Page 4

This was the thing about Nicola, Geeta thought. No matter how imperious, with a confidence that bordered on arrogant, somehow Geeta rattled her simply by existing.

There she was, the Amazonian, renowned barrister, with a voice that could wither, irritated as hell at bumping into her. And at the end of a long day, in a new job, Geeta just had to laugh.

“I’ll let Alec know you’re here,” she said, her exasperation tipping into giggles. She picked up the phone.

“Thank you,” Nicola replied.

The gratitude looked painful. Geeta wanted to ask if she’d pulled a muscle.

So, Nicola would be at Bentley often. She’d expected this. But did Nicola have to click her heels together and appear on day one? Apparently, she did.

“Nicola!” came a delighted voice.

Precise footsteps descended from the first floor.

Geeta looked up knowing it was Olivia who sauntered towards them in a long coat and elegant black tailored dress. She swept a curtain of silky hair behind her ear and carried a polished briefcase at her side. Goodness, Geeta was proud of her, even though the rare, beaming smile was for Nicola.

A spike of sadness clawed in her chest. Stop that.

“Olivia!” Nicola perked up. “How are you?”

Of course, the barrister was all sweetness and light with Olivia. Geeta restrained an eye-roll worthy of a teen.

“I’m very well, thank you,” Olivia said, squeezing Nicola’s hand. “I’m finished for the week and heading home. Are you here to see Alec?”

“Yes, we’re meeting Blake for the Gauthier case. The childcare and maintenance arrangements have turned tricky on this one.”

The two women leant on the reception-desk divider, towering above her, and she watched the back and forth, before the conversation sank into unfamiliar legal jargon.

Look at her girl, all grown up. Yes, Olivia was mid-thirties, but it seemed a miracle to see her so professional and assured. It felt like yesterday that she left home, and only the day before that Geeta helped with homework. Her heart still longed for the tiny girl who snuggled under her chin to sleep. She conjured the softness of a small arm curled around her neck, the milky breath tickling her face, the plump lips open and shiny with dribble. It was impossible to wrap all that into the same person, and she mustn't, under any circumstances, say this to Olivia.

Every year, Olivia grew more different from her. Every year she pulled more distant. While at the same time Olivia's adulation of Nicola flourished. Geeta always comforted herself on being the safety net, loving her and being there, if Olivia ever needed it.

Then a wave of guilt washed over her and tied a knot in her stomach. Because the one time Olivia did need her, she’d been absent.

Last year, professional had turned personal for Olivia in a case, and Nicola had been the one to catch her. All those years of waiting for her daughter to come back, and now she owed Olivia's happiness to this woman instead. Be grateful, she told herself. Nicola Albright KC always supported Olivia’s career.

Geeta stared at the screen and a payment prompt to a client, reminding her of personal financial issues and endless worries.

“Mum? I said, ‘I’m off now’,” came gently.

“Oh.”

She looked up to find Nicola gone and Olivia tilting her head in consideration. Geeta’s face must have hung in despair, because when she smiled back, her cheeks had to lift a mile.

“I'll see you after the weekend,” Geeta murmured.

Olivia blinked. Then considered her again with pursed lips. Geeta often couldn’t tell what went through her reserved daughter’s head, but whatever it was, Olivia seemed to think better of it. She put down her briefcase, circled the reception desk in a fluid movement, then bent down. Olivia, always elegant if a little formal, carefully wrapped her arms around Geeta’s shoulders.

“I didn’t expect that,” Geeta laughed quietly, as the warmth of the cuddle enveloped her.

She closed her eyes. Oh, she needed this. Her resistance collapsed, and she gripped the arm and squeezed it tight, pulling her daughter closer. Olivia rested her cheek on Geeta’s head, and the intimacy of someone caring made her flood with everything she’d held back for months.

Mustn’t cry. Mustn’t cry. Mustn’t cry.

Because physical reassurance didn’t come naturally to Olivia, and Geeta didn’t want to scare her away. And because it shouldn’t be like this. She wanted to be the one to comfort.

“Thank you,” she said though.

“Are you going to be OK?” Olivia whispered warmth into her hair.

“Of course I am.” Oh, damn, she’d sniffed. “Go home and enjoy seeing Kate and the kids,” she said, swiping at her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

She gave Olivia one last squeeze – just one more drop of solace, please – then gently pushed her daughter up. She shuffled her chair closer to the desk and waved Olivia away. It shouldn’t be Olivia comforting her. That was her job as a mother. And she felt embarrassed and guilty all over again, because her current situation had been her own choice.

Geeta stared at the screen so she didn’t have to meet her daughter's eyes. At the blurry edges of her vision swirling with tears, she sensed Olivia consider her with another tilt of the head, then slowly leave the building.

