Looks Unimportant...Sense of Humour Essential

by Evie Evans

  Mrs Williams’ hands went up to her face. “Oh no. He’s not giving him back?”

  “Not yet,” Lucy answered watching Mrs Williams face crumple up at the news. She handed her one of the tissues she’d placed handy. “We knew this was a possibility. It doesn’t mean we’ve lost or that you won’t get Winston back. It just means we may have to go to court,” she told her, trying to sound reassuring. “We stand a good chance of winning though with your evidence and your, er, photos.”

  “Oh I’m so worried about him, Miss Davenport,” Mrs Williams sobbed through the tissue. “He’s probably pining for me. What if I don’t get him back?”

  Lucy felt sorry for the poor woman, it may be only a rat but she was obviously very attached to him. “Well I can’t guarantee that we will but we’re going to try our best. So try to remain positive until we know otherwise. Okay?”

  Mrs Williams nodded through the tears.

  This case brought home to Lucy how hard it was to keep emotion out of her work sometimes. She dreaded to think how the woman would react if they didn’t win and she lost Winston. Lucy was starting to feel some anxiety over it herself. What if she ever got a case involving a child’s custody? If she felt this bad over a rat how would she cope representing a parent trying to get custody of their son or daughter?

  You have to keep your feelings out of it, she was telling herself on the tube on her way home that night after filing an application with the district court to sue Mrs Williams’ ex-husband. Not getting involved was part of the job she was yet to get used to, she sometimes got too caught up in her cases. Leander Brooke’s case could be the turning point though. She couldn’t see herself getting over-involved in a rude businessman’s affair with a crummy actress.

  Looking up quickly she had a feeling she might have just said that out loud. The passengers sitting opposite were looking at her. “Well,” she told them, “could have been a lot worse. I could have been thinking about that rat running around Mrs Williams’ bra.”

  The passengers barely batted an eyelid. That was life in London, everyone had seen everything before, done everything before. They weren’t easily shocked or surprised. People seemed to exist in their own bubble in which strangers were strictly forbidden. No wonder she’d struggled to make many friends here. Back in her home town things were very different, as a matter of fact the opposite. You couldn’t keep anything secret if you tried, everyone knew everything about you whether you wanted them to or not. When she’d lived there she’d found it claustrophobic and intrusive. Right now she’d happily welcome some of that intimacy and neighbourliness. In a small dose at least.

  She let herself into her flat with a small sense of relief that the day was over. Calling it a flat was exaggerating slightly. The front door opened straight into the small living space with a cubby hole of a kitchen in one corner. An equally small bedroom was separated from the living space by a few steps up. It was cramped but usually felt comfortable. Tonight it was feeling lonely and distant.

  Maybe I should be looking for a relationship? she thought, not just a date for the wedding. She’d always thought it would come naturally, that romance would spring upon her one day like a traffic warden pouncing on an illegally parked car. She hadn’t anticipated actually having to go out looking for it. The messages she’d traded with the men online had showed her what she’d been missing though; it was nice having someone interested in her and her life. Going back to what had been wasn’t at all attractive.

  “Perhaps I need a pet,” she mused as she cooked a solitary dinner on the ancient stove. After a couple of bored hours flicking through the t.v. channels she went to bed and fell into a restless sleep wondering if she should ask Mrs Williams how easy it was to keep a rat.

  *

  The next thing she knew she was arriving at the church for the wedding. How was this possible? She wasn’t ready, it wasn’t meant to be for weeks yet. She hadn’t even bought her outfit. Looking down she saw she was wearing her dressing gown. Oh no, all the other guests were pointing at her and laughing. Uncle Frank appeared and asked couldn’t she have found something better than that to wear? Instead of helping her he walked off. Now Aunty Suzi had seen her. She was loving it. An enormous smile spread across her face like a cat anticipating playing with a mouse. Lucy just needed the bride to catch sight of her as well for a full house.

  Suddenly Aunty Suzi was next to her. “You have to sit up there because you couldn’t get a date.” She was pointing to a chair on a platform at the front of the church facing everyone. “Go on,” she told her, pushing her forward, “that’s the loser’s seat.”

  Lucy walked to the front, aware of everyone whispering and laughing all the way. She had to climb up onto the seat then turn and face them. The church was crowded with people, their faces cruel and mocking, except her uncle’s which was full of pity. She just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.

  Then her dad was before her. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you a date,” he whispered.

  Lucy turned and saw who was holding his arm. A shrivelled up old man who had to be eighty if he was a day. He was holding onto her dad because he’d probably fall over if he didn’t. His face came looming towards her, the mouth puckered as if to give her a kiss. Dry lips with a little drool in the corner. Her mouth opened, not to receive his kiss but to scream.

  She woke up in a mass of tangled sheets, her heart pounding. This wedding was becoming a nightmare.

  *

  Next morning Lucy was a woman on a mission. First into the office, her computer was switched on before she’d even sat down behind her desk. It was her job to look through the morning papers and make sure no more scurrilous stories about Torey Lincoln and Mr Brooke appeared but she ignored them this morning and concentrated solely on the screen. As soon as the internet loaded she logged straight onto the dating website. Forget work, this was all she’d thought about last night after that terrible dream.

