The Undomestic Goddess (2 page)

As I arrive at the office, Ketterman is standing by my desk, looking with an expression of
distaste at the mess of papers and files strewn everywhere.

Truthfully, I dont have the most pristine desk in the world. In fact... its a bit of a

shambles. But I am intending to tidy it up and sort out all the piles of old contracts on
the floor. As soon as I have a moment.

Meeting in ten minutes, he says. I want the draft financing documentation ready.

Absolutely, I reply. Ketterman is unnerving at the best of times. He just emanates scary,
brainy power. But today is a million times worse, because Ketterman is on the decision
panel. Tomorrow morning at nine a.m., he and thirteen other partners are holding a big
meeting to decide on which associates will become partners this year. All the candidates
gave presentations last week to the panel, outlining what qualities and ideas we would
bring to the firm. As I finished mine, I had no idea whether Id impressed or not.
Tomorrow, Ill find out.

The draft documentation is right here... I reach into a pile of folders and pull out what
feels like a box file with an efficient flourish.

Its the wrong one.

Hastily I put it down. Its definitely here somewhere... I scrabble frantically and locate
the correct file. Thank God. Here!

I dont know how you can work in this shambles, Samantha. Kettermans voice is thin and
sarcastic.

At least everythings to hand! I attempt a little joke, but Ketterman remains stony- faced.
Flustered, I pull out my chair, and a pile of articles and old drafts falls in a shower to
the floor.

You know, the old rule was that desks were completely cleared every night by six.
Kettermans voice is steely. Perhaps we should reintroduce it.

Maybe!

Samantha! A genial voice interrupts us and I look round in relief to see Arnold Saville
approaching along the corridor.

Arnoldis my favorite of the senior partners. Hes got woolly gray hair that always seems a
bit wild for a lawyer, and flamboyant taste in ties. Today hes wearing a bright red
paisley affair, with a matching handkerchief in his top pocket. He greets me with a broad
smile, and at once I feel myself relax.

Im sureArnold s the one whos rooting for me to be made partner. Just as Im equally sure
Ketterman will be opposing it. Ive already overheard Ketterman saying Im very young to be
made a partner, that theres no rush. Hed probably have me pegging away as an associate for
five more years. ButArnold s always been on my side. Hes the maverick of the firm, the one
who breaks the rules. For years he had a labrador, Stan, who lived

under his desk, despite the complaints of the health and safety department. If anyone can
lighten the atmosphere in a tricky meeting, itsArnold .

Letter of appreciation about you, Samantha.Arnold beams and holds out a sheet of paper.
From the chairman of Gleiman Brothers, no less.

I take the cream vellum sheet in surprise and glance down at the handwritten note: ... great esteem...her services always professional ...

I gather you saved him a few million pounds he wasnt expecting.Arnold twinkles. Hes
delighted.

Oh, yes. I color slightly. Well, it was nothing. I just noticed an anomaly in the way they
were structuring their finances.

You obviously made a great impression on him.Arnold raises his bushy eyebrows. He wants
you to work on all his deals from now. Excellent, Samantha! Very well done.

Er... thanks. I glance at Ketterman, just to see if by any remote chance he might look
impressed. But hes still frowning impatiently.

I also want you to deal with this. Ketterman puts a file on my desk. Marlowe and Co. are
acquiring a retail park. I need a due diligence review in forty-eight hours.

Oh, bloody hell. My heart sinks as I look at the heavy folder. Itll take me hours to do
this.

Kettermans always giving me extra bits of mundane work he cant be bothered to do himself.
In fact, all the partners do it. EvenArnold . Half the time they dont even tell me, just
dump the file on my desk with some illegible memo and expect me to get on with it.

And of course I do. In fact I always try to get it done just a bit faster than they were
expecting.

Any problems?

Of course not, I say in a brisk, can-do, potential-partner voice. See you at the meeting.

As he stalks off I check my watch. Ten twenty-two. I have precisely eight minutes to make
sure the draft documentation for the Fallons deal is all in order. Fallons is our client,
a big multinational tourism company, and is acquiring the Smith-leaf Hotel Group. I open
the file and scan the pages swiftly, checking for errors, searching for gaps. Ive learned
to read a lot faster since Ive been at Carter Spink.

