‘May I say,’ he added, surprising her for she had thought the meeting quite over, ‘your case is an interesting one also. I’m glad to have the opportunity of working on it.’
‘Well, I’m pleased to hear that,’ she said, and then before she could say or do anything still more ridiculous, grabbed her bag, said goodbye to Philip and walked out of the office. What a complete idiot he must think she was: a total, total idiot. And did she really want to work with him? Or were all barristers as abrasive as that?
‘Well,’ said Philip Gordon, as they heard the secretary say goodbye, heard the door of the outer office close, ‘what do you think?’
‘I – thought she was very attractive,’ said Toby Gilmour, looking at Philip and smiling briefly, ‘very intelligent as well. I liked her. I would say incidentally there probably was some violence. Which she’s not prepared to admit. Perhaps further down the road … But – I would say this is far from an open-and-shut case. Yes, the child is only six, which will clearly count in Mrs Shaw’s favour, but the adultery – very messy. And there’s clearly some history of mental instability—’
‘What, after the child that died? Surely—’
‘If she won’t call the shrink, her husband undoubtedly will, and I’ve heard he’s got Bruce Hayward as his barrister. I don’t need to tell you he’s savage in cross-examination. I’ll have to look into it all much more thoroughly of course but – well, I hate to say this, and I’d love to handle it myself, but I think you should at least consider briefing Selbourne. She’s going to need some very strong advocacy – she’s not going to be impressive in court, there are too many areas she’s obviously nervous about – interestingly so – and more importantly, we don’t want them to think we’re a pushover, that our team is not properly heavyweight. I’m afraid that’s what my advice would be.’
‘Well,’ said Philip Gordon, ‘I appreciate your honesty. I’m glad you like her at least. So do I, very much. There’s something very vulnerable about her. Let’s go and have some lunch, shall we? I’ve booked a table at Simpsons. Pity she couldn’t join us. But we’ll be able to speak more freely at least.’
‘Now Emmie, come on, we’ve got to go. Otherwise we won’t get to Granny’s till it’s really late.’
‘That’s all right. She won’t mind.’
‘She might not, but then you’ll be so late going to bed. And tired tomorrow. Too tired to ride Mouse.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Well, you might. In fact, if you don’t really hurry up now, I shall ring Gail and tell her not to have Mouse ready for you to ride until Sunday.’
‘I can get Mouse ready myself.’
‘No you can’t. Emmie! Do what you’re told. Or I shall get really cross.’
Emmie’s eyes met her father’s and recognised defeat.
‘I’ll just pack my shoes.’
‘You’ve already got three pairs of shoes in there. You’re as bad as your mother.’
‘I want to bring my special shoes. My lost shoes.’
‘Emmie, if they’re lost how can you bring them, for heaven’s sake?’
‘No, they’re not lost. I was lost when I bought them. In Milan.’
‘What do you mean, you were lost?’
‘I got lost,’ said Emmie patiently, ‘when Mummy went shopping. I was with stupid Anna-Maria.’
‘Well, you weren’t lost then.’
‘Yes I was. I didn’t want to stay with her. So I went shopping by myself.’
‘You – you what?’
‘I went to find some shoes. By myself. She was stupid, she was talking to her friend.’
‘But – where was Mummy?’
‘She was with Mariella. Shopping for herself.’
‘Just a minute, Emmie.’ Matt sat down on the small chair by Emmie’s desk, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘You went shopping alone in Milan? Without anyone with you?’
‘Yes. It was fun.’
‘And Mummy let you?’
‘She didn’t know. She was with Mariella.’
‘So how long were you lost?’
‘Oh – a long, long time. I went to the toy place first, and looked in there. Then I looked at some party frocks. They were so pretty, all frilly. And then I saw the shoes.’
‘And you were all alone, all this time?’
‘Yes. I tried some on, I liked lots of them. When Mummy came, I had two pairs on. One on one foot, one on another.’
‘And was she – had she been looking for you?’
Emmie shrugged.
‘Yes, I think so. She was very cross,’ she added, tucking the shoes into her small case.
