by Gill Mather
Paul was looking for her when she got back. “Come and make up an eight,” he said taking her into what he said was normally the large dining room but it had been cleared specially for the dance. She looked around for Hugh but he was already holding hands in another ring of eight people.
The caller was pretty good and Ali didn't manage to sabotage the dance. She even managed to strip the willow reasonably well. But after the first dance she took her shoes off. She’d never last the evening otherwise.
By and by the groups got mixed up. Ali ended up with several different partners which seemed to be the object of the dances that had been chosen. Wattsey stood on her toes several times and a German businessman told her that he was a great fan of “the English turnips” while looking pointedly at her elevated bosom poking out of the top of her cocktail dress. She got rid of him as soon as she could.
Between dances she looked around. She saw Hugh holding hands with his then partner, a pretty woman about his own age, and chatting to her in a friendly manner. He had his jacket and tie off and had rolled up his shirt sleeves. He could look quite charming sometimes, she thought. Actually more than charming.
Sam had somehow managed to stay with Darren and was looking up at him adoringly. Graham was partnering Amanda who was making the most of the opportunity to impress him with her wit and charisma, boyfriend forgotten for the moment. Ali’s current partner she didn't know at all and tried to make general conversation with him but he gave the minimum response so she gave up. She looked over at Hugh again and he turned and looked at her at the same time. They both smiled faintly then the dancing started again.
Ali didn't get to partner Hugh at all but he came over while she was putting her shoes back on and took her hand for Auld Lang Syne at the end of the evening. Then there was a last dance, a waltz.
“OK with that?” Hugh asked.
“Just.” She’d learned the basic steps at school. It was just one two three wasn't it?
“Well just follow my feet.” And he put his arm round her waist and took her free hand and they made a passable turn or two round the crowded floor.
“You know. You’re much prettier than your celebrity,” he said at one point. Ali looked up at him in surprise. It wasn't at all the kind of thing she expected him to say. His eyes are beautiful she thought. He had those lovely low straight eyebrows. To cover the moment she said: “Well you’re much nicer than yours. Do you know who it is yet?”
“Yes,” he said dryly. “Baz and Victor gave me some very obvious clues during the meal and then had a bloody good laugh. Do you know who yours is?”
“Not yet. I’d forgotten all about it.”
Hugh let go of her hand and put both his arms round her back and fiddled with her label. It brought him much closer to her than the dance had done and Ali had to struggle to maintain her composure.
It must be the effect of being so close to a man after all this time, she thought. She could feel the blood rushing to her extremities. She hoped he hadn't felt her hand involuntarily squeeze his shoulder hard or felt her breathing quicken against his face as he bent over her to see what he was doing. What would he think of her? She turned her head quickly to face the other way.
He stepped back and handed her the label. “Liz Hurley” it said.
“Oh. Could have been worse.”
“Much worse,” and he looked at her again and she had to look away quickly.
“Er Hugh. If you want, I’ll go into the office tomorrow and do some research on the Reece case.” She’d said the first thing that had come into her head.
“Oh. Are you sure? You don't need to give up a Sunday and how’ll you get there?”
“It’s all right. I’ll cycle. I could do with the exercise and I’m so bogged down with this development I’ll enjoy doing something different.”
“Well fine. That’s really nice of you.”
Then it was time to go. Ali piled into the back of Graham’s car with Tracey and it wasn't long before she was being dropped off.
“See you then,” she said and went in.
ALI GOT UP EARLY the next day to go to the office and avoid seeing her mum who was bound to fuss about Ali working on a Sunday. She made some sandwiches and filled a bottle of water, left a note and then set off. She'd been given a key after Christmas.
After locking the door, she started up her PC. She could have done this at home really, but wouldn't have been able to stick at it and concentrate. There would have been too many distractions and she needed to be somewhere quiet. And the office was certainly with no-one in on a Sunday.
She went through the All England Law Reports and Halsbury’s Laws of England online first for cases and narratives about detention without formal arrest, false imprisonment, trespass to the person and malicious prosecution. Then she looked at periodicals. She checked works on tort for anything up to date.
She printed up cases of interest.
She looked at authoritative works on the liability of public authorities and misfeasance in public office, assault, false imprisonment, malicious prosecution.
After having her sandwiches she made long lists and copious notes about cases and promising further reading. She decided she’d have to do some more research another time.
She was thinking of packing up when her mobile started to vibrate in her pocket. She answered and it was Hugh checking whether she was still there and if so as it would be getting dark soon would she like a lift home. He said he was already in Colchester for something and could be there in a few minutes and put her bike in the back of his car unless she'd walked in. Ali wasn't sure. She felt uncomfortable about the previous evening and if he’d texted instead of calling she’d probably have made an excuse but felt she couldn't directly refuse so they agreed he’d text her when he got to the car park.
Ali put all her notes and photocopies in order and left them on her desk and she made her way out to the car park. Hugh was just turning in when she got there. She unlocked her bike and he got out and more or less threw it into the back of his car. She quickly got in and slammed the car door. It was freezing outside.
