“There’s a kitchen next to meeting room three from which you can help yourself. Or call down to reception if a big tough man like you isn’t capable of making a pot of coffee.” I blinked slowly at him, not giving a tenth of an inch of a smile.
He shook his head and balled up his fist, looking frustrated at himself. “Shit. You’re not a secretary.”
“Correct. I’m not a secretary. I’m one of the partners.” I didn’t stretch out my hand for him to shake. “In this neck of the woods, women can have a variety of jobs.”
“They can in London too. I just assumed - ”
“Which made an ass out of you.” He hadn’t pressed the floor he wanted to stop at. I decided not to enlighten him.
We stopped at the twelfth with a jerk. This lift bothered me sometimes, it’d come to a near stop a few times, usually when I was the last person in the building and it was late at night, leading me to make sure I had a bottle of water and a stash of chocolate bars in my handbag at all times just in case I ended up having a sleepover in a tin can.
I exited and walked into Meeting Room One without looking back. I had work to do and a few more balls to bust, a man whoassumed I was there to make his coffee wasn’t worth any more effort.
My client arrived with his wife just after nine-thirty, both of them wearing tailored trouser suits, although her shoulder pads wouldn’t have looked out of place on a football (American) field. It was Polly who also metaphorically wore the trousers. The company her husband owned was in his name, but Polly called the shots and she was also calling the shots with the boundary dispute too.
“Marie, it’s lovely to see you. Your hair looks lovely, by the way.” Polly sat down at the table, arms folded. “I thought your father was overseeing the mediation.”
There were times I wished I’d gone to work at another firm. Most people assumed that I was working there because I was the daughter of the empire, but it wasn’t. I’d finished top of my class and been headhunted by three other firms, although my arranged marriage to Greens was already set in stone.
“There was a change in the court schedule so I’ll be representing you for the mediation tomorrow.” I didn’t offer any reassurance. If I did, it’d sound like I was making excuses or I agreed with them that I wasn’t senior enough.
Polly eyed me, taking in every inch of my face, assessing my make-up and jewellery. “You’re confident we can win?”
I sent a brief prayer to whichever saint was on duty. “There’s no win here. We have to negotiate.”
“But the land’s ours. That document they’re pretending’s from when the buildings were built is a load of shit. They’ve made it all up. Employed someone who’s good on a computer thingy.” She shrugged and shook her head again.
I remained still. “They think exactly the same about your documents. And the expert witnesses that’ve been consulted have said it can’t be determined. So you have a choice: mediateand compromise or take this to court which will be costly and time consuming and you could end up with less than you’d get through mediation.” My words were ones they’d heard before.
Colin, Polly’s husband, leaned forward over the large boardroom table, peering round his wife. “We don’t have to agree tomorrow, do we?”
“We need to aim for tomorrow, even if it goes on beyond midnight.” I would send a late prayer to whichever saints were taking tomorrow’s shift that it didn’t. I actually had a date tomorrow night, which was bad planning on my part and I probably wouldn’t care too much about cancelling but he was cute and he wasn’t a lawyer. In fact, he was exactly the sort of man my father would like me to avoid as he was an artist who earned very little.
I had no desire to get married to an artist – in fact, I had no desire to get married full stop – but sleeping with one was definitely on the agenda, especially this one, who looked like a young Elvis.
“We’ve been involved in mediation before. It was a very long and drawn out process.” Polly wasn’t looking impressed.
“So’s being in court, and you could be in court for a week, minimum. That will be even more drawn out and like I said, is unlikely to yield any better than what you could walk away with tomorrow. I’m advising you, as your counsel, to engage in mediation.”
My tone was pretty firm. Siblings, most younger than me, cousins of a range of ages and working in a predominantly male environment, along with being my mother’s daughter, had made sure I knew how to use my voice and make unspoken threats.
Polly looked at her husband as if seeking permission. I doubted that was the case.
“Okay. What does today involve then?”
Today would’ve been much smoother if they didn’t want to niggle over every point or interrogate me on my advice. We managed to make it to lunchtime before we took a break, the pale sun still managing to glare through the windows.
I hadn’t been aware of the other party, who was using our offices mainly to make it easier for tomorrow in terms of paperwork. The Callaghan offices weren’t as big as ours, although the opposite was true in London, so the agreement had been to use the space here.
I left Polly and Colin to help themselves to the sandwiches that’d been brought in for them and went hunting for the opposition, mainly out of curiosity but with a splash of courtesy on the side.
“Do you know where the Callaghan party has set up?” I asked one of the juniors, Fenella, when I couldn’t see any signs.
“Meeting Room Three. Mr Callaghan is hot. There’s a bet on who’s going to ask him out.” Fenella grinned at me. “Susan in accounts is the favourite.”
“Isn’t he married?” I’d thought he was married from what I’d read.
“No wedding ring and I heard he’s a widower. He might need cheering up.” Her grin was sly this time. “Maybe I should bet on you.”