‘I bet she was,’ said Matt.
Chapter 59
‘So – what are we going to do?’
Jeremy looked at Mariella across the vast expanse of his bed. She was lying quite naked, one arm flung out, the other tucked under her head; her hair was splayed out on the pillow. The beauty of her body had taken him almost by surprise; he had somehow expected a few small imperfections, but there were none. And – what it could do, that body! Strong, athletic, ingenious: he had been astounded by its power, its passion, its near-fury in the pursuit of pleasure. And had found himself taken into a new country altogether by it; a bewildering, intense place, that he had not, he realised, properly known before. And was this love, at last, he wondered, lying beside her after the first time, did love work this wonder whereby physical pleasure increased a hundredfold, where desire became sweeter, exploration more joyful and release quite astonishingly triumphant? He told her this, as they lay there, shocked into stillness; that he felt changed, filled with new emotions, opened himself to her as he had never thought to do; and she listened, tenderly quiet, not the same Mariella at all that he had known for years, but someone wiser, sweeter, less self-concerned. ‘I will not ask you how you feel,’ he said, ‘if it was different for you, for I would be afraid of the answer, afraid it would be no.’ And, ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said, her eyes huge with tenderness, ‘but don’t ask it, just the same. It is best unspoken, I think. Safer that way.’
That was when he asked her what they should do. And when she said she didn’t know.
And when she left New York next day to go home to her husband there was nothing resolved between them whatsoever; and Jeremy, disturbed and subdued as he had never been in his life, walked round Central Park for hours, reflecting that this could not be just an affair, that he could never deceive Giovanni in so dreadful and shocking a way, but that life without Mariella was suddenly completely unthinkable.
Philip Gordon was becoming increasingly and most pleasurably involved in Eliza Shaw’s divorce case. He loved this stage of the game; when you ran it like a roller coaster, preparing witnesses, taking statements, and there were good days when everything seemed to be going well and you were getting evidence and having ideas, and then there were the other days when it all seemed to be going wrong and a witness would come out against you and another would say they weren’t prepared to appear in court, and the whole thing gathered momentum, and time raced and the adrenaline soared and for a while you managed to set aside the fact that lives were being shredded and saw it only as a quest for victory. Your victory.
‘What we’re going for is sole custody and care and control. He’s looking therefore for day-to-day care and allowing the mother some access,’ said Ivor Lewis. He was having lunch with Bruce Hayward, QC, the scourge of erring wives across the land. ‘The mother is going for joint custody, but Mr Shaw feels that she isn’t fit to share in any major decisions about the child’s future and, quite apart from that, the inevitable conflict would simply be bad for the child.’
‘Yes, yes, that’s all very well,’ said Hayward, ‘I hope he’s aware how difficult that’s going to be. Is he really able to offer the child a home as good as the mother can? He’s clearly very fully employed and from what you tell me of Mr Shaw he’s hardly likely to stay at home and look after her. What sort of set-up can he offer? The child’s not yet six,
any judge will award care and control to the mother, unless she is proven grossly unfit. I mean, he’ll have to employ a nanny and it’s surely one of his beefs against the mother that she’s going out to work and employing one, and that’s only for two days a week. We need something a lot better than this if I’m even going to take the case on. He’s living in cloud cuckoo land. Joint custody, best he can hope for, and not sure about anything else.’
‘Ah,’ said Ivor Lewis. ‘Well, you’re right on the face of it, of course—’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Bruce Hayward was tired and he had a long afternoon in court approaching; he didn’t like Ivor Lewis, thought he was a tiresome upstart, grammar-school boys never quite up the mark in his experience and—
‘There seems quite a good chance of actually proving the mother grossly unfit.’
‘Oh, really? What’s she doing, running a brothel?’
‘Not quite. But I’ve had Jim Dodds, you know him, best private eye in the business, doing a bit of work for me and there’s quite a lot of gossip about her at the advertising agency.’
