The Decision (91 page)

‘And she’d come over here for the case?’

‘Oh yes, of course. I’ve asked her.’

‘Good. Then there’s your nanny, Miss Grant.’

‘Yes.’

‘Is she quite articulate?’

‘Yes,’ said Eliza, irritated by this slur at the nanny class. ‘Very.’

‘Well, they aren’t always. Now Mr Gordon has a couple of medical people, your gynaecologist and a psychotherapist, both with queries against them. Have you spoken to them?’

‘My gynaecologist has agreed.’

‘And the psychotherapist?’

‘I’ve decided I don’t want to call her,’ said Eliza.

‘Really? Any reason why not?’

‘I – I just don’t want to. I – I told her a lot of things I – well, I’d be embarrassed about, really very – very personal stuff.’

‘Mrs Shaw – Eliza.’ The dark eyes were expressionless as he looked at her. ‘This whole thing is going to get very personal. I think you have to be prepared for it. It’s a dirty business, what you’re getting into—’

‘I didn’t get into it,’ said Eliza quickly, ‘it’s all Matt’s – my husband’s choosing.’

‘Of course. But – but I would like you to reconsider calling your psychotherapist, Mrs Miller, isn’t it? I think it might be of great benefit to your case—’

‘I really don’t want to,’ said Eliza flatly.

‘Well, we can come back to her if needs be,’ he said. ‘Anyone else?’

‘I’m hoping to get a couple of friends, mothers from Emmie’s school, to vouch for me, say I’m a good mother. But—’ She stopped.

‘I can imagine. They’re perfectly happy until you tell them they’ll have to appear in court. Then they panic.’

‘Yes. I did have one friend, who I know would have done it, spoken up for me, she knew me right through the whole awful thing with the baby—’

‘But?’

‘I’ve lost touch with her,’ said Eliza, realising how feeble this sounded.

Her one really good friend. So good that she had no idea where she lived or what her phone number was …

‘You could try and find her.’

‘Yes. Yes of course.’ She was beginning to feel very defensive.

‘What about your colleagues at work?’

‘Well – Jeremy Northcott, he’s the boss of my agency, very establishment, he would speak for me I know, we’ve known each other forever, since I was – well, since I was very young. In fact at one point I nearly became engaged to him. Only I’d met Matt—’ She stopped. ‘Is that bad or good?’

‘Clearly, it was bad for Mr Northcott,’ said Philip Gordon, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

‘No, I meant him being a witness. Bit biased, that sort of thing. Like my mother. Anyway, he was in Milan as well, he helped me get back to Emmie after the fog, so that would be another person in my favour—’

‘Well, we can consider him. Any others? At the agency?’

‘I’m afraid they’re all a bit – a bit unreliable.’

‘In what way exactly?’

‘Well.’ She flushed. ‘You know, their lives are one long party, they—’ She broke off. What if they asked Rob to be a witness, and it emerged that she smoked dope with him. God, was there no end to all this …

‘Perhaps you could try to find someone who might be, shall we say, sober enough to speak up for you.’ Toby Gilmour looked at her as if he was finding her rather unsatisfactory. She was being hopeless – as she seemed to be at everything these days. Then she remembered that she was the client, and therefore paying, and met his eyes very directly.

‘I’m absolutely confident I can,’ she said.

‘Good.’ He looked down at his notes, paused and said, ‘Mrs Shaw,’ he seemed to be having trouble with ‘Eliza’, ‘forgive me for asking this, but was there ever any violence in your marriage?’

She had been waiting for this one for a long time. Wondering when someone would ask her.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes, there was.’

They looked at one another: just fleetingly. Then: ‘Could you tell us about it?’

‘Emotional violence, plenty of it. And verbal. Horrible rows, endless fights.’

There was a silence; then, ‘Right,’ said Toby Gilmour. ‘Of course one would expect that. But nothing physical? That was all?’

‘It was quite enough,’ said Eliza. ‘Believe me. Quite enough.’

