Internment

by Gill Mather

  Tammy had had a regular stream of calls she fielded or put through as necessary but it wasn't a busy morning in particular. However the steady timbre of the morning was suddenly interrupted by a commotion in reception. Ali peered round her door and could just see part of the waiting area. A plump balding small man in an expensively cut suit was demanding to see Baz. No he didn't care if Baz was booked up weeks ahead. He had to see him now. Yes it was important. He was a big client of the firm. And bla bla bla.

  So Tammy gave in and buzzed Baz. She said Mr. Wright was hoping to see him. It was urgent but wouldn't take long. The name sounded familiar to Ali but she wasn't sure why.

  Baz, similarly built just not quite so fat as Mr. Wright, came through. He’d obviously heard the row but hadn't associated it with himself. Usually it was those pesky matrimonial clients who made a fuss, and sometimes the conveyancing ones who Wattsey wouldn't speak to. Not usually the criminal ones. They were usually banged up and unable to sully the office with their actual persons. And definitely not the commercial clients who were stuck in their offices and shops and factories and the like getting on with the honest business of making loads and loads of money.

  “Hello Dave. What a surprise to see you here. Come in. Come in.”

  And Baz ushered the man into his office from whence issued a great deal of cantankerous speech that sounded like accusations followed by restrained responses. It went on for about fifteen minutes and then Mr. Wright left.

  Two minutes later Baz told Tammy to ask Ali to go to his office.

  Ali smiled. This was an unexpected development. Perhaps she was going to get a crash course in company takeovers or mergers.

  “You can wipe that smirk off your face.” Baz was a bit East End himself. It seemed to go with the territory.

  Ali thought he was obviously joking and the smile turned to a knowing look. She assumed the client was looking for something impossible or at least improbable and that Baz was going to challenge her to perform some minor miracle for the firm. She hoped she’d be able to produce the required rabbit if she was tenacious enough. God knew she needed something difficult to work on to divert her.

  Instead Baz let forth a string of invective that would have impressed the average barrow boy.

  Ali was stunned and said nothing throughout. When he’d finished, she said as bravely as possible that she had no idea what he was talking about, that she had no contractual relationship with this firm and that if he carried on she’d walk out, but that it would do the firm no credit to intimidate interns such as herself with threats and abuse.

  The word “abuse” seemed to calm Baz down. It obviously rang bells and summoned demons from somewhere or other.

  Baz breathed in deeply. “Ali,” he said, “there’s no place in this firm for lightweights.”

  “Yes. And?”

  “We’re not running a charity. Or a counselling service. We’re running a business.”

  “That’s what I assumed when I joined the firm.”

  “So why has Dave Wright’s daughter gone back to her husband then?”

  Ali looked blank.

  “What’s her name? Some silly name, Shilly or Shally or something!”

  The penny dropped. “Do you mean Charlotte Tippett, AKA Sharl?”

  “Yes that was it. Apparently she saw you last week and hey presto, a lucrative divorce case has suddenly turned into a reconciliation. Her father’s furious. Hates the little twat, the husband, and says this firm has turned his daughter against her parents. He’s been a bloody good client and now we’re likely to lose him! What have you got to say about that?”

  “I think you’re overreacting. The parents are likely to come round and hopefully see that what’s happened is the best thing for Charlotte and the children.”

  “Yeah, and Colchester might get into the Premier League. Look I’ve acted for Dave Wright for quite a few years now and he doesn't strike me as the forgive and forget type. And what about the divorce costs? Like it’s not difficult enough already for us to make a shekel or two. Of course you don't have to worry about the money coming in I realise. But partners have to keep the bucks rolling in.”

  “Fat lot of good it would do me if I were to be worried solely about money!”

  “Come again?”

  “I said no contractual relationship. I’m not being paid.”

  “OK but why persuade some stupid girl to reconcile with her husband. It’s nothing to do with us. It’s just cash straight out the window!” Baz was working himself up again.

