The Undomestic Goddess (22 page)

Looks very swanky! says Eddie, flipping over the glossy pages, each illustrated with a
photograph. Look at these offices!

As he flips through, Im transfixed. Theres a picture of the foyer. Theres one of the floor
I used to work on. I cant tear my eyes awaybut at the same time I dont want to look. Thats
my old life. It doesnt belong here. And then suddenly, as Eddie flips another page over, I
feel a jolt of disbelief.

Its a picture of me. Me.

Im in my black suit, my hair pinned up, sitting at a meeting-room table along with
Ketterman, David Elldridge, and a guy who was over from the States. I remember that
picture being taken. Ketterman was absolutely livid at being disturbed.

I look so pale . I look so serious . And its like... do I want to give up all my time? Melissa is jabbing the page. These

people work every night! What about a social life? My face is right there in full view. Im
just waiting for someone to frown in recognition,

to say, Hang on a moment... But no one does. Melissa is still rabbiting on, gesturing to the brochure;
Eddie is

nodding. Nathaniel is staring upward, obviously bored. Although, you know, the money is really good... Melissa sighs, and flips the page. The pictures gone. Im gone. Shall we go?
Nathaniels warm hand tugs mine and I clasp it tightly back. Yes. I smile up at him.Lets.

I dont see the Carter Spink brochure again for two weeks, when Im drifting into the
kitchen to make lunch.

I dont know what happened to time. I barely recognize it anymore. The minutes and hours
dont march past in rigid chunks, they ebb and flow and swirl around. I dont even wear a
watch anymore. Yesterday I lay in a hay field all afternoon with Nathaniel, watching
dandelion seeds float by, and the only ticking sound came from the crickets.

I barely recognize myself anymore either. Im tanned from lying in the sun at lunchtimes.
There are golden streaks in my hair. My cheeks are full. My arms are gaining muscles from
all the polishing and kneading and carting heavy saucepans around.

The summer is in full throttle and each day is hotter than the last. Every morning, before
breakfast, Nathaniel walks me back through the village to the Geigers house from his flat
above the puband even at that hour the air is already warming up. I stay there most nights
now, and its almost got to feel like home. Its surprisingly spacious, with old sofas
covered with cotton throws, and a tiny roof terrace that Nathaniel built himself.

We often sit up there as evening turns into night, listening to the babble of pub-leavers
down below. Sometimes Nathaniels doing the pub accounts, but he talks to me as he works:
about the backgrounds of everyone in the village, about the plants he wants to put into
the Geigers garden, once explaining the entire geology of the local landscape. I tell him
about the day Ive had with the Geigers and entertain him with stories about the latest
catering job Ive done for Eamonn. Its become quite a regular event for me

driving off in his scruffy Honda with a couple of other girls from the village, changing
into black waitress outfits and serving canapes at some posh party or other.

Everything seems slow and lazy, these days. Everyones in holiday moodexcept Trish, who is
in full frenzy. Shes holding her charity lunch next week, and from the fuss shes making,
youd think it was a royal wedding.

Im tidying away the papers that Melissa has left littered on the table when I spot the
Carter Spink brochure underneath a folder. I cant resist picking it up and leafing through
the familiar pictures. There are the steps I went up every day of my life for seven years.
Theres Guy, looking as dazzling as ever. Theres that girl Sarah from the litigation
department, who was up for partnership too. I never even heard if she got it.

What are you doing? Melissa has come into the kitchen without me hearing. She eyes me
suspiciously. Thats mine.

Right. Like Im going to steal a brochure.

Just tidying your things, I say pointedly, putting the brochure down. Ive got to use this
table.

Oh. Thanks. Melissa rubs her face. She looks haggard. There are shadows under her eyes,
and her cheeks seem sunken. Could I have looked that stressed out even at her age?

Youre working hard, I volunteer.

Yeah, well. She lifts her chin. Itll be worth it in the end. They work you really hard to
start, but after you qualify, it calms down.

I look at her tired, pinched, arrogant little face. Even if I could tell her what I know,
she wouldnt believe me.

Yup, I say after a pause. Im sure youre right. The Carter Spink brochure is open at a
picture ofArnold . Hes wearing a bright blue spotted tie and matching handkerchief and is
beaming out at the world. Of all the people at Carter Spink, hes the one Id like to see
again.

So are you applying to this law firm? I ask, stacking the papers on the counter.

Yup. Theyre the best. Melissa is getting a Diet Coke from the fridge. Thats the guy who
was supposed to be interviewing me. She points to the picture ofArnold . But hes leaving.

Im astonished.Arnold s leaving Carter Spink? Are you sure? I say before I can stop myself.

