Page 13 of Behind Frenemy Lines

“Can you make a note of all of that?” he said. “I’ll send it on to Farah. She’ll want to know what we’ve been up to.”

I opened Outlook on my phone, saving a reminder in my diary. “I’ll do it before my flight tomorrow.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it now. It’ll keep till you’re back in the office.” Arthur poured himself another glass of wine. “Got any plans while you’re in Malaysia?”

“Just spending time with my parents. I don’t have many friends left in my hometown, most people have moved away.”

I’d got Appa and Amma to swear not to tell the auntie-uncle contingent I was coming, so I wouldn’t have to entertain everyone in Ipoh and its environs who remembered me as a child.

I’d have nothing to do other than eat and try to fix the way my parents’ TV kept logging them out of my Netflix account.

“It should be nice,” I said.

“Good,” said Arthur. Something about the way his eyes flicked to me and then skittered away made me nervous.

But he only said, “How are things generally? All right?”

I’d had half an hour to look through my inbox in my hotel room before we’d had to leave for dinner.

“Everything’s under control. Rosalind emailed wanting advice, but nothing urgent.

The partner in New York who’s going to do the US law advice for her dropped me a note to say thank you for the introduction to Sanson. ”

Arthur’s face twitched at the idea of another partner getting work from his client. But he couldn’t reasonably object, and luckily for me, he didn’t seem to be feeling unreasonable that day.

“That’s great,” he said. “But I meant more, you know, outside work. I know it wasn’t easy, with Tom…”

“Oh, let’s not talk about Tom.” I kept my tone light, but I meant it.

“Right. I know what you mean,” said Arthur. “I hope he didn’t leave you too bruised, that’s all.” He met my eyes. “You’re a very special person, Kriya.”

Goose bumps popped up all along my arms and the back of my neck.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I said, as though it were my appraisal and Arthur had passed on some nice client feedback.

I had never felt so grateful for a table as I was now. If only the one between me and Arthur were bigger. “How are the kids?”

“They’re good. Coping better than me.” Arthur’s mouth quirked in a wry half smile. “Margot’s at uni, so she has some distance from it all. And Lachlan doesn’t seem bothered. I think they could see the smash-up coming.”

He knocked back his wine and picked up the bottle, making to top up my glass. I shook my head. Arthur poured the remainder of the bottle into his glass.

“It was probably a relief for everyone else,” he said. “That it finally happened. I was the only one it came as a shock to. What’s the saying? The last to know.”

I thought about Tom and the way Zuri had said “Shit” when I’d told her about him dumping me. Angry, but not surprised.

I had felt like I’d sallied out of my front door on a fine blue-skied day and stepped straight into a pit. Half a year later, I wasn’t sure I’d climbed out yet.

I wasn’t about to share that with Arthur, though. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have been interested.

I missed normal Arthur. Weirdly intense Arthur who kept trying to make eye contact was freaking me out.

“It’s good that they’re not taking it too hard,” I said. “Shall we make a move?”

Arthur was quiet in the taxi back to the hotel, and as we waited for the lift in the hotel lobby.

The lift arrived. We both got in. I was beginning to think I might get away without having to endure any further awkwardness, when Arthur said:

“Kriya.”

I should have taken the stairs. “Yeah?”

Arthur didn’t say anything for a moment. The lift pinged as it arrived at my floor.

“Good work,” he said. “Enjoy your break. I’ll see you back at the office.”

“Thanks. Good night.” I stepped out of the lift with a sense of escape.

I wouldn’t be seeing Arthur now till we were both back in the UK, the week after next.

He was leaving at seven a.m. for his flight the next morning.

My flight to Malaysia was later in the day.

I’d be able to have breakfast by myself.

Maybe I could even go for a swim in the hotel pool.

Once I sent Arthur the note for Farah that he’d asked for, I’d be on holiday.

He’d be normal by the time we were back in the office, I told myself.

It was being abroad and sad about his ex-wife and drinking too much wine.

