I’d been accused of interfering on many occasions by my siblings and some of my cousins. I didn’t feel bad about it, or shrouded myself in guilt at any point because the intention was to help and usually I did.
For the next few hours though, I’d be helping my clients, not the opposing side’s representative. I got my head back in the game, confident that I could get the best possible result for Polly, even if she was an utter bitch most of the time.
The first hour was spent with Colin and Polly going through the main points of their case, the key aspects and areas that were weak. I’d decided not to act like a junior solicitor and to project that I knew what I was doing and I was confident in it. Imposter syndrome had been real the last few months and I’d questioned whether I was only working for this law firm because of who my father was. It had taken my mother to tear me a new one when she finally got it out of me what was bothering me.
“Do you really think your dad would risk the reputation of his firm to employ you if you were shit? Get real, Marie Evelyn Kathleen Green. You had to be twice as good as anyone else because you’ll be judged twice as hard.”
It’d hit home, my mother’s thick accent banging around in my head whenever the doubt set in.
“You’re advising that we split equally with them?” Polly repeated the same question she’d asked at least five times already, just with different phrases.
“Pretty much. Ultimately, there’s nothing to say who the land originally belonged to, which disadvantages you both equally. You’re both wanting to build offices on it and your proposed designs are similar so we have common ground. I know you’re not risk adverse, but my recommendation is to settle today on a compromise agreement, else I think you’re risking a lot of money and you’re not guaranteed to win outright.” I’d typed up the proposal for them last night so they’d been able to consider it as soon as they came in.
Polly looked at Colin. “I still maintain the land is ours.”
Colin looked at me. “You’ve said there’s no evidence of who it belongs to?”
“There’s nothing substantial either way.” I nodded, watching the dynamics between them with interest.
“I think we take her advice, Polly.” He looked almost scared as he spoke to his wife.
Polly stood up and walked out.
Silence fell like stones. I waited for Colin to speak. We were due to start the mediation in fifteen minutes and I didn’t want to be the one to delay proceedings.
“Do you need to go after her?” I finally broke the quiet.
“No. She’ll just get angry with me.” He sounded broken. “Does your company do family law?”
I nodded slowly. “We have a family solicitor based in London.”
Colin stared at the table. “I think I want a divorce. I can’t stand being bossed about by her anymore.”
“Your businesses and property – is it just in your name or joint?”
“My name. But Polly and I have been married fifteen years, so she’ll have a claim and she’ll say she’s the one who’s grown the company and made the investments. I could lose everything.”
“Not necessarily.” Family law was what I’d wanted to go into, but the seat my father had wanted me in was property litigation. I had specialised in family law at college and during my training. My hope was that we’d expand the family law department and I could move over to there, or build on the department in London.
“Really?”
I nodded. “Let’s get this mediation out of the way and you and I can discuss it in more detail afterwards. I’ll be over in London in another few weeks so we could make an appointment for then.”
“That would be good.” He stirred in his chair. “I’d better go and find her, hadn’t I? She’ll be having a strop in the toilets probably.”
I nodded. “The sooner we start, the sooner it’s finished. I’ll go and see how the other side are doing and if the mediator’s ready.”
It was good to be out of the meeting room with its oppressive atmosphere and undertone of dissatisfaction – with everything. I wondered how Grant was getting on with his clients, hoping he wasn’t going to pull anything funny out of the bag at the eleventh hour with suggestions that would send Polly up like a firework and all of us all the way to court.
He was already in meeting room five with the mediator, a man I’d met a few times before on other cases and liked. He reminded me of my grandfather back in Ireland, all soft words and smiles, with an undercurrent of steel woven through. He was called Michael and when I walked into the room, he and Grant were sharing a joke.
“Here she is – Marie. How are you? Looking lovely as ever.” He stood up and offered me his hand.
I took it, giving him a smile he’d think was sweet and I knew was deadly. I hated how my physical appearance was always commented on by older men, as if that was what made me. Michael would never say ‘here’s Grant, looking as handsome as ever’ – although I wished he would.
But I knew better than to go to war on this. Being a pretty Irish colleen allowed for me to be under-estimated, which ultimately reversed the power. I’d take the comment on how I was looking lovely.
“I’m well. How are you? How’re Sebastian and Emilie?” I always made a point of asking after his grandkids who were about the same age as me.
