Page 27 of Behind Frenemy Lines

I whipped around, my heart going into overdrive. It was the first time I’d seen Arthur since the night he’d hit on me in Hong Kong, more than a week ago.

I wasn’t feeling great. I’d struggled to get to sleep the night before. I was too anxious about seeing Arthur again, after what had happened. I’d thought about working from home, so I wouldn’t have to come in, but Swithin Watkins were strict about being in on your office days—any variation to your working pattern had to be approved in advance, by a partner. And I would have just been putting off the inevitable, anyway.

Arthur seemed nervous, too. He picked up a ballpoint pen off my desk and started fiddling with it, glancing at the empty desk opposite mine. “Is Charles around?”

“He’s in a meeting. He should be back at eleven. Shall I tell him you’re looking for him?”

Maybe wewerepretending nothing had happened. I was very happy to go along with that, if it meant reverting to the safely professional relationship we’d had before.

Arthur shook his head. “I was looking for you. Can we talk?”

There was a rushing in my ears. I said, as steadily as I could, “Sure.”

Arthur leaned against the bank of filing cabinets lining the wall. I had to stop myself from rolling backwards in my chair, so as to put more space between us.

Arthur said, with studied casualness, “How was your trip to Malaysia? Parents well?”

“Yeah.” Though it would have been more accurate to say they were as well as could be expected. There was always something going on with Amma and Appa. This time, when I’d presented my usual gift of a bundle of family-size Cadbury fruit and nut bars—Amma’s favourite—she had said:

“Oh, thank you, thank you, that’s very nice. We should give to Auntie Chew. She can keep in her fridge.”

“They’re for you,” I said. “I didn’t buy so you can give away to the neighbours. Keep them in our fridge.” You didn’t keep chocolate out of the fridge in Malaysia, unless you preferred licking it off the wrapper.

“Oh,” said Amma. “We don’t have a fridge right now.”

It turned out my parents’ fridge had broken down several months before. They’d been doing without by switching to tinned milk powder, going without butter, visiting the wet market twice a day, and—in extremis—having to resort to their long-suffering neighbour Auntie Chew’s refrigeration facilities.

“Why you all didn’t tell me?” I said. “I call you guys every week!”

Amma looked vague. “I forgot. You’re so busy, there’s no time to talk about every single thing.”

I knew and she knew and Appa knew the reason they hadn’t told me was because they didn’t want to admit they couldn’t afford to replace the machine themselves. Appa received a pension as a retired government servant—it wasn’t that muchmoney, but it should have been enough, especially as I covered their housing costs.

But Appa had never been able to hang on to money. The eldest in a large and improvident family, he was always being touched for loans that the relatives saw no need to repay. Appa could never bring himself to say no, or to ask for the money back.

I dragged him and Amma out to buy a replacement straight away. But the incident had been a salutary reminder that I didn’t have a safety net that would catch me if I lost my job. Iwasthe safety net.

I had to stay on good terms with Arthur. Not only could he fire me, he could make it difficult for me to land another job. It wasn’t like I was an employment or data protection lawyer—every company needs one of those. My legal specialism was niche. It was a small market, and Arthur was one of the most prominent people in it. He could poison the well for me, if I pissed him off badly enough.

I stared up at Arthur, prepared for anything.

“I wanted to apologise,” said Arthur. “For what happened in Hong Kong. I crossed the line.”

I’d been so braced for the worst that it took a moment for the words to sink in. I didn’t say anything. Arthur hurried on:

“It was a mistake. I’d had a bit too much to drink. I thought you were giving off signals that you were interested…”

Every fibre of my being was saying,Really?!It must have been obvious from my expression, because Arthur broke off and said, “Anyway, I misread the situation.” He cleared his throat. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“It was uncomfortable,” I said, though my heart was thumping so loud I thought Arthur must be able to hear it. “Our relationship has always been strictly professional. It never occurred to me that you might have anything else in mind. I’ve never seen you in any light but—I mean, you’re my boss.”

Arthur said, “I don’t see it that way.” He was clicking the ballpoint pen he’d nicked from me, compulsively. “You know I don’t care about status in that way. If we’re in the same team, we’re equals. I’ve always seen you as a friend. It’s not about me being the boss and you being my subordinate.”

I couldn’t help thinking about all the evening plans cancelled at Arthur’s behest, all the articles I’d written that he’d put his name to, all the work I’d done to prepare him for meetings and conferences so he could impress clients with his legal expertise. I didn’t resent him for it—it was how the system worked. But how could Arthur look me in the eye and say, with a straight face, that he didn’t see status when it came to me?

I couldn’t doubt Arthur meant what he was saying. I’d simply never realised how far his ability to deceive himself went.

“But I want to assure you, it won’t happen again,” said Arthur. “I would never have approached you if I’d known you were seeing someone.”

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