The Undomestic Goddess
Page 10
But Daniel will stay. Once my brother starts on a bottle of wine, he feels obliged to see it through to the end.
“Miss Sweeting?” I look up to see the maître d’. He’s holding a mobile phone. “I have a message. Your mother has been held up at her chambers.”
“Oh.” I try to hide my disappointment. But I can hardly complain. I’ve done the same thing to her enough times. “So … what time will she be here?”
I think I see a flash of pity in his eyes.
“I have her here on the telephone. Her secretary will put her through.… Hello?” he says into the phone. “I have Ms. Tennyson’s daughter.”
“Samantha?” comes a crisp, precise voice in my ear. “Darling, I can’t come tonight, I’m afraid.”
“You can’t come at all?” My smile falters. “Not even … for a drink?”
Her chambers is only five minutes away in a cab, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
“Far too much on. I have a very big case on and I’m in court tomorrow—No, get me the other file,” she adds to someone in her office. “These things happen,” she resumes. “But have a nice evening with Daniel. Oh, and happy birthday. I’ve wired three hundred pounds to your bank account.”
“Oh, right,” I say. “Thanks.”
“I assume you haven’t heard about the partnership yet.”
“Not yet.”
“I heard your presentation went well.…” I can hear her tapping her pen on the phone. “How many hours have you put in this month?”
“Um … probably about two hundred …”
“Is that enough? Samantha, you don’t want to be passed over. You’ve been working toward this for a long time.”
Like I don’t know that.
Still, I suppose I should be glad she’s not badgering me about whether I’ve got a boyfriend. Mum never asks me about my personal life. She expects me to be as focused and driven as she is, if not more so. And even though we don’t talk very often anymore, even though she’s less controlling than she was when I was younger, I still feel apprehensive whenever she rings.
“There will be younger lawyers coming up behind,” she continues. “Someone in your position could easily go stale.”
“Two hundred hours is quite a lot …” I try to explain. “Compared to the others—”
“You have to be better than the others!” Her voice cuts across mine as though she’s in a courtroom. “You can’t afford for your performance to slip below excellent. This is a crucial time—Not that file!” she adds impatiently to whoever it is. “Hold the line, Samantha—”
“Samantha?”
I look up in confusion from the phone to see a girl with long swishy blond hair, wearing a powder-blue suit, approaching the table. She’s holding a gift basket adorned with a bow, and has a wide smile.
“I’m Lorraine, Daniel’s PA,” she says in a singsong voice I suddenly recognize from calling Daniel’s office. “He couldn’t make it tonight, I’m afraid. But I’ve got a little something for you—plus he’s here on the phone to say hello.…”
She holds out a lit-up mobile phone. In total confusion, I take it and press it to my other ear.
“Hi, Samantha,” comes Daniel’s businesslike drawl. “Look, babe, I’m snowed under. I can’t be there.”
Neither of them is coming?
“I’m really sorry,” Daniel’s saying. “One of those things. But have a great time with Mum, won’t you?”
I take a deep breath. I can’t admit she blew me off too. I can’t admit that I’m sitting here all on my own.
“OK!” Somehow I muster a breezy tone. “We will!”
“I’ve transferred some money to your account. Buy something nice. And I’ve sent some chocolates along with Lorraine,” he adds proudly. “Picked them out myself.”
I look at the gift basket Lorraine is proffering. It isn’t chocolates, it’s soap.
“That’s really lovely, Daniel,” I manage. “Thanks very much.”
“Happy birthday to you …”
There’s sudden chorusing behind me. I swivel round to see a waiter carrying over a cocktail glass with a sparkler. Happy Birthday Samantha is written in caramel on the steel tray, next to a miniature souvenir menu signed by the chef. Three waiters are following behind, all singing in harmony.
After a moment, Lorraine awkwardly joins in. “Happy birthday to you …”
“Miss Sweeting?” I look up to see the maître d’. He’s holding a mobile phone. “I have a message. Your mother has been held up at her chambers.”
“Oh.” I try to hide my disappointment. But I can hardly complain. I’ve done the same thing to her enough times. “So … what time will she be here?”
I think I see a flash of pity in his eyes.
“I have her here on the telephone. Her secretary will put her through.… Hello?” he says into the phone. “I have Ms. Tennyson’s daughter.”
“Samantha?” comes a crisp, precise voice in my ear. “Darling, I can’t come tonight, I’m afraid.”
“You can’t come at all?” My smile falters. “Not even … for a drink?”
Her chambers is only five minutes away in a cab, in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
“Far too much on. I have a very big case on and I’m in court tomorrow—No, get me the other file,” she adds to someone in her office. “These things happen,” she resumes. “But have a nice evening with Daniel. Oh, and happy birthday. I’ve wired three hundred pounds to your bank account.”
“Oh, right,” I say. “Thanks.”
“I assume you haven’t heard about the partnership yet.”
“Not yet.”
“I heard your presentation went well.…” I can hear her tapping her pen on the phone. “How many hours have you put in this month?”
“Um … probably about two hundred …”
“Is that enough? Samantha, you don’t want to be passed over. You’ve been working toward this for a long time.”
Like I don’t know that.
Still, I suppose I should be glad she’s not badgering me about whether I’ve got a boyfriend. Mum never asks me about my personal life. She expects me to be as focused and driven as she is, if not more so. And even though we don’t talk very often anymore, even though she’s less controlling than she was when I was younger, I still feel apprehensive whenever she rings.
“There will be younger lawyers coming up behind,” she continues. “Someone in your position could easily go stale.”
“Two hundred hours is quite a lot …” I try to explain. “Compared to the others—”
“You have to be better than the others!” Her voice cuts across mine as though she’s in a courtroom. “You can’t afford for your performance to slip below excellent. This is a crucial time—Not that file!” she adds impatiently to whoever it is. “Hold the line, Samantha—”
“Samantha?”
I look up in confusion from the phone to see a girl with long swishy blond hair, wearing a powder-blue suit, approaching the table. She’s holding a gift basket adorned with a bow, and has a wide smile.
“I’m Lorraine, Daniel’s PA,” she says in a singsong voice I suddenly recognize from calling Daniel’s office. “He couldn’t make it tonight, I’m afraid. But I’ve got a little something for you—plus he’s here on the phone to say hello.…”
She holds out a lit-up mobile phone. In total confusion, I take it and press it to my other ear.
“Hi, Samantha,” comes Daniel’s businesslike drawl. “Look, babe, I’m snowed under. I can’t be there.”
Neither of them is coming?
“I’m really sorry,” Daniel’s saying. “One of those things. But have a great time with Mum, won’t you?”
I take a deep breath. I can’t admit she blew me off too. I can’t admit that I’m sitting here all on my own.
“OK!” Somehow I muster a breezy tone. “We will!”
“I’ve transferred some money to your account. Buy something nice. And I’ve sent some chocolates along with Lorraine,” he adds proudly. “Picked them out myself.”
I look at the gift basket Lorraine is proffering. It isn’t chocolates, it’s soap.
“That’s really lovely, Daniel,” I manage. “Thanks very much.”
“Happy birthday to you …”
There’s sudden chorusing behind me. I swivel round to see a waiter carrying over a cocktail glass with a sparkler. Happy Birthday Samantha is written in caramel on the steel tray, next to a miniature souvenir menu signed by the chef. Three waiters are following behind, all singing in harmony.
After a moment, Lorraine awkwardly joins in. “Happy birthday to you …”
