Page 79 of Behind Frenemy Lines

“Oh my God,” I said, with feeling. I got the sense the encounter was only just starting to sink in for Emily: she was rubbing her own hand, absently. I wasn’t sure if she knew she was doing it. She looked very young to me in that moment—and Arthur was eighteen years older than me.

“You might want to take a moment,” I said. “Go for a walk or something, get out of the building for a bit. I’m going to talk to Arthur.”

The door to Arthur’s office was ajar. He was at his desk, though it didn’t look like he was working. He was gazing off into the distance, his shoulders slumped. I went in and shut the door behind me.

“What was that with Emily?” I said.

Arthur started. He looked relieved when he saw me. That was going to change very shortly.

“With Emily? I was telling her about Sanson, like I said. Sorry, I should have asked you to join us. I happened to have a gap in my diary, so—”

“Arthur, I should not have to tell you that you cannot stroke the hands of junior associates,” I said. “I don’t know what you think you were doing, but you made Emily very uncomfortable.”

Arthur’s face was a picture. I’d never spoken to him like this before. Probably no one ever had.

“Did Emily say she was uncomfortable?” he said.

“Anyone with eyes could see it,” I said. “You need to get ahold of yourself. You’re going to get in trouble if you keep behaving like this.”

I expected Arthur to take offence, to snap that it was none of my business. I was almost looking forward to it, I was so angry. At Arthur, for every insane thing he’d done since I’d agreed to follow him to Swithin Watkins. But also at myself, for putting up with him for all these years—because I had to admit the insanity had started long before the move.

I was braced for a fight. Part of me wanted it.

But instead, Arthur’s expression went from taken aback to tolerant, even fond.

“All right. I see what’s happening here,” he said. “I appreciate the concern, but my relationship with other fee earners is none of your business.” He was being firm but kind, like a teacher. “Look, I know we’ve had some challenges lately. Change isn’t easy. The move has been destabilising, I’ve felt it too. Clients haven’t moved as quickly as we’d like. You’re probably not as busy as you want to be. But I want you to know, you don’t need to worry about being replaced.”

I stared at him, baffled. Did Arthur think I wasjealousbecause he’d started pawing up other associates?

“I’m not worried about being replaced,” I said. “I’m worried about you being inappropriate with junior members of staff. Having been put in that position, I know how difficult it can be. I thought how you behaved in Hong Kong was a one-off, that’s the only reason I haven’t said anything. But—”

“You haven’t said anything?” said Arthur. “That’s not strictly true, is it? Charles, for example, he hasn’t heard anything about what you say happened in Hong Kong?”

I paused, disconcerted. “That’s not—”

“You made it clear you don’t want my advice on your personal life,” said Arthur. “So I backed off. I’d appreciate it if you would give me the same respect. As for Hong Kong, I apologised. I haven’t raised it again. We’re both grown-ups. Surely we can move on.”

“Arthur,” I said, “you were pressuring me for sex as myboss. I only accepted your apology because I thought you understood that was wrong, and you weren’t going to do anything like it again. That’s clearly not the case, so—”

Arthur shook his head.

“Look, I’ll discuss this with you when you’re ready to talk sensibly,” he said, with maddening calm. “But not when you’re this emotional. We need to draw a line under this, until you’re able to have a productive conversation.”

He rose to his feet, making to shepherd me to the door.

“I am not emotional!” I said.

I was, of course, seething with emotion. But so was bloody Arthur. He was one of the most high-strung people I knew, emotions coming out of his fucking ears.

No white man in a position of power was ever over-emotional, though. His feelings, like his laundry, his social calendar, and the care of his children, were always someone else’s problem.

I said, “I haven’t wanted to make trouble. I moved here so I could keep building my career, working with you. But if you can’t even acknowledge your behaviour for what it is, you won’t be able to commit to not repeating it. And if that’s the case, I’m going to have to take action.”

Arthur went still. “What are you trying to say?”

His voice had dropped a register. It was the sort of tone in which intimacies are whispered—or threats.

I stepped back. Arthur followed me.

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