Chapter 25
‘And he broke his back?’ Chris finished his second glass of Merlot and reached for the bottle.
Holly, who couldn’t remember the last time someone had ordered a bottle of wine for only two people at lunchtime, was still working through her first glass.
The restaurant was fancier than she’d have chosen, but Chris had made the booking without consulting her.
‘So what?’ Chris went on. ‘Is he crippled?’
A droplet of red wine, like blood spatter from a wound, landed on the sleeve of Chris’s collarless shirt.
Hissing with annoyance, he reached for the water jug.
Holly thought, but didn’t say, that he was lucky it had hit his shirt and not the full-length, cashmere coat slung over the back of his chair.
Chris invariably made Holly feel ten years older than she was and a total frump.
She made a point of always wearing black, functional clothes to work, a size too big, teamed with low heels.
Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she avoided make-up.
At home, she wore jeans and plus-sized sweaters.
She knew perfectly well why she did so. Holly had two wardrobes, and never the twain could meet.
‘Thankfully no,’ she said, watching Chris use his fingers to scoop water from the jug and splash it on his sleeve. ‘He was in a lot of pain for weeks and even now can’t do half of what he used to, but he won’t be permanently disabled.’
Chris held his arm up to the light before dabbing at his shirt fabric with the edge of the tablecloth. ‘And the company are saying what? No harm, no foul? Even though the accident was on company premises and was a result of, allegedly, their negligence?’
‘Pretty much,’ she agreed. ‘They paid him his full salary for the first six weeks and only when they were talking about putting him on statutory sick pay did he and his wife think to consult a solicitor. Even now, they’re nervous about taking his employers to court.’
‘Understandable.’ Chris’s eyes were wandering. His specialism was commercial disputes, where the big money could be found. Little people and their problems held no interest for him.
‘Shockingly exploitative on the part of the company.’ Holly was starting to find her old friend annoying.
‘If they’d made him a decent offer of compensation, without needing to be asked, as anyone with a shred of moral fibre would have done, he’d probably have been loyal and hardworking for the rest of his life. ’
Conscious she was starting to rant, Holly shovelled up a forkful of quinoa and wild rice. The vegan salad had been the cheapest thing on the menu. Chris had ordered fillet steak with several side orders. And he’d be drinking most of the wine.
‘He has a son with severe autism, which means his wife can’t work,’ she added.
Chris nodded, as though he understood everything now. ‘Like Charlie,’ he said, and it wasn’t even a goddamned question.
‘Not remotely like Charlie. Charlie is very high functioning. This lad needs a special school.’
He gave a mock scared look. ‘My mistake.’
Holly glanced at her watch and didn’t even try to hide that she’d done so.
Chris put his knife and fork down. ‘Thing is, Holls, I need a favour.’
Holly’s appetite vanished. ‘Oh?’
Chris picked up his glass and took a huge glug, as though bracing himself. Holly wasn’t fooled; her old friend had no shame. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘So, I’ve been asked to leave chambers.’
Fair play, that was a big deal. ‘What happened?’
He gave his classic naughty-boy face. ‘I shagged a junior clerk.’
‘Is that a sackable offence now?’
‘It is if you do it in the managing partner’s office and he accuses you of sexual misconduct.’
‘The managing partner accused you?’
‘No, the clerk. Claims I’ve been pressuring him for weeks, threatening to make life difficult for him if he doesn’t put out. And he’s Black, so obviously everyone takes his word for it.’
Holly put her knife and fork down, closing them carefully to indicate that she was finished. And waited.
‘I need a loan,’ Chris went on. ‘Something to tide me over. I’ve got rent due next week and I need to appoint my own solicitor. A couple of grand should cover it. Let’s say three.’
He wanted her to give him three thousand pounds.
‘Chris, I don’t have that kind of money.’
That wasn’t strictly true; she had a healthy enough savings account.
But that money was for Charlie’s secondary school.
There was no way he could go to the local comprehensive.
They’d eat him alive. She needed twenty grand a year to send him to a private school and his dad wouldn’t chip in unless she agreed to share custody.
Chris leaned back in his chair and raised one eyebrow.
‘I’d like to help, but …’ Holly began.
Her old friend’s face became sullen. ‘You don’t want to?’
‘Three thousand pounds? That’s so much money.’
‘My rent’s two grand a month. And a man’s got to live.’
And if he didn’t find another job soon, would he expect her to pay next month’s rent too? She said, ‘Can no one else help?’ Chris’s family weren’t exactly working class.
‘No one else who owes me.’
‘I don’t owe …’ Oh.
‘I still have the pictures on my hard drive, Holls.’
Chris, a man she’d known for twelve years, had been the friend who’d taken the photographs when she’d applied to join Cornish Courtesans.
She’d dismissed asking her female friends, knowing they’d be too judgemental, and she certainly wasn’t about to strip off in front of her heterosexual male friends.
Chris, totally uninterested in the female form, had been the ideal choice.
And he was a decent photographer. He’d done a good job, and to this day hadn’t asked for anything in return.
On Chris’s versions, her face would be plainly visible.
‘I called the agency,’ he went on. ‘Cornish Courtesans, nice name. I enquired how much it might cost to hire you for the night. What percentage of that do you get, Holly? You probably earn three grand in a week.’
Oh God, he was serious.
‘Not nearly that much. I can’t get out all that often. I have a young son.’
He shrugged. ‘Hope he’s broad-minded about what his mother gets up to.’
‘Are you blackmailing me?’
He looked genuinely hurt. ‘Holly, that’s an ugly word between friends. I just need a bit of help, that’s all. For a month or two.’ He smiled. ‘Maybe three.’
Holly swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat seemed to get bigger if anything. ‘I need some time,’ she said. ‘I can’t put my hands on that much cash right away.’
Chris leaned back in his chair. ‘No worries,’ he said. ‘I’ll call you later in the week.’ He glanced around. ‘I’ll get the bill.’ He smiled at her. ‘Shall we split it?’