Chapter 6

Smith & Jones Solicitors was a seven partner firm formed in the early nineteen-eighties by David Smith and Maurice Jones. The firm quickly established a reputation for quality service and as Milton Keynes grew, so did the firm. The latest expansion plans were for three new partners (and the staff to work under them) in the next eighteen months.

Each partner headed up a different department within the firm, specialising in two or more areas of law. Each department was supported by at least two Associate solicitors, several other solicitors, legal executives, trainees and secretarial staff.

Matt was an associate for the senior partner, Maurice Jones. Their department concentrated on will writing and financial planning, probate, and domestic conveyancing. Maurice tended to keep the most complex and valuable probate matters for himself, but just occasionally he handed one over to someone else.

After a regular Friday morning meeting between Maurice, Matt and the department's other associate, Maurice asked Matt to remain behind.

'Just a quick word, Matthew. I understand that you may have the chance to bring a rather large account the firm's way. A client for the corporate department, I believe.'

'My, news travels fast. I shall have to watch what I say to Jerry in the future. He wasn't supposed to say anything yet. Roy, the client, may not even bring the case to us.'

'I'm sure that if you work on him then he'll see the benefit. This Roy is an old friend of yours?'

'We were at school together, yes.'

'We really should try everything we can to bring him on board. Perhaps you could set up a meeting with the partners, and yourself and Jerry, of course.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

'Jolly good. You understand, Matthew, that we expect partners to secure this sort of new business.'

Matt nodded.

Maurice smiled. 'Matthew, have you heard of Sir Francis Wingfield?'

'Isn't he one of David's clients?'

'Yes. He's been a client of the firm since the early days. You may remember I rewrote his will last year. I asked you to double check the trusts for me.'

'Yes, I remember, ' Matt said. 'They were horribly complex.'

'Quite. Well, Sir Francis passed away in the early hours yesterday. As co-executors, David and I think that this is an ideal opportunity for you to, er, show us what you're made of. Think you can handle an estate of this size?'

'I'm sure I can, Maurice.'

'Good. That's what I like to see, a bit of confidence in a young man.' Maurice reached for a thick file on his desk and handed it to Matt. 'I've already put the wheels in motion to prove the will. Sir Francis kept his affairs in pretty good order, but you may like to meet with his accountant to clear things in your own mind. Details are in the file.'

'I'll do that.'

'Very Good. That'll be all.'

Matt rose to leave. On his way out he stopped. 'Maurice. Thank you for this opportunity.'

'Not at all, Matthew. Now, don't forget to set up that meeting.'

Matt knew that this estate was his test. If he handled it smoothly, kept the family happy, and wrapped up the whole thing neatly, then he was likely to be offered a partnership. He couldn't help wonder if Roy's potential business had anything to do with him being given this case.

He didn't want to be disturbed while he worked his way through the assets of the late Sir Francis Wingfield, so Matt diverted all his calls to voicemail and told reception to tell anyone who came looking for him that he was out for the day.

He didn't check his voicemail until lunchtime, and got a shock when he did. The third message was from Roy.

'Hey, Matt. Guess you're out seeing to another of your rich dead clients. Give us a call as soon as you can, I'd like to arrange a meeting with that guy you told me about, what was his name, Mc-something. Anyway, him. My number's... '

Matt checked when Jerry would be free, then called Roy back.

'Matt, Hi. Thanks for calling back.'

'No, problem. Look, Roy, if it's about your wills, I haven't... '

'God, no. That was Kelly's idea. She's convinced that I'll wind up paying the taxman too much when I die. Personally I don't plan to die for a great many years, by that time they'll have changed the rules and I'll need a new will anyway. Maybe she's planning to bump me off early for my money.' Roy laughed heartily. Matt chuckled politely.

'No, ' Roy continued, 'I decided to use your guy as soon as I knew you were working down here. If you say this Mc-thingy is the best, then I believe you.'

'McTaggart. Jerry McTaggart. And he is the best. When would you like to see him?'

'Monday, if he's free. Bring him to the office around lunchtime and introduce us. He and I can talk about how I can resolve this mess I'm in and you can take Kelly for lunch and show her those wills.'

'That shouldn't be a problem. Oh, and the partners have heard that you might be bringing your business to us. They'd like to meet you too.'

