“I’ll give you some more background,” Jessica offered.
Super. What the hell was a hereditary building right??
“That wasn’t really fair.” Jessica said when we had returned to my office.
“To be honest, I found it a little difficult to follow everything, especially the hereditary building right stuff. It’s really not an area I have dealt with before.”
“Actually, we do need to know quite a bit about German real estate law issues because, ultimately, we also have to deal with them in the credit agreement.”
“I realise that. I guess I will have to get some sort of idiot’s guide or resort to the method all lawyers use: learning by doing. That’s how I became an asset finance specialist!” I laughed without humour.
That is the way it is - in big law firms, hardly anybody takes their time to explain something to you; you have to find out for yourself. It doesn’t seem to bother anyone that, even if you don’t make any mistakes, you could easily overlook something important that you just didn’t know about. However, the more experience you have as a lawyer, the more you heighten your awareness of new issues.
“So what kind of deals have you done in the past?” Jessica asked.
“Mainly everything to do with the financing of assets, often combined with a leasing structure - we’re talking aircraft, trains, container ships, high tech equipment. The deal Jacob mentioned this morning was about thousands of gas meters - not very glamorous!”
“Jerome told me you had also done some movie financings.”
“That’s right. The way that worked was the producer obtained financing to buy the movie rights and then leased them back to the distributor who made the money with the film once it was finished and paid fixed monthly licence fees to the producer.”
“Wow! That sounds so glamorous! So what kind of movies?”
“Big budget Hollywood productions. They became very popular amongst investors because the tax breaks were so huge - the entire production cost could be deducted in the same year. Sadly the tax authorities put a virtual stop to these structures. Some film investment funds got a very bad press because the financing structures were thought not to be genuine and the directors had to pay enormous fines or even go to jail. None of my deals though!”
“That’s so cool! So did you meet anybody famous?”
“I wish! I travelled to L.A. several times for negotiations with the studios’ lawyers and even offered reducing my fees if somebody introduced me to George Clooney, but that didn’t work!”
“Too bad!” Jessica giggled. “Maybe you should have asked for Brad Pitt!”
* * *
It was 7.30 p.m. and I was starting to get nervous. I had only managed to write the first introductory paragraphs of the memo. I would have to leave the office soon to pick up the girls from Jana’s house. The memo would need to wait until later that evening. My phone rang. The display read Taylor, making me feel instantly queasy. I picked it up and forced myself to smile.
“Hello Tracey?”
“Hi. I was wondering when we might expect your memo.”
“I’m still working on it. I’m trying to get to grips with the deal structure as well. It seems quite complex.” That was a huge understatement.
“I was going to go out now and grab a bite to eat. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, so it would be good to have it by then. In the meantime I will send you my comments on the draft you prepared at the weekend. You can then revise that after you have finished the memo.”
I gulped. “Sure, Tracey. Will do.”
“Thanks.” She hung up.
I felt upset - not because I had to finish the memo that evening, but because Tracey had managed yet again to impose her will on me. I shied away from personal confrontation - I had only just started this job and wanted to make a huge effort. It would not be wise to take on my boss, the one person who had total power over my professional development. We had already gotten off to a bad start last Friday. Maybe then I shouldn’t have made it an issue at all but should have just said, ‘Yes, of course, Tracey,’ like I had done just now.
I wearily took the telephone and dialled Jana’s number.
“Jana Jurec?”
“Jana, hi. It’s Chloé.”
“Chloé, sweetheart, what’s up, are you ok?”
“So-so. I’m being kept in the office. I’m so sorry. Can you take the girls home and to bed? Hugo should be back by nine. They should be asleep then so he won’t need to do anything.”
“Sure, don’t worry. I’ve still got your keys and Dean will be late tonight as well.”
Dean was a hard-working electrician and Jana’s husband. They lived in the house right opposite ours. As Jana only worked in the mornings she was able to look after my girls in the afternoon. Jana did not have any children but was longing to get pregnant and gave all her maternal love and attention to my girls in the meantime.
“You are an angel! May I speak with them please?”
“Of course. They are with me in the kitchen. I’ll pass you first to Noëlle.”
“Hello Mummy,” Noëlle’s little voice squeaked through the phone.
“Hello my sweetie, are you ok?”
“Yeees. Jana made pancakes!”
“Wow, that’s so nice of her! With icing sugar or with Nutella?” I knew the answer. Noëlle loved Nutella.
“With Nutella! But Marie had hers with icing sugar.”
“Sounds yummy! Very good! Listen, my little darling, mummy has to stay in the office and will come home a bit later - Jana will take you to bed and wait until Hugo comes home, ok?”
“But why? When will you come home?”
“I’ve still got a lot of work to do. You’ll be asleep already when I get home. But I’ll come to your room and give you a kiss, ok?”
“Mhmm. Okay.”
My big little girl. I swallowed hard. “Then sleep well, my darling, and good night! Let me speak to Marie. Kiss kiss!”
“Kiss kiss, byeee. Good night.”
“Hello Mummy.” Marie sounded tired.
“Hello my sweetie, how are you my darling?”
“Fine.”
“I already heard you had yummy pancakes!”
