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Chapter Eighteen

“ H elp!”

The single word lit up on Philippa’s phone and instantly had her attention. She was about to meet with Sienna to review a few cases but quickly picked up the phone.

The message was from Alex, and Philippa’s mind immediately raced. She was desperate to know what had happened, where Alex was, and what she had to do to help her. Had she been in a car accident? Been mugged? Kidnapped?

She waved her hand at Sienna through the glass windows of her goldfish bowl office, indicating she needed a couple of minutes. She smiled at the younger woman apologetically. Sienna put her thumbs up and returned to her desk.

Phone still in her hand, Philippa texted back a business-like: “What’s wrong?” The bouncing dots of a response appeared, and Philippa relaxed slightly. If Alex was able to respond, at least she wasn’t at death’s door.

“I need a date ;) x” came the reply, eventually.

Philippa rolled her eyes and put down her phone.

She was annoyed. She was also a tiny bit amused.

But mostly she was annoyed. What grown woman did that kind of thing?

She sighed. Well, at least she didn’t need to race in to perform some kind of daring rescue, although she was aware that there were few situations in which a family solicitor tended to be called upon for that sort of thing.

Philippa resolved not to respond until after her meeting. She had standards, after all.

Sienna came back to her door and Philippa ushered her in. “Hi, boss,” said Sienna.

“Oh, do stop calling me that,” said Philippa, with a smile. “It makes me sound like some kind of mafia kingpin. Or queenpin.”

Sienna laughed. “Fair point, Philippa.” Sienna’s cheeks went slightly pink. “So, you wanted to go through the new cases before you meet them this week?”

“Yes,” said Philippa, opening the file on her laptop that Sienna had shared with her earlier that morning. “And I also want to talk to you about a new opportunity we’ve got coming up.”

“Sounds intriguing,” said the paralegal.

Was it Philippa, or did she seem slightly breathless?

Philippa had continued to be impressed with her work and could see her progressing well through her legal career with the right opportunities and support.

She resolved to make sure Sienna got them.

Sienna might not have been part of the golf-playing old boys’ club, but Philippa was determined that wouldn’t stand in her way.

She’d had to fight to get where she was, and if she could make it easier for Sienna, she would.

“We’re pitching for a big contract at Marshall, Singh and Parker, the financial consultancy in Brindley Place.

Gerry Marshall is keen for us to bid, and I think we have a good chance.

I’ve done the initial paperwork, and we’ve been invited to present next week.

I’d like you to come and present with me. ” Philippa looked up from her screen.

“Me?” said Sienna. “Don’t you want Roderick, or one of the others?”

“Well, I’m sure they could do it,” said Philippa, placing her hands on the desk in front of her. “But I think you could, too. And I want to show that as a firm, we prioritise developing talent. I think you’d do a really excellent job.”

“Really?” The flush spread down Sienna’s cheeks to her neck.

“Really,” said Philippa. “Can I count you in?”

“Er, well, yes,” said Sienna. And then, more confidently, “Yes you can. What do you need from me between now and then?”

“I’ve started to make a plan for the pitch, but I’d like to go through it with you and see what you think. The other partners are already aware and on board. So maybe we could look at it tomorrow afternoon?” said Philippa.

“Count me in,” said Sienna, her smile now confident. “Thank you,” she added. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no more than you deserve,” said Philippa. “Right, can you run me through the new clients we’ve got on the books this week?”

Over lunch, Philippa picked up her phone and opened the message from Alex. “I see it was a life-or-death emergency you contacted me with, then?” she wrote.

“Ha ha! I thought you’d appreciate that. Ok, I’ve been invited out for a few drinks with some friends I haven’t seen for a while on Friday night, and it would be super helpful to me if I had a date xx” replied Alex.

Philippa wondered what was so special about this Friday night in particular that Alex needed a date for it, but she knew she’d agreed to help Alex out when they’d originally hatched their plan.

And a deal was a deal. Alex had been her plus one with Gerry and Alison, and she needed to return the favour at least once.

The problem was that she enjoyed the idea of being Alex’s date rather too much for her own liking.

She knew it wasn’t real. She kept telling herself that.

But nothing was telling the adolescent hormones that were swirling around her body.

She rolled her eyes at herself and checked her diary.

Dottie would be at Paul’s, so she would be able to go.

“You have a deal,” wrote Philippa. “Just tell me when and where x”

A heart emoji immediately appeared on the message before Alex sent through the details. Philippa thought about her own heart, and how quickly it appeared to have attached itself to the infuriating but irresistible Alex Fletcher.

Philippa allowed herself a moment to enjoy the fantasy of Alex turning up alone at the venue, holding a cocktail for them each, confessing that in fact the whole thing was an elaborate ploy to profess her undying love.

She then allowed another moment to berate herself for behaving like a teenage girl filled with hormones and longing.

Was this what being a lesbian was all about?

She thought back to the moment when Alex had held her stare while holding her cheek in that restaurant.

She remembered the tingling sensation she’d experienced.

Part of her had loved it: it made her feel alive, reminded her what she’d missed all these years.

The control freak in her hated it. She was used to knowing what to do, how she felt, what she thought and why.

Meeting Alex seemed to have turned all that on its head.

But was that such a bad thing? The point of coming out was to be able to change her life, live as her true self, fall in love.

Perhaps it was about making mistakes, too.

And she knew, deep down, that Alex was likely to be a mistake.

She didn’t want to be one more broken heart in the trail Alex had already left behind her.

Apart from anything else, Philippa didn’t like to think of herself as someone who followed the herd.

Although perhaps it was unfair to think of Alex’s exes as a herd. What precisely was the collective noun for a group of heartbroken sapphic women?