Anna’s eyes opened wider.
‘And a story printed with malice would stop Stateside from using the Reynolds defence in a libel case, because even if it’s in the public interest, it has to be balanced and fairly reported.’
Helen nodded gleefully.
‘Go and find out what this is really about.’ She smiled. ‘Then we’ll give them a hatchet job of their own.’
38
As far as Matthew was concerned, the White Horse was the perfect London boozer. Dark, cramped, done out in chipped mock-mahogany and red velvet, the walls covered with pictures of boxers and racehorses. The gents’ had grafitti and a broken mirror, and they still sold cling-film-wrapped cheese rolls behind the bar. It certainly wasn’t the sort of place where you’d order a white wine spritzer.
Perhaps that explained why Matthew was the only Donovan Pierce employee in the pub at half past seven in the evening, despite the fact that the White Horse was by far the nearest watering hole to the office. He’d asked a few people, of course, but everyone seemed to be chained to their desks, still making calls and furiously writing reports. That was the kind of work ethic Helen Pierce demanded, and they were probably terrified of her coming back from court to find them drinking lager, but Matthew had been brought up to value his leisure time. His mother Katherine had worked long, hard hours as a lecturer at University College London, but when work was done for the day, she felt no guilt in letting her hair down.
‘There’s always time for fun,’ she’d say with a smile, filling their weekends with trips to the beach, the cinema and London museums. When Matthew was just starting out as a solicitor, he’d still meet up with his mother for after-work suppers or her trademark G and Ts, dissecting their days and sharing the gossip.
Matthew smiled nostalgically as he sipped his bitter. It was warm, foamy and tasted of bracken. During his career as a family lawyer, he’d met dozens of men who’d turned to alcohol as a way of numbing the pain of losing their family. And after Carla had left him, he had almost gone the same way. But he’d taken hold of his heavy drinking before alcohol had become his crutch. He’d started rowing again, and bought a motorbike for long rides deep into the countryside that made him feel better than whisky ever could.
‘That looks good,’ said a familiar voice behind him.
Matt glanced up and saw his father standing there clutching a white plastic bag under his arm.
‘Bloody hell. What are you doing here?’
It was actually quite a shock to see Larry. In Matt’s mind, his father was always a charging bull. Maddening at times, yes, but always vital and strong. Now he was pale and thin, his shirt baggy and loose around the neck. Perhaps it was the dim light in the bar, but his hair seemed greyer, his skin transparent. But he still had the same twinkle in his eye.
‘I’m allowed to come into pubs, you know,’ he said. ‘Laid off the heavy drinking but I can still breathe in the fumes.’
The chestnut-haired barmaid waved at him.
‘Melinda, my dear,’ he boomed, his voice as loud as ever. ‘Just a vodka and tonic for me, hold the vodka, there’s a darling.’
He carried his glass over to Matthew’s booth and lifted it in salute.
‘How did you know I was here?’
Larry shrugged. ‘Sarah on reception said you’d gone to the pub. This was always my favourite place to sneak off to, so I figured, like father like son.’
‘Well it’s good to see you up and about,’ Matt said. ‘Were you coming in to work? The Garrick Club?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Larry. ‘I was shopping.’
‘Shopping? You? I never thought I’d hear you say those words.’
Larry slid his plastic bag towards Matthew. It had a Hamleys logo on the side.
‘For Jonas. I hope he likes it, but the receipt’s in the bag – God knows what kids like these days. I felt rotten for forgetting his birthday. Not quite got used to not having a secretary there to keep a diary.’
‘It was a shame you weren’t in on Saturday,’ said Matthew, peering into the bag.
‘Saturday? What do you mean?’
‘We stopped off to see you. Me, Jonas and Carla.’
‘I didn’t go out on Saturday. I was probably in the den watching the cricket and didn’t hear the bell. Strange that Loralee didn’t answer, though.’
Matt frowned. Why had Loralee turned them away? Perhaps Larry wasn’t as well as he was making out and she wanted him to rest. Either way, he didn’t want to press the point.
‘Maybe she’d popped out for something,’ he said.