'Another Champagne reception, huh? God, it's a hard life I lead. Let me talk with McTaggart first, and then we'll think about celebrating with your partners.'

The weekend dragged. Matt spent most of Saturday in the office, working on the Wingfield estate and drafting Kelly and Roy's wills. He needed to talk to someone. Normally that would have been Jerry, who'd have had a joke handy to make things seem better. But Jerry was busy preparing for his meeting with Roy. This case could be to Jerry what Wingfield was to Matt. How could Matt tell him that he was about to have an affair with his new client's wife?

He picked up the phone to call Laura twice, both times getting no further than dialling the area code. Laura was Kelly's best friend; she was hardly likely to be impartial.

His first taste of Kelly had been pure fantasy, the second, in his office, had felt unreal. But he wanted more, much more. He wanted to be able to hold her in his arms whenever he could, to laugh and joke and do all the other things that lovers did. But he knew any kind of relationship carried risks, to both his career and Jerry's partnership. How did he get himself into this?

Still desperate to talk to someone, Matt got in his car Sunday morning and headed up the motorway once again. There was one person he knew he could always talk to. She might be old, her body frail, but her mind was razor sharp.

'Oh, Matthew.' Her smile was as wide as her face would allow. 'How's my favourite grandson?'

'Nana, I'm your only grandson.'

'I know, darling. Have you come to treat me to Sunday lunch? You know how much I hate the food here.'

'Nana, the food here is excellent. It's one of the reasons I picked it for you.'

'I know, darling. But if I said I liked it, then you'd never take me out. And I wouldn't get to ride in that nice car of yours.'

Nana Edith was in her nineties. She'd insisted she could take care of herself after her husband died, but when she slipped on her frozen doorstep and broke her hip one winter, the family decided that a care home would be better for her. She'd always had faith in her only grandson, and made him her attorney. Matt picked the very best home he could find, even though it meant having to pay a portion of the fees himself. He made a point of visiting her at least once a month and taking her out for lunch at the local carvery. Nana Edith's delight every time she rode in the Audi was the only reason that Matt still had it. Last time he mentioned changing it, possibly for a new Jaguar, Nana had kicked up such a fuss that he promised her he'd keep it for as long as she still lived.

At the restaurant, the hostess said there was an hour-long wait for a table. Matt led his grandmother to a seat in the bar, where a teenage waitress took their drinks order.

'I'll have a large sweet sherry, my dear, and my grandson will have a glass of your finest single malt whisky.'

'I can't, Nana. I have to drive home.'

'Poppycock, darling. One won't hurt. He's a lawyer you know, ' she added to the waitress. She patted Matt's arm lovingly. 'I'm very proud of him. He'll make someone a wonderful husband.'

The waitress blushed and went to fetch the order. Matt said, 'I wish you wouldn't do that, Nana.'

'Do what, darling?'

'Try and palm me off on every pretty girl you see. That waitress is only a kid '" she must be at least ten years younger than me.'

'I was twelve years younger than your grandfather, and don't you forget it. Anyway, I just want to see you up the aisle before I pass into the next life.'

The waitress returned and placed Matt's whisky on the table in front of him. 'My Gran's exactly the same, ' she said with a smile. 'Won't take no for an answer.'

'And so she shouldn't, ' said Nana Edith.

While they waited for a table, Matt told his Nana all about the Wingfield estate. She was very impressed. She told him all the old folk gossip from the home and asked how that '—nice, young, Jerry' was. The hour passed quickly and they were seated before they knew it.

'Nana, ' Matt said as he poured thick gravy over his meal. 'Do you remember Kelly Larson?'

'Pretty blonde girl you went to school with? Yes, I remember her. She was a bit stuck up for my liking.'

'I saw her, a couple of weeks ago.'

'Really?'

'At that reunion I went to. Remember?'

'Oh, yes, darling. Wonderful things, reunions. Didn't you used to fancy her?'

Matt nodded. 'Just a little. She married Roy Lakeland, you know.'

'Roy Lakeland? That computer man?'

'Yep.'

'Lucky girl. He's got even more money than you hasn't he, darling?'

'Nana, my life seems to have gotten a bit, well, complicated.' He went on to explain.