Yes. Melissa regards me quizzically. Whats it to you?

Oh, nothing, I say, throwing down the brochure. I just meant... he doesnt look old enough
to retire.

Well, hes going. She grabs the brochure and wanders out of the kitchen.

Arnoldis leaving Carter Spink? But hes always said hed never retire. Hes always boasted
about lasting another twenty years. Why would he be leaving now?

Im totally out of touch. For more than a month Ive been living in a bubble. I havent seen The Lawyer , Ive barely even seen a normal paper. I dont know any of the gossip, and I havent cared a
bit. But now, as I look atArnold s familiar face, I can feel my curiosity rise.

So that afternoon, when Ive cleared up lunch, I slip into Eddies study, switch on the
computer, and click on Google. I search for Arnold Saville and sure enough on the second page I come across a little diary item about his early
retirement. I read the fifty- word piece over and over, trying to glean clues. Why
wouldArnold retire early? Is he ill?

I search for further items, but thats the only one I can find. Next I go to the search box
andtelling myself I shouldnt type in Samantha Sweeting . Immediately a zillion stories about me pop up again on the screen. I dont feel so
freaked out this time, though. The person in these stories doesnt feel like me anymore.

I scan entry after entry, seeing the same details replayed. After clicking through about
five pages I add Third Union Bank to my search, and scan the resulting entries. Then I type in Third Union Bank, BLLC Holdings , then Third Union Bank, Glazerbrooks . Then, with a beat of apprehension, I type in Samantha Sweeting, £50 million, career over , and wait for all the really nasty stories to appear. Its like watching my own car crash
on action replay.

God, Google is addictive. I sit there, totally absorbed, clicking and typing and reading,
gorging on endless Web pages, automatically using the Carter Spink password wherever I
need to. After an hour Im slumped in Eddies chair like a zombie. My back is aching and my
neck is stiff, and the words are all running into one another. Id forgotten what it was
like to sit at a computer. Did I really used to do this all day?

I rub my tired eyes and glance at the Web page open in front of me, wondering how I even
got to it. Its some obscure list of guests at a lunch held earlier this year at the
Painters Hall. About halfway down is the name BLLC Holdings, which must have been the
link. On autopilot, I move the cursor along the pageand into view comes the name Nicholas Hanford Jones, Director .

Something chimes inside my addled brain. Nicholas Hanford Jones . Why do I know that

name? Why am I somehow associating it with Ketterman?

Is BLLC Holdings a client of Ketterman? No. It cant be. Id have heard of it before.

I screw my eyes up tight and concentrate as hard as I can. Nicholas Hanford Jones . I can almost see it in my minds eye. Im grasping at an association... an image... come
on, think...

This is the trouble with having a nearly photographic memory. People think it must be
useful, when in fact all it does is drive you insane.

And then suddenly it comes to me. The swirly writing of a wedding invitation. It was stuck
up on the pin board in Kettermans office about three years ago. It was there for weeks. I
used to see it every time I went in.

Mr. and Mrs Arnold Saville request the pleasure of your company at the wedding of their
daughter Fiona to Mr. Nicholas Hanford Jones

Nicholas Hanford Jones is Arnold Savilles son-in-law?Arnold has a family connection with
BLLC Holdings?

I sit up in my chair, totally disconcerted. How come he never mentioned that?

And then another thought strikes me. I was on the BLLC Holdings Companies House page a
minute ago. Why wasnt Nicholas Hanford Jones listed as a director? Thats illegal, for a
start.

I rub my brow, then out of curiosity type in Nicholas Hanford Jones . A moment later the screen is full of entries, and I lean forward.

Oh, for Gods sake. The Internet is crap. Im looking at other Nicholases and other Hanfords
and other Joneses, mentioned in all sorts of different contexts. I peer at them in total
frustration. Doesnt Google realize thats not what Im inter-ested in? Why would I want to read about some Canadian rowing team
list containing a Greg Hanford, a Dave Jones, and a Chip Nicholas?

Im never going to find anything here.

Even so, I start picking my way down, skimming each chunk of text, clicking onto the next
page and the next. And then, just as Im about to give up, my eye falls on an entry tucked
away at the bottom of the page. William HanfordJones , Finance Director of Glazerbrooks, thanked Nicholas Jenkins for his speech ...

This is incredible. The finance director at Glazerbrooks is called Hanford Jones too? Are
they from the same family ? Feeling like some kind of private detective, I log onto Friends-Reunited, and two
minutes later I have my answer. Theyre brothers.

