Page 23 of Strap In
‘Sometimes.’ Helen scrubs the top until the stain sinks in. ‘It’s not the only sport I’m into, but I don’t judge anyone who plays.’
‘I see.’ Jean takes her blazer back, watching Helen drop the sodden blouse into the M&S bag.
‘Good. Then we don’t need to discuss this again, Ms Howard.’ Helen produces a tiny pair of scissors from her handbag and snips the label free, complete with the tag’s stem.
‘Thank you, Helen,’ Jean says, meaning it.
‘You’re welcome.’ Helen leads the way out into the corridor, now deserted. ‘The opening talk just started – we should be able to slip in at the back. Then you’re due in the Wren Room for the Knowledge Exchange workshop – Mr Dennings personally added it to your agenda, but the rest of the day is yours. I’ll drop off your coat after this talk, then head to the Hadid Room with the other assistants.’
Jean accepts the proffered itinerary as they climb the stairs. ‘That all sounds great.’ Having come this close to disaster, even Peter’s mandatory fun doesn’t seem so terrible.
The harder Jean tries to avoid Ava, the more frequently their paths cross. First the closet debacle. Which meant Ava was scarcely earlier than Jean to the keynote. She’s sat two rows in front, head bent over a notebook, oblivious to Jean’s gaze as she takes fervent notes. The talk’s not bad – an international human rights lawyer enthusing about infinite possibilities contained within the legal framework. Her stories are compelling, sprinkled with celebrity titbits from her high-profile cases.
And Jean remembers that earnestness, how it had fuelled her years of study like liquid hydrogen in a rocket. But – like all her peers – Jean had quickly jettisoned optimism; ironically, holding on to hope had a way of manifesting the worst possible outcomes as a junior associate. Cool pragmatism has served her well over the years. Jean wouldn’t have made it over the first hurdle, never mind this last jump, with that millstone dragging her down. Yet the speaker’s sincerity needles at Jean until she’s forced to look away.
There’s no harm in letting Ava hold her attention while she’s oblivious to it. Ava, who has held on to that optimism with both hands, even though it limits her potential. Ava, who is determined to use the law for good rather than material gain. And perhaps that’s part of her appeal: the path not taken. There’s no other reason for Jean to be aware of her every movement as Ava stands to applaud; gathers notepad and pen; fishes the schedule from her bag.
Jean makes a beeline for the exit, swift enough that there’s no possibility of Ava catching up with her in the corridor. Her earrings swing with every stride, pearls bumping into the column of Jean’s neck. A spot Ava never misses in their foreplay – and Jean has taken Coco Chanel’s advice of dabbing perfume there, where she expects to be kissed. She’d applied it this morning without thinking.
But no. Today’s not about passion. At least, not the personal kind. Jean is here to put her best foot forward; to represent the firm.Herfirm. The sooner she can shake off the strangeness of her morning, the better.
A voice calls her name, low and melodious, unmistakably male. Jean halts, turning to watch Robert Blake approach. With his snowy hair and beard, that ever-expanding belly, Rob’s appearance puts Jean in mind of Father Christmas. And Rob certainly plays up to the image, turning on the paternal charm. But there’s a canniness to him, a knack for extracting more information than you’d ever intended on revealing, that Jean greatly admires.
She leans in to accept a whiskery kiss on the cheek. ‘Rob! It’s good to see you.’
With seventy fading in the rearview mirror, Jean had wondered whether the university might finally oust him – but Robert has never mentioned retirement in her hearing, and Jean suspects he’ll be teaching until he drops. He’s lost nothing of his usual Machiavellian sparkle. ‘You’re just the woman I was hoping to run into. Tell me, is Peter here?’
‘He’s with a client, but I’ll tell him you said hello.’
Rob’s eyebrows climb. ‘Very interesting, given Peter once told me this event was an annual highlight. But it does mean you’re even better suited to my purposes.’
‘That sounds ominous.’ They step closer to the wall, still amid the steady flow of delegates.
‘Not at all. And it works out rather nicely for DDH on the corporate social responsibility front.’
‘Now I’m really worried,’ Jean says, not entirely joking. But then, in the not-so-distant future she’ll have absolute control over what to delegate.
‘Don’t be – in fact, I suspect you’ll enjoy this challenge. She’s like you, Jean; never opting for the path of least resistance. There she is!’
He waves. If Jean was remotely superstitious, she’d suspect the universe to be having a laugh at her expense. But there’s nothing fated about this meeting with Ava – it’s only the product of an old man’s machinations.
Ava’s smile speaks of unguarded pleasure as she takes in Robert – but then she catches sight of Jean and her expression freezes. Behind Rob’s back Jean widens her eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly towards him.
Ava approaches, not looking at her. ‘Robert! Thanks so much for having me here toda—’
He waves her words away. ‘Don’t thank me yet.’ Then Rob steps aside, ushering Jean closer to Ava.
And for a wild moment her eyes dart around, searching for any possible way out of this. She recognises Imogen in the surge of bodies and instantly dismisses the idea – bringing the most perceptive of her friends and her sex-acquaintance together would be a disaster.
So, Jean has no choice but to stand and smile as Rob speaks. ‘Meet an old friend of mine: Jean Howard. She’s a partner at Decker Dennings and Howard.’
Sensing Robert’s gaze on her, Jean holds out a hand. Doesn’t betray so much as a flicker as that familiar tingle travels from Ava’s fingertips through the barrier of Jean’s skin. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she says, unable to apply her usual pressure.
Ava too is gentle, thumb brushing Jean’s knuckles in a subtle caress as she pulls away. Robert carries on with the introductions, and Jean scarcely hears over the thunder of her own pulse.
‘This is Ava Harris,’ he says. ‘She was one of my most promising students, fully living up to that potential by setting up her own non-profit for an urgent cause – but Ava can explain it all much better than I do.’
‘That sounds wonderful, Rob. But I’m due in the Wren Room – unless we hurry, we’ll be late for our next sessions. It’ll have to wait.’
