Runaway Lawyer Falls in Love with Billionaire

Chapter 7

“We don’t want to waste them, after all.” She arches her eyebrows. “If I did have a criticism, Olivia, it would be that you were a little profligate—Not that we’re poor,” she adds suddenly. “It isn’t that.”

“Er … no, madam.”

“I don’t like to talk about money, Olivia.” Tanya lowers her voice a little. “It’s very vulgar. However—”

“Mrs. Geiger?”

Nathaniel has appeared in the kitchen doorway again, holding a muddy garden spade.

“Have one of Olivia’s delicious sandwiches!” exclaims Tanya, gesturing around the kitchen. “Just look! Isn’t she clever?”

There’s total silence as Nathaniel surveys the endless mounds of sandwiches. I can’t bring myself to meet his eye. I feel I could be losing my grip on sanity here. I’m standing in a kitchen in the middle of nowhere. In a blue nylon uniform. Masquerading as a housekeeper who can magically make sandwiches out of thin air.

“Extraordinary,” he says at last.

I finally risk looking up. He’s gazing at me, his brow deeply furrowed as if he really can’t make me out.

“That didn’t take you long,” he says, a slight question in his voice.

“I’m … pretty quick when I want to be,” I say blandly.

“Olivia’s wonderful!” says Tanya, biting greedily into a sandwich. “And such a tidy worker! Look at this immaculate kitchen!” She shoves another sandwich in her mouth and practically swoons. “This Thai chicken is divine!”

Surreptitiously I pick up one from the pile and take a bite into it, feeling suddenly ravenous.

Bloody hell, that’s good. Though I say it myself.

By half past two the kitchen is empty. Tanya and Eddie devoured over half the sandwiches and have now gone out. Nathaniel is back in the garden. I’m pacing up and down, fiddling with a spoon.

Arnold will call soon. The meeting must have broken up by now.

I look out the window at a small brown bird pecking at the ground, then turn away and sink into a chair, staring down at the table, running my thumbnail obsessively round the fine grain of the polished wood.

I made one mistake. One. People are allowed to make one mistake in life. It’s in the rules.

Or … maybe it’s not. I just don’t know.

Suddenly I feel my mobile vibrate. I grab the phone out of my uniform pocket with a trembling hand.

The caller ID tells me it’s Guy.

“Hi, Guy?” I try to speak confidently—but my voice sounds tiny and scared to my own ears.

“Olivia? Is that you?” Guy’s voice rushes through the phone in an urgent torrent. “Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you here? Didn’t you get my e-mails?”

“I haven’t got my BlackBerry,” I say, taken aback. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I tried early today, but your phone seemed out of order. Then I was in meetings, but I’ve been sending you e-mails all morning.… Olivia, where on earth are you? You should be here at the office! Not hiding out, for Christ’s sake!”

Hiding out? What does he mean?

“But … but Arnold said don’t come in! He said it would be best! He told me to stay away and he would do what he could—”

“Do you have any idea how this looks?” Guy cuts across me. “First you freak out, then you disappear. People are saying you’re unhinged, you’ve had a breakdown … There’s a rumor you’ve skipped the country.…”

As the truth hits me, I feel a hot, choking panic. I can’t believe how wrong I’ve played this. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. What am I doing still sitting in this kitchen, miles from London?

“Tell them I’m coming straight in,” I stammer. “Tell Ketterman I’ll be there at once.… I’m getting on a train …”

“It might be too late.” Guy sounds heavy and reluctant. “Olivia … all sorts of stories are going round.”

“Stories?” My heart is thudding so hard I can barely say the word. “What … what stories?”

I can’t take all this in. I feel like my car has suddenly lurched off the road and I can’t stop it.

“Apparently people have said you’re … unreliable,” Guy says at last. “That this isn’t the first time. That you’ve made errors before.”

“Errors?” I leap to my feet, my voice as sharp as though I’ve been scalded. “Who’s saying that? I’ve never made any errors! What are they talking about?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the meeting. Olivia … think back carefully. Have you made any other mistakes?”

Think back carefully?

I’m stunned. He doesn’t believe me?

“I’ve never made any mistakes,” I say, trying and failing to keep my voice level. “None. Never! I’m a good lawyer. I’m a good lawyer.” To my dismay I realize tears are pouring down my cheeks. “I’m steady! You know that, Guy.”

In the tense little silence that follows, the unsaid is there between us. Like a conviction. I lost a client £50 million.

“Guy, I don’t know how I didn’t see the Glazerbrooks documentation.” My words tumble out faster and faster. “I don’t know how it happened. It doesn’t make any sense. I know my desk is messy, but I have my systems, for God’s sake. I don’t miss things like that. I just don’t—”

“Olivia, calm down—”

“How can I calm down?” I almost yell. “This is my life. My life. I don’t have anything else!” I wipe the tears away from my cheeks. “I’m not losing this. I’m coming in. Now.”

I cut the phone dead and get to my feet, bubbling with panic. I should have gone back. I should have gone back straightaway, not wasted time here. I don’t know what times the trains will be, but I don’t care. I have to get out of here.

