A Year of Chasing Love Page 11

  ‘Oh, my God, congratulations, Kat! I’m so happy for you! When’s the baby due?’

  ‘Just before Christmas. Will and I are so excited – and the children are insisting that we christen this one Santa. So, by the time you return to Edwards & Co from your sabbatical on the first of December, I will be on maternity leave. Again!’

  Katrina rubbed her stomach, an expression of pure joy spreading across her features at the prospect of spending a whole year at home in a house full of boisterous children and a new-born baby. Olivia was genuinely thrilled for her friend, but she had to confess she was bewildered that after having graduated with a first-class honours degree and then being courted by all the big City firms, Katrina wasn’t more intent on pursuing her career to the next level. Despite her continuing avid consumption of legal textbooks on a plethora of subjects, as well as being a keen supporter of legal charities alongside Olivia, Katrina was content with her part-time paralegal position and relished her time at home buried under a mountain of domestic bliss instead of paperwork.

  But who was she kidding? She did know the reason for Katrina’s choices. There they were, leaping like ferocious frogs on the trampoline under the watchful eye of Katrina’s mother in whose honour the party was being held. And Will, a broad smile on his face as he chatted to a colleague from his stockbrokers’ business with their youngest child, Archie, balanced on one arm and holding a bottle of alcohol-free beer in the other hand.

  Clearly, it was Olivia who was missing something, not Katrina.

  ‘Come on, Liv, let me introduce you to Sarah and Graeme. Will and I were at uni with them. They both volunteer for Women’s Aid in Birmingham – helping anyone who needs legal advice after an incident of domestic abuse, including forced marriage. No kids. Can you tell?’

  With the sleeves of her mauve and fuchsia kaftan flapping behind her like angel’s wings, Katrina made a beeline for a thirty-something couple who were loitering next to the drinks table. Olivia recognised the look of abject horror scrawled across their faces as they observed the antics of two small boys, armed with plastic buckets and spades, in the process of removing chunks of turf from the middle of Katrina’s lawn.

  Olivia smirked at the horticultural duo before a tsunami of sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Was she really intending to miss out on all of this? She became aware of a pause in conversation and saw that everyone looking expectantly at her. With a Herculean effort, she dragged her thoughts back to the present.

  ‘Sorry, I …’

  ‘Sarah was asking about your forthcoming trip to Hawaii?’ said Graeme, a six-foot-four beanpole of a man with a shock of red hair who was in the process of pulling the ring on a can of Guinness.

  ‘Oh, sorry, yes. The trip’s actually part of a research project I’m involved in with a friend of mine, Professor Rachel Denton, from the Family Law Department at UCL.’ Olivia paused to drain her glass and help herself to a refill. Sarah and Graeme certainly knew how to choose the best spot at a party. ‘Apparently, Hawaii has one of the lowest divorce rates in the US. Would you believe that the top five States are—’

  ‘Yes, Katrina mentioned you were going over there because Sarah and I were married on the island, weren’t we, darling?’ Graeme interrupted, leaning forward to rub his overlong beard on his wife’s cheek, oblivious to Olivia’s badly concealed grimace. ‘In this amazingly romantic non-denominational church right next to Waikiki Beach surrounded by tropical plants, palm trees, and the most fabulous backdrop of Diamond Head.’

  ‘Oh, it was adorable,’ sighed Sarah, dragging the sides of her hand-knitted cardigan over her pinafore dress, completely unconcerned by her husband’s rudeness. ‘Would you believe that the walls of the chapel were made from canvas so they could be rolled up for an open-air ceremony.’

  ‘It sounds wonderful. I’m staying at the—’

  ‘We had our wedding breakfast at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel – “the pink palace” they call it. It was the best week of my life.’

  Olivia decided not to try again and instead she watched as Sarah laced her fingers through her husband’s and the couple exchanged a private message of adoration. Her stomach performed an uneasy lurch – she was clearly the third wheel here.

  ‘Excuse me. Bathroom.’

