This Could Change Everything(21)

Yasmin had sashayed out of the building two hours later. Conor had discovered that sometimes you could meet people, loathe every single thing about them, then put them out of your mind once they were gone and carry on perfectly happily with your day, as if the encounter had never taken place.

But that day it wasn’t happening. He felt as if the two awful clients had infected him with their poisonous attitudes, and the urge to somehow scrub away their vitriol was overwhelming.

And in between them, there’d been Jessica Brown. He wanted to introduce her to them and explain to them how lucky they were not to be in her appalling situation. He longed to give them a shake and tell them to get a grip.

But he couldn’t do any of that, because he was their solicitor. Essentially, it didn’t matter how despicable and selfish they were. It was his job to enable them to leave their respective marriages with as much of their spouse’s money as was humanly possible.

Oh God, what was this place turning him into? When you looked at it that way, he was no better than they were.

At five thirty, as he was closing down his computer, Margaret Kale materialised beside his desk.

‘Conor. I’ve just taken a look at your billing timesheet for the day. You were with Jessica Brown for one and a half hours but you haven’t charged her for the meeting.’

He took a breath. ‘I was helping her to write her will. She only has a few weeks left to live.’

‘And?’

‘One of those hours was my lunch break,’ said Conor. ‘I’ll reimburse you for the company’s share of the invoice, so you won’t lose out. I’m not going to be charging her for my services.’

‘This isn’t a charity, for God’s sake.’

‘I’m aware of that.’ He’d been lying, of course, when he’d told Jessica Brown that the company occasionally saw deserving cases for free. ‘I thought it might be a nice gesture.’

Margaret’s pencilled eyebrows rose in disbelief. ‘Sounds like an idiotic gesture to me. Once you start falling for the sob stories, it’s a slippery slope.’

‘As I’ve already said, it won’t cost you a penny. You can send me the invoice, if you want. Or just take it out of my salary. Whichever’s easiest for you.’ The easiest came out with an audible edge to it; dislike for his boss was surging into his throat like nausea.

‘Fine, I shall.’ Her gimlet stare was unflinching. ‘But I wonder if you’d have said that if I hadn’t queried the issue. I imagine you were hoping it would slip by unnoticed.’

She wasn’t the only one capable of not flinching. This was the moment Conor knew for sure what he had to do. He was seized with certainty and knew no fear.

‘Nothing slips by you, Margaret. It’s not in your nature to allow a small amount of potential profit to go astray.’ As he spoke, he rose to his feet. ‘I’d say it’s been nice working for you, but that would be a big lie.’

‘You’re leaving? Excellent.’ A chilly smile lifted the corners of her thin lips. ‘Shall I tell you something, Conor? You were never cut out for this firm. You tried to fit in, but you’re just too soft.’

This was exhilarating; he should have done it long ago. He smiled too, in a non-chilly way, and said, ‘Thank you. I’ll count that as a compliment.’

‘It wasn’t meant as one,’ said Margaret. ‘Off you go.’

And he had. It had been one of the very best days of his life. For years he’d toed the line and done the sensible thing.

Now the time had come to do what felt right.

He was also aware that he was fortunate. Following the death of his father, he had inherited the family home in Keynsham and moved into it two years ago. The house was too large for him but he’d been happy living there. Losing his job meant he needed some form of income, and renting the place out had been the answer.

In the meantime, Zillah had just finished having her own home in Percival Square converted into apartments. As she and his father had been long-standing platonic friends, Conor had known Zillah for years and it had been his idea that she should do this. Now, in turn, it was Zillah’s idea to offer him the flat directly above her own.

When it came to a new career, Conor had asked himself whom he most envied. And whilst he’d been at home one morning pondering this question, he had glanced out of the living room window and seen the answer. Next door, the gardeners had arrived and were engaged in tidying up his neighbour’s spacious garden. They’d been his father’s gardeners too, and following his dad’s death Conor had felt terrible about dispensing with their services. He’d apologised and explained that since he enjoyed gardening so much, he’d really like to take over the job himself.

To his relief, they hadn’t been upset at all. Roddy, whose family company it was, explained that they had plenty of work to keep them busy and frequently had to turn down jobs, so he needn’t feel guilty.

Watching as Roddy and his son got busy with secateurs and a hedge-trimmer, chatting away easily to each other as they worked, Conor knew that this was the career he’d enjoy the most. You worked on gardens, made everything look better, and got paid at the end of the day by people who appreciated what you’d done for them.

What could be more rewarding than that?





Chapter 10