Kitabı oku: «A Year of Chasing Love»

To all those who choose love.

Prologue

‘There’s a guy in reception asking to see you, Olivia.’

‘Did you ask him to make an appointment?’

‘I did, but he said he’d wait for as long as it took for you to see him.’

Olivia sighed. As a divorce lawyer she often had clients calling into the office, hoping to see her straight away, desperate for someone to listen to their story. Usually she didn’t mind, and if she didn’t have a prior engagement, she’d try her best to accommodate them in her crammed-to-bursting diary. After all, she knew how hard it was to take those first steps to visit a solicitor, never mind rustling up the courage to divulge the most heart-breaking details of your failed marriage to a complete stranger.

‘Okay, no problem. I’ll squeeze him in before I see Mrs Coulson at eleven thirty.’

‘Shall I show him up to your office?’

‘No, no, it’s okay. I need a coffee so I’ll come downstairs with you. You never know, I might be able to persuade him to make an appointment.’

Olivia pinned a professional smile on her face and followed Katrina down the corridor, giggling at the clickety-clack of their stilettos on the polished wood flooring. Little did she know that would be the last time she would laugh for a long time, because as soon as she stepped into the reception area, a crumple-faced man leapt out of his seat, reached into the pocket of his grubby raincoat, and extracted a large manila envelope which, incongruously, he then waved in the air. The glee reflected in his hard, ball-bearing eyes was the absolute antithesis of the bewildered confusion that was racing through her veins.

‘Mrs Fitzgerald?’

‘Yes?’ Very few people outside her circle of friends knew her married name. Alarm bells started to ring, and she exchanged a quick glance with Katrina who was staring at the man with patent dislike. ‘What can I do for you, Mr …?’

In order to elongate the drama, the man took a few moments to survey the elegant, marble-walled foyer of Edwards & Co, Solicitors and Commissioners for Oaths – already devoid of its Christmas decorations despite twelfth night being the following day – deriving obvious pleasure from the perplexed expressions on the faces of his audience. A tickle of recognition began to agitate at the edges of Olivia’s memory; the dishevelled attire, the ill-disguised porcine proportions, the whiff of stale nicotine. Where had she seen him before?

‘Just leave the papers and get out!’ snapped Katrina, the first of her colleagues to step forward to break the freeze-frame image.

Without further ado, the envelope was thrust into Olivia’s hands and the process server ambled towards the smoked-glass elevator, a grin on his face and an air of satisfaction following in his wake. As the doors slid shut behind him, the burble of conversation magnified. No one needed a Private Detective badge to work out that what had just transpired had come as a complete shock to Olivia.

‘Come on,’ said Katrina. ‘I think some privacy is—’

‘Hey, I know that guy!’ announced Miles, a fellow divorce lawyer and Olivia’s least favourite colleague. ‘That was Jack Leyland, Ralph Carlton’s personal lackey – does all his dirty work for him. What was he doing here, though? I thought we instructed that ballet-shoed princess, Heidi Fowler, to deliver all our court documents, not that piranha. Although, I’ve always said that Jack does have his uses. Are we changing our approach at last?’

Ralph Carlton was renowned throughout the legal profession as the go-to rottweiler in the field of matrimonial litigation, which could only mean one thing. Olivia’s stomach gave a pain-filled lurch and a curl of nausea began its assiduous journey around her chest.

Oh God, surely not!

‘No, Miles, we …’ she muttered, desperately trying to reconnect her brain to its modem.

‘Because I have to tell you, all this conciliatory, non-confrontational malarkey is starting to scratch at my balls. We need to get a lot tougher in our negotiations, especially after that article about you being London’s Top Divorce Lawyer appeared in the local rag. Ridiculous accolade, if you ask me – just because you’ve achieved the questionable milestone of having handled five hundred divorces doesn’t mean that—’

‘Shut up, Miles. Haven’t you got secretaries to harass?’ said Katrina mildly, taking charge of the situation and guiding Olivia out of the reception and back down the corridor to her corner office.

By now, panic was beginning to ricochet around Olivia’s body, her throat had contracted around what felt like a prickly pear, and she felt light-headed. She collapsed onto the overstuffed leather sofa she used to interview the more emotional clients who sought her advice and slowly slid the paperwork out of the envelope as if it contained a poisoned pen letter – the effect it caused was almost as bad.

Because London’s Top Divorce Lawyer had just been served with her very own divorce petition.

Chapter 1

‘I didn’t think he’d do it, Kat.’

Olivia sunk into the ‘sympathy couch’ and met her friend’s eyes, her fingers trembling on the rectangular missive of tragedy. The shock of the public ambush had begun to thaw but the horror remained, settling just below where her heart hammered out a symphony of sorrow against her ribcage. Nausea lingered at the back of her throat, constricting the flow of oxygen, and the threat of tears blurred her vision.

‘I know, Liv, I know,’ murmured Katrina, patting her hand and offering her a tissue.

Olivia accepted, dabbed the corners of her eyes and started to peruse the documents.

‘Oh, my God, no! I don’t believe it.’

‘What?’

‘Nathan’s cited Unreasonable Behaviour! Listen to this! The Respondent is a workaholic, often spending in excess of eighteen hours a day at her office, refusing to accept, and dismissing the importance of, her responsibilities to their relationship. Many holidays and weekends away have been cancelled or cut short due to the tenacity with which the Respondent pursues her career.’

‘Oh, Liv, I’m so sorry …’

‘And what about this: The Respondent has persistently neglected the Petitioner and their extended family and friends despite numerous attempts by the Petitioner to rectify their growing estrangement. And this: Since the inception of their partnership, the Petitioner has made clear to the Respondent his desire to start a family but … Oh my God, no, no, no, no …’

The anguish churning through her veins threatened to overwhelm her as she continued to read the painful litany of accusations, and the stark truth of what lay at the crux of their problems was revealed.

‘But the Respondent refuses to contemplate the proposal, continually deflecting the Petitioner’s heartfelt pleas to participate in a rational and intelligent conversation, citing the importance of her career over the creation of a family.’

Olivia raised her eyes to meet Katrina’s and the sympathy scrawled across her friend’s face almost caused her to crumble completely. She swallowed down hard, inhaled a steadying breath and made an attempt to corral her rampaging emotions. She had to admit she was acutely aware of Nathan’s desire to start a family. At his lavish fortieth birthday party at The Dorchester just before Christmas, she’d witnessed for herself the hunger in his heart as he had hugged each one of Katrina and Will’s three young children in turn when they presented him with a selection of home-made birthday cards covered in dried pasta and sequins. But reading about his rejected yearning for fatherhood as a ground for her ‘unreasonable behaviour’ in bold, black typescript, well, it shocked her to the core.

‘Look, Liv, these things always sound worse when they’re written down.’

‘We always say that to our clients, don’t we? Well, let me tell you now, for the record, those words are no consolation. I promise that from now on, I won’t be caught trotting out that old chestnut again.’