‘Ah, well, that sounds rather more encouraging,’ said Bruce Hayward, ‘tell Dodds to carry on with the good work. We might talk to the receptionist and maybe this artist chap, see if we can get them as witnesses—’
‘Art director,’ said Lewis.
‘Art director, artist, they’re all the same, all in love with themselves, disappearing up their own orifices.’
‘Indeed,’ said Lewis. It seemed to him that this was a pretty fair description of Bruce Hayward’s opinion of himself.
‘Let’s talk about your witnesses, shall we?’ said Philip Gordon. ‘We still haven’t got nearly enough.’
‘Sorry,’ said Eliza with a sigh. ‘I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to be doing. Or rather what they’re supposed to be doing.’
‘Well, it goes like this. We need to present a nice three-dimensional picture of you. The good mother, who is devoted to her child and her welfare, and then the very talented lady who takes her work seriously, isn’t just playing around, making a few bob and amusing herself. So – friends, relatives, work colleagues, anyone who can vouch for your good name. We have the lady in Milan, she’s clearly very important, and your mother of course, but – not really enough.’
Eliza sat down and drew up a list. And while fretting over its shortness, suddenly had an inspiration and rang Jack Beckham.
That afternoon, leaving Maddy’s workshop, she bumped into Jerome Blake.
‘Lovely to see you here, how are you?’
‘Oh – I’m fine. Yes, everything’s really good, thank you.’
‘Well, I know it’s not,’ said Jerome, giving her a kiss, ‘and I’m sorry. But it’s very nice to have you back in the real world. I hope KPD know how lucky they are.’
‘I think it’s me that’s lucky,’ said Eliza, ‘but they’re being very nice to me. Can’t say any more than that.’
‘So they should be. You know me and my camera are always at your disposal, don’t you? I’d just love to work on that cosmetic account, you know the Japanese one, any hope of that, do you think?’
‘There could be, yes. I’ll talk to Rob about you. I have put your name to him several times. But – you know what he’s like, he has his favourites, of course.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Jerome with a grin, ‘including you, we hear.’
‘Jerome!’ said Maddy. ‘Don’t be tactless.’
‘Sorry. But what the hell, anyway, sauce for the goose and all that …’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Eliza curiously.
‘Well – well, maybe I’m speaking out of turn, darling. But I assume the blonde’s got quite a lot to do with all this?’
‘What blonde?’ said Eliza.
‘A friend of mine,’ said Eliza rather breathlessly on the phone to Philip Gordon, ‘says he saw Matt getting into a taxi with a blonde girl, very late one night. Apparently they’d been in the same restaurant as him, and they were obviously very – very friendly, kissing and so on at the table, and then … What do we do, Philip, about that? Shall I say anything to him, or—’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Philip Gordon, ‘I’ll think about that one for twenty-four hours. It could be quite a nice little card for us to play, could affect his whiter than white image. Would your friend be a witness for us, do you think?’
‘I – I don’t know. I could ask him.’
‘Of course, it’s not exactly catching your husband in flagrante but it’s still what would be deemed inappropriate behaviour.’
She felt very odd at the thought of Matt being with someone else. Which was totally absurd, of course, given her own behaviour, given how much she hated him. But – yes, she was jealous, she had realised, examining her feelings, even now, jealous, unbearably hurt, at the thought of him being physically – and worse, emotionally – close to someone else. He was her husband, her lover, what had he done to whoever it was, how had he talked to her: and especially as it had been before the real horror started.
‘Anyway, yes, could be very useful,’ Philip Gordon was saying. ‘And – you’re still all right for Friday, are you?’
‘Yes. Yes, fine. Looking forward to it.’
She wasn’t, of course. He was taking her to see Tristram Selbourne, the senior QC at Toby Gilmour’s chambers. Philip had told her, very gently, that Toby felt she needed ‘a very big gun indeed’. That had really upset her. Not just that Toby wouldn’t be handling the case himself – obviously he didn’t want to work with her – but that he felt her case was pretty hopeless. But it had to be done.
