The Undomestic Goddess (3 page)

I should have done a degree in mutual attraction, instead of law. It would have been a lot
more useful. Bachelor of Arts (Hons) in Knowing When Men Fancy You And When Theyre Just
Being Friendly.

Ready? Kettermans whiplash voice behind us makes us both jump, and we turn to see a whole
phalanx of soberly suited men, together with a pair of even more soberly suited women.

Absolutely. Guy nods at Ketterman, then turns back and winks at me.

Nine hours later were all still in the meeting.

The huge mahogany table is strewn with photocopied draft contracts, financial reports,
notepads covered in scribbles, polystyrene coffee cups, and Post-its. Take-out boxes from
lunch are littering the floor. A secretary is distributing fresh copies of the draft
agreement. Two of the lawyers from the opposition have got up from the table and are
murmuring intently in the breakout room. Every meeting room has one of these: a little
side area where you go for private conversations, or when you feel like breaking something.

The intensity of the afternoon has passed. Its like an ebb in the tide. Faces are flushed,
tempers are still high, but no ones shouting anymore. The Fallons and Smithleaf people
have gone. They reached agreement on various points at about four oclock, shook hands, and
sailed off in their shiny limos.

Now its up to us, the lawyers, to work out what they said and what they actually meant
(and if you think its the same thing, you might as well give up law now) and put it all
into a draft contract in time for more negotiations.

When theyll probably begin shouting some more.

I rub my dry face and take a gulp of cappuccino before realizing Ive picked up the wrong
cupthe stone-cold cup from four hours ago. Yuck. Yuck . And I cant exactly spit it out all over the table.

I swallow the revolting mouthful with an inward shudder. The fluorescent lights are
flickering in my eyes and I feel drained. My role in all of these megadeals is on the
finance sideso it was me who negotiated the loan agreement between Fallons and PGNI Bank.
It was me who rescued the situation when a £10-million black hole of debt turned up in a
subsidiary company. And it was me who spent about three hours this afternoon arguing one
single, stupid term in the contract.

The term was best endeavors . The other side wanted to use reasonable efforts . In the end we won the pointbut I cant feel my usual triumph. All I know is, its
seven-nineteen, and in eleven minutes Im supposed to be halfway across town, sitting down
to dinner at

Maxims with my mother and brother Daniel.

Ill have to cancel. My own birthday dinner.

Even as I think the thought, I can hear the outraged voice of Freya ringing in my mind.

They cant make you stay at work on your birthday!

I canceled on her too, last week, when we were supposed to be going to a comedy club. A
company sell-off was due to complete the next morning and I didnt have any choice.

What she doesnt understand is, the deadline comes first, end of story. Prior engagements
dont count; birthdays dont count. Vacations are canceled every week. Across the table from
me is Clive Sutherland from the corporate department. His wife had twins this morning and
he was back at the table by lunchtime.

All right, people. Kettermans voice commands immediate attention.

Ketterman is the only one here who isnt red-faced or weary-looking or even jaded. He looks
as machinelike as ever, as polished as he did this morning. When he gets angry, he just
exudes a silent, steely fury.

We have to adjourn.

What? My head pops up.

Other heads have popped up too; I can detect the hope around the table. Were like
schoolkids sensing a disturbance during the math test, not daring to move in case we land
a double detention.

Until we have the due diligence documentation from Fallons, we cant proceed. Ill see you
all tomorrow, here at nine a.m. He sweeps out, and as the door closes, I exhale. I was
holding my breath, I realize.

Clive has already bolted for the door. People are on their mobile phones all over the
room, discussing dinner, films, un-canceling previous arrangements. Theres a joyful lift
to the proceedings. I have a sudden urge to yell Yay!

But that wouldnt be partnerlike.

I gather up my papers, stuff them into my briefcase, and push back my chair.

Samantha. I forgot. Guy is making his way across the room. I have something for you.

As he hands me a simple white package, I feel a ridiculous rush of joy. A birthday

present. Hes the only one in the whole company who remembered my birthday. I cant help
glowing as I undo the cardboard envelope.

Guy, you really shouldnt have!

It was no trouble, he says, clearly satisfied with himself.