There. She hadn’t lied. She had told indeed nothing but the truth. Not the whole truth, perhaps. But it seemed to have worked. They appeared satisfied, nodded, made notes. She was glad to have done that. It was a sort of run-through if she was ever asked in court. Because she still couldn’t bear to admit it. Not yet. Maybe, if it made all the difference between keeping Emmie and losing her. But not now, not yet … it was too horrible, too ugly … on both their parts, what she had said as well as what he had done …

‘Very well,’ said Toby Gilmour, after a few more questions. ‘I think that’s all for now. Thank you. I’ll start preparing my brief, and Philip can fill in any blanks, I’m sure. Although I will almost certainly need to speak to you again. I have your number here.’ He stabbed the top sheet of the pile of papers. ‘And if not … See you in court, Mrs Shaw.’ He didn’t smile. He didn’t look at all happy.

‘Eliza,’ said Philip after a long pause, ‘what are your plans for lunch?’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘oh yes, lunch.’ She had forgotten this was on the unwritten agenda.

‘I – I don’t think I can,’ she said, quickly, very quickly. She really had had enough of Gilmour for now; he made her feel foolish, tongue-tied, completely uncool.

‘Pity,’ said Philip. ‘Well – how about you, Toby, are you free?’

‘Yes, I am as a matter of fact,’ said Gilmour, ‘that would be very nice. Thank you, Philip. Mrs Shaw – Eliza – I’ll be in touch. Thank you for your time.’

‘Oh – no,’ she said, politely, ‘thank you for yours,’ thinking what an absurd thing to say, that, and what a lot of her money – or rather Anna’s money – would be going to pay him for it.

‘May I say,’ he added, surprising her for she had thought the meeting quite over, ‘your case is an interesting one also. I’m glad to have the opportunity of working on it.’

‘Well, I’m pleased to hear that,’ she said, and then before she could say or do anything still more ridiculous, grabbed her bag, said goodbye to Philip and walked out of the office. What a complete idiot he must think she was: a total, total idiot. And did she really want to work with him? Or were all barristers as abrasive as that?

‘Well,’ said Philip Gordon, as they heard the secretary say goodbye, heard the door of the outer office close, ‘what do you think?’

‘I – thought she was very attractive,’ said Toby Gilmour, looking at Philip and smiling briefly, ‘very intelligent as well. I liked her. I would say incidentally there probably was some violence. Which she’s not prepared to admit. Perhaps further down the road … But – I would say this is far from an open-and-shut case. Yes, the child is only six, which will clearly count in Mrs Shaw’s favour, but the adultery – very messy. And there’s clearly some history of mental instability—’

‘What, after the child that died? Surely—’

‘If she won’t call the shrink, her husband undoubtedly will, and I’ve heard he’s got Bruce Hayward as his barrister. I don’t need to tell you he’s savage in cross-examination. I’ll have to look into it all much more thoroughly of course but – well, I hate to say this, and I’d love to handle it myself, but I think you should at least consider briefing Selbourne. She’s going to need some very strong advocacy – she’s not going to be impressive in court, there are too many areas she’s obviously nervous about – interestingly so – and more importantly, we don’t want them to think we’re a pushover, that our team is not properly heavyweight. I’m afraid that’s what my advice would be.’

‘Well,’ said Philip Gordon, ‘I appreciate your honesty. I’m glad you like her at least. So do I, very much. There’s something very vulnerable about her. Let’s go and have some lunch, shall we? I’ve booked a table at Simpsons. Pity she couldn’t join us. But we’ll be able to speak more freely at least.’

‘Now Emmie, come on, we’ve got to go. Otherwise we won’t get to Granny’s till it’s really late.’

‘That’s all right. She won’t mind.’

‘She might not, but then you’ll be so late going to bed. And tired tomorrow. Too tired to ride Mouse.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Well, you might. In fact, if you don’t really hurry up now, I shall ring Gail and tell her not to have Mouse ready for you to ride until Sunday.’

‘I can get Mouse ready myself.’

‘No you can’t. Emmie! Do what you’re told. Or I shall get really cross.’

Emmie’s eyes met her father’s and recognised defeat.

‘I’ll just pack my shoes.’

‘You’ve already got three pairs of shoes in there. You’re as bad as your mother.’

