The Younger Man by Sarah Tucker Page A

away, which I have decided to do this morning, but she’s got to work on Joe, not me. He’sthe one that owes her something—I owe her nothing. I don’t want to feel pity, because that’s negative. I just feel compassion because I think she’s going to get hurt because his feelings have changed for her. If she loves him and is in love with him—which I can only guess she is, she’ll get hurt very deeply and if she isn’t, she won’t. For her sake I hope it’s the latter.
    I don’t see Joe again that day. I’m too busy with cases and backlogs and I’m due to go to New York next week on business, so I try to focus on work. And work only.
    That evening, I’m in the house by myself again. Sarah is out on a field trip this week for geography somewhere in the West Country, and I’m nesting by the TV with Minstrels and some hypo health drink and a rerun of The Office.
    My mobile rings. My phone says Joe Ryan’s mobile is calling me. But I don’t want to speak to him tonight. So I let it ring and click on to the answer machine.
    It rings again five minutes later. Joe Ryan mobile again. Persistent, but perhaps it’s to do with work. These things can wait. If he leaves a message I will listen. But not now.
    Another few minutes, another call. Still Joe Ryan. According to my phone another message left.
    Okay, I’ll listen. First message. Sounds strong and almost businesslike.
    ‘Sorry about today. I didn’t expect Fiona and she wanted to meet you. I understand if you don’t want to go out for supper, but would like to go out for a drink with you. During daylight. Less risky.’
    Second message. Not as strong. Bit vulnerable sounding.
    ‘Perhaps the drink is not such a good idea.’
    Last message. Sounding tense. Almost desperate.
    ‘I’m sorry about this, Hazel. I never meant this to happen. I love Fiona very much and don’t want to hurt her. I know you understand. I have been thinking about you a lot, and I have been going through a difficult patch with Fiona, but, well, thank you for understanding. And thank you for last night. It was fun but, well, you know.’ Click.
    Right, well, that was it. One non-kiss, a bit of dirty dancing and I’ve known him for no more than a few weeks, just over. I’ve worked on several cases with him, so I know he’s a good solicitor and wears sharp suits, but that’s all I know about him and he’s now calling me one evening at home and telling me that he’s leaving his girlfriend of twelve years because he’s met me. He doesn’t say it in so many words but this is the gist of it. I’m the catalyst to him realising he can’t stay in an unhappy relationship. But there’s no guarantee I want to be with him or go out with him. Christ, don’t know if I even want to sleep with him now.
    But at least he knows he can’t have one and the other, sandwiched between Fiona and Hazel—both of whom deep down know what is happening and won’t be treated badly. If the women are mug enough to let him get away with it, I wouldn’t blame him. But I won’t allow it, and neither I feel will Fiona. So I go to bed thinking of Joe Ryan as in past tense—it was a nice non-fling, can handle this and fall asleep dreaming of Johnny Depps, rather than sheep. One Johnny Depp. Two Johnny Depps. Three Johnny Depps…
    Next morning I see Joe and feel sick. I can’t be pregnant because we haven’t slept together. So unless it’s the immaculate conception or they’re now putting something in the Minstrels, I think I’m feeling lust. But I’m busy. I’m keeping busy with the Benson case because it’s escalating into a slanging match. Both parties starting behaving more childlike than the children. Feeling vindication in every vindictiveness. So both sets of solicitors are trying to be focused on what is best for the children, which, at the moment, seems to be adoption.
    Joe is still shadowing me on some work, but thankfully I am seeing less of him during the day. But as soon as we enter the