‘And you know what? I’m absolutely certain this is all Ralph Carlton’s doing – he’s the ultimate exploiter of human misery! No wonder you had no advance warning – it’s his trademark.’

Olivia thought of the undisguised triumph in the process server’s eyes. The knowledge that he would, at that very moment, be scurrying back to his employer to recount every painful detail, caused her cheeks to flood with warmth. Then, her mind switched to the headlines that had been splashed across the local newspaper the previous month. The story had also been picked up by the Law Society Gazette, as part of their end-of-year round-up of news, which had ensured maximum publicity for the article celebrating the debatable accomplishment of her five hundredth divorce.

She had squirmed at the label the tabloid had bestowed on her – ‘London’s Top Divorce Lawyer’. She knew the dubious badge of honour would rile many of her peers but especially Ralph Carlton who had grabbed that self-styled accolade for himself years before. In fact, she wouldn’t put it past him to casually leak the little gem that that same ‘Top Divorce Lawyer’ had joined the exclusive club no one wanted a golden pass for. She knew any gossip would spread like red wine on a cream carpet, and even if Ralph didn’t breach the code of ethics on client confidentiality, she had no difficulty in remembering Miles’s fascinated attention in the foyer and he was one of the biggest gossips she knew.

‘Liv, everyone knows Ralph Carlton is a rabid vulture who feasts on the bones of broken relationships. I can totally picture him now, grinning away on his dung-splattered perch as he drafted those awful allegations. Nathan would never say any of those things.’

‘But, sadly, not one of them is untrue. I do neglect Nathan, and our family and friends! I do work all waking hours here at my desk – my personal life is just one of the casualties I left in my wake when I chose the marbled entrance hall of Edwards & Co twelve years ago. I do cancel our date nights and I do miss important landmark birthdays. Remember Nathan’s mother’s sixtieth?’

Olivia grimaced with shame as she recalled the expression of displeasure on her mother-in-law’s over-powdered face when she’d dashed into The Music Room at The Ritz an hour after the word ‘Surprise!’ had been hollered.

‘Yes, maybe, but Nathan works just as hard as you do. And he’s away from home more often than you are.’

Loyalty drew an indignant expression on Katrina’s olive-toned features, but no amount of heartfelt empathy could distract Olivia now that she was on a roll of rigorous self-analysis and recrimination.

‘And remember those VIP, rarer-than-gold-dust tickets Nathan landed for the opening night of Waitress at the Adelphi Theatre last year? How I’d been banging on about going to see the show for ages? But it was Hollie who ended up going as his “plus-one” – his wife’s best friend instead of his neglectful wife! And I’ve lost count of how many “must-have” restaurant reservations we’ve cancelled.’

‘But, Liv—’

‘And the one about the missed holidays is true. In the seven years since our honeymoon, we’ve managed a weekend trip to Blackpool to watch Rachel and Denise dance at the Winter Gardens, and a flying visit to Edinburgh to see his brother, Dan, get married. But, if I recall correctly, even on that occasion I insisted we caught the first flight back to London so we could be at our desks at the crack of dawn on Monday morning. In fact—’ she loathed the squirm of guilt that wriggled through her abdomen ‘—I have to confess that I actually popped into the office on the way back from Heathrow.’

‘Olivia—’

‘And Nathan has tried to talk to me about starting a family. That one’s true, too. It’s just I’m not ready to give up on my career for a pile of dirty laundry and cracked nipples. Miles would almost certainly muscle in on my caseload and he’d ruin everything I’ve been building these last few years with his attitude of bulldog rather than guide dog! I can’t give it all up to swan off and have a family. I just can’t!’

‘Life doesn’t end when you have kids, you know.’ Katrina smiled, sweeping her long mahogany hair over her shoulder, her eyes softening at the mention of children.

But Olivia had all the evidence of the impact of motherhood right in front of her eyes. Katrina possessed a first-class honours degree in law from Durham University, Olivia’s own college where she had only managed a 2:1. In fact, if Olivia were brutally honest with herself – and what better time than now – she would have to admit that Katrina was a better lawyer than she was. Nevertheless, her friend was content with her position as paralegal at Edwards & Co in return for flexible, part-time hours so she could put her expanding family’s needs first. ‘Date nights, not late nights’ was Katrina’s mantra.

‘Nathan is ambitious, too,’ insisted Katrina, coming to sit next to Olivia on the couch. ‘Wasn’t he in Paris for a month before his birthday, and isn’t he about to start a six-month secondment to Singapore next week?’

Olivia acknowledged the veracity of Katrina’s argument but didn’t mention the qualifying mitigation that Nathan had pleaded with her to fly over to Paris for a pre-Christmas weekend whilst he was there, all expenses paid. The ‘City of Romance’ held a special place in both their hearts as the French capital was where they’d honeymooned, and yet despite this, Olivia had been unable to drag herself away from her precious clients, or her volunteer work at the local homeless shelter at their busiest time of the year.

However, she knew it was her refusal to contemplate a sabbatical from work to travel with him to Singapore that had provided Nathan with the impetus to end their marriage – the first step of which she held in her ice-cold hands. She cringed as she recalled the disappointment and hurt that she’d seen etched on his handsome features as he had begged her to start the new year by seizing the opportunity to mend their flagging relationship.

‘How can he expect me to ditch my career and go chasing after him halfway around the world?’ she pleaded, twirling a strand of her toffee-coloured hair absent-mindedly around her fingertip, but she could see from Katrina’s hesitancy that her chosen line of advocacy was weak.

‘He only wanted you to take a couple of weeks off, help him to settle in, spend some quality time together – not resign your partnership at Edwards & Co.’

‘But my clients depend on me!’

‘Your clients would’ve managed without you, Liv. Miles might be a pain in the butt and profess a different approach to marriage breakdown than you, but he’s a good enough lawyer.’

‘But I loathe the way Miles and Ralph Carlton do business, racking up the acrimony with twisted truths and spurious allegations.’ She brandished the envelope in her hand as evidence. ‘Inciting the parties to fight over their pepper pots and garden gnomes so that their legal fees are exorbitant and the money cascades into the lawyers’ coffers.’

Olivia knew that the majority of her clients were involuntary refugees from the countless matrimonial conflicts waging across London and the Home Counties. They chose to consult her because she took an interest in their emotional wellbeing as well as the paperwork. She listened to their grievances, smoothed over the thorny issues of contact with the children and dividing the joint assets, offered pragmatic solutions as well as the astute application of legal principles. An involuntary smile twitched her lips as she recalled the ridiculously childish correspondence she had been forced to discuss only yesterday with Martha Grainger, the CEO of an ethical jewellery company, when Ralph’s client, Martha’s ex-husband, had demanded shared access to their allotment of chickens.

Would she and Nathan descend into the quagmire of such pettiness?

Her emotions crashed again. It was the new year, a time for looking forward and making resolutions, and she was getting divorced! All the sadness, the verbal spats, the possessiveness, the obstructiveness and the squabbling that she dealt with on a daily basis would be lurking for her own indulgence as the dissolution of her marriage travelled through the divorce court.