Right. She had work to do, and she ploughed on until six, when the last solicitors trailed from the office.

Day one in her new job over. Phew.

She reached under the reception desk for her bag, but swiped at air. Peeking below, she spotted it had crept back over the day. Typical. She eased onto her knees, and groaned at the ever-present ache, before crawling under. She did not regret having children early in life. How on earth did people manage this, scrabbling on the ground after tots all day in their forties and fifties.

She stretched for her bag, as footsteps and sharp words approached.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she called out, muffled beneath the table and back partition.

Above, a familiar voice projected powerfully through the entire hallway. “I did nothing of the sort.”

Nicola. Of course. When did that voice not reach everywhere and demand to be heard, although Geeta did envy that delivery.

She began to reverse shuffle, when the footsteps stopped on the other side of the divider. A pair of heels appeared through a gap. God, you could stab people with those. Geeta wondered if Nicola ever did. And a pair of Oxford brogues faced them with little distance between.

She opened her mouth to call out again, when another voice growled, “That was completely unnecessary, Nicola.”

The tone deepened into aggression, and the feet jabbed closer as if the man pointed. He must be the barrister, maybe in his forties, who’d arrived shortly before Nicola. Blake Hudson, perhaps. The white man, wearing an expensive suit, was handsome and superficially polite, but self-important, waving Geeta off when she’d offered to take him to the meeting room.

“As if you wouldn’t do the same,” Nicola replied, the high heels not moving an inch.

“You could have handled that case in straight-forward negotiations, Nicola. But you pulled every trick in the book to bury us.”

“Your client attacked on several fronts. I was merely countering.”

The brogues agitated forward again. “The libel case was uncalled for. You were humiliating me just for the sake of it.”

“You should know better than to take this personally.” Nicola tutted.

“Take it personally?! I had to appear as your bloody guest at the Law Society awards that night. How the hell do you think that made me feel? You up for an award, after trouncing me?”

“But you didn’t attend, did you, Blake. You wimped out.”

“Fuck you, Nicola. I should have known better than to sleep with you.”

Oh. OK. This was stuff she didn’t want to hear. Geeta quickened that backwards shuffle. “I’m sorry, can you hear me?” she said, inching out. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Blake.” Nicola filled the name with a slow derisory contempt. “I will not apologise for you being out of your depth.”

Nicola gave the words such a finessed edge that Geeta imagined they cut like the sharpest razor blade, so you didn’t feel the cut, but watched in horror as blood seeped from the wound.

And deep grunting breaths signalled blood drawn.

“You’re a piece of work, Nicola,” Blake growled. “If you think,” and a brogue stepped forward, “that I’m going to crawl back into your bed after this....”

Oh no, no, no. This was so not appropriate for her ears. But she still watched those heels, enthralled, waiting for Nicola’s reaction. The heels didn’t budge. The voice didn’t waver. If anything, Nicola's tone dropped into sultry dismissal.

“BIake,” Nicola laughed, with chilling incredulity. “As if you’d be invited.”

And the breath whimpered from his body.

OK. Now she really needed to get out from under the desk.

“Can you hear me?” she said again.

Yes, they heard her. Not a sound came from either lawyer, and Geeta shuffled back to lift her head from beneath the desk.

Wow. She stared. Empowered Nicola had a phenomenal magnetism which meant you couldn’t not look at her, even if you didn’t like her. Cool, tall, a formidable queen, with fire beneath that ice.

The younger man stood muscled, irate and threatening, but it was all show and noise, completely out of his depth. The energy between them was clear: two lovers at the wrong end of a relationship, the attraction and passion from the man crackling in the air. Nicola stood with chin raised, every inch a sexual being who knew her potency, and Geeta imagined that if Nicola said a single placating word, he’d crumble at her feet.

“Good evening,” Geeta said lightly. She climbed unhurried onto her chair. “I did say before, but you didn’t hear me.” She raised both hands in a peaceful gesture.

Blake’s face exploded into crimson. “Fuck's sake,” he spluttered, and he turned and blasted out of the building.

The half of the double doors Blake exited swung back and forth, slower and slower, accompanied by pounding footsteps that receded into the distance. The door came to a rest.

It was so quiet that when Nicola took a deep breath, Geeta heard the whole exasperated draw of it.

“Geeta.” Nicola swivelled her head round. “Good evening.”

“Evening, Nicola.” Geeta sighed and deflated at having to speak to Nicola yet again. “So...” she added with a shrug, “are you finished for the week?”

“Yes.” Nicola tutted. “I am very much done with this week.”

Geeta tried not to laugh. Although, at this point, it was more with Nicola than at her. “Then I hope you have a good weekend.”

“Have a fantastic break,” Nicola muttered. Then she faced front and strode out the door.