Handyman. Spy. I wondered what the truth was. Actually, no, I didn’t. Whatever world Simon inhabited, I wanted to be as far as fucking possible from it. The good thing about parents born under a repressive authoritarian regime: they taught you real quick to stay away from anyone who was gonna lead you down that path.
I tried to think about anything else. It was boiling. Even here, in this green oasis within the concrete jungle of central London, the sun beat down. God, for the cool green fields of Lilbury. I caught myself before I said something along the lines ofGosh, this weather, eh?Instead, I pulled my T-shirt from my body and shook it, hoping for a breeze to ease the sweat running down my torso. I looked over and caught Simon averting his eyes a little too slowly to prove he hadn’t been peeking.
“It’s this way,” I said, trying to hide my smug expression.
Ollie’s chambers took up a three-storied red-brick building with trees out the front and a main entrance that was up a small staircase. A clerk came out with a box of papers, as we were preparing to knock, and let us in. He didn’t give us a second glance, even though my shorts and a T-shirt and Simon’s jeans were hardly the normal attire of the clientele that came through here.
It looked the same; it smelled the same. A sea of male heads filled the clerks’ room behind the tiny reception desk. Unlike most of London’s business world, the majority of administration roles in barrister chambers were occupied by men. Women were few and far between. Which made me glad to see one female among the blokes, especially as she gasped when she spotted me.
“Arden!” she cried from her seat and came up to the desk to gape at me.
“Hello, love,” I said and accepted the hug she offered.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in an accent of purest Essex. “We never expected to see you again. Oh, but it’s good to see you, though. You’re looking …” Her eyes took me in, and she couldn’t say ‘good’ without lying. And then she noticed Simon.
“Simon, this is Natalie, one of the receptionists. Natalie, this is my … neighbour, Simon. We’re here to see Ollie.”
She smiled. “’Course.” She checked the computer for a second and then frowned. “There’s no meeting booked …”
I winked. “It’s a personal matter, Natalie.”
She grinned. “I’ll give him a ring.” She picked up the phone and punched his extension in and frowned again. “No answer,” she said, hanging up and then checking the computer. “He’s not scheduled anything.”
Huh. I’d been so sure he’d be here; I hadn’t even bothered to text him to make sure. Then out of the corner of my eye, I caught a familiar shape. One of the secretaries from upstairs. She saw me as I saw her.
“Arden,” she said politely. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Hello, Janet,” I said equally politely.
“Arden’s looking for Oll— Mr Ross,” said Natalie.
Janet smiled serenely. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, I’m afraid he’s indisposed this afternoon.”
“Really? Do you know when he’ll be available?” I asked.
“I’m afraid, I don’t.” Another smile.
“You’re his secretary. You know exactly where he is all the time.” I smiled as firmly.
Natalie looked at her screen, her eyes not moving.
“Is he at a meeting? With a client? At … Court?” Simon interrupted. “We need to find him. It’s urgent.”
“Urgent?” both Janet and Natalie said in unison.
“Aye,” Simon said in full Scottish. I widened my eyes. “I’m his cousin, from Dumfries. Am afraid there’s a family emergency.”
Janet faltered. She smiled again. “Well, if it’s an emergency. He’s working from home this afternoon.”
Really? Working from home means ‘unavailable’?I glared at her, and I hope she could feel it.
“Brilliant,” Simon said, grinning. “Come on, Arden, if we hurry, he can probably speak to Great Aunt Minervabefore they switch off the machine. Ladies, thank you.” He grabbed my arm, and we left quickly.
He didn’t let go until we made our way back out of the grounds and neared the car park. He gave me a look. “What did you do to piss off his secretary?” he asked eventually.
“Nothing,” I snapped.
We got in the car. I was putting on my seatbelt when a thought occurred to me. “How did you know Ollie was from Dumfries?”