  “We’re not here to preach to these people. If they want to wreck their lives, that’s their business. It’s totally unprofessional to talk to people about reconciliation.”

  “I’d have to beg to differ actually. How long is it since you did any serious matrimonial work?”

  “That’s beside the point. At the end of the day if we can't make money, we close. Comprende?

  “My mastery of economics is of course very basic but what I do understand is that if you can persuade people with reasonably high levels of qualifications to work full-time for nothing for extended periods, then surely you’re quids in aren't you? Kapish?”

  “Look the point is that we’re here first and foremost to make money,” said Baz. “If we can't do that we’re finished. Obviously we maintain high principles, don't do anything illegal and we uphold the law and abide by the rules etc, but if some silly slip of a girl leaves her husband and wants to get divorced and wants to pay us a lot of money to fight over the dad having access to the children, it’s not up to us to dissuade her.”

  “Principles! You talk about principles! What about the children? What if it were your children who were going to grow up without the opportunity to have a proper relationship with their father?”

  Suddenly the door opened and a voice said:

  “Baz isn't that hot on principles are you Baz? Where the money comes from is secondary, isn't that right?”

  It was Hugh sounding calm but authoritative. He walked in, shut the door and stood towering over Baz. Though he was the junior partner, he had such an air about him that pushing him around wasn't really an option.

  Baz spluttered. “This is a completely different case to….that other thing!”

  Hugh ignored the remark.

  “And bullying unpaid assistants ought to be beneath us.”

  “Ha! You heard. She was giving as good as she got.”

  “Actually I don't listen at keyholes,” said Hugh, “I’d have to take your word for that. But whatever. I’m sure Ali did what she thought was right. Perhaps I’d better take it over from here.”

  Baz looked deflated.

  “Come on Ali. I’ll come back to you Baz.”

  Ali followed him out turning and giving a small shrug at Baz.

  They went to Hugh’s room and Hugh smiled at Ali.

  “You did very well in there. You should make an excellent advocate. And I wasn't listening at the keyhole. Everyone could hear all over the office. I thought I’d better come and intervene.”

  “So what are you going to tell Baz?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll sort Baz out. I suggest we leave it a few weeks to see how things turn out. As you said, the parents may come round. You can maybe try and find out from the girl what’s happening after a week or so if she doesn’t contact you.”

  And Hugh was already looking at the file on his desk again. Ali turned and left after a few seconds and went back to The Privy. She sighed to herself. The weekend’s blissful events felt light years away.

  CHAPTER 20

  TUESDAY HUGH WAS out all day at Court. Desolate at his absence, Ali accepted an invite from Sam for a lunchtime drink.

  Sam wasted no time on preliminaries.

  “Come on. What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry not with you.”

  “Look. You’re all over the place. There’s clearly something up. You’re so preoccupied it’s not true. It’s not Rob again is it?”

  “God no.”
/>
  “So is it that surveyor James you saw at Christmas?”

  Ali sighed. “No. No.”

  “Well it must be someone.”

  “No it’s not. Why should it be anyone? I’m just tired from working so hard in the office and then at the weekends at the pub.”

  “That’s not ordinary fatigue. I know the after effects of a good shag when I see it. Come on. Spill. I won't give up.”

  Ali was so bursting to tell someone. “You won't say anything will you. Not to anyone at all?”

  “Of course not. I’m the soul of discretion.”

  “What about Darren?”

  “So is he.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “You don't expect me to keep anything from him do you. We’re like this,” and she held up both hands fingers crossed. “He’s totally the sweetest, kindest man I’ve ever met.”

  “You really won't say anything will you? Not either of you, though I’m not convinced of the reason for all this secrecy but it’s what he wants.”

  “Who wants?”

  “It’s Hugh.”

  “What? Who I mean? I don't believe you.”

  “Well it is.”

  “But how? When?” So Ali told her.