  She wasn’t sure whether they had even heard her as she made her escape through the French doors and into the peaceful coolness of the lounge. Once again, she wished she had made an excuse so she could have remained ensconced in her apartment, with the blinds drawn against the offensive sunshine, to wallow in self-pity and grieve over the loss of her marriage. Everyone, everywhere she looked, was part of a couple. She hadn’t appreciated what it felt like to be a singleton when Nathan had been at her side – yet another unforeseen adjustment to come to terms with.

  A surprise image of Niko floated into her mind. What would it be like to arrive at a party with a new partner in tow and have to begin the ritual of introducing him to her friends, of gauging their reaction to him, and his to them?

  However, she knew precisely why she had forced herself to don her red dress and towering heels. She needed to speak to Katrina about Miles and the sickening rumours he was allegedly spinning about her mental frailty. The thought of his treachery must have temporarily clouded her judgement because before she knew what was happening, she had tripped over the lip of the French doors and launched herself into the lounge, sinking to her knees before grasping at the back of the rose-and-fern chintz sofa to break her fall.

  ‘Someone indulged in too much fruit punch, methinks?’

  ‘Of course not!’ Olivia shot back in annoyance until she saw the deliverer of the comment was none other than James Carter – one of her partners at Edwards & Co.

  ‘Ooo, a little cantankerous today, aren’t we, Olivia? I would have thought a break from the relentless pursuit of matrimonial misery would have soothed over your prickles by now?’

  James took a sip from his glass of warm Guinness, leaving a thin moustache of brown froth along his upper lip, which he removed with a languid flick of his tongue. A cream-and-brown Siamese cat lounged on his lap; its blue eyes narrowed with pleasure as he scratched between its ears.

  Olivia liked James. Unlike the personality-challenged Miles Morrison, James Carter was excellent company, and an accomplished criminal advocate to boot. He was well respected in the legal community and his soliloquies in court were frequently discussed and analysed by those seeking to emulate his persuasive arguments – even Hollie was known to seek his advice when she was flummoxed by a difficult case. In his late forties, his salt-and-pepper hair and come-to-bed eyes bestowed him with a certain Ryan Reynoldsesque appearance in a dim light. Resolutely single in order to take advantage of these attributes, he preferred to skip from one adoring girlfriend to the next, studiously avoiding commitment. A bit like an older version of Matteo, Olivia realised for the first time.

  ‘Sorry, James. Just feeling a bit ragged today, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, all this “touchy-feely” togetherness is a tad vomit-provoking, isn’t it? Good God, the thought of all these children running amok in my beautiful mews home, sliding their sticky palms down my pristine windows or fingering my CD collection is enough to give one an attack of the vapours!’ James shuddered, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up to the bridge of his nose to better study Olivia as she flopped down on the sofa next to him.

  Olivia selected a strand of caramel hair to twist between her thumb and index finger, quickly reforming the questions she had intended to fire at Katrina for the consumption of James. In fact, it was actually fortuitous that James was there because she suspected Katrina and Will would have chosen to protect her with soothing words of reassurance instead of delivering a blow-by-blow account of how Miles was single-handedly destroying her caseload and reputation. James, in contrast, would have no such qualms.

  ‘Is it true that Miles has been bad-mouthing me to all and sundry?’

  Olivia saw James glance at her out of corner
of his eye under the cover of taking a reluctant swallow of his drink. As a wine snob, she knew he would have inspected the labels on the bottles of red wine before choosing the Guinness instead.

  ‘Well, believe it or not, I’m not in the habit of listening to salacious gossip. As you know, I much prefer the false protestations of innocence spurted by the criminal fraternity to the emotional outpourings of marital doom that accompany those in the throes of divorce. However, I have to confess to overhearing our esteemed colleague in the advocates’ waiting room burbling on about something, but I’d advise you take whatever you’ve heard through the grapevine with a large gulp of saline.’

  ‘What exactly has the arrogant little worm been saying?’ demanded Olivia, ignoring James’s advice and drawing her lips inwards – thinking of Miles left a rancid taste in her mouth.

  ‘Nothing to get yourself in a twist about. On a professional level, it seems Miles has morphed into a clone of his idol, Ralph Carlton, that bolshie bulldog we all know and love, and is offering a certain cohort of our clients the “tenacious terrier” approach rather than the “cashmere-soft” service you prefer.’

