Constance dawdled in front of the window of Tom Dixon in Coal Drops Yard. She smoothed her skirt, ran a finger under each eye and moistened her lips, peering close to the glass to check on the progress of her impromptu grooming session. Then she became distracted by the display; a cascade of copper torpedoes and spheres, shiny red plastic chairs stacked in piles of four and lots of shimmering glassware; vases, candleholders, ornamental dishes. The kind of shop she would love to browse, if she had the time, because of the sheer audacity of its contents.
Three doors down, she entered the Coal Office restaurant, the scent of garlic and rosemary assaulting her nostrils as she spied Greg Winter seated at the bar, a half-empty high-ball glass in his hand.
‘Hi.’ Constance nudged him from his reverie. Greg leaped up and pulled back a barstool for her, his mouth lightly brushing her cheek on his body’s forward trajectory. He was wearing a navy-blue jumper and his curly hair was cut short.
‘Hi to you. It’s nice to see you again,’ he said, sinking back into his seat. ‘I had fully intended to wait to order drinks,’ Greg continued, ‘but then the cocktail list was just too tempting. There’s one here that has gin which changes colour in front of your eyes. I had to try it.’
Constance scrutinised Greg for any sign that he might have known that Judith had delivered a similar message to her once before, expounding the restorative properties of ‘hydrangea’ gin. Perhaps that was what happened when you spent time with people; you gravitated towards the same products, even without prompting. Although, Judith and Greg had not been together for some months now.
Greg was a wealthy businessman with his fingers in a number of innovative schemes. He had acted as expert witness on the first case Constance and Judith had worked on together. The reliability of some lie-detecting software had been challenged and he’d impressed them both with his honesty, in addition to his technical skills. Shortly afterwards, he and Judith had begun to see each other. Things had ended abruptly but, before that, he had taken Constance’s brother, Jermain, on in one of his pioneering garden businesses. This was the first time Constance had seen him since then.
‘Sounds interesting,’ she said. ‘And I am late, so I’m pleased you didn’t wait.’. She tucked her chair in close as the waiter wafted past, a basket of knotted bread balanced on the tips of his fingers. ‘It was nice of you to invite me.’
‘It was nice of you to accept.’
When Greg had first called, Constance had considered declining his offer; she didn’t want to be disloyal to Judith in any way. Then, she’d reasoned that, as far as she could tell, Greg had not been at fault when they split: I’m just letting you know that Greg has gone, moved out, and I don’t want to talk about it. And it was my decision, before you say anything. That was what Judith had offered, when his absence become conspicuous. On top of that, Constance was pleased that Greg should seek her out, after all this time. She had always enjoyed his company. And, finally, the factor which had clinched things for her and forced her to accept, despite those reservations – she was curious to find out what he wanted from her, while hoping it wasn’t to tell her that Jermain had done something wrong.
‘Where are you living now?’ she asked.
‘Still based in London, although I’m often travelling. But when I’m here, I’m back in Putney, my old stomping ground. You?’
‘Hackney, as always, not sure I’ll ever leave.’
‘You don’t think some Prince Charming will come and carry you off on a white charger then, to somewhere far away, like Windsor or Kew?’
‘That’s very un-PC. You do know that, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘Suggesting I need either a “Prince Charming” or to be “carried off”. I might just be happy the way I am. Or maybe I’ll do the carrying.’
Greg shrugged. ‘There we go. We haven’t even got past introductions and I’ve already offended you. You can imagine how “foot-in-mouth” I am on the modern dating scene.’
‘And what are you working on in leafy Putney?’ she laughed, fortified by the knowledge that she could discount any romantic overtures from Greg. That would have been too awkward for words.
‘The garden centre app is doing fantastically well.’
‘I heard from Jermain. I am so grateful you gave him the chance to show what he can do.’
‘Hey. I’m the one who should be grateful. He’s really performing…out-performing. I like him and, more importantly, the team likes him. I’m going to spend the rest of this year consolidating, but then we may go for a big push. There’ll be a chance for Jermain and some of the others to invest in the business, but only if they want. He might appreciate your advice then.’
Constance laughed uproariously, as well as with considerable relief. ‘Now that tells me you don’t know my little brother quite as well as you think you do, or he’s been putting on a big act for you. Jermain doesn’t accept advice from anyone.’
‘He’s lucky to have you looking out for him anyway,’ he said. ‘What about you? You said you were heading into court, when I called.’
‘A hospital pass and a nasty one. Assault. And they were convicted.’
‘Do you think they did it?’
‘I don’t know. They said they were innocent, said it was self-defence. One of them cried.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Me too. They were three young men who had never had any breaks. Sometimes it happens like that.’
‘You think you could’ve done more?’
‘Sure, with more time and an unlimited budget and a judge who hadn’t just had to release a rapist on a technicality, but that’s often the way. I mustn’t let it get to me, must I?... Can I have what you’re drinking, do you think?’
Greg held up his glass to the distant waiter, mouthed ‘two’ and received a reassuring nod in return.
‘So what now? Who’s next in line for the Lamb treatment?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been instructed by Debbie Mallard, Rosie Harper’s ex-husband?’
Greg sat up straight. ‘Wow. I saw she’d been arrested. It’ll be the trial of the century, won’t it? Judith must be excited.’
Constance turned around to see if the waiter was on his way back yet. Even though she loved working with Judith, it bothered her that Greg would assume she needed Judith’s help. ‘We haven’t had much chance to discuss it yet,’ she said.
‘Oh,’ Greg’s fingers rapped the marble worktop. ‘How is Judith?’
‘Same as ever, although she confessed you’d been giving her these podcasts to listen to, to make her more empathetic.’
Greg nearly spat out his last mouthful of gin.
‘Is that what she said?’ he laughed, and Constance noticed the dimples in his cheeks for the first time. ‘I think Judith and your brother can shake hands. As if she ever listened to anything I recommended. I didn’t know that she’d said that. How hilarious. You do know that she doesn’t really mean half the things she says, that she just pretends to be hopelessly old-fashioned and bigoted. It’s an affectation.’
‘I know that.’
‘Although, I’m sure you’re a better tonic for her than any podcast.’
‘Me?’
‘Oh yes. She told me she’d never worked with anyone like you before. Clever, determined, forward-thinking, totally reliable and always challenging her, never saying “yes” to everything, like the others did.’
‘Wow. I think my face must be the colour of that drink, if it ever arrives.’ Constance looked pointedly at the waiter, who had collected a tray from the furthest end of the bar and was finally heading in their direction. Now, she was ashamed of herself for her negativity towards Judith.
‘But,’ Greg was speaking again. ‘I invited you here this evening, because I wanted to hear all your news, so the next person who says the “J” word picks up the tab. And I am thinking of having at least two more cocktails before dinner, so you really won’t want it to be you!’