‘My daughter’s just told me,’ said Matt to Ivor Lewis, his face dark with anger, ‘that she got lost in Milan. She was left with some servant while my wife did her own shopping, and she just wandered off and the girl didn’t realise. Mind clearly on other things. Emmie was wandering about the shops all alone for hours, in some bloody foreign city, she could have been kidnapped, anything could have happened to her, and nobody realised, as far as I can make out, for quite a long time.’
‘Really?’ said Ivor Lewis. ‘Good God. If it’s true, that will certainly help our case. It sounds appalling. Can you check it out? Make sure the child isn’t making it up.’
‘Of course it’s not true. Well—’ Eliza faced him across the room; she felt physically weak. Realising what she was really up against, the power of his rage and his hatred. It was horrible. ‘I – that is – she did wander off, yes.’
‘And you didn’t even notice?’
‘I was – I mean, I wasn’t with her, it was while Anna-Maria was looking after her—’
‘So how long did it take before you decided to interrupt your shopping and look for her?’
‘Matt, this is so unfair. She went off in the care of the maid, with Anna-Maria, and we all arranged to meet in half an hour. Next thing I knew, there was Anna-Maria panicking—’
‘Well, I’m glad somebody was. So Emmie was all alone in a foreign city, where nobody speaks English for – how long? Long enough to come to harm, that’s for sure.’
‘Matt, stop it.’
‘You are disgusting, do you know that? Quite disgusting. Not fit to be a mother. Well, you can be sure you won’t be for much longer—’
‘I think it’s time to consider marriage?’
‘Marriage!’
‘Yes. You know, nuptials, holy wedlock, that sort of thing. Or don’t you? Don’t look so surprised, we’ve been anticipating it, so to speak, for several weeks now.’
‘Anticipating? Oh, is that what you call it?’
‘It’s what the Victorians called it. At least I believe it was the Victorians. Anyway, my dearest love, what would you say?’
‘I would say yes,’ said Scarlett, leaping out of the bed, ‘yes yes yes yes yes. Oh yes.’
‘Right.’
‘But – don’t you think it’s a bit soon? I mean, we haven’t known each other properly for very long, and—’<
br />
‘Scarlett,’ said Mark, ‘tell me some of the things you love. Really love.’
‘Oh, now let me see. Well, you.’
‘Apart from me.’
‘OK. Trisos.’
‘Yes. Very good.’
‘Fast cars.’
‘Excellent.’
‘Champagne.’
‘Fine.’
‘Um – eggs with Marmite soldiers dipped in them.’
‘OK. That’ll do. Getting a bit silly. Anyway, how long did it take you to decide you loved them?’
‘No time at all. Instant love at first whatever.’
‘Well, then. And have you changed your mind about any of them?’
‘No.’
‘Then I rest my case. Why should you change your mind about me?’
‘It’s a bit different,’ said Scarlett, laughing.
‘I don’t see why. Love is love. It’s about absolute emotional happiness. Which I believe we have found. Listen,’ said Mark, and his grey eyes were very serious now, moving over her face with great tenderness, ‘you are the heart of my life. I want you to be there always. Please say you will. Dear, dear love, say you will.’
‘Oh, Mark,’ said Scarlett, ‘I do love the way you talk. So much. How could I live without that? Of course I will. Thank you.’
‘And we will be married on Trisos, of course.’
‘Of course.’
‘In the autumn after the tourists have gone and before the bad weather arrives.’
‘And after this wretched divorce of my brother’s.’
‘And my mother can write us an epithalamium.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Wait and see.’
It was wonderfully odd to be so very, very happy.
Chapter 60
‘Well, my dear, you are going to be very lucky not to lose this case. Very lucky indeed.’
Eliza, close to tears, stared at him: at Sir Tristram Selbourne QC, who she had been introduced to that day at Toby Gilmour’s insistence; everyone had told her how marvellous he was, including her godmother who was clearly impressed – ‘that ghastly old fruit with halitosis? Sheer genius, darling, if anyone can do it he can’ – and she had walked to his chambers with Philip Gordon with hope in her heart.
The Decision Page 68