Then an added horror poked its nose above the parapet. Was Nathan involved with someone else? She shoved that pernicious thought deep into the crevices of her mind. If Nathan was anything at all, he was an honest and straightforward guy, favouring the communication of difficult issues in a balanced, non-confrontational way, but he had been pushing against an immoveable concrete barrier the previous year when wanting to talk seriously about their future. Whenever they were at home together in their pristine apartment overlooking the River Thames, she was usually so exhausted that any conversation beyond what was for dinner was too taxing to contemplate. No, she knew Nathan would not be dating anyone else.

There would be no vitriol or salacious accusations for the Fitzgeralds. Whilst she was mortified at the way the divorce papers had been delivered, and revolted at his choice of legal representative, after the initial shock and disbelief had dissipated, she had to admit the commencement of the divorce process had not come as a surprise. If there was ever a good time to end a marriage, then this was it: a new year, a fresh start, and whilst Nathan was away in Singapore – leaving her alone in London to sort out their apartment without the added awkwardness of living together under the same roof.

A mantle of loneliness draped its folds around her body and settled heavily across her shoulders. The delivery of that simple brown envelope meant her destiny was now shrouded in a veil of ambiguity.

‘You’re due loads of leave, Liv. Why don’t you take a trip to see your parents in Yorkshire?’

‘I can’t go to Yorkshire, Kat.’

Olivia pushed herself out of the depths of the sofa, straightened her charcoal-grey pencil skirt and strode over to her desk. She shoved the offending documents into her bottom drawer and turned to look out of the window. From the twelfth floor, the view over the angular rooftops of the City of London was awe-inspiring but one which she seldom noticed, much less appreciated. A shaft of early January sunshine had the audacity to bathe the room with its wintry light, and she managed a brittle smile at the irony – surely there should be a cacophonous thunderstorm raging and rain lashing against the windowpanes?

Except this wasn’t a nightmare, or a horror film; it was reality and she had to deal with it.

‘I suppose I’d better inform Henry of my impending singlehood.’

Chapter 2

‘I’m extremely saddened to hear your news, Olivia. Nathan is not only an intelligent and competent corporate lawyer but a decent, considerate man. Jean and I were delighted when we heard he was being promoted to Lead Counsel at Delmatrix Pharmaceuticals at their Singapore office. You youngsters today have so many opportunities.’

Olivia squirmed a little under the steely pewter gaze of Henry Edwards, the senior partner of Edwards & Co, feeling dwarfed by the gravity of the situation she found herself in, and the wing-backed leather chair facing his gargantuan desk that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Gentleman’s Club. However, after being his business partner for almost ten years, she knew whatever pearls of wisdom he was about to dispense, they would be judiciously selected and carefully delivered.

‘Olivia, it’s time I spoke frankly with you. Jean and I are worried about your health. It’s apparent to even the most casual of onlookers that you’re not sleeping well. And when did you last enjoy a decent meal – and I do not mean those psychedelic cocktails that you, Hollie and Matteo devour with such gusto? You need to take a break from the legal grindstone, especially after this life-changing event.’

‘Henry, I—’

‘No, please, just listen.’

Henry ran his arthritic fingers through his thick, ash-coloured hair, for the first time displaying a hint of reticence, clearly somewhat uncomfortable with treading the line between showing concern for his younger partner’s obsessive work patterns and invading her privacy.

‘I know you’re not going to like me saying this, but I miss the spirited, rosy-cheeked woman of twenty-nine I met ten years ago; eager, ambitious, brimming with energy and enthusiasm for the law. It hurts me to see how much that young lawyer has transformed into the frazzled, exhausted, stressed-out person who sits before me now and I truly regret not noticing sooner.’

‘Henry, I’m not—’

‘Please, Olivia, hear me out. For the first time, Jean and I have made a few New Year’s resolutions and if all goes according to plan, this time next year we’ll be boarding a luxury liner for a round-the-world cruise. Life is short, and every day becomes more precious as the age of seventy is waiting in the wings to ambush us. Jean deserves the indulgence of her long-held dream, and to that end I’ve reserved a Princess Grill Stateroom on the Queen Elizabeth.’

Olivia smiled. She was delighted that Jean had got her own way at last. She knew the division of labour in the Edwards marriage was considered old-fashioned; Jean, giving up her career as a midwife to devote her gentle-but-firm skills to steering their two beloved daughters through life’s challenges – both of whom had chosen to follow their mother’s footsteps into medicine – whilst Henry performed the role of breadwinner and doting father. She was about to congratulate him on his decision, but Henry had already launched into the next part of his submission.

‘I struggled to recall the precise nature of the clause in our partnership agreement pertaining to the taking of sabbaticals, so I took the liberty of checking. After ten years of service, all Edwards & Co partners, including you, Olivia my dear, qualify for a ten-month sabbatical at half their monthly drawings.’

‘I qualify? I thought it was you and Jean who were planning to take the world by storm?’

The switch in focus caused a twist of anxiety to whip through Olivia’s veins and she dug her fingernails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching up to fiddle with an escaped tendril of hair to alleviate the unease that had settled in her gut. What was going on? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

‘Take a break, Olivia. Spend some time away from the crazy, soul-destroying world of divorce and relationship breakdown, of clients squabbling over meaningless possessions, of financial skulduggery and underhand espionage. Do you know, I even heard the other day that a lawyer had plundered the depths of decency by removing the dustbin from a spouse’s back garden? I mean, what is the legal profession coming to? How you and Katrina remain sane is a constant worry to Lewis, James and I.’

Henry expelled a sigh filled with incredulity, and not a little relief, that his chosen legal specialism was commercial property litigation and tax management and not the cut-and-thrust of verbal jousting prevalent in the field of matrimonial litigation. However, his words had sent Olivia’s thoughts reeling and it took her a few seconds to catch up, her throat dry when she spoke.

‘Henry, I really can’t take time off at the moment …’

‘I’m not saying you won’t be missed, or that we don’t appreciate how valuable your contribution is to our practice. You listen to your clients, Olivia, really listen. You empathise with their circumstances, and somehow you manage to instil in them the belief that their case is your only priority. Indeed, since you joined us, the Family Law department has flourished beyond anything we could have hoped to achieve. Clients, particularly women, have flocked to your office, but the fact that divorce has become so increasingly popular dismays me. Why don’t couples stay together nowadays? No, you don’t have to answer that!’

Henry settled back into his captain’s chair, steepled his fingers and tapped them on his lower lip, eyeing Olivia carefully.

‘But I can also see that the pressure of an ever-expanding caseload has sapped your energy and dulled that initial sparkle. And now, it seems, it has destroyed your marriage. Is it contagious, this incessant search for the elusive prize of contentment?’

‘I love what I do, Henry …’

‘Only too obvious, Olivia my dear, as I understand you already struggle to delegate even the most straightforward of cases to Miles, even though he is a very competent practitioner.’