He probably didn’t realise how he’d been coming off.

I couldn’t believe that Arthur might really have been…

No. I’d worked with him for so long. He wasn’t like that.

My hotel room was dark when I let myself in. I could see Hong Kong through the bank of windows, lit up in the night.

Ant-like cars and buses and trams sped along glowing roads. Beyond them was the dark expanse of the sea. Ferries and junks moved to and fro, cutting through the wavering reflections of the city’s lights on the surface of the water.

The fruit bowl on the side table had been refilled, as it was every day, with one orange, one honey-scented apple, and one crisp yellow pear. I collapsed into an armchair, biting into the apple, watching the lights outside and thinking about nothing in particular.

There was a knock at the door.

Arthur was standing in the corridor, in the same suit he’d worn all day. He looked sweaty and dishevelled, more like a man you’d swerve away from in the street than a successful law firm partner.

“Er,” I said. “Is everything all right?”

Everything was obviously not all right. But it wasn’t like I had anywhere I could run to. I could shut the door in his face, but I had to work with the guy.

My best strategy was to pretend everything was normal and hope that shamed Arthur out of whatever it was he’d come here to do.

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur.

I could smell the alcohol fumes coming off him. I shuffled back, wishing I’d left the door chain secured.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, all evening,” said Arthur huskily. “What would happen if I took a chance and came to your room.”

“Oh,” I said. It was the kind of noise you let out when you put your hand in the kitchen cabinet to grab a mug and a lizard ran over it.

My brain engaged just in time to stop me from saying anything else. But the tone had been enough.

Arthur blinked several times. “I’ve screwed up, haven’t I. I’m sorry.” He passed his hand over his eyes. They were less piercing than usual, red from tiredness and alcohol. “It’s been such a busy week, and then I turn up here. You must be thinking I’ve lost it.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Agreeing was too risky. Arthur might be drunk enough to be making bad decisions, but he didn’t seem quite drunk enough not to remember my reactions the next day. “Arthur…”

“I couldn’t let you go without at least giving it a shot.” He took a deep breath. “I need you to know, you’re the most important woman in my life. I just thought I’d ask if you thought… in case it was something you’d, you know, be open to exploring…”

This was in some ways a very familiar situation. Arthur was fumbling for a thought. My role was to step in and clarify it, help him grasp the idea he was reaching for.

Except this time, the thing he was reaching for was me.

I’d been mad at Arthur before, for many legitimate reasons.

I knew all his foibles: his possessiveness with clients; his insistence on taking all the credit even if he’d done none of the work; his tendency to swing between micromanaging and disengagement; the fact his inbox was perpetually two thousand unread emails deep.

But he’d always been a decent boss, as partners went. I understood how he worked, and he understood me. So I’d thought.

Arthur was still talking. “I want you to think about it. Take all the time you need. We make a great team. I think we could be good together, you know?”

The silence stretched out. Arthur looked expectant, and also like it would take a literal earthquake to move him.

“I have a boyfriend,” I blurted.

“You what?” Arthur looked like someone had upended a bucket of cold water over his head. Maybe I should have tried that. “I thought you broke up with Tom.”

“Yes, it’s, uh, it’s someone else,” I said.

“Look, Arthur, I’ve always had so much respect for you.

” Before you hit on me. “I think of you as a friend.” A friend who is also my boss, so I have to do what you tell me to, whether I like it or not.

“And you know, I value our professional relationship and all the support and leadership you’ve shown.

I don’t want anything to come in the way of that, or to risk—” my career and my family’s financial stability.

I paused to think of something I could say out loud.

“Who is it?”

“What?”

“This guy you’re dating,” said Arthur. “It can’t have been—you only broke up with Tom a few months ago.” He paused. Suspicion crossed his face. “Why didn’t you mention you’ve been seeing someone before?”

I couldn’t let Arthur go on like this. I pulled myself together. “Arthur, I’m sorry, but my personal life is not your business.”

