‘I assume you’ve spoken to Nick. He thinks we should try counselling.’
‘Nick is not my client, Abby. I deal with his solicitor. But regardless of what most people think about lawyers, we’re not out to ruin lives and screw everyone for money. If you can sort this out, get things back on track and that’s what you both genuinely want . . . Well, I certainly think it’s something you should try.’
‘Do you mind if we stop there?’ asked Abby, feeling emotional.
She looked at the
clock behind him and puffed out her cheeks. She knew from Anna that lawyers didn’t just work by the hour. Every ten-minute unit was clocked and billed. Time was money. It had taken her six weeks to decide against any sort of marriage counselling or mediation. She didn’t want it to cost her another hundred quid to confirm that decision to her lawyer.
‘How about I call at the end of the week?’ said Graham. ‘Give you a chance to mull everything over. Look, there’s Matt. He’ll want to say hello.’
She looked behind her and saw a tall, familiar figure waving from the other side of the window.
She picked up her bag, shook Graham’s hand and left his office.
‘Hello, stranger,’ said Matt, giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. She hoped he hadn’t noticed that she was shaking. ‘Everything okay in there?’
‘I think you should maybe offer vodka instead of tea,’ she replied, glad to see his friendly face.
‘Temazepam rather than biscuits . . .’
‘Bring it up at your next board meeting,’ she smiled, trying to keep the situation light.
‘You’ll get through it,’ he said, reminding Abby that Matt wasn’t just a divorce lawyer. He had been divorced too. A messy, emotional affair, according to Anna. A difficult wife who’d had an affair and walked out taking their young son with her. It had almost destroyed him, and yet Matt was now happy and about to marry Anna.
They were almost at reception when they heard a commotion at the front desk. A woman a little younger than Abby was struggling with a buggy and a small boy.
‘Abby, this is an ex-colleague of ours, Sid Travers. She comes back to see us occasionally. Sid, this is Abby, a friend of mine and Anna’s.’
‘Matt. Phone,’ called a PA.
‘Abby, Sid, I’ll see you later.’ He waved regretfully.
The young woman was clearly harassed. The toddler in the buggy had started crying and the young boy was tugging desperately at her skirt.
‘Can I help?’ asked Abby.
‘It’s fine,’ said Sid. ‘He just wants to get out.’
She unclicked his harness and the toddler wriggled out of the buggy.
‘Mummy, I need the toilet.’
‘In a minute, Charlie,’ she said to the older child.
‘I need it now.’
The toddler was starting to sprint towards the other end of the corridor.
‘Shit,’ whispered Sid. ‘Ollie, come back here.’
‘Mummy, I need the toilet now.’
‘I’ll get him,’ said Abby, setting off after the child. ‘Bloody hell. He’s like Usain Bolt.’
As she scooped him up, she couldn’t resist pulling him close. She felt a soft wash of maternal instinct flood over her and started to smile.
‘You cheeky thing,’ she whispered.