Olivia clenched her jaw in a futile attempt to prevent Henry from reading the doubt she knew was written boldly across her expression. She had never been first in line when they were handing out acting accolades – learning how to hide her emotions was still a work-in-progress, and it was one of the few essential skills required to be a first-rate lawyer that she had trouble mastering.

‘Oh, I know that you and Miles have conflicting views on how you conduct your cases, but I also know that he is eager to prove himself, to carve out his own niche in the department – the law had always possessed a vociferous appetite for the naïve but ambitious young lawyer seeking to make his mark – and I’m not entirely unsympathetic to his desire to change the firm’s approach to our matrimonial cases.’

Like many lawyers, Olivia relished sharpening her advocacy and negotiation skills against her legal adversaries, but never to the detriment of her clients’ interests. It had always been her aim to assist her clients in a more holistic way, by offering accurate legal advice coupled with a dose of therapy, a cordial attitude to negotiations and a conciliatory approach. Of course, she was going to be better briefed than most on the up-to-date case law in her field because her long-time friend Rachel Denton, who had recently gained a Professorship in Family Law at UCL, made sure of that.

‘I can’t take a sabbatical, Henry, if that’s what you are suggesting. My clients rely on me to be here for them and I can’t let them down.’

‘They can easily transfer their matters to Miles, and I dare say that Lewis will do his bit.’

Olivia’s mind immediately flicked to her fellow partner Lewis Jackson’s office, where the windowsill was piled high with carelessly discarded bottles of single malt whisky – gifts from grateful clients as tokens of appreciation for the personal injury compensation he had won on their behalf. Even James Carter, who handled their criminal defence work, had been known to receive a bottle or two of Cognac, although its provenance probably didn’t bear close scrutiny. On the other hand, Olivia’s office sported a plethora of flower-bedecked cards from clients whose shattered lives she had been a reluctant but necessary part of, and whom could not bring themselves to thank her for her involvement in such an interlude of pain.

‘Katrina will be a more than competent adviser, too. And what an opportune time to take a break having passed that dubious milestone that I saw reported in December’s issue of the Law Society Gazette.’

Olivia gulped as her predicament rushed at her like a runaway express train and an involuntary shudder ran the length of her spine as she realised her own marriage would now be joining that running total of five hundred marriage dissolutions. And Henry was wrong – if ever there was a time to take a break from the treadmill of corporate life, this was most certainly not it! She needed the distraction.

‘But, Henry, I really can’t contemplate …’

She heard him inhale a long breath, splaying his liver-spotted hands across his desk blotter, clearly preparing himself for what he had to deliver next and her heart crashed against her ribcage, causing spasms of trepidation to ricochet around her body.

‘It’s a timely solution, Olivia. This is a difficult subject for me to discuss, but the firm’s income has tumbled considerably over the last year or so. All this ruddy uncertainty has bitten us all hard. To be honest, a 50 per cent reduction in your drawings would ease the burden on our Office Account expenditure.’

Olivia didn’t know what she had expected Henry to say, but it wasn’t that. Trepidation swiftly morphed into full-blown panic – if she’d thought her discussion with Henry about her divorce was going to be difficult, this conversation had climbed to a whole new level and she needed to fight her corner.

‘Henry, I realise the way I conduct my cases means there are fewer contested trials, and therefore there are not as many lucrative invoices at the end. But even so, the effects of a countrywide economic downturn can’t be laid at my office door!’

‘Of course not, and I wasn’t implying that, far from it. I’m actually very troubled by the breakdown of your marriage, Olivia, and the fact that your intensive work ethic may have in some way contributed to the sad state of affairs. No more ideal a couple have I come across than you and Nathan, and Jean agrees with me. You are so right for one another. If I’d been a betting man, I would have placed a month’s salary on you and Nathan being in the lucky half of the UK marriages that don’t end in divorce.’

‘Me neither, Henry, but it’s happened, and I have to deal with it.’

A surge of sorrow spread through Olivia’s chest when she saw the genuine sadness reflected in Henry’s eyes, but she also saw a steely determination to deliver his next, much more personal bulletin of truth and she wondered what he would think if she jumped out of her seat and ran back to her office.

‘I’m sorry, Ms Hamilton, that cool, calm exterior doesn’t fool me. I know you’re devastated by this turn of events, and who wouldn’t be? You crouch in that chair like a starved waif, with sunken eyes and a blanched complexion, not a highly skilled, respected professional. The law is a demanding mistress; many a lawyer has become addicted to the daily buzz delivered by the joust of advocacy, sucked into the euphoria of winning cases, obsessed with that spurt of adrenaline delivered to their veins as they spar with the likes of Ralph Carlton. They’re addicted to arguing the toss with their equally eloquent opponents, then adjourning to the pub to drink themselves delirious in order to douse their rampant stress levels.’

Olivia opened her mouth to argue, to tell Henry he was wrong, but, unusually, words failed her and she was relieved when the next part of his soliloquy was more softly delivered.

‘I can’t force you to invoke the sabbatical clause in our partnership agreement, but I fully intend to. I hereby give you notice that from the first of January next year, Jean and I will set sail from Southampton bound for Gibraltar; we will send regular postcards for the office noticeboard to remind everyone that there’s a great big world out there waiting to be explored! I truly hope that you’ll grasp this opportunity to take stock, Olivia, to answer some of life’s questions before you celebrate your fortieth birthday in December, so you must act now! If you agree to begin your sabbatical on the first of February, ten months—’

‘Ten months!’

‘Ten months would bring you back into the Edwards & Co fold on the first of December – two weeks before your milestone celebration – hopefully with a healthier, more balanced view of the world, with lessons learned and a readiness to move forward.’

‘No way, I can’t do it, Henry! What on earth will I do for ten months?’

The mere thought of spending all that time either holed up in her empty flat, alone, untangling her life from Nathan’s whilst he was in Singapore, or meandering aimlessly between her parents in Yorkshire and Hollie’s parents down in Cornwall sent shivers of dread through her body. Tears smarted at her eyes, but she gritted her teeth because Henry was continuing to press his case.

‘Travel. Reconnect with those neglected friends. Write your autobiography. Take up ballroom dancing with Rachel. Make a start on that “bucket list” you and Katrina are always talking about. Just take some time out to refocus on you.’

‘Thanks, Henry, and here was I thinking I was indispensable!’

Chapter 3

Olivia sat at her desk, staring out of the window as the last rays of daylight filtered through the gathering clouds. The door to her office was closed; a rare phenomenon caused by Miles’s newly acquired pastime of prowling the corridors on the hunt for stray titbits of gossip as his usual sources of information – Katrina and Geraldine, his long-suffering PA – had remained tight-lipped over Olivia’s future plans.

Over the last three weeks, she had felt Nathan’s absence from their apartment ever more acutely, despite the fact that even before he’d left for Singapore, they’d been the proverbial ships that pass in the night for months. Both Katrina and Geraldine had been sympathetic to her situation, but singleton Geraldine’s insight into the current dating scene had not been as helpful as she had imagined, and Miles’s contribution had been even less supportive – spending every day leading up to her impending departure smirking at the absurdity of her situation.

