Page 86 of Private Lives

Matthew glanced at his watch as the lift door closed. It was two minutes to nine and he really didn’t want to be late for his first conference. He cursed himself; he never should have stopped off at his father’s Cheyne Walk place on the way to work, but he was a little concerned. Larry hadn’t replied to any of the messages he had left on his voicemail over the past few days. There was nothing unusual about that in the normal scheme of things; in the past, whole years had gone by without a whisper from his father, but now he was convalescing from his heart operation, Matthew had assumed that Larry would have a little more time to keep in touch. As it happened, there had been no reply when he had rung the bell at the house either, not even a housekeeper to answer the door. It was curious, but Matthew resolved to put it out of his mind. Loralee would have let him know if there were any problems, and knowing his father, being out of the loop meant he had probably gone to convalesce in Vegas.

The aluminium doors were just about to close when a hand shot through the gap, jamming it open.

‘Sorry,’ said a flustered Anna Kennedy, slipping inside holding a coffee cup in one hand and a huge pile of files in the other. ‘Morning,’ she said as she struggled to balance them.

‘Let me help,’ said Matthew, grabbing the files just as they were about to slip to the floor.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I need to get these to Helen or she’ll lynch me. Again.’

He smiled.

‘So how’s the Rob Beaumont thing coming on?’ she asked.

‘Actually I have a meeting with him and Kim Collier at nine. It’s the first time we’ve had them in the same room together, so it could go either way.’ He glanced at her with a smile. ‘And before you tell me off, they’re arriving separately through the back door.’

‘You’ve mastered this celebrity thing,’ she laughed as the door pinged open.

‘Speaking of which, you’ve got a fan,’ said Matthew, helping her carry the files down the corridor into her office.

‘Oh yes? Who?’

‘Wayne Nicholls.’

‘A dream come true,’ she said playfully.

‘I mean it. He sent me an email that said something like “she’s a tough bitch”, which I think is the highest level of praise in his world.’

‘Well, I can use that as a reference if Helen still wants to fire me.’

Matt laughed as he walked quickly towards the boardroom, glad that the atmosphere between them had thawed, but his fleeting good mood vanished as soon as he opened the door. Rob was sitting across the table from Kim Collier and her solicitor Chris Snell; the atmosphere in the room was icy, and Rob’s angry expression suggested that there was going to be none of the grown-up, sensible approach to the divorce he had wanted only a few weeks before.

Matt extended his hand towards Snell.

‘Matthew Donovan,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure before.’

‘No indeed,’ said Snell, his eyebrow raising just enough to convey his disapproval.

The London family law circuit was a small world, and Matthew had gone up against the main players countless times, but Chris Snell was top of the food chain. Dark-haired and skeletal, he had been nicknamed ‘The Vulture’ by the broadsheets, as much for his client base of gold-digging trophy wives as for his reputation of being forbiddingly aggressive in his methods.

Matthew glanced at Kim Collier as he sat down next to Rob and pulled out his files. She was certainly beautiful, there was no denying that, but she was clearly furious at being here. Matthew wondered how much that was anger at her soon-to-be-ex-husband and how much was annoyance that, for once, she wasn’t getting her own way.

‘So I think we all want to keep this simple and uncomplicated,’ said Snell briskly.

Matthew nodded.

‘Hopefully we’re not completely past that. But things are definitely more complex than they once were. As I think we all know.’

Snell shrugged. He clearly wasn’t going to give an inch.

‘My client and yours have had initial conversations about the welfare of Oliver and they both agree that it’s in his best interests for him to stay with his mother. Ms Collier has no objections whatsoever to weekend visitation rights. Possibly even one evening visit on a school night.’

‘Like that’s going to be easy when he’s in Miami,’ said Rob, his voice laced with sarcasm.

‘I believe you live within fifteen miles of Heathrow airport, Mr Beaumont,’ said Snell with a wintry smile. ‘I’m sure Ms Collier would welcome you in Miami at any time.’

Kim leaned over and whispered something into Snell’s ear. He nodded.

‘With prior and convenient notice, of course,’ he added.