Still! I laugh. I thought youd

I break off abruptly as I uncover a corporate DVD in a laminated case. Its a summary of
the European Partners presentation we had the other day. I mentioned that Id like a copy.

I turn it over in my hands, making sure my smile is completely intact before I look up. Of
course he didnt remember my birthday. Why would he? He probably never even knew it.

Thats... great, I say at last. Thanks! No problem. Hes picking up his briefcase. Have a
good evening. Anything planned? I cant tell him its my birthday. Hell thinkhell realize
Just... a family thing. I smile. See you tomorrow.

The main thing is, Im going to make dinner after all. And I wont even be late! Last time I
had dinner with Mum, about three months ago now, I was an hour late after my plane
fromAmsterdam was delayed. Then she had to take a conference call halfway through the main
course. It wasnt exactly a success.

As my taxi edges through the traffic onCheapside , I quickly rifle in my bag for my new
makeup case. I nipped into Selfridges in my lunch hour the other day when I realized I was
still using the old gray eyeliner and mascara I bought for a Law Society dinner a year
ago. I didnt have time for a demonstration, but I asked the girl at the counter if she
could just quickly sell me everything she thought I should have.

I didnt really listen as she explained each item, because I was on the phone to Elldridge
about the Ukrainian contract. But the one thing I do remember is her insistence I should
use something called bronzer powder. She said it might give me a glow and stop me looking
so dreadfully

Then she stopped herself. Pale, she said at last. Youre...

I take out the compact and huge blusher brush and start sweeping the powder onto my cheeks
and forehead. Then, as I peer at my reflection in the mirror, I stifle a laugh. My

face stares back at me, freakishly golden and shiny. I look ridiculous.

I mean, who am I kidding? A City lawyer who hasnt been on holiday for two years doesnt
have a tan. I might as well walk in with beads in my hair and pretend Ive just flown in
fromBarbados .

I look at myself for a few more seconds, then take out a cleansing wipe and scrub the
bronzer off until my face is white again, with shades of gray. Back to normal. The makeup
girl kept mentioning the dark shadows under my eyes too, and there they are.

Thing is, if I didnt have shadows under my eyes, Id probably get fired.

Im wearing a black suit, as I always do. My mother gave me five almost identical black
suits for my twenty-first birthday, and Ive never really broken the habit. The only item
of color about me is my bag, which is red. Mum gave that to me as well, two years ago. At
least... she gave me a black one originally. But on the way home I saw it in a shop window
in red, had a total brainstorm, and exchanged it. Im not convinced shes ever forgiven me.

I free my hair from its elastic band, quickly comb it out, then twist it back into place.
My hair has never exactly been my pride and joy. Its mouse-color, medium length, with a
medium wave. At least, it was last time I looked. Most of the time it lives screwed up
into a knot.

Nice evening planned? says the taxi driver, whos been watching me in his mirror.

Its my birthday, actually.

Happy birthday! He eyes me in the mirror. Youll be partying, then. Making a night of it.

My family and wild parties dont exactly go together. But even so, itll be nice for us to
see one another and catch up. It doesnt happen very often.

Its not that we dont want to see one another. We just all have very busy careers. Theres
my mother, whos a barrister. Shes quite well-known, in fact. She started her own chambers
ten years ago and last year she won an award for Women in Law. And then theres my brother
Daniel, who is thirty-six and head of investment at Whittons. He was named by Money Management Weekly last year as one of the top deal-makers in the city.

Theres also my other brother, Peter, but like I said, he had a bit of a breakdown. He
lives inFrance now and teaches English at a local school and doesnt even have an answering
machine. And my dad, of course, who lives inSouth Africa with his third wife. I havent
seen much of him since I was three. But Ive made my peace about this. My mothers got
enough energy for two parents.

I glance at my watch as we speed along theStrand . Seven forty-two. Im starting to feel
quite excited. The street outside is still bright and warm and tourists are walking along
in T-shirts and shorts, pointing at the High Court. It must have been a gorgeous summers
day. Inside the air-conditioned Carter Spink building you have no idea what the weather in
the real world is doing.

We come to a halt outside Maxims and I pay the taxi driver, adding a large tip.

Have a great evening, love! he says. And happy birthday!