The prolific divorce lawyer had become one of the statistics! Hilarious!

The irony had not escaped her either, even in her pain-infused state, and she was desperate to unload a smidgeon of her distress into the ears of her oldest friend, and to receive her calm, level-headed advice and support.

‘But Rachel, seriously, I can’t just wallow around watching the Food Channel for the next ten months. Not only will I pile on the weight, but I’ll go stir crazy with boredom or self-analysis – and don’t you dare suggest I go on a world cruise like Henry did!’

A friend of both hers and Nathan’s, Rachel Denton had been an integral part of their close-knit gang at Durham University. But, whilst she and Nathan had marched off to put the legal principles they’d learned into practice, Rachel had continued the academic life of research, publishing papers, writing articles for specialist journals, as well as inspiring the next influx of eager, fresh-faced students. Then, last summer, her professional dream had materialised in the guise of a professorship, and she was currently engrossed in a project analysing the causes of marital breakdown in the twenty-first century, a subject she was passionate about, apart from the Dean’s refusal to allow her the funds to engage the services of a research assistant.

‘Well, the answer to your conundrum is to not sit around and stew at home. Why don’t you get the apartment valued, put it on the market, then jet off on a well-deserved holiday? I hear the Maldives are glorious at this time of year!’

Olivia smiled as she imagined Rachel ensconced in her cluttered study, flicking the end of her biro at her dangling earrings. Her friend was famous amongst her students for her vast array of hand-made earrings and Olivia had never known her to wear the same pair twice. She knew Rachel adored her life as an academic despite the tongue-in-cheek accusations of Anne, her now-frail mother, who called her daughter a ‘nosy parker’. Rachel, on the other hand, categorised her craving for digging into the personal lives of strangers as ‘an essential personality trait for all academics’. Whatever the label, Anne had been so proud when her only child had become the first girl in the family to attend university and achieve a first to boot.

Apart from her extensive academic duties, a close second in Rachel’s hit parade of obsessions – and on which subject she could wax lyrical until Olivia pleaded for mercy – was ballroom dancing. She was fond of reminding her friends, acquaintances and anyone else who would listen, that her passion for the Tango, Waltz and Cha-cha-cha pre-dated the current onslaught of all things Strictly, and she was the proud owner of a wardrobe full of sequin and gem-encrusted costumes that would make the ‘Ladyboys of Bangkok’ salivate.

And as for the shoes!

Olivia recalled Rachel’s admission that she had even, on one occasion, slept with a particularly special pair of glitter-heeled pumps – brand new, sparkling and not yet sullied by any contact with the pavement or dance floor – next to her on a silk pillow all of their own. She knew that to Rachel these sartorial creations were objects of great beauty, crafted by the hands of artisans. For all her quirkiness, or maybe because of it, Olivia loved Rachel; she was a down-to-earth, straight-talking Lancashire lass – there was no ‘War of the Roses’ between them.

‘Why don’t you come with me and Denise to Brighton on Saturday night?’ offered Rachel, the deep concern for her workaholic, neglectful friend and blinkered spouse, but all-round decent human being, evident in her voice. ‘You should see the dress I’ve splashed out on for the Salsa competition on Sunday. It wouldn’t look out of place on a dance floor in Copacabana Beach!’

‘Kind, but not really my thing, Rach.’

A shudder shot down Olivia’s spine as her imagination conjured up an image of herself in one of Rachel’s skimpy bejewelled outfits, her pale, stick-thin legs on public display. In reality though, her main objection was that she was so unfit there was no way she could manage ten minutes of the strenuous dance routines Rachel, Denise and their friends got involved with on the amateur ballroom dance circuit, let alone three hours.

‘Hey, hang on. I might just have a great idea!’

‘What sort of an idea?’

‘Yes, of course, it’s perfect!’

‘What’s perfect?’

Oh, God, she didn’t think she could stomach another of Rachel’s infamous ‘great ideas’!

‘So, am I right in thinking that sitting at home for the next few months, missing Nathan and mulling over what life has flung in your path, is not an appetising prospect?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Oh, I agree with you. I know you better than you know yourself, darling. “Driven” is a kind way of describing your manic work ethic.’

Olivia thought back to the last time she had set eyes on her friend. Not for a prearranged glass of her favourite prosecco rosé or a warm cinnamon latte at the local trendy café, but at a chance meeting in the local deli at eleven o’clock at night as they both searched for something to keep mind and body together – fast Italian food to replenish the soul, neither of them cared what it was. Whilst Rachel regularly frequented the university’s canteen to eat and augment her social life, ensuring a pleasantly rounded physique with calf muscles that even Bradley Wiggins would be proud of, her own waistline had not fared so well from her frenetic lifestyle.

Although Rachel would never have uttered such sacrilegious comments, Olivia knew her friend considered her to be unattractively slender and had tried to suggest lunch, an evening out, offered tickets to myriad dance exhibitions and, of course, Olivia had agreed to go, but had subsequently ended up cancelling or simply forgot. She had stopped counting the times she’d stood Rachel up. Their friendship over the last year had been sustained via Nathan or short, to-the-point email bulletins and the occasional random meeting at the deli.

‘And you’re not against taking a holiday, per se?’

‘No, but who would I go with? It’s February! Hollie and Matteo are saving their annual leave for the Easter holidays next month – Hollie is traipsing down to Cornwall to look after her parents’ restaurant so that they can take their annual break from the hungry hordes of Newquay, and Matteo and Hollie’s brother Elliot are jetting off for a week in the clubs of Ibiza before Elliot takes up his job as head chef, can’t remember where, but it’s definitely somewhere exotic.’

Hollie’s twin brother, Elliot, was Matteo’s childhood best friend. He’d been ecstatic about landing a prestigious position on his own merits and not because his parents owned a Michelin-starred restaurant. All four of them had celebrated long and hard one Saturday night at their local wine bar so the precise details of his new venture were a little fuzzy in Olivia’s mind.

‘What if I had a solution?’

‘You mean if we went together? Don’t you have research to do over the Easter break and getting your students ready for their exams?’ said Olivia, scavenging at the edges of her brain for plausible and persuasive protestations.

‘Exactly, I do. Not to mention an Argentinian Tango to perfect. Dennie would never forgive me if I went swanning off for a jolly when we could be rehearsing. No, but I do need someone to help me with my project. I can’t hope to be as thorough as I’d like to be without help and who better than a “Top Divorce Lawyer”? Ms Olivia “five-hundred-divorces-under-my-belt” Hamilton. You can be my research assistant! Only, Liv, I can’t pay you anything.’

‘Sorry, Rachel, I’m definitely not going to get involved in any academic projects. I don’t think I could stomach any more study.’

Olivia pushed herself out of her seat and went to look out of the window. On the pavements below, swathes of dark-suited commuters, heads bent, bloodshot eyes averted, jostled with their counterparts to save a few precious seconds in their rush to reach the Tube station at the end of the street. Even the tourists utilised their sharp elbows, impatient to capture the best photographic record of the magnificent London architecture that was studiously ignored by its inhabitants. Culture, art, history, they all oozed from the very fabric of the capital, but those who worked in the City had no time to stop and stare.