  She was holding her breath again as the messages page loaded. A quick scan showed nothing from Simon. He hadn’t replied to her message. Her bag fell off as her shoulders sagged. She’d taken a risk and it hadn’t paid off. She was going to have to face it, he wasn’t interested in her.

  There was still ‘legaleagle’. Lucy opened the message he’d sent the previous day. He told her all about a new doorbell he’d fitted and listed what he’d had for dinner the night before – lamb chops, potatoes, peas – and the night before that – chicken kiev, mash, beans. It was hardly riveting stuff. He looked okay in his photo, thirtyish, brown hair styled with a centre parting, a bit of a weak chin but a friendly smile. Okay, maybe he could stand to lose 10lbs but she knew how hard it was to get enough exercise when you were sat behind a desk all day. She could no longer afford to be so choosy. Spurred on by her dumped status she invited him for a coffee, she couldn’t risk this one getting away as well.

  Once the dating stuff was out of the way she could get on with some work. She knew this was the wrong way round and she should be careful now the senior partners were giving her more chances but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Now she’d started on this track she was determined to get a date for the wedding out of it if it killed her. That probably wasn’t a good term to use when meeting strangers off the net.

  Today she had to go interview Mr Brooke. On her own. It felt like she was about to beard the lion in its den.

  “Miss Davenport,” Mr Brooke greeted her as she was shown into his office.

  “Mr Brooke.” They were all politeness today. Lucy had told herself on the way over she wasn’t going to argue with him again. He was the client so she would have to accept he was right, no matter how much it pained her. She couldn’t help noticing he was well dressed again in a smart black suit that made his eyes look even browner.

  “You know it’s worse than going to a bar coming here,” she commented pleasantly, trying to make small talk as she sat down at the meeting table in his office.

  He looked at her questioningly
as he took his place at the table.

  “Your receptionist checked my i.d. again,” she explained.

  “They like to be thorough. Security and privacy are important to me.”

  “Right. Well, as I said on the phone Mr Lincoln is pressing ahead with his claim I’m afraid. The good news is he’s provided the dates he’s claiming you spent with his wife so we can gather evidence against that, even though it’s their job to prove your guilt,” she added to demonstrate her knowledge. “They’re spread over four weeks in March this year. Did you have any luck remembering what you were doing on those days? And nights.”

  “Yes, I keep a diary.”

  An image of a girl’s pink, fluffy diary flashed into her mind. He didn’t look like the sort that sat down at the end of the day and started writing ‘Dear diary…’.

  He must have seen the look of surprise on her face. “When you have as many appointments as me, daytime and night-time, you need a diary.”

  “Of course,” she answered, chastised.

  “So I’ve checked.” He pulled a piece of paper from a pocket but hesitated before unfolding it. “This isn’t very easy for me, giving out personal information like this. It will be treated confidentially, won’t it?”

  “Oh yes,” she assured him. “As your lawyers we will protect any information you provide us and only share it with the legal team on the other side. I have to warn you though, if the case goes to court this information may be made public.”

  “Can we get them to drop the case without it?”

  “Not yet. We could wait and see if they can produce sufficient evidence and file for a dismissal if they don’t. When they don’t,” she quickly corrected herself.

  “I don’t want to wait that long.” He considered it for a second then seemed to make up his mind and opened the piece of paper. “Shall we go through them then?”

  Lucy nodded finding being alone with him a little disconcerting. Having those deep brown eyes focussed purely on her again was making it hard for her to think.

  “I was here at work during the daytime on some of the days. We have security cameras which should be able to prove that. The first date, the 6th, I was with - do you want names?”

  Names? How many were there? “Yes, I think that would be best,” Lucy told him flipping open her legal pad, trying to sound like she’d done this before.

  “Well, Liz Wilton at her cottage in Wales. She should be able to verify this and her neighbours, they had dinner with us. The second, the 13th I was with Louise Shepperton-”.

  Lucy stopped writing. “-not the author?”

  Leander looked up. “Yes, do you know her?”

  “No, I just love her books.” Lucy thought he must move in exalted circles. Her last book was a bestseller.

  “We spent the afternoon at her apartment then went to dinner at Antons, Mayfair. Perhaps you know it?”

  Not likely, she thought, not on my salary. “No. Good is it?” she asked politely whilst jotting it down.

  “Very good. 16th March I was in the office till about five then I was with Rosalind Armstead and Diana Tuttle.”

  Lucy swallowed hard and looked up, dreading what he was going to say next. A threesome?

  “A PR meeting.” Lucy breathed out, relieved. “Going over a new brochure for our latest line. I was with them till around 8.30. 20th March, again I was here at work in the daytime.”

  “And the evening?” Lucy asked hoping the answer was going to be something mundane like ‘at home watching t.v.’ as she would have been.

  “Carole Bowen. She wanted to go to the theatre, opening night of a new show. Terrible it was too. There might even be press photos of us; there were a lot of paparazzi around.”