“Yes.”
“Listen, sweetheart, I wanted to say good night because mummy is going to be late and will come home when you are already asleep.”
“Okay.”
“Fine, so Jana will look after you and I will come and give you a kiss later, alright my love?”
“Okay.”
I smiled. Marie was nearly five years old. Her monosyllabic answers on the telephone were in stark contrast to Noëlle’s liveliness. But Noëlle was already eight and felt in charge when I was not around.
“Good night, my angel, sleep well. Mwah mwah.” I blew kisses into the air.
“Good night, mummy, you too.” I heard her rustling then she hung up. My sweet child - she didn’t know it was far from bedtime for me.
That evening, and each other evening that week, I stayed in the office until after ten o’clock.
Saturday came and we took the girls to Patricia and Michael Stone’s house for dinner.
It was more of a mansion than a house, surrounded by a landscaped garden and protected by a high brick wall. Having parked the car on the side of the road in front of the house, we passed through the wrought iron gates and walked up the gravel path, Marie holding my hand. Noëlle ran ahead to ring the doorbell. The door opened and my eyes fell down on Lucas, the youngest member of the Stone family. A cuddly toy lion dangled from his hand. He looked at us without any emotion. I bent down towards him.
“Hello Lucas, are mommy and daddy there?”
At that moment Michael appeared, carrying an open box with wine bottles. “Hi! Sorr
y about that - Patricia is in the kitchen and I was getting more wine from the cellar. Please, come in.” We stepped inside the entrance hall. He turned to his son. “Now, Lucas, why don’t you take Marie and Noëlle to the TV room. We’ll be there in a minute to check on you guys.”
“Ok daddy,” Lucas replied and looked at the girls expectantly.
I nodded to the girls. “Go ahead.”
“Come on Marie.” Noëlle took Marie by the hand and led her away.
“There you go.” Hugo handed Michael the wine bottle we had brought.
“Thanks, excellent. Ah, there she is.”
Patricia appeared, wearing a pink apron over her black dress and looking flustered. “Hi guys! Sorry - I am trying this new recipe and just had a tricky moment. Lovely to see you.” She greeted us with a kiss. “Gorgeous outfit, madam!” she remarked upon my white linen Chloé dress and tan wedge sandals.
“Thanks, darling, and thank you for the invitation - the girls have already disappeared in the TV room with your boys,” I said as she hugged me.
“They’ll be fine there - the boys are just watching Nemo for the umpteenth time but we’ll put on Madagascar afterwards. I have to excuse myself again though, I must go back to my kitchen - Michael, can you please offer Chloé and Hugo a drink?”
“Do you need any help?” Hugo asked her.
“Actually, you could help me get some dishes from the top cupboard - even Michael is too short to reach it.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Come on Chloé. Let’s get you something to drink.”
I followed Michael into the reception room. He placed the bottles from the box as well as the bottle we brought on the side table. “Red wine ok? I decanted a bottle already.” He pointed to a carafe filled with dark ruby red liquid.
“Yes, please.”
He poured two glasses and handed me one. “So how was your first week? I see you have been working late.”
“Yes, it’s been very busy. I haven’t really seen the girls all week. But you know what that’s like.”
“That’s the job. It is what it is. When you are the main breadwinner it’s what you have to do.”
I took a sip of the wine and contemplated that statement. Before I could reply Hugo and Patricia walked in. Hugo carried a tray with what looked like four mini quiches.
“Right!” She exclaimed. “We’ve been to see the children, they are all set and we are ready to start with the first course. Hugo, could you give each of us a plate please? Chloé, why don’t you sit on that side, and Hugo here at the end of the table. Michael, sit. All - please start. The quiches are not going to get any hotter.”
We all sat down at our designated places. Michael poured more wine.
“This looks amazing, Patricia! Four perfect little single quiches - it must have taken you all afternoon to do this.”
“Well it’s not like I had any help from my husband.”
“Patricia is annoyed with me because I had to work this afternoon,” Michael explained.
“And why should I not be? You already work all day and night on weekdays and most Sunday afternoons and I always have to do everything,” she complained coldly.
“Actually, my girl here has been notably absent from home too. Patricia - you and I can open a lawyers’ neglected family club,” Hugo joked.
Michael drew his breath. “I feel so sorry for you guys. It’s useless explaining. You will never understand what it is like to be a partner in a law firm, the sort of pressure we are under.”
“Chloé did not work like this when she was a partner at Solomons,” Hugo objected.
“If she wants to be a partner at P&W, she will have to. Look at Frank Smith, our newly elected partner, and David Byrd, the candidate for next year. They live and breathe for the firm. I bet you if I called them now and asked them to draft a hundred page agreement by tomorrow morning, they would drop everything and go to the office straightaway.”
“And I bet you they would not keep their wives and children for very long,” Hugo retorted, throwing a glance at Patricia who pursed her lips as if to say I told you so.
“Anyway!” I said cheerfully. “Let’s enjoy this lovely meal, shall we? So, Patricia, have you and Michael decided on the secondary school for the boys?” And with that I managed to steer the conversation away from any mines and into safe waters.