‘I wasn’t suggesting any study. What I’m talking about is research – a field trip, if you will.’

‘What sort of field trip?’ asked Olivia, aware her voice contained a suspicious edge.

‘A foreign one.’

‘Where to?’

This time her tone held an uptick of interest, and upon hearing the pique of curiosity, Olivia knew Rachel would be preparing to reel in her catch.

‘Well, my research is officially entitled “What causes marriages to break down?” I’m supposed to be looking at domestic abuse, financial difficulties during the recession, alcohol and drug addiction, the effects of the care system. But what I’d really like to focus on are the factors found in marriages that endure. The positives, if you will, rather than the negatives. An integral part of the project is gathering evidence to support the benefits of a “no fault” system in our divorce process, like they have in Denmark. Yes, almost 50 per cent of marriages do end in divorce for all the reasons I’ve been charged with researching, but, on the other side of the argument, that also means that over 50 per cent succeed and I’d like to find out why.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ mused Olivia, now that she had patiently listened to the ‘State of the universe’ according to St Rachel. ‘Are you suggesting your heartbroken, “soon-to-be-divorced” friend undertakes a fact-finding mission on your behalf to identify and report back on the elements found in failed marriages? Bit tactless, don’t you think?’

‘Not why they fail, why they succeed! Haven’t you just racked up five hundred divorces at Edwards & Co? Well, I am offering you the opportunity to redress the balance of negativity and misery with a shot in the arm for marital harmony and relationship contentment.’

‘I’m sick and tired of people referring to that article!’

‘All I’m saying is that you are ideally qualified to ask the right questions. You have time on your hands, and I take it you’re entitled to continue drawing your salary whilst you’re on sabbatical?’

‘Half, but as you know I’ve never had time to indulge in life’s luxuries, so I do have some savings put by. I suppose I can justify a foreign jaunt. But alone?’

‘You’re a big girl, Liv. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities. In fact, you are the ideal person for the role. Not only are you professionally skilled to undertake the research and write up your findings in a cogent and intelligent manner, you will also, unfortunately, have a unique personal insight of the process.’

‘Okay, so where is this wonderful place where marriages last and everyone lives happily ever after? Narnia? Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyland?’

‘Actually, it’s not just one place. Several countries score highly in the enduring relationship league – you’ll be surprised by some of the places on our list. New York has one of the lowest divorce rates in the US, would you believe?’

‘You want me to go to New York? Okay, the answer’s yes! I’d love to!’

In fact, now Olivia thought about it, there was something to be said for escaping the inevitable enquiries of family and friends, colleagues and clients, about her embarrassing personal tragedy. In Manhattan, she could blend seamlessly into the throng of anonymous tourists and citizens, her woes concealed from scrutiny.

‘Sorry, not New York, Liv. Malta.’

‘Malta?’

‘In fact, I’ve already arranged the meeting with my contact over there. We were going to try and do it by Skype but Niko asked for a personal visit as his grandparents would struggle with being interviewed via webcam. They’ve been married for sixty years and his parents have been married for forty. It’ll be fantastic if you could interview both couples. Malta holds the record for having one of the highest marriage rates in the EU coupled with one of the lowest divorce rates. Something good must be going on over there in the southern Mediterranean sunshine!’

‘Malta’s never been on my wish list, I’m afraid. Look, Rachel, I’m really not sure about this. I don’t think I should be leaving the country at the moment. I’m not convinced Miles and Lewis can handle my caseload, and there’s the apartment to—’

‘Did Henry give you his blessing to keep popping back into the office to inspect your colleagues’ progress whenever you like?’

A squirm of embarrassment snaked through Olivia’s abdomen. ‘Well, no, not exactly …’

‘What did he say precisely?’

‘“You’re barred from the premises”?’

‘So there’s no real reason why you can’t go to Malta other than your inability to accept that Edwards & Co can function without you?’

‘Well, no, but …’

‘And we might as well tackle the elephant in the room now. Did you talk to Nathan last night?’

‘I tried to call him, but …’

‘But?’

‘Well, his voicemail was on and I didn’t want to leave a message.’

‘So you call him again later!’

Olivia began to feel steamrollered. Her breath quickened and her temples felt as though they were being squeezed in a vice-like grip – with friends like Rachel who needed enemies! Of course, she was right; she did need to talk to Nathan, but he was in Singapore now and it just didn’t feel right, winding up their life together over the phone. She’d sent him a short text before he left two weeks ago, telling him she’d received the petition, and would be in touch to discuss it at some point, and she had got a one-word acknowledgement back, which had hurt more than she had expected. She knew he’d been about to board the plane, but how could things have got so bad that they were reduced to communicating via text message?

‘And don’t you think this trip to Malta will be the perfect distraction? Keeping busy will stop you from descending down the slippery slope into melancholy.’

‘I’m not descending into melancholy!’

‘Great, that’s settled then. You are officially my unofficial research intern. What I’d like you to do is undertake a series of trips to ascertain …’

‘Hey, back up there, Professor Denton, I’m not sure I heard you right. Did you just say “a series of trips”?’

‘Yes, marriage breakdown statistics have ballooned all over the world. It’s not just a UK phenomenon. Not every country allows divorce, of course. Some, on the other hand, have quite relaxed divorce laws. But as I’ve said, your brief is to concentrate on the institution of marriage. Much more inspiring, wouldn’t you say? I expect the evidence collated by you in Malta to confirm that similar cultural backgrounds factor highly in the longevity of marriage. Then, there’s Hawaii.’

‘What!’ Olivia spluttered. ‘I can’t just jet off to Hawaii!’

What exactly was happening here? Was this some sort of parallel universe?

‘Olivia Hamilton, correct me if I’m wrong, but I recall a very wistful expression on your face two years ago at my mother’s seventieth birthday party when you announced you had always wanted to visit Hawaii.’

‘Well, yes, but I didn’t mean now … and not by myself,’ she added softly because she had hoped to one day explore the exotic volcanic islands in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with Nathan by her side. ‘A trip to Hawaii is “bucket list” stuff – something to do before you die!’

‘But who of us knows when that will be?’ Rachel rushed on, excitement exuding from every word and preventing her from detecting the snippet of sadness in Olivia’s tone. ‘Oh my God! I never dared hope my dream research project would be possible. I’d resigned myself to focusing on the negative factors in divorce required by the university’s grant parameters.’

‘Look, Rach—’

‘And then there’s Denmark.’

‘Denmark?’ squeaked Olivia, her throat hoarse from the rising panic.

‘The happiest country in the EU, according to recently published research, yet graced with one of the highest divorce rates. Why is that?’

‘But Denmark—’

‘And there’s Paris: the “City of Romance”—’

‘Okay. Stop. Right. There. I am definitely not signing up for a round-the-world trip! No way. No chance.’

