Melinda some typing to do which is scheduled to last all day?”

“Is that what she told you?”

“Yes. She says it’s very complicated.”

“My secretary has an over active imagination,” I tell Celine. “It’s just a few amendments Tar, it shouldn’t take her longer than half an hour.”

“I see,” he clicks his tongue and gives Celine the once over.

“This is Tarquin, Celine, he’s one of the associates in the team.”

“Senior associate,” he corrects me. “Celine, is that a French name?”

“Yes.”

“Bonjour et bienvenue à l’équipe,” he nods, pleased with himself.

“Merci, j’attends avec intérêt d’obtenir de travailler.”

“I think Celine is looking forward to getting stuck in,” I translate.

“Yes, I know that!” he snaps. “It is nice to have someone with such an international outlook in the team.  I speak good  French and passable German.”

“Celine speaks four languages fluently,” I inform him.

“Oh?”

“English, French, Russian and Ukrainian,” she explains. “My mother is French, my Father is from the Ukraine.”

Ha!  That trumps his school-boy French from Tunbridge Wells.

“She used to work at Imperial Financial,” I twist the knife.

“Really?” His face is frozen with realisation that she is serious competition.

“Yes,” she agrees. “but I was bored.  Alistair has promised me lots of new opportunities at CWS.”

“Has he?” His eyebrow is twitching.

“He wants me to inferface with Imperial and the other institutions to make CWS the leading dispute resolution brand in Europe.”

“Only Europe?” He squeaks. “Why not the world?”

“Why not, indeed,” she agrees. “But I can only take one step at a time.”

His fac has turned puce with annoyance but Celine is oblivious to this upset.

“Well, thank you for your time,” she tells him, “But Helen and I must press on.  I have a lot to take in.”

His face registers this shock like a smack across his cheeks. “Don’t we all!”

With a flare of his nostrils he turns and stalks back to his office.  I imagine he’s probably firing off a furious e-mail to The Boss as we speak; either that or he’s signing up to (yet more) vocational courses.

Celine and I finish our tour with her disapproving of almost everything our team has to offer.   I deposit her outside The Bosses office; leaving her to give him the benefit of her global wisdom.   I have a feeling he may not be ready for her “international” take on things.  The only truly cosmopolitan thing about him is his taste in alcohol.

I return to give Jane and Dan an update.

“The Boss has, apparently, recruited her to lead our European campaign,” I explain.

“Oh,” Jane laughs. “Is he planning an invasion?”

If he  is: with Field Marshalls Black, Winkworth and Ivanova in charge, victory is assured.

“Only of the dispute resolution market,” I disappoint her.

“Why stop there?” she laughs,

“Spoken like a true despot,” Dan sniffs. “First my toiletries shelf and then the rest of the free world.”

“Oh shut up.  How can you be a thrusting City lawyer with bottles of fake tan next to your desk?”

“I do not use fake tan!”

“Of course you do.  How else can you achieve the David Dickinson look?”

“It’s my natural skin tone!”

“With a little help from Ambre Solaire……”

Do all room mates argue like this, I wonder?  Are Celine and I destined to fall out over my choice of perfume or penchant for pickled onion Monster Munch?

“I hope your new room mate is not as disagreeable as mine!” Dan reads my mind.

“So do I,” I agree.

I never thought I would say this, but I have a feeling she may be worse.