Thanks!

As I hurry into the restaurant, Im looking all around for Mum or Daniel, but I cant spot
either of them.

Hi! I say to the maitre d. Im meeting Ms. Tennyson.

Thats Mum. She disapproves of women taking the name of their husband. She also disapproves
of women staying at home, cooking, cleaning, or learning to type, and thinks all women
should earn more than their husbands because theyre naturally brighter.

The maitre da dapper man who is a good six inches shorter than meleads me to an empty
table in the corner and I slide into the suede banquette.

Hi! I smile at the waiter who approaches. Id like a Bucks Fizz, a gimlet, and a martini,
please. But dont bring them over until the other guests arrive.

Mum always drinks gimlets. And Ive no idea what Daniels on these days, but he wont say no
to a martini.

The waiter nods and disappears, and I shake out my napkin, looking all around at the other
diners. Maxims is a pretty cool restaurant, all wenge floors and steel tables and mood
lighting. Its very popular with lawyers; in fact, Mum has an account here. Two partners
from Linklaters are at a distant table, and I can see one of the biggest libel lawyers
inLondon at the bar. The noise of chatter, corks popping, and forks against oversize
plates is like the huge roar of the sea, with occasional tidal waves of laughter making
heads turn.

As I scan the menu I suddenly feel ravenous. I havent had a proper meal for a week, and it
all looks so good. Glazed foie gras. Lamb on minted hummus. And on the specials board is
chocolate-orange souffle with two homemade sorbets. I just hope Mum can stay long enough
for pudding. Ive heard her say plenty of times that half a dinner party is enough for
anybody. The trouble is, shes not really interested in food. Shes also not that interested
in most people, as theyre generally less intelligent than her. Which rules out most
potential dinner guests.

But Daniel will stay. Once my brother starts on a bottle of wine, he feels obliged to see
it through to the end.

Miss Sweeting? I look up to see the maitre d. Hes holding a mobile phone. I have a
message. Your mother has been held up at her chambers.

Oh. I try to hide my disappointment. But I can hardly complain. Ive done the same thing to
her enough times. So... what time will she be here?

I think I see a flash of pity in his eyes.

I have her here on the telephone. Her secretary will put her through... Hello? he says
into the phone. I have Ms. Tennysons daughter.

Samantha? comes a crisp, precise voice in my ear. Darling, I cant come tonight, Im afraid.

You cant come at all ? My smile falters. Not even... for a drink?

Her chambers is only five minutes away in a cab, inLincoln s Inn Fields.

Far too much on. I have a very big case on and Im in court tomorrow No, get me the other
file, she adds to someone in her office. These things happen, she resumes. But have a nice
evening with Daniel. Oh, and happy birthday. Ive wired three hundred pounds to your bank
account.

Oh, right, I say. Thanks.

I assume you havent heard about the partnership yet.

Not yet.

I heard your presentation went well... I can hear her tapping her pen on the phone. How
many hours have you put in this month?

Urn... probably about two hundred...

Is that enough? Samantha, you dont want to be passed over. Youve been working toward this
for a long time.

Like I dont know that.

Still, I suppose I should be glad shes not badgering me about whether Ive got a boyfriend.
Mum never asks me about my personal life. She expects me to be as focused and driven as
she is, if not more so. And even though we dont talk very often anymore, even though shes
less controlling than she was when I was younger, I still feel

apprehensive whenever she rings.

There will be younger lawyers coming up behind, she continues. Someone in your position
could easily go stale.

Two hundred hours is quite a lot... I try to explain. Compared to the others

You have to be better than the others! Her voice cuts across mine as though shes in a courtroom. You cant afford
for your performance to slip below excellent. This is a crucial time Not that file! she adds impatiently to whoever it is. Hold the line, Samantha

Samantha?

I look up in confusion from the phone to see a girl with long swishy blond hair, wearing a
powder-blue suit, approaching the table. Shes holding a gift basket adorned with a bow,
and has a wide smile.

ImLorraine , Daniels PA, she says in a singsong voice I suddenly recognize from calling
Daniels office. He couldnt make it tonight, Im afraid. But Ive got a little something for
youplus hes here on the phone to say hello...