  ‘Oh God …’

  ‘Look, Miles’s eye for detail may be in dire need of the services of an optician, Olivia, but he’s a competent enough lawyer. Okay, so a few of your clients have left the firm; it’s no big deal. In fact, conversely, others have welcomed the shift in approach – an accurately directed threat of exorbitantly expensive court proceedings can concentrate recalcitrant minds. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but new instructions are up, despite the deserters.’

  ‘But, James, we’ve signed up to a Code of Conduct that promises a conciliatory approach! If Miles has changed the whole ethos of our matrimonial practice, we’ll lose our membership and …’ Olivia paused, surprised at James’s relaxed attitude. She had always believed him to be a supporter of her more conciliatory approach. ‘James?’

  ‘It’s client numbers that count, as I think Henry discussed with you when you agreed to take your sabbatical. This recession has struck harder and deeper than any of us expected. The coffers are depleted. Now there’s been an upturn, slight yes, but a step in the right direction; more clients mean a higher fee income. Look, let Miles have his fifteen minutes of fame playing the starring role in his career after years of being a supporting actor. Yes, his ego has swelled to the size of a pumpkin, but there’s only another few months until you return. We’ll reassess the figures in October or November and decide which way to go then.’

  James smiled at Olivia, his eyes softening at her dismay.

  ‘You’ve got to learn to curb your obsession with all things legal, Olivia. Ditch the domination of divorce in your life! Now, if you’ll excuse me, this pint has the taste and consistency of burnt tractor tyres, and there’s a young lady waiting inside that summerhouse desperate for my company. Toodle-oo.’

  James was clearly anxious to avoid further cross-examination and Olivia had not even had the chance to ask him about her suspicions that Miles was behind the instigation of the rumour that she was in the throes of a nervous breakdown. As she watched James disappear into the garden shed, she knew all thought of his erstwhile friend’s trauma had evaporated. Ten years to build up a reputation as a sympathetic divorce lawyer; six weeks to toss it in the garbage! And what was more, even James, a confirmed bachelor, had managed to snag a date to his colleague’s afternoon barbecue.

  A swoop of despondency squeezed her heart and tears threatened – everyone had someone with them! She couldn’t stay and watch the happy throng any longer, so she tiptoed through the scattered plastic toys to the front door and let herself out into the welcome tranquillity of the street beyond. At least her visit to Katrina and Will’s had one positive outcome – she had stumbled upon another lesson to add to Hollie and Matteo’s list.

  Olivia Hamilton’s Lessons in Love: No 7. “A blinkered addiction to career progression shatters the dream of a stable family life.”

  Chapter 11

  Olivia couldn’t sleep. The guy in the seat behind her must have been a basketball player because his knees were wedged so snugly into the small of her back that no amount of eye-rolling or tutting was going to make him move. She had been on the plane to LA for over nine hours and she was still annoyed with Rachel for ambushing her with her own special brand of persuasive argument.

  Okay, yes, she had agreed to embark on this crazy pursuit of what people called love, and it was important to complete the project when there was grant money involved, but travelling halfway round the world just to interview a former student about marriages in Hawaii? That wasn’t crazy, it was lunacy as well as being very un-environmentally friendly! Hadn’t Rachel heard of videoconferencing?

  However, she had to admit that her anxiety over climate change wasn’t really what was scratching at her craw. Rachel had held off emailing her flight tickets and intended itinerary for as long as possible and now she knew why. Careful scrutiny in the check-in queue at Heathrow airport had instigated a frantic call to her so-called oldest and most treasured friend, and she was seriously considering renaming her Ruthless Rachel.

  ‘What’s the problem, Liv?’

  ‘The problem is that I did not sign up to travel thousands of miles around the world on my own!’

  ‘You don’t want to go on a round-the-world trip?’ asked Rachel, all innocence. ‘Lots of people would kill for an opportunity like that! Anyway, as I explained to you in the email, the ticket was cheaper than a return ticket to Hawaii via LAX.’