In fact, I do everything faster. I walk faster, talk faster, eat faster... have sex
faster...

Not that Ive had much of that lately. But two years ago I dated a senior partner from
Berry Forbes. His name was Jacob and he worked on huge international mergers, and he had
even less time than I did. By the end, wed honed our routine to about six minutes, which
would have been quite handy if we were billing each other. (Obviously we werent.) He would
make me comeand I would make him come. And then wed check our e-mails.

Which is practically simultaneous orgasms. So no one can say thats not good sex. Ive read Cosmo; I know these things.

Anyway, then Jacob was made a huge offer and moved toBoston , so that was the end of it. I
didnt mind very much.

To be totally honest, I didnt really fancy him.

Samantha? Its my secretary, Maggie. She only started three weeks ago and I dont know her
very well yet. You had a message while you were out. From Joanne?

Joanne from Clifford Chance? I look up, my attention grabbed. OK. Tell her I got the
e-mail about clause four, and Ill call her about it after lunch

Not that Joanne, Maggie interrupts. Joanne your new cleaner. She wants to know where you
keep your vacuum-cleaner bags.

I look at her blankly. My what?

Vacuum-cleaner bags, repeats Maggie patiently. She cant find them.

Why does the vacuum cleaner need to go in a bag? I say, puzzled. Is she taking it
somewhere?

Maggie peers at me as though she thinks I must be joking. The bags that go inside your vacuum cleaner, she says carefully. To collect the dust? Do you have any of those?

Oh! I say quickly. Oh, those bags. Er...

I frown thoughtfully, as though the solution is on the tip of my tongue. The truth is, I
cant even visualize my vacuum cleaner. Where did I put it? I know it was delivered,
because the porter signed for it.

Maybe its a Dyson, suggests Maggie. They dont take bags. Is it a cylinder or an upright?
She looks at me expectantly.

Ill sort it, I say in a businesslike manner, and start gathering my papers together.
Thanks, Maggie.

She had another question. Maggie consults her pad. How do you switch on your oven?

For a moment I continue gathering my papers. Well. You turn the... er... knob, I say at
last, trying to sound nonchalant. Its pretty clear, really...

She said it has some weird timer lock. Maggie frowns. Is it gas or electric? OK, I think I
should terminate this conversation right now. Maggie, I really need to prepare for this
meeting, I say. Its in three minutes. So what shall I tell your cleaner? Maggie persists.
Shes waiting for me to call back. Tell her to... leave it for today. Ill sort it out.

As Maggie leaves my office I reach for a pen and memo pad.

1. How switch on oven?

2. Vacuum-cleaner bagsbuy

I put the pen down and massage my forehead. I really dont have time for this. I mean,
vacuum bags. I dont even know what they look like, for Gods sake, let alone where to buy
them

A sudden brain wave hits me. Ill order a new vacuum cleaner. Thatll come with a bag
already installed, surely.

Samantha.

What? What is it? I give a startled jump and open my eyes. Guy Ashby is standing at my
door.

Guy is my best friend in the firm. Hes six foot three with olive skin and dark eyes, and
normally he looks every inch the smooth, polished lawyer. But this morning his dark hair
is rumpled and there are shadows under his eyes.

Relax. Guy smiles. Only me. Coming to the meeting?

He has the most devastating smile. Its not just me; everyone noticed it the minute he
arrived at the firm.

Oh. Er... yes, I am. I pick up my papers, then add carelessly, Are you OK, Guy? You look a
bit rough.

He broke up with his girlfriend. They had bitter rows all night and shes walked off for
good...

No, shes emigrated toNew Zealand ...

All-nighter, he says, wincing. Fucking Ketterman. Hes inhuman. He yawns widely, showing
the perfect white teeth he had fixed when he was atHarvardLawSchool .

He says it wasnt his choice. Apparently they dont let you graduate until youve been OKd by
the cosmetic surgeon.

Bummer. I grin in sympathy, then push back my chair. Lets go.

Ive known Guy for a year, ever since he joined the corporate department as a partner. Hes
intelligent and funny, and works the same way I do, and we just somehow... click.