  “I see, we may be able to check that if we need to,” she told him, desperately trying to scribble it all down.

  “25th March, again I was here in the daytime. The evening I spent with Katy Towers.” He smiled softly to himself. “What an Irish firebrand she was.”

  “I don’t need to know the details,” she told him quickly, feeling it was embarrassing enough as it was. His love life was certainly impressive, four different women in as many weeks so far, not counting the PR ladies. And there she was struggling to get a single date.

  “She’s back in Ireland now, I can get you her number if you need it. The sixth date, the 29th, I’m not sure about. There’s nothing in the diary and I can’t remember if I did anything.”

  “Maybe you were having a rest?” she joked looking at his list.

  He smiled at her. “I’m a single man, I like company. Is there anything wrong in that? I know you date.”

  “Yes. Obviously not as much as some,” she said looking down at the list again.

  “Have you been internet dating long?” he asked suddenly.

  Lucy thought she could detect a mocking tone. “I hadn’t done it before. Had you?”

  “I didn’t do it the first time. I was only there to save you. I was probably a bit rude about your dating methods. I’m sorry. I just hadn’t met anyone who’d done it before.”

  “So you didn’t sign up for it?”

  “You didn’t really let me explain last time. Someone…set me up. They set up a profile for me on the dating website without my knowledge.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you said before,” she told him not finding the hesitant way he explained it very convincing. “I don’t mind you know, if I wasn’t your type. It does happen.” She thought she was being generous, giving him an out.

  He looked at her sweetheart shaped face with its upturned nose and hazel eyes. “Actually you ar-, I mean, I’m telling the truth. My brother, Sebastian set it all up. He was the one you were talking to online, not me.”

  She put her pen down and gave him her full attention. “And how old is he?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “He’s very young for your brother.”

  “Half brother. My father married again after my parents split up.”

  “Well he was very convincing. Tell him to give me a ring in five years.”

  He almost cracked a smile at that.

  “Your love life seems pretty impressive, why was your brother trying to set you up?”

  He answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “That’s little brothers for you.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” she told him. She wanted to get back to the work. “These women,” she indicated the list she’d written down, “do you think they’d be willing to confirm the details and possibly testify for you?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  The next bit was a little tricky, how to phrase it? “Can I ask…do they know about each other? If not it may come as a bit of a shock and we don’t want them to become hostile. That could end up really backfiring on us.”

  “They know where they stand with me, or stood. We go out, we have fun. Sometimes it lasts longer than others. I don’t lie to them if that’s what you mean?”

  “I didn’t mean anything, just a lot of women wouldn’t be happy knowing they were part of …” words failed her, “…an army.”

  He burst out laughing. “Miss Davenport, these are big girls,” he looked her over as if assessing if she fell into this category. She automatically sat up straighter. “They know I’m not looking to settle down. They may want to change that but that’s their agenda. I’m quite clear to them I’m not looking for marriage or anything serious. It’s their choice if they get involved with me.”

  Charming. Lucy had never heard anyone discuss their love life so clinically before. It was a bit chilling that someone could be so uninvolved emotionally.

  Perhaps he saw the look on her face because he added, “You’re quite naïve Miss Davenport.”

  Were they ever going to have a meeting where he didn’t insult her? She was about to say something but remembered she wasn’t meant to argue with him today. “I’m not trying to criticise your lifestyle Mr Brooke. What you do in your own time…So long as none of these ladies regrets
it, that’s the only thing I’m worried about. How it could affect your case.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry.” He handed her the piece of paper he’d been reading from. “I don’t think you’ll find any of these women dissatisfied with my services.” He smiled at her, slowly. Watching him turn on the charm she could see how he had so much success with woman. It wasn’t only his looks, there was an attraction around his confidence, his self-assuredness. It left her cold.

  Mr Brooke sat back in his seat, his smile getting bigger. “If you want to find out sometime, call it research, let me know.”

  Lucy felt like retching. “What do you do? Hand out cloakroom tickets and we wait our turn?”

  “Now there’s an idea. It would certainly save a lot of scheduling.”

  Was he trying to flirt with her? Boy was he barking up the wrong tree. Did he really think she’d be interested after standing her up on that date? She suppressed the urge to laugh and changed the subject. “Well, it’s good that you can verify your whereabouts on the majority of the dates Mr Brooke. That should give us a strong case. With your permission I’ll need to contact these women and explain the situation.”

  “Okay, but you will be… subtle? They are…friends of mine.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll be very discreet.”

  “My secretary can give you their contact details.”

  Lucy got up to go.

  “I’m flying out to Geneva this afternoon by the way,” he told her as she packed her papers away. “I’ll be gone three days but my secretary can reach me if you need anything.”

  “I’ll make Katherine aware. Enjoy your trip Mr Brooke, we’ll be in touch when you get back.” Lucy left, amazed that she’d managed to get through the meeting without an argument.

  7 Alibis

  “How did it go?” Katherine asked, meeting Lucy on her return in the corridor.

  “What a louse! It’s a different girl every week.” Lucy told her, following Katherine into her office and taking a seat in front of her desk. “I don’t think he cares about any of them.”