The Younger Man. Sarah Tucker
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looked down and he’s sitting there. In fact, he’s in the chair I usually sit in (bit miffed about this actually), light flooding in behind him like some halo. And he’s looked up at me. He’s looked up at me. He’s looking up at me. And I’m blushing.
Brian Stapleton, forty-five, senior partner, good friend, Oxford educated, brilliant and unassuming, living in four-bedroom House and Gardens house on Richmond on The Hill, with his male partner, Orlando, is sitting on Joe’s right. He is clearly amused by my reaction. I’ve known Brian for ten years, worked with him for five. He can usually double guess me—a useful skill in any personal relationship and absolutely necessary in our line of business when we frequently need to confer and agree nonverbally about clients in meetings without saying a word. He’s ever so slightly bitchy, but that only comes out after a few gin and tonics at the local pub after work, but he’s a loyal, caring friend, excellent, ruthless solicitor and very good cook. He’s smiling knowingly at me, the bugger.
‘Joe, this is Hazel Chamberlayne. She was on holiday I believe when we first met, but she took me at my word that your credentials and attitude are impressive.’
He turns to me. ‘Hazel, this is Joe Ryan.’
Joe Ryan smiles, stands and offers me his hand. My instinct is to lean down, suck his fingers very slowly not taking my eyes from his. I’m ovulating at the moment, I logic. That’s why I feel so horny. And I watched Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean last night. But I didn’t feel like this a minute ago when I was smiling at the sunshine. I must be professional. I must be composed and I must stop blushing.
‘Hello, very nice to meet you.’
I give him a wide warm smile and stop breathing for a second.
‘Very nice to meet you, too.’
We sit facing each other, and Brian starts. ‘Well, Joe will be shadowing you on the Benson case, so he can see how we operate in the firm. If you could brief him this morning, Hazel, and put him up to speed that would be good. Joe’s dealt with lots of cases like this before, so I don’t think anything will be new to him but we operate in a specific way here, Joe, and you’ll learn a lot from Hazel. Benson’s behaving in a very formulaic way, as is his wife, who’s hired a good firm of solicitors, so I don’t think there will be any complications with this one. There’s no issue over child custody, well, not yet anyway, and as far as I know, the demands on both sides are reasonable. But Benson does have a temper, and I believe Hazel has suggested he see a counsellor, just in case he makes an impromptu outburst in court.’
I say nothing. I realise I am still giving Joe Ryan the same wide warm smile I gave him as I entered the room. The smile has become fixed on my face and I feel about twelve. I’m turning forty this year. Hazel, will you please grow up and behave like a grown-up and not like some adolescent schoolgirl. This is silly. This is especially silly as I didn’t want him to join the firm. I didn’t want another partner to join the firm, which was fine as it was, but Brian wanted someone else. More people are getting divorced, he says, so we’ve got to have more people to service them. I was happy as it was and despite my attraction, I’m annoyed he’s here at all. I don’t want him here. And he’s too good-looking. He’ll sleep with the clients. Not good. I must have a word with Brian when Joe’s out of the room.
Brian continues, still smiling wryly. ‘Joe will be in the office next to you, Hazel. We’re hiring a new PA this week, to replace Jennifer who’s gone on maternity leave. As you will be sharing her as well, Hazel, I think you should both interview her, either separately or collectively, whichever you prefer.’
And that’s another thing that’s pissed me off. New partner but we have to share PAs. Ridiculous, but Brian also knows my thoughts on this and has obviously decided one is good for the two of us. So doubly pissed off.
I’ve managed to control the smile and the blushes and speak. ‘That’s fine.’
Brian then proceeds to discuss all other matters. Other cases in hand which I will be dealing with over the next few months, including one that involves flying to New York. Which is great, because I can stock up on my knicker drawer with Victoria’s Secrets.