I feel a bit dazed. This is a pretty huge connection. The finance director of
Glazerbrooks, which went bust owing Third Union Bank £50 million. A director of BLLC
Holdings, which lent it £50 million three days before. AndArnold , representing Third
Union Bank. All related; all in the same extended family.

Im almost certain nobody else knows.Arnold s never mentioned it. No one at Carter Spink
has ever mentioned it. Nor have I seen it brought up in any of the reports on the whole
affair.Arnold s kept all of this very quiet.

I rub my shoulders, trying to gather my jumbled thoughts. Isnt this a potential conflict
of interest? Shouldnt he have disclosed the information straightaway? Why on earth
wouldArnold keep such an important thing secret? Unless

No. No.

I feel a bit light-headed, as though Ive suddenly swum over the ledge into mile-deep
water. My mind is flying ahead, careening onto possibilities and shearing away again in
disbelief.

DidArnold discover something? Is he hiding something?

Is this why hes leaving?

I get up and thrust my hands through my hair. OK, lets just... stop all this, right now.
This isArnold Im talking about. Arnold . Im turning into some nutty conspiracy theorist. Next Ill be typing in aliens,Roswell , they live among us .

With sudden resolution I get out my phone. Ill callArnold . Ill wish him well in his
retirement. Then maybe I can get rid of all these ridiculous ideas floating round my head.

It takes me about six failed attempts before I muster the courage to dial the entire
number and wait for a reply. The idea of talking to anyone at Carter Spinklet alone
Arnoldmakes me feel slightly sick. I keep bottling out before being connected, thrusting
the phone down as though Ive had a narrow escape.

But at last I steel myself to press the digits and hold the line. Im never going to know

unless I do this. I can talk toArnold . I can hold my head up.

After three rings the phone is picked up by Lara. Arnold Savilles office.

I have a sudden vision of her, plump and shiny-haired, sitting at her pale wooden desk, in
the burgundy jacket she always wears, tapping on the computer. It all seems a million
miles away now.

Hi, Lara, I say. Its... Samantha. Samantha Sweeting.

Samantha ? Lara sounds perplexed. Bloody hell! How are you? What are you up to?

Im fine, thanks. Really good. I quell a spasm of nerves. I just rang because Ive heard
thatArnold s leaving? Is it true?

Its true! says Lara with relish. I was gobsmacked! Apparently, Ketterman took him out to
dinner and tried to get him to stay, but hed made up his mind. Get this, hes moving to
theBahamas .

The Bahamas ? I say in astonishment.

Hes bought a house there! Looks lovely. His retirement partys next week, Lara continues.
Ill be transferring to Derek Greens officeyou remember him? Taxation partner? Very nice
guy, though apparently he can have a bit of a temper

Er... great! I cut her off, suddenly remembering her ability to gossip for hours. Lara, I
just wanted to giveArnold my best wishes. If you could possibly put me through?

Really? Lara sounds surprised. Thats incredibly... generous of you, Samantha. After what
happened.

Well, you know, I say awkwardly. It wasntArnold s fault, was it? He did what he could.

Theres a strange silence.

Yes, says Lara after a pause. Well. Ill put you through.

After a few momentsArnold s familiar voice is booming down the line.

Samantha, dear girl! Is it really you?

Its... really me. I manage a smile. I havent quite disappeared off the face of the earth.

I should hope not! Now, youre all right, are you?

Im.-.. fine, I say awkwardly. Thanks. I was just surprised to hear youre retiring.

I was never a glutton for punishment! He gives an easy laugh. Thirty-three years at the
coal face of law. Thats enough for any human. Let alone any lawyer!

Just his jovial voice is reassuring me. I must be crazy.Arnold couldnt be involved in
anything untoward. He couldnt be hiding anything. Hes Arnold .

Ill mention it to him, I decide. Just to prove it to myself.

Well... I hope it all goes well, I say. And I... I guess youll be seeing more of your
family?

Ill be lumbered with the blighters, yes! He booms with laughter again.

I never knew your son-in-law was a director of BLLC Holdings! I attempt an easy tone.
Quite a coincidence!

Theres a beat of silence.

Im sorry? saysArnold . His voice is still as charming as ever, but the warmth has
disappeared.

BLLC Holdings. I swallow. You know, the other company involved with the Third Union Bank
loan? The one that registered a charge? I just happened to notice

I have to go now, Samantha!Arnold cuts me off smoothly. Delightful to chat, but Im leaving
the country next week, and theres a lot to do. Its exceedingly busy here, so I wouldnt
ring again if I were you.

The line goes dead before I can say any more. I slowly put down the phone and stare at a
butterfly fluttering outside the window.

That wasnt right. That wasnt a natural reaction. He got rid of me as soon as I mentioned
his son-in-law.