I grab a piece of paper and a pencil and scrawl,

Dear Mrs. Geiger,

I am afraid I must resign as your housekeeper. While I have enjoyed my time

Come on. I haven’t got time to write any more, I have to leave now. I put the paper down on the table and head for the door. Then I stop. I can’t leave the letter unfinished in the middle of a sentence.

While I have enjoyed my time with you, I feel I would like a fresh challenge. Many thanks for your kindness.

Yours sincerelyOlivia Sweeting

I put the pen down and push my chair back with a scrape. As I reach the door my mobile vibrates again.

Guy, I instantly think. I reach for it—and am already flipping it open when I see the caller ID. It’s not Guy.

It’s Ketterman.

Something cold grips my spine. As I stare at his name I feel real fear in a way I never have before. Childish, nightmarish fear. Every instinct in my body is telling me not to answer.

But my phone’s already open. It’s too late. Slowly I lift it up to my ear.

“Hello.”

“Olivia. John Ketterman here.”

“Right.” My voice is scratchy with nerves. “Hello.”

There’s a long pause. I know this is my moment to speak, but my throat feels wadded by cotton wool. No words seem adequate. Everyone knows how much Ketterman despises apologies and excuses and explanations.

“Olivia, I’m ringing to tell you that your contract with Steve Spink has been terminated.”

I feel all the blood drain from my face.

“A letter is on its way to you giving the reasons.” His tone is distant and formal. “Gross negligence compounded by your subsequent unprofessional behavior. Your P45 will be sent to you. Your pass has been disabled. I don’t expect to see you at the Steve Spink offices again.”

He’s going too fast. This is all happening too fast.

“Please don’t …” I blurt out. “Please give me another chance. I made one mistake. One.”

“Lawyers at Steve Spink don’t make mistakes, Olivia. Nor do they run away from their mistakes.”

“I know it was wrong to run away.” I’m shaking all over. “But it was such a shock.… I wasn’t thinking straight.…”

“You’ve disgraced the reputation of the firm and yourself.” Ketterman’s voice sharpens as though he, too, might be finding this difficult. “You have lost fifty million pounds of a client’s money through your own negligence. And subsequently absconded with no explanation. Olivia, you cannot have expected any other outcome, surely.”

There’s a long silence. My forehead is pressed hard against the heel of my hand. I try to focus on just breathing. In and out. In and out.

“No,” I whisper at last.

It’s over. My entire career is really over.

Ketterman starts on a preprepared speech about meeting with the human-resources department, but I don’t listen.

Everything I’ve worked for since I was twelve years old. Gone. Everything ruined. In twenty-four hours.

At last I realize Ketterman has disappeared from the line. I get to my feet and stagger over to the shiny fridge. My eyes are huge, burning holes.

For a long time I just stand there, staring at my own face until the features blur.

I’ve been fired. The phrase echoes round my mind. I’ve been fired. I could collect the dole. I imagine myself with the men from The Full Monty. Standing in the unemployment queue, moving my hips back and forth to “Hot Stuff.”

Suddenly I hear the sound of a key in the front door. I can’t be found in this condition. I can’t face any probing, any sympathy. Otherwise I’m afraid I might just collapse into sobs and never stop.

Distractedly, I reach for a cloth and start sweeping it in meaningless circles over the table. Then I glimpse my note to Tanya, still lying there. I crumple it up and throw it in the bin. Later. I’ll do it later. I feel as though I can barely function right now, let alone give a convincing resignation speech.

“There you are!” Tanya comes tripping into the kitchen on her high-heeled clogs, holding three bursting shopping bags. “Olivia!” She stops at the sight of me. “Are you all right? Is your headache back?”

“I’m … fine. Thanks.”

“You look dreadful! Goodness me! Have some more pills!”

“Really …”

“Now, sit down … and I’ll make you a cup of tea!”

She plonks the bags down and switches on the kettle, then rootles around for the green painkillers.

“These are the ones you like, aren’t they?”

“I’d rather just have an aspirin,” I say quickly. “If that’s OK?”

“Are you quite sure?” She runs me a glass of water and gives me a couple of aspirin. “Now. You just sit there. Relax. Don’t even think of doing anything else! Until it’s time to make the supper,” she adds as an afterthought.

“You’re … very kind,” I manage.

As I say the words I have the dim realization that I mean them. Tanya’s kindness may be a bit warped, but it’s real.

“Here we are …” Tanya puts a cup of tea down and scrutinizes me. “Are you homesick?” She sounds triumphant, as though she may have cracked the mystery. “Our girl from the Philippines did get rather blue from time to time … but I used to say to her, cheer up, Manuela!” Tanya pauses thoughtfully. “Then I found out her name was Paula. Extraordinary.”

“I’m not homesick,” I say, gulping my tea.

My mind is beating like a butterfly’s wings. What am I going to do?

Go home.

But the thought of returning to that flat, with Ketterman living two floors above, makes me sick. I can’t face him. I can’t do it.

Phone Guy. He’ll have me to stay. He and Charlotte have that huge house in Islington with all those spare rooms. I’ve stayed the night before. Then I’ll … sell my flat. Find a job.

What job?