  “It’s….I’ve never had a relationship like this. I can't explain it. OK the secrecy makes it a bit special. But it’s not that really. I can't cope when he’s not around. It’s like an obsession. I can't really cope when he is there. I just want to….”

  “Yes? What?”

  “To be honest I can't keep my hands off him. It sounds awful and it is rather. I’m all charged up all the time. It just doesn't ever stop. It’s like a disease.” She put her head in her hands. “Perhaps I should get myself lobotomised or something. Perhaps have my gonads removed. I don't know,” she ended forlornly.

  “Steady on. I can't believe it. I’ve been with the firm for four years. I’d only just started when Hugh arrived and you know, we all thought, wow, who’s this the Gods have sent down to Earth to tempt us. He would’ve been about twenty five or something. Actually now I think about it there was some sort of difficulty over girlfriends to begin with. I’m not sure what. It was a partner thing. But not for long and he never took any notice of any of us. He wasn't rude or anything and as far as I know he’s never got in a temper with anyone. He was just remote and totally cool about everything. And he insisted on becoming a partner straight away. He’d already got something of a reputation for criminal stuff and I suppose he wasn't prepared to be treated like the assistant solicitor who the partners could push around. Anyway, what is it he does exactly? To provoke such….er….feelings?”

  “I don't know. It’s just him. And….well….I suppose it’s the sex too. It’s just spectacular. It just goes on and on.”

  “You mean like tantric sex?” Sam’s eyes were wide.

  “No. Well maybe. Him not me. He’s just…amazing.”

  “Oh. Sweet. You lucky thing,” Sam looked bemused. “Who’d have thought it. Mr. Iceberg himself. Though I suppose that figures. Supreme self-control, yeah?”

  “Well I don't know about lucky. I’m torn to shreds most of the time.”

  “Goodness girl. Enjoy it while it’s going I say. You dog!” And she smiled broadly and nudged Ali hard. “Wow.”

  Ali found that the revelation made her feel no better.

  “ALI. MR. WATTS HAS been looking for you,” said Tammy the next morning as Ali emerged from the kitchen with her life-saving first coffee of the day.

  Ali walked expectantly into Wattsey’s room and could immediately see that something was up. He was purple in the face and fuming over a piece of paper in front of him. He thrust it at her.

  “What do you think of this then? The cheek of it.”

  Ali leaned over and peered at the sheet of paper, an email apparently from one of his clients forwarding an email to the client from some estate agents. It wasn’t that obvious from the communications exactly what was going on, though it looked as though the client was saying that she still wanted Wattsey to act for her if her house sale went ahead. Ali had heard of the client, a rich woman whose house was selling for something like three million pounds, and she knew that some problem had come up with the title or something but unusually Wattsey hadn't asked her to look into it.

  She read on. The agent’s email went round the houses about the buyer ‘seeing sense’ and ended by the observation ‘…I note you want to keep your solicitor on for now…’.

  “Keep me on! The cheek of it. As though….”

  “What's actually happened?” Ali cut in, hoping to calm him down.

  “Well,” he said with more composure, “the client said she wasn’t going ahead with her buyers and in effect she hadn’t liked my handling of the matter. And she sacked me. Of course she’s quite entitled to do that and I’m not complaining about that. Not really. I’d given her advice about the best course to follow but she preferred to take advice from her estate agent would you believe. Blooding overbearing idiot suggesting all sorts of totally unrealistic solutions. Wouldn’t have worked. But would she listen to me? Oh no. She….”

  Wattsey’s voice was rising again. Hysteria wasn’t far off and his colour was warming up.

  “Oh well, she says she wants you to carry on acting for her. So that’s all right isn’t it.”