He thanked her for doing the research and didn't say much else. She said she’d give him the notes etc the next day but needed to get them in better order and he just nodded. She noticed he had a track suit and trainers on.
The silence was a bit unsettling so she said: “Good night last night.”
“Yeah. Glad you enjoyed it. Actually do you fancy a hair of the dog.” He nodded towards a pub that was coming up.
“Oh well. OK. So long as it’s not whisky. I can't stand the stuff.” And she didn't want to end up shaking her head into his upper arm and grabbing it like she had the previous evening.
She asked for a Crabbies ginger beer and Hugh had an orange juice. Ali looked askance and he said he’d gone back to Graham’s after they’d dropped Tracey off and they’d had a bit of a session and he ended up staying the night. “I don't drink much normally. Oh God!” He rubbed his eyes. She realised now that he did look fairly wan.
“I feel awful,” he said. “I tried to go to the gym but it was no good. That’s where I rang you from.”
His eyelids were drooping and he looked as though he might fall asleep any second. He put his face in his hands.
“Er do you think you should go home and go to bed. I always find nothing works but sleeping it off.”
He parted two fingers and peered at her through the gap. He looked as though he was going to start to say something but stopped and shook his head. “Yeah. Will soon.”
To make conversation and hopefully make him laugh, Ali told him about “the English turnips”. He did laugh then said she needed looking after. “Sorry. That’s sexist. I shouldn't have said that. It’s just the state I’m in at the moment.” And he lapsed into silent contemplation again.
“Thanks for the lift last night,” Ali was having trouble finding anything to say. She kept thinking about last night when he’d put his arms round her to take her label off and t
he unexpected effect it had had on her. Though Hugh was hung-over, he still looked devastating. The vulnerable look suited him. She dug her nails into her palms and told herself severely to stop it. He was her boss and had never shown the slightest interest in her and she hadn't thought about him in any other context either. It was just that she was overwrought from lack of male companionship. This was no good. If she started fantasising about the first male that came anywhere near her, who knew what a fool she’d make of herself.
But Hugh was starting to say something. He was resting his chin on one hand and was looking at her over the hand in a rather maudlin way. He sniffed. “Ali. Would you like to…do you want…”
“Yes?”
“Do you want….me to take you home now?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Come on then.” And he levered himself up and she followed him out. In the car park, she put her hand on his arm and asked him with concern: “Are you sure you’re OK to drive Hugh?”
“Yeah. Don't worry.” And he patted her hand with his other hand and left it there. All sorts of messages seemed to be coming from the hand to Ali’s over-active imagination and she started to feel…the only word for it was aroused she had to admit to herself. Like last night.
She snatched her hand away and jumped in the passenger seat. Hugh climbed in and drove off competently enough and soon they were at her house.
They both got out and he helped her get her bike out of the back. She looked at him and started to move to put her hand on his arm again but changed it quickly to putting her hair behind her ear. “You will be OK won't you?”
“Sure I will. Thanks for worrying.”
And off he went.
LATER ALI CHECKED her emails and opened a round robin to everyone at the firm from Paul. He’d been going around the night before taking photos and he had put them up for everyone to see. Some of them had cheeky little captions. Mainly they went chronologically through the evening but the first one was a picture of the large haggis with several little ones in a row behind it duckling fashion. The caption was: Och, when you said you were going to grease my pan and give me a roasting, I didna think you meant that!
Ali wondered if that set the tone for all of them.
There was one of Wattsey and wife. She was rubbing her feet and he was obviously getting a scolding and looked chastened. The feet have it said the caption.
The photo of Graham with Amanda determinedly getting his attention was labelled: I could be so good for you!
Among the unlabelled photos, there was one of Hugh holding hands with the pretty woman between dances. Ali felt a bolt of unreasonable jealousy unexpectedly course through her and she had to tell herself for the umpteenth time to knock it off.
There was a hilarious photo of the German businessman leering at some woman’s knockers bursting out of her dress entitled: Anne of Cleavage?
There was one of Sam and Darren dancing, her head on his shoulder, labelled: Spring, SUMMER, Autumn, Winter.
As she got towards the final ones, she heaved a sigh of relief. The only photos of herself she’d seen were fairly innocuous but suddenly, bang, there on the screen was a picture of her and Hugh, his arms wrapped around her and her facing the camera with her hands round his neck and back and her head on his shoulder, eyes tight shut, lips parted, cheeks flushed. She zoomed into her face. Oh dear. She looked like she was….Oh God no. No. No!
The caption was: Master and pupil!
Luckily there were a couple of follow-ups which showed that Hugh had been removing her celebrity label and them discussing it. But still, she was desperately embarrassed and her face burned scarlet. She could only hope most people wouldn’t bother to scroll to the end or zoom in on other people’s photos or would only be interested in pics of themselves. And oh she so hoped Hugh wouldn't see it. The email was timed late that morning so he might have seen it before she met him later. But he hadn't said anything. So perhaps she was safe in that respect.