‘I want to bring my special shoes. My lost shoes.’

‘Emmie, if they’re lost how can you bring them, for heaven’s sake?’

‘No, they’re not lost. I was lost when I bought them. In Milan.’

‘What do you mean, you were lost?’

‘I got lost,’ said Emmie patiently, ‘when Mummy went shopping. I was with stupid Anna-Maria.’

‘Well, you weren’t lost then.’

‘Yes I was. I didn’t want to stay with her. So I went shopping by myself.’

‘You – you what?’

‘I went to find some shoes. By myself. She was stupid, she was talking to her friend.’

‘But – where was Mummy?’

‘She was with Mariella. Shopping for herself.’

‘Just a minute, Emmie.’ Matt sat down on the small chair by Emmie’s desk, his eyes fixed on hers. ‘You went shopping alone in Milan? Without anyone with you?’

‘Yes. It was fun.’

‘And Mummy let you?’

‘She didn’t know. She was with Mariella.’

‘So how long were you lost?’

‘Oh – a long, long time. I went to the toy place first, and looked in there. Then I looked at some party frocks. They were so pretty, all frilly. And then I saw the shoes.’

‘And you were all alone, all this time?’

‘Yes. I tried some on, I liked lots of them. When Mummy came, I had two pairs on. One on one foot, one on another.’

‘And was she – had she been looking for you?’

Emmie shrugged.

‘Yes, I think so. She was very cross,’ she added, tucking the shoes into her small case.

‘I bet she was,’ said Matt.

‘So – what are we going to do?’

Jeremy looked at Mariella across the vast expanse of his bed. She was lying quite naked, one arm flung out, the other tucked under her head; her hair was splayed out on the pillow. The beauty of her body had taken him almost by surprise; he had somehow expected a few small imperfections, but there were none. And – what it could do, that body! Strong, athletic, ingenious: he had been astounded by its power, its passion, its near-fury in the pursuit of pleasure. And had found himself taken into a new country altogether by it; a bewildering, intense place, that he had not, he realised, properly known before. And was this love, at last, he wondered, lying beside her after the first time, did love work this wonder whereby physical pleasure increased a hundredfold, where desire became sweeter, exploration more joyful and release quite astonishingly triumphant? He told her this, as they lay there, shocked into stillness; that he felt changed, filled with new emotions, opened himself to her as he had never thought to do; and she listened, tenderly quiet, not the same Mariella at all that he had known for years, but someone wiser, sweeter, less self-concerned. ‘I will not ask you how you feel,’ he said, ‘if it was different for you, for I would be afraid of the answer, afraid it would be no.’ And, ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said, her eyes huge with tenderness, ‘but don’t ask it, just the same. It is best unspoken, I think. Safer that way.’

That was when he asked her what they should do. And when she said she didn’t know.

And when she left New York next day to go home to her husband there was nothing resolved between them whatsoever; and Jeremy, disturbed and subdued as he had never been in his life, walked round Central Park for hours, reflecting that this could not be just an affair, that he could never deceive Giovanni in so dreadful and shocking a way, but that life without Mariella was suddenly completely unthinkable.

Philip Gordon was becoming increasingly and most pleasurably involved in Eliza Shaw’s divorce case. He loved this stage of the game; when you ran it like a roller coaster, preparing witnesses, taking statements, and there were good days when everything seemed to be going well and you were getting evidence and having ideas, and then there were the other days when it all seemed to be going wrong and a witness would come out against you and another would say they weren’t prepared to appear in court, and the whole thing gathered momentum, and time raced and the adrenaline soared and for a while you managed to set aside the fact that lives were being shredded and saw it only as a quest for victory. Your victory.

‘What we’re going for is sole custody and care and control. He’s looking therefore for day-to-day care and allowing the mother some access,’ said Ivor Lewis. He was having lunch with Bruce Hayward, QC, the scourge of erring wives across the land. ‘The mother is going for joint custody, but Mr Shaw feels that she isn’t fit to share in any major decisions about the child’s future and, quite apart from that, the inevitable conflict would simply be bad for the child.’