“That’s very helpful, thanks!”
“Thanks. Bye,” she said absently and hung up.
I clicked on my emails. Tracey had already forwarded William Hacker’s email and attachment, without any comments. Then a new email appeared into which I was copied.
Hi William,
as discussed, Chloé will ring you at 3 p.m. your time with her comments on the term sheet. I will send you our fee letter later today. Just to confirm in advance, the cap of €75k is fine, provided we close two weeks from today. All subject to our conflicts check as usual.
Tracey
€75,000 seemed on the low side. But since it would be nearly impossible to close the deal within two weeks we would break the cap and charge more. Tracey was probably counting on that and it would not be the first time she had determined a deal in this manner.
Hugo approached me, dripping with water. “Where is my towel, angel?”
I looked at the deckchair next to mine. It was empty. “It’ll be on the laundry rack - there, around the corner.”
“Thanks. Oh yes, now I see it. Was that your phone?”
“Yep.” I got up to see where the girls were. Marie and Noëlle just climbed up the stairs from the pool.
“So who was it?” Hugo started to rub his hair with the towel.
“Tracey. I have to review a term sheet and then have a conference call with the client.”
“You have to review a what?”
“A term sheet. It’s a summary, mostly in form of a table, of the most crucial commercial terms of a transaction - for example amount of loan, interest rate, duration, security to be provided, events of default, when the borrower has to repay the loan, and so on.”
“Uh-huh.” Hugo looked blank.
“It’s, so to speak, the start of a transaction,” I explained patiently. “The real work then consists of drafting and negotiating all the contracts - loan agreement, pledge agreements, assignment agreements, property mortgages. The term sheet lists all contracts and sometimes provides which law firm represents the lenders and which acts for the borrower. Often it also states the agreed fees for the legal work because the borrower will indemnify the banks for their legal fees. Such an agreed fee is called a fee cap.”
“And what sort of fees do you guys get in a transaction like that?” Now I had Hugo’s attention.
“Well, that depends - how long it takes, how complex the matter is. Apparently we have agreed a cap of €75,000 for this one.”
“Wow - now I’m not surprised that you lawyers earn so much money.”
“It’s not that much if you think about how many hours’ work this will take. A deal with a low cap is only profitable - meaning financially worthwhile - for the firm if a lawyer with a low charge out rate works on it. Tracey, has a partner’s hourly billable rate of over six hundred Euros, so will work on it as little as possible.”
“That’s why she is not doing it herself,” Hugo stated.
“Precisely. On top of which, it’s urgent, she’s got no time, everybody else is busy - whatever, it’s the way it is. I don’t mind really, the only thing that upsets me is how she doesn’t think twice about interrupting her associates’ annual leave. Jessica spent most of her last holidays at her laptop and blackberry. When I was at Solomons I sometimes worked during my holidays, too, but I never expected my team to do that.” I shook my head. I had to stop dwelling on this otherwise I would get even more upset.
“When is your conferences call?” Hugo said with a furrowed brow, looking at his watch. “Are we going to eat first? I think we’re all hungry.”
Marie came over to me and hugged my legs. “Mummy I’m hungry,” she whined.
“Yes, love, in a minute. First you need to get dry.”
I covered her wet hair with a towel and turned back to Hugo. “It’s called a conference call. My conference call is at three, London time. I will prepare everything now and while the water for the pasta is cooking I will review the term sheet.”
“That’s great, angel!” Hugo slumped himself onto the deck chair and grabbed a book with the title Speed Reading for Beginners.
“Yes, yes, Chloetta will do everything, at your service,” I mumbled. I felt like hitting Hugo with the wet towel on his perfectly built chest. How about offering some assistance for once? I started to feel like I was his maid.
“Maybe you could at least set the table?” My voice sounded artificially friendly. I had a hard time containing myself.
He looked at me in surprise. “Sure. It’s just that I have been looking after your children and now need a break.”
“My children?” I hissed. OK, now calm down, Chloé, don’t flip. I turned to Marie. “Marie, please go and see your sister in your room and put on the dress I have laid out on your bed, alright darling?”
“OK, mumma.” She trotted off, trailing her towel behind her.
“Hugo,” I started slowly. “Don’t you think that it may be hurtful when you say such a thing? We’ve been together for over two years, the girls see more of you than of Jean and you behave as if you’ve got nothing to do with them.”
Hugo sat up. His face took on a strange expression. “But they are not my children, Chloé. It’s not the same. Of course I’m fond of them, but I am not their father. I want my own children and you know that.” He looked at me expectantly.
Oh dear. There it was - that dreaded moment - I would be made to make a statement to a topic I had so far avoided carefully. “With me?” I inquired slightly desperately.
He rolled his eyes. “Nah, with Jana. Of course with you. At the beginning of our relationship you told me that you would love to have a son and that you would not exclude having any more children.”
“Yes I know I said that - and I did mean it, Hugo, at least at the time. But I’m not even divorced yet, and I’m turning forty this year, and I just started this new job,” I responded hastily, my panic rising. Oh the things you say when you have just fallen in love!