And yes. Its possible that some kind of romance would have happened between us if things
had been different. But there was a stupid misunderstanding, and...

Anyway. It didnt. The details arent important. Its not something I dwell on. Were
friendsand thats fine by me.

OK, this is exactly what happened.

Apparently Guy noticed me his first day at the firm, just like I noticed him. And he was
interested. He asked Nigel MacDermot, who had the next-door office to him, if I was
single. Which I was.

This is the crucial part: I was single. Id just split up with Jacob. But Nigel MacDermot
who is a stupid, stupid, thoughtless behind-the-times morontold Guy I was attached to a senior partner at Berry Forbes.

Even though I was single.

If you ask me, the system is majorly flawed. It should be clearer. People should have
engaged signs, like toilets. Taken. Not-Taken. There should be no ambiguity about these
things.

Anyway, I didnt have a sign. Or if I did, it was the wrong one. There were a slightly
embarrassing few weeks where I smiled a lot at Guyand he looked awkward and started
avoiding me, because he didnt want to a) break up a relationship or b) have a threesome
with me and Jacob.

I didnt understand what was going on, so I backed off. Then I heard through the grapevine
hed started going out with a girl called Charlotte who hed met at some weekend party. They
live together now. A month or two later we worked together on a deal, and got to know each
other as friendsand thats pretty much the whole story.

I mean, its fine. Really. Thats the way it goes. Some things happenand some things dont.
This one obviously just wasnt meant to be.

Except deep down... I still believe it was.

So, says Guy as we walk along the corridor to the meeting room. What was Ketterman in your
room for earlier?

Oh, the usual. A due diligence report. Have it back by yesterday, that kind of thing. Like
Im not snowed under already.

Everyone wants you to do their work for them, thats why, says Guy. He shoots me a
concerned look. You want to delegate anything? I could speak to Ketterman

No, thanks, I reply at once. I can do it.

You dont want anyone to help. He sounds amused. Youd rather die, smothered by a heap of
due diligence files.

Like youre not the same! I retort.

Guy hates admitting defeat or asking for help as much as I do. Last year he sprained his
leg in a skiing accident and point-blank refused to use the crutch that the firms doctor
gave him. His secretary kept running after him with it down corridors, but hed just tell
her to take it away and use it as a coat stand.

Well, youll be calling the shots soon. When youre a partner. He cocks an eyebrow. Dont say
that! I hiss in horror. Hell jinx it. Come on. You know youve made it. I dont know
anything.

Samantha, youre the brightest lawyer in your year. And you work the hardest. Whats your IQ
again, six hundred?

Shut up.

Guy laughs. Whats one twenty-four times seventy-five?

Nine thousand, three hundred, I say grudgingly.

Since I was about ten years old, Ive been able to do big sums in my head. God knows why, I
just can. And everyone else just goes, Oh cool, and then forgets about it.

But Guy keeps on about it, pitching sums at me like Im a circus performer. This is the one thing that irritates me about him. He thinks its funny, but it actually gets a bit
annoying. I still havent quite worked out how to get him to stop.

Once I told him the wrong number on purposebut that time it turned out he actually needed
the answer, and he put it in a contract and the deal nearly got wrecked as a result. So I
havent done that again.

You havent practiced in the mirror for the firms Web site? Guy adopts a pose with his
finger poised thoughtfully at his chin. Ms. Samantha Sweeting, Partner.

I havent even thought about it, I say, feigning indifference.

This is a slight lie. Ive already planned how to do my hair for the photo. And which of my
black suits to wear.

I heard your presentation blew their socks off, says Guy more seriously.

My indifference vanishes in a second. Really? I say, trying not to sound too eager for
praise. You heard that?

And you put William Griffiths right on a point of law in front of everybody. Guy folds his
arms and regards me humorously. Do you ever make a mistake, Samantha Sweeting?

Oh, I make plenty of mistakes, I say lightly. Believe me.

Like not grabbing you and telling you I was single, the very first day we met.

A mistake isnt a mistake. Guy pauses. Unless it cant be put right. As he says the words,
his eyes seem to hold an extra significance.

Or else theyre just squiffy after his night of no sleep. I was never any good at reading
the signs.