Page 1 of Faking It (and falling in love)

Chapter One

Philippa sighed at her young assistant. “Sienna, are you really sure about this?”

Sienna nodded, her large brightly coloured hoop earrings wobbling with the movement. Her short afro hair was newly trimmed, setting off her grin. “Totally.” She brandished her mobile. “You need new clients, and TikTok’s where they are.”

At forty-six, Philippa had thus far avoided the social media video feed, preferring to stick to Facebook and Instagram. But this was why she’d hired Sienna, a twenty-eight-year-old paralegal with ambitions to become a major force in legal circles. Philippa thought back to her own training in family law, more than two decades earlier, when social media just wasn’t a thing. She remembered the crusty old men – and it mostly was men – waxing lyrical about the glories of the British legislature. She had no intention of being crusty.

“Ok,” said Philippa. “Hand me that script, then.”

Sienna grinned again, passing it over while Philippa put on her reading glasses and checked her face in the phone camera. Her perfectly coiffed chestnut bob was neatly in place, alongwith her trademark red slash of lipstick. She frowned. “Hey, besties? I have to say that?”

Sienna nodded. “Trust me,” she said.

Philippa laughed. “Right, ok, I’m trusting you on this, but if I’m the laughing stock of the city networking group next week, I’m never tikking or tokking again.”

“Deal,” said Sienna. “Ready to go?”

Philippa nodded, breathed in, and Sienna pressed record. Professional Philippa kicked in. She looked down the phone’s lens with the same intensity she’d use to stare into the face of a magistrate or judge. “Hey, besties,” she said. “I’m Philippa, and we are Samfire and Partners. We’re here for you when you enter your divorce era, and we understand the assignment. Slay.” Philippa paused and raised an eyebrow before continuing. “Don’t have a menty B about your family legal issues, because we’re here, and we are very mindful, very demure, very cutesy. No cap. For a legal firm with lawyers with main character energy that hit different, come to us. Slay.”

Sienna stopped the recording. “You are a pro, Philippa. I loved the way you kept so deadpan. Honestly, this will be a hit.”

“Hmm,” said Philippa. “We’ll see about that.”

Sienna left the office and Philippa looked down at the picture of Dottie, her ten-year-old daughter, grinning maniacally from the plain white frame. She smiled. Life had changed a lot in the last few months, but Dottie was the constant. The photo on her desk had replaced the old one of her and Paul, Dottie’s dad, with two-year-old Dottie. That one had been quietly retired.

Her phone vibrated to remind her she had an appointment at 11am. She logged out of her computer, put her blazer on, grabbed her sunglasses and made her way out onto Colmore Row, the centre of Birmingham’s finance and legal district. It had been ages since she’d seen Charlie, and she had lots to update him on.

The May sun shone through the trees in Pigeon Park – the name that every local used for the grounds of Birmingham Cathedral. Philippa picked an outdoor table at the Syrian cafe overlooking the park, having ordered herself a Turkish coffee. Charlie was famously late for everything, but he did it with such charm that she instantly forgave him. Philippa, on the other hand, was always early, so had learned long ago never to wait for him to order.

The coffee arrived in its tiny jug, next to a silver cup with cupola lid and a cube of Turkish delight beside it. She smiled. She was a fan of a double espresso, but they had nothing on this rocket fuel. She knew she probably shouldn’t drink this much caffeine, but, she reasoned with herself, she didn’t smoke or vape, and she didn’t drink much alcohol either. Everyone needed a vice.

“Good morning, Lady Philippa,” said Charlie as he approached her table, a wide smile on his face. He leant down and kissed her cheek before heading in to order his drink. Once back, he sat down. “So sorry I’m late. The Aston Expressway was a disaster as always.”

“Of course,” said Philippa with a laugh. “Lovely to see you, Charles, it’s been ages.”

“It has.” Charlie’s cheekbones were more prominent when he smiled, his greying hair short and smart, styled to within an inch of its life. “And I know you’ve had a lot going on.”

“I have,” said Philippa.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Charlie looked serious for a moment, and Philippa could see why so many men fell for his charms, with his piercing eyes and carefully tailored suit. “I know you and Paul have divorced, but you’ve not said much more.”

“Yes, well that’s why I contacted you, as it happens. I have something to tell you,” said Philippa, holding her coffee cup tightly.

Charlie nodded, saying nothing, just waiting.

“Paul and I split up, as you know. I mean, we hadn’t really lived together properly in years. He mostly worked overseas, and I was here with Dottie and the firm. Things came to a bit of a head when he was made redundant and decided to retire.”

“That will have been an adjustment,” said Charlie.

“More than that. It changed my life completely, and it became clear that we weren’t really a married couple any more. We had nothing in common, and I honestly didn’t want to share my precious spare time with him. It sounds awful, I know, but it just didn’t work.” Philippa thought back to that time, through all the soul searching and the hard questions she’d forced herself to answer.

“It must have been rough,” said Charlie.

“It improved a bit when he started playing golf most days, but I realised we couldn’t carry on that way. We were both miserable. He’s a great dad to Dottie, of course he is, but I had to face the truth,” said Philippa. She could feel her heart rate increase, and knew it was only partly due to the strength of her coffee. A barista appeared with Charlie’s latte.

Charlie nodded his thanks and turned his attention back to his friend. “You had to face what truth?” he asked.

“That it’s time to act on something I’ve known for a few years now. I didn’t want to blow up our family, and with Paul gone most of the time, it wasn’t such a big deal. But the truth is, I’m gay, Charlie,” said Philippa, her eyes focused on his, using his preferred name for once.

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