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

and he shook hers with such a forceful jerk that she felt a muscle tear in her shoulder.

‘Good morning, Mr Camberwaddle,’ she said, smiling through the pain. ‘Do take a seat.’

He sat on the wobbly plastic chair that had replaced the leather seats in her larger office and frowned. Looking up at her, his blue eyes steely sharp, grey hair slicked back in a way she’d only previously seen on white-collar criminals in police dramas, he seemed to take in his surroundings for the first time.

‘Your office,’ he said. ‘Is … has it changed?’

‘Yes … it’s just temporary,’ she lied, feeling her cheeks go red. But honestly, how was she meant to inspire confidence in this client from a room that still smelled worryingly like feet?

He nodded, his brow furrowed. ‘So,’ he began. ‘You got my message?’

‘Yes,’ she said, feeling a little as if she’d been summoned to the headmaster’s office at school. ‘But let me reassure you that this kind of inattention won’t happen again.’

He nodded, kindly. ‘Yes, I realise you have no intention of it happening again, but I’m not sure you can really guarantee that. After all, your firm is rather on the small side. I was quite distressed yesterday when the meeting had to be cancelled due to your illness.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry.’

He waved her comment away with one of his large hands. ‘Yes, yes, not your fault, of course. Just made me realise that perhaps the Mann Company aren’t up to the job.’

‘I understand,’ she said. ‘But honestly, it’s not really a case of … well, we do have other conveyancing solicitors. It was more … well, the absence was so unexpected and so early on in our relationship, I hadn’t briefed any of my colleagues …’

‘I see …’ he frowned and clasped his hands together, with the tips of his fingers touching his lips. ‘I see … So you’re saying that you’re going to bring other people up to speed on this? Experienced people.’

‘Of course! Believe me, sir, once you’ve had the full Mann Company experience, you’ll never look back!’

‘OK. Look.’ He dropped his hands and looked at her with such a penetrating gaze that she felt almost violated. ‘I like to be upfront with my business interests – I’m sure you understand. I’ll give it some thought, speak to my team, and let you know by the end of the day. I can’t risk making a mistake.’

‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Bailey,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘You mentioned your husband was in television when we last met.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘I saw a Bailey the other day, on the news,’ he continued. ‘Something about street lights, or some such. Was that him?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘That’s Toby.’

‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘Interesting. Well, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to have an influential TV star’s wife on the payroll.’

Clare was tempted to say that actually she wouldn’t be on his payroll, and that having the ear of her husband meant very little these days.

But she didn’t. She kept silent. She figured, while doing so, that if she had to be married to Toby; had to watch the man she loved morph into some sort of male mannequin, to wait with her legs crossed each morning as he preened himself in front of the bathroom mirror; to rush home every time he was late to keep their family life going, there ought to be some benefit for her.

Maybe one of them would be retaining her multi-million-pound client.

When Camberwaddle finally rang her later that afternoon to confirm that he would be remaining with the firm, she felt her stomach flip over with relief. After a day of angst, the news even made her forget briefly that she was sitting in a cupboard, like an old broom, or a forgotten tin of beans.

She stuck her head into Nigel’s office before leaving to give him a quick thumbs up. ‘Meeting went well with Stefan Camberwaddle,’ she said, as he looked up from a pile of papers.

‘Excellent news,’ he smiled, listening to her for once.

She turned to leave – a quick taxi ride to the garage and hopefully a new car by the next day. Her credit card was nearly burning a hole in her handbag.

‘Oh, and Clare?’ Nigel said, just as the door was closing. She was so used to being called Carol that she nearly didn’t answer.

‘Yes?’

‘Could you tell Will his prototypes are in?’

‘Prototypes?’ she said, wondering what on earth Will was trying now. The last thing he’d ordered on behalf of the firm had been car stickers displaying the proud words: ‘Trip or fall? Mann up!’

‘Rather innovative I thought.’ Nigel held up a couple of translucent labels which read ‘Accident? Who cares?!’ alongside the firm’s logo.

‘Wow,’ she said.

‘Yes. All part of this rather modern business strategy of Will’s,’ he continued, settling back contentedly in his chair. ‘All about embracing positive thought and whatnot.’

‘Yes.’

‘And, you know, visualisation and body language.’

‘Right. And these are going where?’

‘Oh, on the paddle thingies in the hospital.’

‘The defibrillators?’

‘That’s it! Just think.’ Nigel shook his head in awe at the genius of Will’s idea.

She could imagine it now. A patient, blearily coming around from cardiac arrest suddenly leaping from the bed and jotting down the number so that he could make a negligence claim.

‘Great,’ she said, not quite wanting to burst the bubble of delusion Nigel was clearly happily living in. ‘I’ll let him know.’

Chapter Thirteen

When Clare woke the next day and looked out of the window at her new car she experienced a strange sinking sensation, not unlike the feeling she used to have at university when she’d woken up with a hangover to discover a stolen traffic cone in the corner, or realised she’d nabbed an ashtray from the student bar. Something that had seemed like a good idea at the time, but was a bit embarrassing in the cold light of day.

Last night, in the garage, the car had seemed the obvious choice. As soon as she’d leaned in and smelled the leather seats, seen the