‘Oh, not all in one go. No. Malta is scheduled for next week, but you can go to Hawaii in May. Denmark is already fixed for October because it’s extremely difficult to arrange an interview with Professor Andersen, my counterpart in Copenhagen. And last, but not least, there’s Paris in November to finalise your conclusions. You’ll need to submit your written report to me by the first of December so I can collate the evidence and have my submissions ready for a Christmas deadline, but you’re due to return to Edwards & Co then, anyway. It’s perfect timing!’

‘Perfect? Perfect?’

All in one dreadful month, she had been shamed in front of her colleagues when served with documents to terminate her marriage, had been informed she was professionally expendable and forced to concede control of her caseload to the questionable practices of Miles and take an involuntary sabbatical, and now, instead of her oldest friend offering a sympathetic shoulder to cry on – accompanied by an offer of remedial cocktails and a late-night curry – she was being cajoled into packing a suitcase and jetting off to Malta. To say she felt overwhelmed was an understatement, and fear of what lay in her future nailed its splinters into her heart. She had one last line of defence to pursue, though.

‘What about the soup kitchen?’

‘What about it?’

‘I can’t let them down. Greta is always short of volunteers at this time of the year …’

‘I’m sure they’ll manage.’

‘No, I can’t let her down, and I’m helping one of the guys there with his paperwork and—’

‘Okay, what if Dennie and I put in a few shifts whilst you’re away?’

‘Really, you’d do that?’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, that’s great, thanks.’

‘So it’s a yes then?’

‘Can I have some time to think about it?’

‘No. I’ll have the Air Malta plane tickets biked over to you. And, Livvie …’ Finally, Olivia heard a softening in Rachel’s voice, her Lancashire accent becoming more pronounced. ‘I know what a painful blow you’ve been dealt, but this is exactly what the psychologist ordered.’

Suddenly every ounce of fight seeped from Olivia’s bones. She felt as though her nerve endings were anesthetised to any further doses of trauma, her brain temporarily paralysed by the swiftness with which her life had imploded, so she struggled to utter any words beyond ‘I suppose so.’

‘Good. Now your contact in Malta is Niko Garzia. I worked with him a couple of years ago when he joined our department on secondment from Malta University in Valletta. I’ll ask him to meet your plane. And, Liv?’

‘Mmm?’

‘I truly am sorry that you and Nathan couldn’t work things out. As a couple, you were a perfect match.’

Chapter 4

‘So, you fly off to Malta next week? Lucky you!’ said Hollie, crossing her ankles to make herself comfortable on the overstuffed sofa in Harvey’s wine bar, their regular post-work haunt.

‘You think?’ Olivia counted out her so-called ‘luck’ on her fingers. ‘I’ve been publicly humiliated by a rat-faced process server announcing to the whole world that my marriage has crumbled, I’ve been expelled from my office for the next ten months, and then, probably worst of all, I’ve been arm-wrestled by my oldest friend into becoming her new research assistant. You call that “lucky”?’

Olivia saw a flicker of remorse glide across Hollie’s features when she tossed her copper waves from her eyes and she instantly regretted her outburst. Hollie was her best friend, a fellow warrior on the battlefield of legal causes and volunteer at the local soup kitchen, and someone she knew shared her pain as well as her love of cocktails.

‘Sorry, Hol, my nerves are like a jangling tambourine at the moment. Look, there’s Matteo. I’ll get the drinks and you can fill him in on the next exciting instalment in my crappy life story.’

With colour pulsing at her cheeks, Olivia grabbed her handbag and ploughed her way towards the highly polished oak and brass bar, her stiletto heels click-clacking on the marble-veined floor. As she waited, purse in hand, for the impeccably groomed bartender to perform the famous scene from Cocktail, she glanced at her chipped nail varnish. Her manicure had lasted only two days this time. She must try that new Korean place in the basement of the fast food shop next to the bank – the one Hollie had recommended despite her anxieties that it was a front for human trafficking.

Harvey’s attracted a myriad of local professionals. It was the watering hole of choice for the burnt-out office worker to douse their anxiety with as much liquor as it took to eradicate the pent-up pressure. At six o’clock the noise level was set at ‘low hum’ but as the scotch and prosecco hit the spot Olivia knew the volume would quickly ratchet up to ‘screech’ – competitive bragging became increasingly outrageous as alcohol oiled both vocal cords and egos. By chewing over that day’s events at the coalface of British business, boasting about their expanding list of wealthy Russian clients, the value of their holiday homes in Cornwall, or their last all-expenses-paid foreign business trip, the bar’s patrons were able to delay their return to empty homes where not even a cat waited to welcome them – their lifestyle was too cruel for a pet.

Well, that was true of herself and Hollie; Matteo didn’t know what stress was. And if he did, he would probably regale them with the unwelcome advice that it caused wrinkles and a bad complexion and that it should be avoided at all costs. He would laugh and inform them that wine merchants had an inbuilt defence mechanism to stress hormones – or was it just easy access to the antidote?

As she watched the barman pour their cocktails into gold-rimmed glasses with a theatrical flourish, she felt disconnected from the ambient throng, as though she was on board a drone hovering against the ceiling observing the theatre unfolding below. But the dislocation was fleeting. She plastered a smile onto her lips in thanks to the barman before shuffling back to their table with three glasses balanced between her fingers.

What would Matteo’s take be on her unplanned sabbatical? she wondered, glancing across to the alcove where two of her best friends waited for their drinks to arrive. Her heavy heart lightened at the sight of their heads bent together in conversation, ebony mingled with shards of ginger.

‘Hi, Liv!’ Matteo relieved her of two of the glasses before air-kissing her cheeks. The aroma of Chanel’s ‘Pour Monsieur’ floated like a soothing balm in the air between them as he took an experimental sip and smacked his lips. ‘Ahhhh, Chianti is heaven in a glass! You do know those Piña Coladas don’t count as one of your “five-a-day”, don’t you?’

He smoothed a palm over his hair, perched his gym-toned buttocks back onto the sofa and crossed his ankle over his knee. ‘So, how many hours has “London’s Top Divorce Lawyer” put in this week, then? Seventy? Eighty?’

‘Very funny, Matt. You know I’ve been frantically trying to tidy up my clients’ files.’

‘So, you favour the grey look for that kind of strenuous work, do you?’

‘Hey, this is Karen Millen I’ll have you know!’

‘No, Liv, I meant your skin tone. You look like you haven’t ventured out into the natural light for weeks. When are you going to slow down and ditch the workaholic tedium? Why not delegate some of your workload to Miles? You pay too high a price for your career success. You too, Hols.’

Olivia knew Hollie was just as time-squeezed as every one of the patrons in Harvey’s, if not more so, with multiple demands on her time, but whenever Matteo asked her why she crammed her life with such a plethora of pursuits her retort was a well-rehearsed – ‘Sanity in diversity, Matt darling!’

‘Well, we can’t all work in the crushed grape business, can we?’ Hollie snapped, defensive of her troubled friend.

