Alchemy. Maureen Duffy

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СКАЧАТЬ It’s usually fairly empty at lunchtime. I’ll buzz you when I’m ready to leave.’

      ‘The bosses have blown for you.’ Drew had called me into his office. ‘Mrs Boss wants you to do some work for her. Have you got the time?’

      ‘I’d better find it, hadn’t I?’ I always joined in his conspiracy that we were both living out the last days of the Raj where the partners were concerned.

      ‘Anyway you’ll get a decent lunch out of it. Helen always lunches the juniors when they first arrive, to suss them out.’ This was to let me know that I wasn’t the first, so not to let it go to my head. ‘She asked if you were free on Tuesday. I said I’d ask you and let her know. I refuse to take umbrage at being used as a go-between.’

      ‘You should charge commission.’

      ‘Your lunch with the boss-lady is all fixed,’ he told me later when we were leaving the building together. ‘She’ll let you know when she’s ready to leave.’

      ‘My, we’re smart today,’ he said when I appeared on Tuesday morning.

      ‘Got to make a good impression on the Begum. She wouldn’t want to be seen with anything manky.’

      That unmistakable voice called me at twelve-thirty. She would meet me in the foyer. My legs were trembling too much for the stairs. I took the lift, trying not to tweak my hair in its mirror wall.

      She looked me up and down as I stepped out towards her, forcing a smile. ‘Nice,’ she said. ‘We’ll take a taxi. Can you get one?’

      We stepped out into Fetter Lane. I would find a cab or perish in the attempt. I would be efficient, authoritative. I lost the first to another lawyer, judging by his dark suit, but the next came along behind and I stepped off the pavement determined he should stop.

      ‘Where to?’

      ‘The Garden,’ I said as if I knew where it was.

      ‘Which one?’

      ‘Portugal Wharf,’ she said, her elegant high heels stepping up into the darkness of the cab. I caught a draught of her scent as I sank down beside her, careful not to let any part of our bodies connect by accident. I just hoped that when the time came I should be able to swallow whatever I’d chosen to try to eat, something I couldn’t choke on for preference. Careful, Jade, I was warning myself, don’t assume she knows, or that this is anything more than curiosity about a junior. After all she can’t have it off with them all, of both sexes. Or does she? I hadn’t been able to ask Drew without seeming to show an uncommon interest and losing my reputation for cool.

      The Garden, Portugal Wharf, was an evening place, Helen explained, which was why it was quiet at lunchtime. You could sit out under a glass awning and look across the river where each passing pleasure boat set up a sparkling wash, to the green and silver ziggurats of new riverside apartments beached beside the Thames.

      ‘It was where the Portuguese wines came ashore,’ she said as we studied our menus with their riverine design of fishtailed Nereides and Tritons on sea horses blowing horns, ‘in this part of Vintry Ward. Most of the port houses were owned by the British, like Blandy’s you know.’

      I didn’t know but wasn’t going to say so. I simply nodded in agreement.

      ‘I thought we should continue our association with water.’

      Was I wrong or was she flirting with me? Had I been wrong before? Perhaps it was just her style. ‘Now what will you have? A starter? The goat’s cheese and rocket isn’t bad as that goes. Or the fritto misto.’

      I opted for the insalata tricolore and a poached sea bass steak to follow. Helen took her own advice on the fritto misto and a filet mignon. ‘What would you like to drink?’

      We agreed on a white wine as less likely to send us into an afternoon coma, and she ordered up a bottle of chablis and some fizzy water. ‘I refuse to be bound by those old ideas of red wine with red meat. Anyway white’s lighter at lunchtime. Convention is there to be broken, don’t you think?’

      ‘I don’t think I ever had any to break.’

      ‘A gypsy life?’

      ‘Something like that.’

      ‘You’re very lucky. No baggage.’

      ‘Oh, everyone has baggage, don’t they? Whole attics full of stuff you can’t look at but can’t throw out. A childhood, parents.’

      ‘Of course. But for some it doesn’t stay there, up in the attic. It comes downstairs and clutters up the living space. Conventions, other people’s expectations. Biology, gender, becoming a parent yourself.’

      I thought of Roger and how easily he had managed to slide himself sideways out of all this, letting his wife take the strain for our family as well as her own. It was still easier for men to get someone else to carry the can and free them up. His example had made me hold out for independence. Even more so when he married and I saw Jenny falling into the role of wife, mother, carer, social secretary, writing the letters, keeping in touch, remembering birthdays, taking up the white woman’s burden.

      ‘So tell me the story of your life.’

      ‘Not much to it. School, Sussex Uni, in-house lawyer to a property company. Ate my dinners, took my Bar exams.’

      ‘I hadn’t realised you’re a barrister. Not just a pretty face. We must look after you. How much time have you spent in court?’

      I had to admit to my court virginity. ‘We must see you lose it soon. I’ll suggest you go along with James next time he’s appearing, get the feel of it.’

      ‘I wouldn’t want to put Drew’s nose out. He’s been very kind and supportive.’

      ‘If you’re to get on you’ll have to get rid of that sort of sentiment. He’s an able solicitor but essentially an office boy. I have other things in mind for you. We need to see if you can perform. Forget all the stuff about truth and justice, that’s for the tabloids or Perry Mason. You need to be able to act like Olivier and interrogate like the KGB, while flattering the judge and jury. I’ll bet they didn’t teach you that at Sussex.’

      Was I disappointed? My breath was taken away by her sophistication. The combination of power and control came off her like a flash of static, sexy, heady, a gush of irresistible energy that lit up her whole face as she held my gaze with the intensity of her own, iron drawn to a magnet, Amyntas’ lodestone.

      ‘Do you like music, real music not pop? James doesn’t. I miss a lot through having to go on my own which means I don’t go, of course. Do you?’

      At that moment I would have sworn to enjoying baked toad if I’d been asked. ‘I’m better on early.’

      ‘Meaning what?’

      ‘Mozart backwards.’

      ‘Not too many chanting monks and nuns or nannygoat-counter-tenors, I hope. I can always smell unwashed hair and damp stone.’

      ‘And then I pick up later. Tchaikovsky, Elgar, Britten.’

      ‘Strauss? СКАЧАТЬ