After dinner Patricia got up to change the music. When the beat began she started dancing and held a hand out to Hugo. “Come on Hugo - remember? Rihanna - SOS-this is the summer song! Same rhythm like Tainted Love which I’m sure Chloé and Michael will remember from their youth in the Eighties!”
“Yeah, sure!” Hugo got up from his chair and started shimmying towards her.
“Come on, we are not that much older than you guys - five years!” I protested.
“What do you mean by Hugo remembering?” Michael asked.
“I bumped into Hugo at the Bristol party on Wednesday,” Patricia panted as Hugo twirled her around. Patricia and Hugo giggled. I exchanged glances with Michael.
“Ah, I see. My dear wife is partying while I am working late.”
“Oh don’t be so stuck up, Michèlle,” Patricia retorted. “You need to have some more fun!”
“And you need to slow down with the wine.”
She ignored him and continued twirling, singing along to the refrain: “S.O.S., please, someone, help me!”
“S.O.S., help me!” Hugo bellowed cheerfully, still dancing.
“I’m definitely not letting you drive!” I shouted at him. I turned to Michael. “We should go soon, anyway. It’s also getting late, for the girls.”
“Sure. I’ll let the children know and perhaps you can get these two to calm down again before the neighbours call the police because they think someone is really crying for help.” He got up from his chair and left the room. I watched Patricia and Hugo dancing happily in oblivion and wondered where all of this would lead.
* * *
The month of May passed by. I saw the girls only in the morning and at the weekends, and Hugo only when he was asleep or as one of us was just leaving the house. I felt like I was a bad mother. Yet Noëlle, Marie and Jana had the patience of saints. Hugo did not understand why I worked late every evening. As if it were fun not putting my children to bed and being sleep deprived. Nor did anybody take over my household duties. I would hang up the washing and clean the kitchen late at night.
But each morning I would still get up at 6 a.m., prepare breakfast, help the girls to get ready and take them to school. Then I would drive to the office, hair and make-up done and perfectly styled. I would joke around with Jerome, chat to the secretaries who had their desks in front of my office - yes, I had managed to break the ice - and work like a dog. I ran up chargeable hours as if there was no tomorrow, determined to show Tracey and Michael just how tough I was.
4. A Big Fat Greek Wedding
The month of June arrived and brought with it two main events: the football world cup in Germany and the wedding of Alex and Alexia.
I had met Alexia, an advertising agency executive and Greek by birth, when I started dating Hugo. Her future husband Alex Baker, ten years’ her junior, was also a doctor and Hugo’s friend. Alexia and I quickly established a friendship independently of that of our men. She possessed a rare mixture of affection, intelligence and a dry sense of humour. On top of that she was beautiful and a loving mother to her sweet little son, whom she had so far raised by herself, as well as to Alex’s son from his previous relationship. When Alex finally proposed to her just after her forty-seventh birthday, she decided with her incredible energy and willpower to fulfil her dream of a white wedding on the Greek island of Santorini. It’ll be like My Big Fat Greek Wedding meets Sex and the City, I thought as I was packing my bag on a Wednesday morning. I expected no less from Alexia.
Hugo and I were due to leave the next morning on a flight to Athens with a connecting flight to the island. The girls were staying with Hugo’s parents for the weekend. I decided to pack the day before because that evening I was due to attend the office afterparty for the JPMorgan Chase Corporate Challenge. I wanted at least to show my face at the party even if I did not participate in the race (Running for over five km? Do I look like I do that sort of thing? You must be joking.).
I packed my new green Diane von Furstenberg sleeveless silk wrap dress which had a white leaf pattern, and - in case I was going to panic when looking at an item of clothing which blatantly breached my rule “I don’t wear patterns or bright colours” - an LBD by Valentino, adding dark grey Chloé Paddington sandals and my beige Chloé Paddington handbag. For the black tie evening I had a black asymmetric gown by Narcisso Rodriguez with golden Jimmy Choo sandals and a vintage clutch.
“Uh, angel, do you think I can take this with me? It’s not washed but I only wore it once.”
Hugo held a dress shirt right in front of my face. I inspected it carefully and frowned.
“Goodness, no. There is a stain on the right sleeve and the collar is quite grey.”
“Oh. Do you think you could?” He looked at me like a puppy.
“Yeah, alright. Leave it here. I’ll wash and iron it for you by tomorrow morning.” I didn’t know when I was going to find the time though.
“Thank you my angel, you are so great!” He grinned and patted my bottom.
“I know,” I sighed and brushed his hand away. After all, I was not his maid. I bet he’d love it though if I wore a short black skirt with a white lace apron and bonnet.
“Mummy, where’s my blue dress?” Noëlle shouted from her room downstairs. “And Marie has to brush her hair!”
“Yes! I’m coming!” Pure morning stress! I just about managed to keep my voice from sounding hysterical.
Now my blackberry was blinking. It was probably an email from Tracey. Even though it was only 7 a.m. she would expect an immediate answer. I tensely clicked on the button and typed in my password. Thank god - it wasn’t from her. Hmm. It was from Lars Helman, one of my former partners at Solomons. One year after my departure he had also left Solomons and joined Howard Hewitt.
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