I resisted the temptation to soften or caveat what I’d said further, holding his gaze. He looked away first.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

The words were right, but Arthur didn’t mean them. He was angry, already on the way to resenting me.

“That’s not what I meant,” I lied. “But this isn’t the time to talk about it. It’s late, you’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

His shoulders slumped. “Right. I’ll let you get to bed.”

But he didn’t move.

“Good night, Arthur,” I said, and shut the door on him.

It was a heavy door. The floors were thickly carpeted, absorbing sound. But as I waited with my ear to the door, I thought I could hear his footsteps, moving away.

I locked the door and slid the chain through the track. Then I dragged a chair across the room and put it against the door, feeling ridiculous.

What did I think was going to happen? Arthur wasn’t going to come back and kick the door in. All he had to do was knock, and I’d open the door myself. It wasn’t like I could afford to ignore him. He was my boss.

I felt sick.

Why had I said I had a boyfriend? Arthur was already going to be mad at me for turning him down.

He was going to be even more annoyed if he caught me out in a lie.

And it was bound to happen. I spent too much of my life at work for it to be plausible that I was seeing someone.

There wasn’t time for me to have found anyone new.

I should have told him I wasn’t interested, full stop.

I collapsed in the armchair, staring at the half-eaten apple on the side table.

Who was I kidding? I couldn’t even say no to Arthur when he wanted me to cancel an evening engagement with friends so I could turn around urgent client work.

I was too well trained. You didn’t say no to a partner.

If you weren’t biddable and hardworking, if you got branded as a troublemaker, there was always plenty of fresh young blood to replace you.

What if Arthur decided to hold a grudge over this evening?

Swithin Watkins had courted him, not me.

If Arthur wanted me gone, he could make it happen easily.

I was still on probation. They only had to give me a week’s notice to fire me.

My career—ten years’ worth of working long hours, handling Friday evening client emergencies, slogging through tedious documents—destroyed in an instant.

I could try to defend myself, but so far as the firm was concerned, I was an appendage to Arthur.

I had no other allies at Swithin Watkins.

The only two people I had more than a passing acquaintance with were Farah, with whom I’d had all of one conversation, and Charles, who mostly knew me as the person who’d tried to stick him with a bill for ninety pounds he had no intention of paying.

A chill washed over me. I’d assumed it was a spur-of-the-moment pass from Arthur—a fleeting lapse of judgment, born of exhaustion and alcohol.

But was it deliberate that it had happened now?

If he’d tried it before, at our old firm, I would have known who to go to, in HR and the partnership.

I’d have had a sense of who would take me seriously if I confided in them, who might be willing to stick their neck out for me.

That wasn’t the case at Swithin Watkins.

I didn’t have those relationships at our old firm anymore, though, so it wasn’t even like I could return. They hadn’t been happy about my departure. The split between Arthur and the partnership had not been amicable, and I had very much been his associate.

I couldn’t see any good choices, any clear way out of the situation. Had Arthur counted on that?

I shook myself. I couldn’t reconcile the picture I was building up of a coolly calculating predator with the Arthur I knew. And I knew Arthur—surely I did, after eight years. He had his issues, no one knew that better than me, but he’d been good to me, over the years.

Like when Tom had broken up with me. HR had made a stink about the fact I was failing to meet my billable hour targets in the immediate aftermath—I’d had 16 percent utilisation the month after I received that final message from Tom.

Arthur had told me not to worry: “I’ll square it with them.” And I’d heard no more of it.

That kindness, the Arthur I knew, was real. It had to be.

This evening had simply been an aberration.

Arthur had had the best part of two bottles of wine and it had gone to his head.

He’d go to bed and wake up with a headache tomorrow, regretting everything.

The next time we saw each other, we could pretend nothing had ever happened. Things would go back to normal.

I took my long-delayed shower, dragged on my kaftan, and climbed into bed. I was bone-tired, but I didn’t fall asleep for a long time.