“As far as I know your divorce hearing is set for September. The other things are not important. It will be too late at some stage, Chloé.” He meant it.
“I’ll tell you something,” I quickly replied. “I’ll decide before my birthday, okay?” That was not for another five months. Many things could happen within five months. As long as this discussion was over for now.
“It’s your decision, angel.”
He lay back on his deckchair and picked up his book again. I walked slowly into the kitchen, my blackberry still in my right hand. Damn, damn, damn. Now I had given myself an ultimatum, just because I had panicked and was afraid of a confrontation. The clock had started to tick.
Deep down I knew I did not want to be pregnant again and have another baby. I just about managed my life with the two girls. This would change everything. I would lose my independence. Three children from three different men - one of whom would be around constantly and would interfere in the way I raise my children, and, really, honestly - Hugo was the last person I pictured in that role. Good heavens!
So if I didn’t grant Hugo’s wish, would not the logical consequence be that sooner or later we would break up? Come on, I told myself, as if you hadn’t already known that - what about Lars? You would have never allowed yourself to get into that situation if you had been convinced of the viability of your relationship with Hugo. Lars would not want me to have a baby with him, on the contrary. He had children of his own; they could play together, we could be a happy patchwork family...
My thoughts were racing. Currently, I paid rent for the house we lived in together and which Hugo owned, this couldn’t go on. I had to acquire my own home. But I couldn’t just move out, I would have to have a good reason. Maybe I should buy my own house. With my salary I should be able to get the necessary financing. Hugo could live with us as long as we were st
ill together and, if we did split up, the girls and I would at least keep our home. Unlike when upon discovering my father’s infidelity my mother packed two suitcases and took me out of school, in the middle of term, to stay with a distant relative who lived far away. Like a refugee, I had to leave my friends, my home, my beautiful room and my things behind and never saw them again. My father took an apartment and moved in with his new girlfriend and my mother and I had to find a new home.
That would not happen to me again. I would not be driven out of my home again. I would not have my heart broken again. I would not allow it. Ever.
After lunch I tidied up the kitchen and persuaded the girls to have a siesta in their room while listening to a story on the CD player. Hugo had disappeared onto the terrace with his book and his orange noise cancelling headset. I worked my way though the term sheet as quickly as the slow wifi allowed it to load on my laptop, making notes on a pad which I had placed on the kitchen counter. I then summarised the notes in an email to Tracey, which she approved by simply replying OK.
At 4 p.m. precisely I called William Hacker and explained my comments on the term sheet.
“It looks like we will have to battle out some major issues in the credit agreement,” he concluded when I had finished.
“Well, indeed, to the extent these matters are not dealt with in the term sheet, we will have to make sure that your position is reflected in the drafting.”
“And I assume you will do that?”
“I need to discuss that with Tracey, but that should not be a problem.”
“Good. Also, there will be meetings on this in London, probably Wednesday the week after next.” That would be the second week of our holiday in France.
“Right, excellent. Thanks for the information. As I said I will discuss with Tracey and we will send you the first draft agreement as soon as possible.”
“Tomorrow end of play London would be good.”
“Of course.”
After we hung up I dialled Tracey’s mobile number.
“Yes?” she hissed in a whisper. “I’m in a meeting. What is it?”
“Hi Tracey, it’s Chloé. I just wanted to let you know I spoke to William. He wants the first draft by c.o.b. tomorrow and there is a meeting on Wednesday the week after next.”
“You’ll have to do the draft. I told you we’re busy here.”
I hesitated. “Sure. I’ll get Jessica to send me some precedents.”
“Send me the draft by lunch tomorrow so I can look it over first.”
I replied: “I’ll do my best.” She had already hung up. I took the earphones out of my ear and placed them slowly on the counter. Hugo would flip if I told him I’d have to work but I had no choice. I walked outside and found him asleep on a deckchair. I sat on the one next to his and contemplated the beautiful view. The sky had become even clearer. The hills beyond the valley opened to offer a view of the waves of the Mediterranean Sea reflecting in the sun. I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly.
“Hmm angel...your call finished?” Hugo murmured, his eyes still closed behind the sunglasses.
“Yes,” I replied gently and took his hand.
“Good.”
“The thing is though - I will have to do some work.”
“You’re kidding.” He opened his eyes, withdrew his hand and sat up. “This is really not funny, Chloé. We are on holiday! And it’s the final tonight!”
“Yes, I know. What am I supposed to do? I have to produce the first draft of the agreement by tomorrow afternoon.”
“And then what? Is it going to be like this every day?”
“No, of course not. I’m just helping out because the others are too busy today. So it should be fine after tomorrow.”
“It better be. Neither the girls nor I would appreciate a holiday with you working all the time.”
I got up, squatted next to his chair and hugged him awkwardly, leaning my head against his chest.
“Thank you for being so patient with me. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“If you’re thinking along the lines of last night, I may be open to suggestions,” he grinned and kissed my forehead.