That night in bed Ali had to fight off all sorts of erotic fantasies. I don't believe this. It’s totally ridiculous she told herself. But she’d had crushes on people before and that was all they were. They soon went away when nothing happened so she told herself this would too. That is if it was a crush at all. Maybe she just needed to have sex with someone and that would sort her out. Fat lot of opportunity for that, she thought.
CHAPTER 16
FOR A WEEK OR SO after the Burns Night do and the Sunday drink, Ali kept completely out of Hugh’s way. It seemed to do the trick and she stopped having lurid thoughts about having sex with him. She plonked the research material she’d done for Reece on his desk when he wasn't there.
She did some further research the following weekend and also put that on his desk in his absence.
When she did see Hugh, he didn't act any different than normal, so she thought: It’s all your imagination, stupid.
She decided she should do something with herself in the evenings therefore she started calling, texting and messaging girls she’d been at school with who were still living around Colchester and got some sort of social life going again. She often saw Paul in the pubs and clubs she went to and he’d wink and come over and introduce her and her friends to his own friends. She started to look for an activity of some sort. She quite liked painting but not that much. She thought about amateur dramatics but it was too time-consuming and too much of a commitment and you had to be really keen to want to do it.
She settled on cycling and joined a club. It was convenient because the meetings and trips were often on Sundays which suited her schedule and she had quite a good bike already. When playing around on the internet, she read that cycle saddles often caused women to have decreased sexual sensation. Well all to the good really, she thought. It’ll stop me having improper thoughts about the junior partner. Anyway I suppose it takes a bit of time for significant insensitivity to kick it.
She persuaded Sam to come along with her with the added incentive that cycling trips usually ended in pubs. But she didn't tell Sam about the decreased sexual sensation. They had quite a lot of fun. Some of the guys were nice but Sam only had eyes for Darren.
“Still no action?” asked Ali as they sipped their post cycling drink.
“No. Nothing. But…I mean I am bothered, but on the other hand it’s such a relief to be free of Den and living in a nice environment. I can wait a bit longer. Just not too much longer. Anyway. What about you? You must have someone in your sights. Surely.”
“No I’m enjoying single life and legal practice. Why should I bother?”
“Because you’re bothered. I know you are.”
“Well I can't think of anyone. If you can I’d be pleased to know about it.”
“Come on don't get stroppy. Isn’t there anyone you’ve had the hots for recently?”
“No!” Ali lied.
“Ah. Raw nerve,” said Sam triumphantly.
“Look. Can you just drop it,” said Ali. “I mean it.”
“All right. All right.” Sam put her hands up and they sat in silence until the cyclists all decided it was time to go home.
Thanks for re-opening that particular wound thought Ali staring at Sam’s departing back.
ALI COULDN'T AVOID going into Hugh’s room when he was there forever and he wanted to talk to her about a shoplifting case. So on the Monday she went in at his request and sat there looking rather sullen. Must be the time of the month he thought.
I bet he thinks it’s the time of the month, thought Ali. Men always thought that. Couldn't be anything else could it.
“Ali. Are you sure there’s not something up?”
“No,” she said through gritted teeth.
He looked at her curiously.
“Ali. This isn't like you,” he smiled at her. “You know. I know I’m a partner and a bit older than you but if there’s something troubling you, you can talk to me about it.”
Ali got up and walked out. Hugh sighed and shook his head. Women!
By way of a diversion, Ali decided to help her mother get ready for a little fund-raising show-cum-supper evening being put on by a women’s group she belonged to for the local hospice. It was being put on for two nights. She even allowed herself to be talked into doing a turn during the evening. She had got from somewhere a very much abbreviated rather suggestive updated version of Pride and Prejudice in which the central characters ended up virtually naked. It had the potential to get the audience hanging on the edges of their seats wondering what on earth was going to happen next if in the right mood. She tried it out in front of her parents. Her dad laughed a lot but her mum was a bit dubious.
“Isn't it rather rude?”
“You can't deprive them of that,” said her dad. “It’s hilarious.”
“Do you really think so,” said Celia.
“I’m positive.”
So Ali sold tickets around the office. Most people wanted to come. Even Hugh. He said he’d bring along Graham. What with partners and others, she managed to sell twenty two tickets at the office for one of the nights and her mum was delighted.
The first night turned out to be a pretty good night. The audience were appreciative. PWT were coming the next night however. Ali started to get nervous but by the time the show started she was ready to go. She wasn't used to standing in the limelight but found she rather liked it. Anyway she didn't learn the lines thoroughly and had them in front of her in a cover like a book, so she didn't need to worry about forgetting them. She did all the characters’ voices and accents and the more the audience responded, the better it was. She got lots of laughs and a huge round of applause when she came off.
Later she went and sat at one of the PWT tables where Sam was and had a few glasses of wine. Several people kissed her. Graham and Hugh came over and both kissed her on her cheek and congratulated her. When Hugh did so she had to steel herself. She hoped no-one noticed her flushed face but they didn't seem to. This has got to stop, she told herself. I can't cope with this. I’ll have to find another job somewhere else. But she knew she wouldn't. Not yet.