boots and the regulation big buckle belt. The bison motif reminded Jordan of the shoulder-hunched photograph of Alfred Appleton.
‘You’re in charge: you tell me.’ And then I’ll tell you, Jordan thought, a decision already formulating.
Beckwith snatched a glance across the car as he began the manoeuvre to get to the Triboro bridge and the Van Wyke expressway for the airport. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘I’m where I don’t want to be, facing – by your calculations – a potential financial judgement against me of millions, is what’s the matter.’
‘You got your head up your own ass, Harv,’ declared Beckwith, taking the macho car up the ramp towards the bridge, the traffic easier going out of Manhattan than it appeared to be getting in from the unmoving, traffic- congealed contra flow. ‘That cost estimate was before we got yesterday’s squeaky clean medical report. Which turned your problems a hundred and eight degrees in your favour: you’re now back on the sunny side of the street. Sit back, smile and enjoy the warmth.’
‘No!’ refused Jordan. ‘There are things we need to get straight between us, Daniel! And listen. I use your full, complete Christian name, don’t try to abbreviate it. You want to play out some macho fantasy with the way you dress and the car you drive, that’s fine. That’s your fantasy: get your rocks off. But I don’t like being called Harv, when my name is Harvey. And I don’t like having appointments made for me before I even know they’re being made, what those appointments are for or why, even, they’re necessary. I’ve wiped my own ass since I was about five, without any help from anyone, and hope I can go on doing it without leaving stains on my underwear for a long time in the future. As I intend doing a lot more – everything – for myself in the future.’
Beckwith snatched another glance as they turned into the La Guardia slip road. ‘Sounds to me like you’ve made your decision about your legal representation. So why you bothering to come down to Raleigh with me today?’
‘I have made my decision,’ confirmed Jordan. ‘My decision is that I want to be called Harvey when we talk and that I want to be consulted in advance before arrangements are made on my behalf and that I don’t want to be lectured about losing my temper – because I’ve got that completely on board and totally under control. But I want to continue with your representing me because we’re a long way down the track now and I really don’t want to go back – or down to Raleigh to find somebody else – to start all over again.’
‘Which isn’t exactly an overwhelming vote of confidence.’
‘Which it wasn’t intended to be. It was intended to tell you how I felt and how I’d like things to be between us from now on.’
‘Otherwise…?’
‘Otherwise we’ll have another conversation, very similar to this. And I will go down to Raleigh. Which brings us back to your choice.’
Beckwith took the car into the short stay parking lot, ignoring three available spaces until he found one that he wanted, close to a side wall. He hesitated after they got out to walk side by side with Jordan, still unspeaking, into the terminal. When they reached the departure pier he handed Jordan his ticket, deferring to him to check in first. The flight was already being called and they continued on into the aircraft. On the plane Beckwith stood back for Jordan to choose his seat and as always Jordan took the aisle.
Finally, when they’d settled in their seats, Beckwith said, ‘You travelled around America a lot, Harvey?’
‘Not a lot. Las Vegas, of course. The west coast a few times. New Orleans, before the hurricane disaster.’ It would have been a mistake to acknowledge the name correction.
‘Pity we couldn’t have driven to Raleigh and back in one day. Great country.’
‘I’ve changed my mind about returning to England too quickly,’ announced Jordan. ‘I’ll have to go back sometime, of course. But I want first to make sure everything is on track here: get a much clearer idea how it’s going to work out.’
‘Maybe a good idea. It’s your decision.’
‘Based upon your guidance.’
‘That’s what you’re paying me for.’
‘How are we going to do this meeting with Bob Reid?’
‘Officially it’s between attorneys. But there’s no reason for you not joining in if you think you’ve got a point to make that we’ve missed.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ He’d corrected the situation to where it should have been from the beginning, Jordan decided. It was a good feeling, the best he’d had for several days.
Raleigh, the first American state capital Jordan had visited, was hung with direction signs to the sites and events of its early settler history like flags at a victory celebration and Jordan got a tourist’s commentary to each and every one of them from Daniel Beckwith as the lawyer drove their hire car in from the airport, culminating in a brief detour to Capitol Square to see the horse-mounted statues of the three North Carolina-born statesmen who’d risen to become United States presidents.
They were only five minutes late getting to Reid’s offices, just two streets away from the square, and were ushered directly in. The first person Jordan saw, before the waiting lawyer, was Alyce Appleton.
She wore a dark grey trouser suit, brightened by a pink sweater, but it still reminded Jordan of Lesley Corbin’s official business uniform. Alyce had on the dark framed spectacles, too, but the thin wedding band was no longer next to the diamond engagement ring. She wore little make-up but Jordan remembered she hadn’t in the South of France.
Jordan’s initial thought was how difficult it was to imagine the antipathy he now felt towards someone with whom he had so recently – no more than three months, he guessed – made such uninhibited love.
Looking more towards the two lawyers than the woman, Jordan said, I didn’t understand this was how it was going to be?’
‘Neither did I,’ frowned Beckwith, turning accusingly towards the other lawyer.
‘It was obviously necessary for me to inform my client what was happening-’ began Reid.
‘And I insisted on being here as well,’ broke in Alyce, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
‘I saw no legal bar,’ finished the Raleigh lawyer. He was a plump, red-faced, jowly man who needed the tightness of the waistcoat as well as the fastened jacket of his black pinstriped suit to hold in his stomach to prevent himself looking fatter than he was. The owl-round glasses looked precarious on his button nose.
‘It might have been better if we’d discussed it earlier between the two of us,’ said Beckwith, cautiously.
‘I thought we already had. If your client can be present, so can mine,’ said Reid, an asthmatic catch in his voice. ‘We’re both present to guard against conflicting problems… which I don’t anticipate there being.’ He looked at Jordan. ‘Do you have any objection to Alyce being here?’
Daniel Beckwith outmanoeuvred before they’d crossed the threshold of a court, thought Jordan, feeling wrong-footed himself. ‘Not if it will achieve more quickly what I want to be achieved. You’re the lawyers, to judge it legally.’
‘I want a written, without prejudice, understanding between us,’ insisted Beckwith.
‘As I do,’ said Reid. ‘With the attachment of a memorandum of agreement from your client. Alyce has already signed hers. I’ve taken the liberty of having the documentation prepared.’
Something else done for him without his knowledge or agreement, Jordan recognized, looking at Beckwith, who nodded. Jordan said, ‘OK by me.’ He signed first and while the two lawyers were completing the formality he said to Alyce, ‘Hello, belatedly.’
‘Hello.’
Neither smiled.
Jordan said, ‘So much for not exchanging addresses.’
‘I’m sorry… about all of it… about everything. I really didn’t know… suspect… it’s awful and I really am very sorry… embarrassed, too. Extremely embarrassed.’
‘I thought I was going to be sorrier than I already am until late yesterday afternoon.’
Alyce frowned, shaking her head. ‘I don’t understand…?’
‘It wasn’t until late yesterday afternoon that I got the all-clear from the venerealogist.’
Alyce flushed, visibly. ‘You surely didn’t think?’
‘Of course I surely thought,’ Jordan cut her off, mocking her words, close to letting the anger erupt. ‘You really surprised that I surely thought?’
‘This wasn’t set up as a fight,’ broke in Reid.
