‘Come on,’ said Katrina. ‘I think some privacy is—’
‘Hey, I know that guy!’ announced Miles, a fellow divorce lawyer and Olivia’s least favourite colleague. ‘That was Jack Leyland, Ralph Carlton’s personal lackey – does all his dirty work for him. What was he doing here, though? I thought we instructed that ballet-shoed princess, Heidi Fowler, to deliver all our court documents, not that piranha. Although, I’ve always said that Jack does have his uses. Are we changing our approach at last?’
Ralph Carlton was renowned throughout the legal profession as the go-to rottweiler in the field of matrimonial litigation, which could only mean one thing. Olivia’s stomach gave a pain-filled lurch and a curl of nausea began its assiduous journey around her chest.
Oh God, surely not!
‘No, Miles, we …’ she muttered, desperately trying to reconnect her brain to its modem.
‘Because I have to tell you, all this conciliatory, non-confrontational malarkey is starting to scratch at my balls. We need to get a lot tougher in our negotiations, especially after that article about you being London’s Top Divorce Lawyer appeared in the local rag. Ridiculous accolade, if you ask me – just because you’ve achieved the questionable milestone of having handled five hundred divorces doesn’t mean that—’
‘Shut up, Miles. Haven’t you got secretaries to harass?’ said Katrina mildly, taking charge of the situation and guiding Olivia out of the reception and back down the corridor to her corner office.
By now, panic was beginning to ricochet around Olivia’s body, her throat had contracted around what felt like a prickly pear, and she felt light-headed. She collapsed onto the overstuffed leather sofa she used to interview the more emotional clients who sought her advice and slowly slid the paperwork out of the envelope as if it contained a poisoned pen letter – the effect it caused was almost as bad.
Because London’s Top Divorce Lawyer had just been served with her very own divorce petition.
‘I didn’t think he’d do it, Kat.’
Olivia sunk into the ‘sympathy couch’ and met her friend’s eyes, her fingers trembling on the rectangular missive of tragedy. The shock of the public ambush had begun to thaw but the horror remained, settling just below where her heart hammered out a symphony of sorrow against her ribcage. Nausea lingered at the back of her throat, constricting the flow of oxygen, and the threat of tears blurred her vision.
‘I know, Liv, I know,’ murmured Katrina, patting her hand and offering her a tissue.
Olivia accepted, dabbed the corners of her eyes and started to peruse the documents.
‘Oh, my God, no! I don’t believe it.’
‘What?’
‘Nathan’s cited Unreasonable Behaviour! Listen to this! The Respondent is a workaholic, often spending in excess of eighteen hours a day at her office, refusing to accept, and dismissing the importance of, her responsibilities to their relationship. Many holidays and weekends away have been cancelled or cut short due to the tenacity with which the Respondent pursues her career.’
‘Oh, Liv, I’m so sorry …’
‘And what about this: The Respondent has persistently neglected the Petitioner and their extended family and friends despite numerous attempts by the Petitioner to rectify their growing estrangement. And this: Since the inception of their partnership, the Petitioner has made clear to the Respondent his desire to start a family but … Oh my God, no, no, no, no …’
The anguish churning through her veins threatened to overwhelm her as she continued to read the painful litany of accusations, and the stark truth of what lay at the crux of their problems was revealed.
‘But the Respondent refuses to contemplate the proposal, continually deflecting the Petitioner’s heartfelt pleas to participate in a rational and intelligent conversation, citing the importance of her career over the creation of a family.’
Olivia raised her eyes to meet Katrina’s and the sympathy scrawled across her friend’s face almost caused her to crumble completely. She swallowed down hard, inhaled a steadying breath and made an attempt to corral her rampaging emotions. She had to admit she was acutely aware of Nathan’s desire to start a family. At his lavish fortieth birthday party at The Dorchester just before Christmas, she’d witnessed for herself the hunger in his heart as he had hugged each one of Katrina and Will’s three young children in turn when they presented him with a selection of home-made birthday cards covered in dried pasta and sequins. But reading about his rejected yearning for fatherhood as a ground for her ‘unreasonable behaviour’ in bold, black typescript, well, it shocked her to the core.
‘Look, Liv, these things always sound worse when they’re written down.’
‘We always say that to our clients, don’t we? Well, let me tell you now, for the record, those words are no consolation. I promise that from now on, I won’t be caught trotting out that old chestnut again.’
‘And you know what? I’m absolutely certain this is all Ralph Carlton’s doing – he’s the ultimate exploiter of human misery! No wonder you had no advance warning – it’s his trademark.’
Olivia thought of the undisguised triumph in the process server’s eyes. The knowledge that he would, at that very moment, be scurrying back to his employer to recount every painful detail, caused her cheeks to flood with warmth. Then, her mind switched to the headlines that had been splashed across the local newspaper the previous month. The story had also been picked up by the Law Society Gazette, as part of their end-of-year round-up of news, which had ensured maximum publicity for the article celebrating the debatable accomplishment of her five hundredth divorce.
She had squirmed at the label the tabloid had bestowed on her – ‘London’s Top Divorce Lawyer’. She knew the dubious badge of honour would rile many of her peers but especially Ralph Carlton who had grabbed that self-styled accolade for himself years before. In fact, she wouldn’t put it past him to casually leak the little gem that that same ‘Top Divorce Lawyer’ had joined the exclusive club no one wanted a golden pass for. She knew any gossip would spread like red wine on a cream carpet, and even if Ralph didn’t breach the code of ethics on client confidentiality, she had no difficulty in remembering Miles’s fascinated attention in the foyer and he was one of the biggest gossips she knew.
‘Liv, everyone knows Ralph Carlton is a rabid vulture who feasts on the bones of broken relationships. I can totally picture him now, grinning away on his dung-splattered perch as he drafted those awful allegations. Nathan would never say any of those things.’
‘But, sadly, not one of them is untrue. I do neglect Nathan, and our family and friends! I do work all waking hours here at my desk – my personal life is just one of the casualties I left in my wake when I chose the marbled entrance hall of Edwards & Co twelve years ago. I do cancel our date nights and I do miss important landmark birthdays. Remember Nathan’s mother’s sixtieth?’
Olivia grimaced with shame as she recalled the expression of displeasure on her mother-in-law’s over-powdered face when she’d dashed into The Music Room at The Ritz an hour after the word ‘Surprise!’ had been hollered.
‘Yes, maybe, but Nathan works just as hard as you do. And he’s away from home more often than you are.’
Loyalty drew an indignant expression on Katrina’s olive-toned features, but no amount of heartfelt empathy could distract Olivia now that she was on a roll of rigorous self-analysis