He talks about what Joe will be doing in the firm, and how we will work together. I’m listening and taking it in but it’s all a bit surreal because I’m feeling some very strong mixed emotions—annoyed and attracted at the same time. And I don’t find many men attractive these days. I’m not talking physically here—I just mean as people. Even those ones I meet out of court. I don’t play the game of boosting their egos so eventually they can knock mine down. If they say they’re not worthy of me, I let them. If they boast about their sexual prowess, I let them. And eventually they calm down, forget to impress or appear sensitive or macho and become themselves. So I haven’t been attracted to many men. I’ve spent years bringing up Sarah and working and men have made an occasional guest appearance—usually about one in every two years, when I could fit them in. I would never introduce them to Sarah for the first few months, and then I would introduce them, see how they spoke to her and dealt with her questioning. I remember her asking Dominic once if he loved me. He said he did, and she said that was nice but that he wasn’t good enough for me. One of the lesser embarrassing moments. The very few who I allowed into my diary and my heart, like I did with Dominic, they’ve broken it—so I don’t want to go there again. And especially not with someone I work with. Fran’s right. I do come across as much stronger than I am. I’m not as strong so I’m wary now, very wary of any sort of attraction—and especially one that starts in the office. Plus, I don’t want this sort of complication here. This is my territory, where I am strong and confident and focused. I don’t want a man messing up both my professional and personal life all in one go. But I’ve had the lightning bolt. I’ve never had a lightning-bolt moment. Fran is right about that, too, they do come when you least expect them. My heart jumps every time Joe Ryan utters a word. It’s very disconcerting. It’s as though I’m concentrating on the way he speaks rather than what he’s saying. He has a dark honeyed voice. He speaks neither too fast nor too slow, with considered pauses and the right inflection at the right time. For fuck’s sake, Hazel, you’re analysing his speech. Hope he doesn’t ask me anything. I’ve got to concentrate, but at least that gives me an opportunity to survey him further and take him in properly. He looks young. He looks older than twenty-nine but I’m sure he said twenty-nine. He looks midthirties, possibly early thirties. He looks younger than me. But not by much. He’s got blue, no green, no (mustn’t stare too much into his eyes now), brown eyes. Yes, brown eyes and long eyelashes. Why do men always have long eyelashes? I have to buy YSL extra-long eyelash mascara to get a decent length. Strong chin, olive skin. Or perhaps he’s been on holiday recently, probably with the girlfriend. Or perhaps it could have been with the lads. To South America or China perhaps—or if he’s square, Australia or the South of France. He’s wearing a dark blue suit so nothing new there. It’s well tailored and well fitting, but all men look good in suits. Brian always dresses well, but he’s gay so that’s to be expected. Perhaps Joe Ryan is, too. Probably for the best anyway if he is. I survey his hands. They are large and there’s no wedding ring. Which is a good thing—although this may mean he is gay, or German (German men don’t wear wedding rings), or perhaps he’s just fussy and hasn’t found the right girl yet—or has, but she won’t marry him, silly girl. Or perhaps can’t because she’s married already. There’s one signet ring perhaps given to him by his mother or lover or girlfriend. Or someone else’s girlfriend. What does he smell like? I breathe in, trying to make sense of the scent. Is he wearing aftershave or is it his natural pheromones? Can’t tell so will have to find that one out later. Over a drink at lunch perhaps. Is he slim? Can’t tell as he’s sitting down. Tall? Probably. He sits up quite straight, but perhaps he’s got a long body and short, stodgy legs, his feet dangling off the floor like some five-year-old school boy. Perhaps I should drop a pen and find out if he’s a munchkin. I drop a pen and look under the table. No, no, his feet are on the floor. Black shiny shoes. Churches. Euck. Churches, as worn by City Boys. Perhaps he’s square. But Brian wouldn’t have hired a square, nor someone gay, as he knows both wouldn’t fit into the chemistry of the office. I pick up the pen and return to the table, Brian staring at me smiling as though