‘Rather an alcoholic than a workaholic! Anyway, Liv, Hollie has filled me in on your mission. And whilst I think it’s an excellent idea to go travelling, I’m not convinced by the whole “love makes the world go round” premise.’

Olivia watched him twist his lips into a grimace and she wondered whether he had used cosmetics to enhance their perfect shape? There was not a shadow of a doubt in her addled mind that his Mediterranean-toned skin had been assisted to produce such a healthy glow, but looking good had always been a priority for Matteo, like many of those of Italian descent.

‘Why not ditch the project, and the trip to Malta, and come to Tuscany with me next month? I’m staying with Dad and Uncle Gino in Florence, then touring the local vineyards to sample some of the best wines Italy has to offer. I could introduce you to one of my cousins?’ His mahogany eyes twinkled as he sipped his glass of Chianti and waited for Olivia’s reaction with interest.

‘Matt …’ began Hollie, shooting a warning glare in his direction, but Matteo was clearly on a roll and had no intention of listening.

‘Why do this “work” project when you’re supposed to be on holiday? Isn’t the whole point of a “holiday” to kick back and chill? God knows the two of you could do with a slice of relaxation. You girls are so tightly screwed that you’d need a power tool to unwind. And why is it so important to find out “what love’s got to do with it”? Isn’t that a tad insensitive of our Rachel when … well … in your current position?’ Matteo squeezed Olivia’s hand, his expression reflecting his absolute sincerity. She rolled her eyes at him – Matteo knew that practised gaze could smoulder granite. ‘Never mind, Liv, now you can be more like me. Look at all the gorgeous girls I’ve dated. If I’d been married just think what I would have missed out on!’

A splutter of derision erupted from Hollie’s mouth.

‘Isn’t it more a case of you can’t keep a girlfriend for any longer than four dates!’ She smirked, wiping away a dribble of prosecco from her frosted lips with the back of her hand.

‘Hey, Holls, that is so not true! And highly defamatory, I might add. Liv darling, can I sue her for slander? Do you still do “no win, no fee”? Anyway, too much of a good thing can be overwhelming. For the sake of humankind, I have to spread this glorious body and dashing charisma around. Share the lerve.’ Matteo grinned as Hollie tutted, re-crossing her slender legs, a gesture that caused her skirt to rise further up her thighs. ‘Anyway, I had six dates with Bianca. A nun’s existence like you’ve got going on, darling, is not part of my life’s golden-paved pathway. It gets so exhausting to feign interest in someone when the initial attraction has worn off, delicious as Bianca was. Variety is the spice of life.’

‘Yes, you’d know! Anyway, chance would be a fine thing. There’re no decent guys around to date.’

Pointedly, Hollie swept her eyes over her shoulder and around the wine bar. Olivia followed her concentrated beam as it encompassed the whole battalion of professionals at varying degrees of inebriation; all, without exception, pale-skinned, red-eyed, and scrawny from the long hours spent behind their desks and in front of their flashing computer screens.

‘Well, it’s not as though I haven’t told you, and told you again, the reasons for that, Holls.’

Olivia sat back in her chair, smiling at her friends’ familiar bickering. She was acutely aware of Hollie’s fruitless search for ‘the one’.

‘You do know there’s no such thing as “Happily Ever After”, don’t you?’ Matteo continued. ‘Your dreams of fragranced bouquets and hand-made confectionery and never-ending romance, as depicted in those Mills & Boon-style romances you devour, are completely unattainable in twenty-first-century London. How can such an intelligent, accomplished woman as you read such drivel anyway, let alone believe in it? The rippling six-packs of the guys on the front covers are enough to make anyone vomit!’

Matteo gave a theatrical shudder before becoming more serious.

‘Why not pursue your musical career? You were amazing when I saw you play lead clarinet for your orchestra last month. And didn’t Nathan’s brother, Dan, say that if you just practised a tad more often, you’d definitely qualify for the Ladies’ County Golf Team when they play in Dubai next year? If you stopped spending all your time frequenting those dreary corridors of the local Magistrates’ Court with those grumbling criminals panting in your fragrant slipstream, then you’d have a better chance of seeing what you’re missing out on.’

Matteo’s upper lip curled in distaste at the people Hollie dealt with as a criminal defence advocate.

‘If you spent as much time chatting with any one of these guys—’ he flung his perfectly manicured hand over to a group of suits laughing uproariously at the bar ‘—as you do with those scumbags you represent, then maybe you could be as lucky as me, darling!’

‘Well, the words “pot”, “kettle” and “black” spring to mind, Matteo. A serial dater who shies away from the merest sniff of commitment is not in any position to …’ Hollie stopped short in her circuitous retort, obviously realising she was at the top of a slippery slope towards childish squabbling.

For the first time, Olivia felt a smidgeon of envy for Hollie and Matteo’s easy relationship. Matteo was Elliot’s childhood best friend and therefore Hollie had known him most of her life. Ever since their carefree teens on the beaches of Cornwall, they had argued like brother and sister over steaming bowls of hand-made pasta at his parents’ pizzeria or freshly caught fish and chips at her family’s fish restaurant in Newquay. Hollie had even put her chosen career as a criminal defence lawyer down to her enduring love of a good argument with Matteo. Although he often infuriated her, sometimes purposely, Olivia knew Hollie loved sparring with him. It meant she could continue to hone her advocacy skills for her daily attendance at the City of London Magistrates’ Court.

Olivia tuned out and sunk beneath a drape of sadness, content to listen to her friends squabble because it diverted their attention away from her own issues. Unfortunately, her sojourn of solitude didn’t last long because it seemed Hollie and Matteo were determined to include her in their conversation and bolster her spirits.

‘Well, I think a trip is an excellent idea, Liv,’ said Hollie, a smirk playing around her lips as she examined her apricot manicure to avoid Matteo’s indignant stare. ‘In fact, not only will your research provide valuable insight for Rachel’s research paper, but for me, too. And you, Matt. I, for one, would love to know what makes love last forever! Hey, Liv, you could use Matt’s love life as your control sample of what not to do.’

Hollie’s eyes widened with excitement as she tossed her marmalade waves over her shoulder and scooted to the edge of the sofa, her freckled cheeks reddening at the idea that had just dinged into her brain.

‘In fact, I want you to send me regular bulletins from your travels. A list of “Olivia’s Lessons in Love”! The hard evidence, as you gather it on your journey around the world in the crazy pursuit of the mechanics of “True Love”. Yes! Yes! Yes! I’ll follow every missive avidly, and maybe I could even try putting some of them into practice!’

Olivia had to laugh as Hollie bounced in her seat like Tigger’s more energetic sister, as her animation increased. She saw Matteo rolling his eyes in disgust, especially when Hollie had used the words true love, but his lukewarm reaction only served to encourage Hollie to continue outlining her master plan.

‘So, every time you stumble across a little gem of romantic wisdom, you have to email me, and Matteo, a sort of “lesson in love”, a “directive of desire”, a “bulletin of adoration” – whatever you want to call it.’