  “All right! Look at what the bloody agent says.” He poked repeatedly at the email on the desk between them. “Cheeky sod! ‘…I note you want to keep your solicitor on for now…’.” He mimicked a shrill cockney voice. “As though I’m an scullery maid who’s been at the silver and is being let off. Keep me on indeed! I didn’t do anything wrong. Just exercised a bit of professionalism and honesty if you please. I’m not prepared to be taken on and cast off at will. And then taken on again. No. I’m going to email the client and say she cancelled the contract and I’m not prepared to revive it. No I am not. And that’s final.

  “Er. What do you think Ali?”

  “How much was the fee going to be?”

  Wattsey’s face fell several feet.

  “Three and a half grand,” he pouted lugubriously.

  “Would you like me to take it over?”

  “Well. I don’t know,” he whined and paused. At length he raised his eyes to her, rather dog-like and submissive. “I suppose you could. Would you?”

  “Of course. Do you want to give the file to me?”

  He smiled at last, picked it off the floor next to his chair and handed it over.

  “Ali, you’re an angel. I’ll take you out to lunch later this week. Oh by the way I've got to go out now. Can you do these completions for me?” And he placed a large pile of more heavy files in her arms.

  SHE WAS JUST ABOUT finished with the preparations and had got some out of the way already when Hugh came in about eleven thirty. He put his head round The Privy door. “Can you pop in a sec.”

  Ali went to his room and shut the door.

  “We’ve got another high speeding case I’d rather not do. Story seems a bit fishy. Can you see the punter and take a statement and then go through it with me. No big hurry. The hearing’s not `til next month.” And he held the file out to her. He was standing near the window behind his desk so she had to walk by the side of the desk to get it. When she went to take it, he didn't let it go.

  “You’ve told Samantha haven't you?” When Ali didn't answer he said, “I know you have. It’s the way she looked at me when I walked through reception. Like I was some sort of rare specimen at a zoo. God knows what you said to her!” He passed his free hand over his forehead and eyes.

  Ali moved closer to him. “I couldn't help it,” she said biting her lip with her head down. She thought he’d be angry but instead he ran his hand through her hair. That was it. Ali lost it. She put her arms round his neck and pressed her body to his. He moaned softly and tried to pull away but Ali moved her hands further down to his buttocks and pulled him urgently to her. She felt her loins tighten. She knew w
hat that meant but couldn't help herself and she moved against him. It just happened. Her breathing got faster and seconds later she shuddered and gave a small cry.

  Hugh cleared his throat and whispered in her ear: “Ali. You really are a very, very naughty girl. I ought to take you out and spank you hard.”

  “I know. It won't happen again.” Ali said into his chest. She was scarlet. She felt like a bad puppy that had done something disgusting and smelly in the corner.

  “Well let’s not be too hasty. Perhaps just not in the office hey? Look you’d better hoppit back to The Privy before anything else happens.”

  Ali took the file and walked as steadily as she could towards the door. As she opened it, Hugh said: “I think there’s likely to be an outside appointment later Ali. I’ll tell Sheila. We’d need to leave about twelve forty five. It might take several hours.”

  “Fine,” said Ali.

  She went back and made some more `phone calls.

  About twelve fifteen Hugh buzzed her and said that the appointment had been brought forward. Could she be ready in about five minutes. So she dumped the files and notes she’d made on Sandra who huffed and blew but got on with it.

  In the car, Ali felt some sort of apology was due or at least that something should be said.

  “It must be a terrible burden to you.”

  “Sorry. What must?”

  “Me.”

  “Oh yes. It’s awful. A beautiful woman who wants to have sex with me all the time. I can't imagine how I’ll cope.”

  Ali sighed. She wanted to thump him.

  He looked over. “Or we could always stop off at a chemist and get you some bromide.”

  It was slightly humiliating to be the butt of his amusement however gentle about something so personal. She felt ashamed at wanting to be his sex slave and him knowing it. It must have shown.

  “I didn't mean it.” Hugh took one hand off the steering wheel and held her hand and kissed it occasionally. When he had to drop it to change gear, Ali massaged his left leg going higher up but never too high. Hugh half closed his eyes.