I managed to send the draft agreement to Tracey by the next day. After a brief review she approved it to be forwarded to William, who asked us to send it to the borrower and their legal advisers subject to his comments. That concluded my involvement for the time being. Or so I thought.
For the next three days we enjoyed our holidays. When we returned from a day at the beach, in the late afternoon of the Friday, I checked my emails and saw that the borrower’s advisers had just replied with a heavily marked up document. No sooner had I read their message than my mobile rang.
“Hi. You’ve seen the email I presume,” Tracey began. “As you are familiar with the term sheet and have drafted the credit agreement, I have decided it makes sense for you to join the negotiations next week. I have also been able to increase the cap since the parameters have somewhat changed - there is no way this can close by the end of next week.”
“Right. Uhm. We are supposed to be still here next week.”
“See whether you can get a refund for the second week. We may be able to bill that to the client as a necessary expense.”
“I need to speak to Hugo and the girls and will let you know this evening.”
“It is not really an option, Chloé. This is now your deal.”
“Yes, I understand. I-” There was a click. The line was dead. I placed the mobile on the table next to my deckchair. It was time to wake the girls. They had fallen asleep in the car on the way back to the house and Hugo and I had carried them carefully to their beds to let them sleep for a while. I went through the terrace doors into the living room. He was sitting on the sofa, an open beer bottle at his lips, staring at the TV screen.
“Football? Still?” I commented.
“It’s another report on the head-butt. Honestly, the guy was provoked!”
“Maybe, but it was an unfortunate time to let yourself go like that. I still think he’s hot though,” I sighed as Zidane’s face filled the screen.
Hugo clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Will you women ever be able to watch football without commenting on the player’s looks?”
“Only if you guys will watch women’s sports without doing the same,” I retorted.
“Yeah, ok. Point taken.”
“I’m going to wake up the girls. But before I do, I need to talk to you.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know how else to put it - we will need to cut our holiday short. Tracey wants me back in the office next week to go to a meeting for this deal.”
Hugo looked at me stone-faced. “I don’t believe it. That bitch!”
“Well, she probably really has nobody else to do this deal.”
“Then she should not have accepted it. You are entitled to your holiday.”
“Hugo, I am so sorry. Believe me, I wish I could do something about it.”
“Easy. Quit this job.”
“After just over two months? You know that’s not an option. Besides, apart from Tracey’s infrequent antics, I actually do like it.”
“Is that so? You should think about what it does to your family. I mean your children and me.”
“I can’t help it right now,” I repeated. “I will try to make things better, though, I promise. Please, believe me. It’s not fair for you to blame me right now. I am trying my best to make everybody happy.”
“Don’t cry, angel.” Hugo got up from the sofa and came over to take me into his arms. “I don’t blame you. I’m just angry with these people. Now, look. We’ll make the best of the time that remains. When do you have to be back?”
“Monday,” I sniffed.
“Then w
e will leave Sunday after breakfast, okay? That gives us two more nights and the whole of tomorrow.”
“OK. Thank you.” I kissed him, pulling out of his arms. “I’m going to wake the girls now.”
As I walked away I realised that Hugo probably wasn’t too sorry to leave, as he had been complaining about being bored. The girls would be disappointed though - they loved the pool and the beach. And me? I had to admit that it didn’t feel bad, being so needed by the firm that I had to make the heroic sacrifice of cutting short my annual family holiday. That would surely go down well with Michael and earn me brownie points with Tracey.
7. London Calling
The forty-eight-storey glass tower of Howard Hewitt was sparkling in the morning sun. We had landed half an hour earlier at London City airport. As so often, due to the side wind, the approach had been rather wobbly and I had asked myself whether there would be enough time and opportunity for me to save my handbag before the little turboprop plane would crash into the Thames. As usual I thought of my girls and of who would look after and take care of them should something happen to me. I detested this airport, almost as much as getting up at 4.30 a.m. to make the 6.40 a.m. flight to London City. Especially when the prospect was, unfortunately, not a shopping spree at Harvey Nichols but negotiation meetings starting at 9 a.m. at the offices of Howard Hewitt, who was opposing counsel and represented the institutional investors in our new real estate finance deal for Holman Bank.
“I have asked Jerome to book you on the early flight to City - I’ll meet you at HH’s offices in Canary Wharf, an hour before the meeting. I assume that’s alright. Can you please prepare a list of all issues together with suggested solutions,” Tracey had informed me over the phone while I was still on my holiday in France.
“Sure, Tracey, no problem,” I had replied mechanically since it was a rhetorical question not requiring any (or rather, any other) answer.
How I would organise my time, and manage the other tasks that she had given me in addition, would be up to me. A one day business trip would not mean that all other work, that had piled up during my abridged holiday, would just stop. One would simply have to put in extra (even more) time. So that is exactly what I did for those two days before the meeting and, in addition, arranged for Jana to take the girls as they were still off school. On the Wednesday in question, I rose before the birds started their morning song, caught the first flight to City airport and, after a short ride in a black cab, found myself in the monumental entrance hall of the Howard Hewitt building.
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