Page 93 of Private Lives

‘It’s not necessary,’ said Helen coolly. ‘You’re our client. You were dissatisfied. These things happen. You know how sorry I am for the way she dealt with it. She was suitably reprimanded.’

‘Is she in the office today? I should say hello.’

‘She’s busy at court.’

‘Could you give me her mobile number?’

‘She’ll be busy.’

‘Well, for later then.’

Helen sighed. ‘Very well. I’m sure she’ll be very relieved to hear from you.’

Sam peered out of the window, watching as the silvery curve of the Thames snaked away below them. Sloping away to the left of the road was a long green hill; beyond that, water meadows running down to the river.

Anna certainly lived in one of London’s smartest areas, he thought, surprised that he had never noticed how beautiful the city was before. Idly he wondered if he should have chosen a more sedate, stable career like the law. He could see that his acting skills – such as they were – might come in useful in a courtroom, but he was useless on the details, and that was everything in the law, wasn’t it?

They turned off the main road into a network of residential streets, dozens of tiny chocolate-box cottages crammed together. On the corner of one was a cute little deli-cum-general-store, and for a second he wondered if he should take her anything. Flowers? Bottle of wine? As Mike had pointed out, he had a concierge service on speed-dial; he felt sure they could get an albino peacock delivered to Anna’s house if he asked them to.

However he did it, apologising to Miss Kennedy had suddenly become important to him. He’d never believed in Jessica’s New Age claptrap before now, but it was worth a shot. Treating people a bit better might bring a turnaround in his own luck.

‘Here we are, sir,’ said the driver. ‘You want me to wait?’

Sam looked up at the little cottage with the wisteria climbing around the door, wondering what sort of reception he was about to get.

‘Yeah, better had,’ he said, climbing out.

He paused on the path, glancing left and right.

‘Don’t worry. The coast is clear,’ said a voice.

Sam looked up in alarm. Anna Kennedy was standing in her doorway, a wry grin on her face.

‘No paparazzi in Richmond,’ she said. ‘Too posh and refined for that.’

Smiling, Sam walked up the path, but Anna didn’t move aside to let him in.

‘I was surprised to get your call,’ she said slowly.

‘I wanted to come and apologise for the way I treated you after the injunction,’ said Sam in a rush.

‘Well I wasn’t fired. Not by Donovan Pierce, anyway.’

‘I was feeling emotional,’ he said to justify his sacking of the young lawyer.

‘I would have done the same.’

‘I bet you would. Feisty little thing like you takes no messing, I bet.’

They grinned at each other and his shoulders slumped in relief.

‘Want to come in? I’ve just got home. About to open a bottle of wine.’

‘If you’ve got beer, you’ve twisted my arm.’

Sam stepped into her living room. It was like a little box. He thought back to his spacious five-thousand-square-foot Hollywood home, and wondered how an

yone could live in such a tiny space.