Perfect on Paper by Gillian Harvey (top 20 books to read txt) 📕

manufacturers?’ she said, a little faintly.

‘All of them.’

‘Well, I’m not sure—’

‘Yes, yes,’ he said, hastily, ‘I realise you’re not a litigator, but I have reason to believe your firm has quite the litigation department. My last piece of litigation, well, it didn’t work out. And I’d rather have all the legal stuff done under one roof, so to speak. Anyway, I was wondering if you could introduce me to William Spence?’

‘Will? Of course …’ she said. ‘Shall I put you through to him now?’

‘Oh, do you think he’ll take my call? I’m sure he must be very busy,’ replied the man who had once phoned her at three in the morning to talk about garage access. ‘Wouldn’t like to disturb.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted,’ Clare replied through gritted teeth.

‘Well, if you’re sure. I must say, I’m impressed with his work.’

‘His work?’ Was there a chipped-tooth class action being filed that she hadn’t yet heard of?

‘Yes, well, the way he’s really there for clients – in their time of need so to speak. I was resuscitated, you know. They’ve probably told you. Anyway, my only lasting memory of the whole process was looking up at those defibrillator things and reading the words “Tell someone who cares” – and the details of Mr Spence at your firm. It was like a message from God – a higher power showing me the way forward!’

‘Right …’ she said.

Will poked his head in her office an hour later grinning from ear to ear. She squinted as the light bounced off his bared teeth and straight into her eye. ‘Thanks for the recommendation,’ he said. ‘Do you know, he’s already offered me a retainer. Nigel’s put the champagne on ice!’

‘That’s great,’ she said, trying to smile.

‘Look, it’s nearly finishing time. Do you fancy nipping out for a drink?’

‘Oh, I’d better not.’

He looked suddenly crestfallen. ‘Look, I hope you don’t mind me saying. But I feel as if we’ve never really … well, connected. I hope … I mean, have I upset you in some way?’

She looked at him, his little gelled quiff and designer suit. His even white smile. His manicured nails. ‘No, of course not.’ Because he hadn’t, had he? It wasn’t his fault that Nigel had marked him out for future greatness on account of his killer combination of penis and litigious tendencies. It wasn’t even his fault she was stuck in a cupboard while he rested his buttocks on the most comfortable chair she’d ever had the pleasure to sit in.

‘So, how about it? Quick gin and tonic? My treat.’

‘OK,’ she said, sliding the contract she was reading back into its cardboard sleeve. ‘Why not?’

Her first instinct had been to say no – but something had stopped her. After all, Dan had given her and the boys a night off rehearsals. ‘We’ll have to get back into it though?’ he’d warned. ‘Can’t let timings slip now.’

As they left the office building, Clare paused outside The Duck and Dive, a gastro pub she’d been to a couple of times with Ann. ‘How about here?’ she said.

‘Do you mind if we don’t?’ Will said now. ‘Not sure I like the atmosphere in there. Full of old people.’

‘So, where?’ she said, feeling a little impatient … and old.

‘I know a great place.’

She followed him, having to take a little skip every three steps to keep up with his enormous, confident strides and almost losing him when he suddenly cut down an alleyway that led to a bar she’d never seen before. Through the window she could hear the sound of music beating away, and the signage was all glass and chrome.

He held the door open and nodded her through, grinning.

Inside, the place was heaving with young men and women in sharp suits, sporting slick haircuts. A few sat on bar stools, drinking shots. Others clustered together at tables talking shop.

She felt a shiver of recognition. She had literally walked onto the set of Legal Minds. On the show, the best lawyers all seemed to flock to the bar to drink tequila shots and have innuendo-soaked conversations with renegade FBI agents. Toto, we’re not in Hatfield any more, she thought.

‘What are you having?’ Will asked. ‘Vodka martini? Whisky sour? Glass of wine?’

Before Clare could answer, a ridiculously attractive-looking woman, her silky hair tumbling around her face, her make-up immaculate, came up to Will.

‘Hey, well done in court today,’ she said, in an American accent. ‘Good job.’

Will raised his glass. ‘Better luck next time, Tabitha.’

‘So, will I see you later?’ she pouted.

‘Not tonight,’ he replied and turned rather abruptly back to his drink. Clare met the woman’s eye for a second and was rewarded with a scowl. Whisky sour indeed.

‘Defendant’s counsel,’ Will said to her in lowered tones. ‘Had quite a whipping in court today in the case of Smith vs. Hastings.’

‘Remind me?’

‘Ingrowing toenail op. Removed the wrong nail. Quite a nasty suit.’ Will sipped his drink and looked darkly into thin air. Thinking. Remembering. ‘Took three months to grow back, and even then it was bruised.’

‘Goodness.’

He looked over his shoulder and scowled briefly before turning back to Clare and furtively whispering. ‘Here’s trouble.’

‘What?’

‘See that chap over there,’ he continued. ‘Police. Better watch our units tonight.’

‘Right.’ She glanced over and took in a muscular man, hair slicked back with wax, leaning on the bar. Catching her eye, he winked and she looked away, hastily.

She was about to ask Will about the Camberwaddle litigation, when another man wearing a cap, his face peppered with stubble, sidled up to the bar. He placed an envelope next to Will’s glass. ‘Phone records,’ he hissed out of the corner of his mouth. ‘But they didn’t come from me, right?’

‘Isn’t that the guy from the chip shop?’ she said, incredulously, when he’d disappeared.

‘Best not to discuss it in here,’ Will replied, glancing around. ‘This could break the whole case.’

‘The toenail case?’

‘I’ve already said too much.’

‘Tequila?’ asked the man behind the bar, lining up a couple of shot glasses in front of them.

Will glanced