Private Lives

‘Bloody hell, it’s like a posh Glastonbury,’ said Matthew as they left the cab and walked through the gate, eyeing the overgroomed blondes in skinny jeans and flip-flops sitting on the grass smoking and drinking.

‘Glastonbury,’ said Anna wistfully. ‘Those were the days. From what I can remember of them, anyway.’

‘You went to Glastonbury?’ said Matthew with surprise.

She nodded.

‘Every year from sixteen to twenty-five. Before I got sensible and tied myself to a respectable career.’

They flashed their wristbands at a security guard and were directed through into a VIP area. The house itself was being used as a production-headquarters-cum-dressing-room for the artists and the backstage area was full of famous faces from television and music, either dashing about or just lolling on the grass enjoying the sun.

‘Christ, if someone dropped a bomb in here,’ said Matthew, ‘the whole of the music industry would grind to a halt.’

They walked past a spiky-haired singer Matthew recognised from one of the TV talent shows Jonas liked watching. Anna pulled a face.

‘On the other hand, it might do us all a favour and get some real music on the telly,’ she whispered.

‘Ooh, Little Miss Rock Chick.’

They stopped at a stall and got a fresh lemonade each, then sat down on the grass. From where they were, they could hear the music blasting out from the stage.

‘So is that what attracted you to media law? Drugs, sex and rock and roll?’ said Matthew, enjoying the sun, the atmosphere and the company of his associate.

Anna shook her head.

‘Actually, it was a substitute career for journalism,’ she said, sucking on her straw. ‘I studied law to please my parents, but I got the writer’s bug in my first year, when I signed up for the uni newspaper. I really wanted to do it, but everyone kept telling me I’d have to start in regional press, covering jumble sales and doorstepping the families of dead people – which didn’t sound like the sort of news career I was after. Then I got offered a shiny well-paid job at Davidson’s, which I knew had a media law division. It was as if I could combine two careers – law and journalism in one.’

She squinted at him.

‘What about you? Just following in daddy’s footsteps?’

Matthew snorted.

‘Hardly. We barely spoke for twenty-five years.’

‘So why follow him into the law? Why not make a statement and do something completely different, like a fireman or an archaeologist or something?’

It was a question Matt had asked himself many times over the years and one he had never properly been able to answer. Graduating from Cambridge with a 2:1 degree and a rowing blue, he could have gone into banking or insurance or any number of other sideways career paths, but he’d stuck with the law.

‘Maybe that was my statement.’ He shrugged. ‘Choosing family law actually pissed my dad off in a big way. He sees it as the poor relation no one talks about. Media, M and A, property, tax, they all have prestige, but Larry sees family law as one step up from those dusty little high-street practices you only visit to make a will or sell your house. Which is funny really, considering the huge amount of time he’s

spent in the divorce courts himself. Disappointing him seemed the ultimate way to rebel.’

They slurped their plastic cups empty.

‘How is your dad anyway?’ asked Anna.

‘He’ll be okay.’

He felt guilty that he hadn’t spoken to Larry since their argument in the pub.

‘I wish I’d had the chance to work with him.’

‘Well at least you get to learn at the feet of Helen Pierce. Helen and Larry are cut from the same cloth.’

‘Ruthless bastards, you mean.’

They both laughed.