  ‘You don’t fool me, Rach. Just because I’ve been temporarily shoved out of the legal profession does not mean I have lost my edge, thank you very much! I’m fine with the stop-off in LA, and I’d already agreed to meet up with your friend Alani in Oahu. What I’m objecting to is the stopover on the way back!’

  ‘What’s wrong with Singapore? I’ve heard it’s a fabulous city, great shopping, too.’

  ‘Ah, my friend the comedienne! You know exactly what I mean. Have you spoken to Nathan?’

  ‘No, but I have spoken to Hollie who tells me that her brother is ecstatic about getting a visitor from home. Elliot’s been over in Singapore for weeks, and apparently he’s hardly set foot out of the kitchen. He’s desperate to do a spot of sightseeing and who better to join him than one of his sister’s best friends? Tell me that’s not a win-win.’

  Olivia could hear the familiar tapping of Rachel’s silver earrings against the screen of her mobile and despite her irritation at being well and truly stitched up, she had to smile. She could imagine her oldest friend sitting in her paper-strewn office at the university, sipping a stone-cold Caffè Misto whilst she searched for the half-eaten sandwich left over from yesterday so she didn’t have to leave her desk to forage for lunch.

  ‘Swear to me you have not set anything up with Nathan.’

  ‘What harm would it do for the two of you to meet and talk? On neutral ground, so to speak?’

  ‘I’m not meeting him, Rach!’

  ‘Okay, okay, I get it.’

  There had been a pause in their conversation whilst Olivia handed over an exorbitant amount of cash for a bottle of water and a tiny croissant, more than enough time for Rachel to rethink her tactics and launch an attack from a different angle.

  ‘Look, Singapore is one of the countries on my list for the project. Yes, yes, so it was a little way down the list, but when this absolute bargain of a ticket became available, I jumped at the chance to include South East Asia in the report – a truly global perspective!’

  Olivia sighed; she knew what Rachel was saying was just a thinly veiled ruse because she could have easily broken her trip back home in Tokyo where she had to change planes. What she couldn’t fathom out, though, was whether Rachel had spoken to Nathan, and if she hadn’t, whether she’d be able to resist the temptation to call him once Olivia was in Singapore.

  Rachel and Nathan had always got on well together, with Nathan taking an avid interest in Ra
chel and Denise’s desire to one day deliver a faultless Argentinian Tango, or a smooth and elegant Viennese waltz, or a charismatic Rumba. In turn, Rachel had willingly tagged along when Nathan had wanted to spend a night in the freezing Brecon Beacons stargazing, and she had been instrumental in persuading Olivia to accompany them one summer weekend two years ago so that Nathan could unveil a star he had named for her – an overwhelmingly romantic gesture that even now caused Olivia to gasp with emotion.

  ‘Okay, getting back to the point of your visit, Alani is really excited about meeting you and she’s even promised to organise a traditional Hawaiian welcome at Honolulu airport. So why don’t you try to get some sleep on the way over from LA to Oahu so you can enjoy it and take a few photos for your Instagram page. It’ll be lots of fun, something your recent months in London have been chronically short of.’

  ‘That’s not true …’ Olivia began, but stopped abruptly, because it so was.

  ‘Promise to keep me posted, Liv?’

  ‘Will do.’

  Some chance of grabbing a couple of hours sleep! thought Olivia, adjusting her seat and pushing it as far back as it would go, turning to glare at the leggy passenger who simply gifted her with a white toothy smile and a shrug. Perhaps he was a basketball player, she thought, noticing for the first time his strong athletic build, elegant fingers and neat manicure.

  As there was nothing on the in-flight entertainment system she wanted to watch, she toyed with the idea of ordering a bottle of Laurent-Perrier, Matteo’s favourite tipple, but reluctantly decided against it. It hadn’t been until she had retreated to her self-imposed hibernation that she had taken the time to calculate the number of units of alcohol the three of them had been consuming each week, and she was horrified to discover that they all exceeded the recommended weekly intake three times over. She’d vowed to make a concerted effort to cut down, but she still experienced the pull of the fizz whenever she was stressed or irritated – clear evidence of how much she depended on a ‘quick fix’ in which to deposit her emotional baggage.