The Girl You Left Behind

already.’
    ‘I’ll remortgage,’ she
     says. ‘Is there anything I can do to keep the costs down?’
    Henry leans over his desk. ‘If you
     choose to fight this, there’s a lot you can do. Most importantly, the more you can
     find out about the painting’s provenance, the stronger position we’ll be in.
     Otherwise I have to put someone here on to it, and charge you an hourly rate, and
     that’s without the cost of expert witnesses once we go to court. I suggest that if
     you can do that we’ll see where we are and I’ll look into instructing a
     barrister.’
    ‘I’ll start the
     search.’
    She keeps hearing the certainty of their
     voices.
Our case is very strong. We have a body of precedent that lends weight to
     our cause.
She sees Paul’s face, his fake concern:
It is in
     everybody’s interests for this to be settled amicably.
    She sips the whisky, and deflates a little.
     She feels suddenly very alone. ‘Henry, what would you do? If it were you, I
     mean.’
    He presses his fingertips together and rests
     them against his nose. ‘I think this is a terribly unfair situation. But, Liv, I
     would personally be cautious about proceeding to court. These cases can
     get … ugly. It might be worth your while just thinking further about whether
     there is any way you could settle.’
    She keeps seeing Paul’s face.
     ‘No,’ she says baldly. ‘He is not having her.’
    ‘Even if –’
    ‘No.’
    She feels his eyes on her as she gathers up
     her things and leaves the room.
    Paul dials the number for the fourth time,
     rests his finger above the
dial
button, then changes his mind and sticks his
     telephone in his back pocket. Across the road a man in a suit is arguing with a traffic
     warden, gesticulating wildly as the warden gazes at him impassively.
    ‘Are you coming for lunch?’
     Janey appears at the door. ‘The table is booked for one thirty.’
    She must have just applied perfume. It
     punctures the air, even on his side of his desk. ‘You really need me there?’
     He is not in the mood for small talk. He doesn’t want to be charming, to detail
     the company’s astonishing track record in recovery. He doesn’t want to find
     himself seated beside Janey, to feel her leaning against him as she laughs, her knee
     gravitating towards his. More pertinently, he does not like André Lefèvre,
     with his suspicious eyesand his downturned mouth. He has rarely
     taken such an instant dislike to a client.
    ‘Can I ask when you first realized the
     painting was missing?’ he had asked.
    ‘We discover it through an
     audit.’
    ‘So you didn’t miss it
     personally?’
    ‘Personally?’ He had shrugged at
     the use of the word. ‘Why should someone else benefit financially from a work that
     should be in our possession?’
    ‘You don’t want to come?
     Why?’ says Janey. ‘What else have you got on?’
    ‘I thought I’d catch up with
     some paperwork.’
    Janey lets her gaze rest on him. She is
     wearing lipstick. And heels. She does have good legs, he thinks absently.
    ‘We need this case, Paul. And we need
     to give André the confidence that we’re going to win.’
    ‘In that case I think my time would be
     better spent doing background than having lunch with him.’ He doesn’t look
     at her. His jaw seems to have set at a mulish angle. He’s been sour with everyone
     all week. ‘Take Miriam,’ he says. ‘She deserves a nice
     lunch.’
    ‘I don’t think our budget
     stretches to treating secretaries as and when we feel like it.’
    ‘I don’t see why not. And
     Lefèvre might like her. Miriam? Miriam?’ He keeps his gaze steadily on
     Janey’s, leans back in his chair.
    She pokes her head around the door, her
     mouth half full of tuna sandwich. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Would you like to take my place at a
     lunch with Monsieur Lefèvre?’
    ‘Paul, we –’ Janey’s jaw
     clenches.
    Miriam glances between the two of them. She
     swallows her mouthful. ‘That’s very kind. But …’
    ‘But Miriam has a sandwich. And
     contracts to type up. Thank you, Miriam.’ She waits until the door closes, purses
     her lips in thought. ‘Is everything all right, Paul?’
    ‘Everything’s fine.’
    ‘Well.’ She cannot keep the edge
     from her voice. ‘I see I can’t persuade you. I’ll look forward to
     hearing what you’ve turned up on the case. I’m sure it’ll be
     conclusive.’
    She stands there a moment longer and then
     she leaves. He can hear her talking