Chapters (36)
Sarah knew only too well that a good lawyer must be brilliant, effective, always on the offensive. A lawyer should reassure her client, persuade, seduce. In a big commercial firm like Johnson & Lockwood, there were millions of dollars at stake. She imagined the questions everyone would be asking. Could they count on her now, and for how much longer? Could they entrust her with the big accounts, the long-term cases that might stretch out for years? Would she even be there by the time they came to court? Would she be able to give up her time – the white nights, the weekends at work. Would she even have the strength?
Johnson called her into his office on the top floor. He seemed annoyed. He would have preferred the news to come from Sarah herself. They had always trusted one another – why hadn’t she said anything? For the first time, Sarah realized that there was something in his voice that she disliked. That note of condescension, the pseudo-paternal tone he took with her – the tone he had always used, come to think of it. It made her sick. She wanted to tell him that it was her body, her health, she didn’t have to keep him informed. That was the one thing she could still control: she could choose not to talk about it. She could tell him to fuck off, with his expression of false concern. She knew perfectly well what was worrying him: not how she was feeling, nor even whether she would still be there in a year’s time, no, what really interested him was what she could still do; that was it, whether or not she could handle her caseload like before. In a word, whether she was still worthwhile.
But of course, she said nothing of the kind. She kept a cool head. With considerable aplomb, she tried to reassure Johnson: no, she wouldn’t be taking extended leave. She wouldn’t even take scraps of time off. She would be there. Ill, admittedly, but there. She would do her job and follow all her cases through.
Listening to herself speak, she felt suddenly as if she was standing before the judge and jury at a bizarre trial that had just got underway: her own. She was the accused, casting about for arguments to prop up her defence. But why? What was she guilty of? Had she done anything wrong? Why was she the one who had to justify herself?
Back in her office, she tried to tell herself that nothing would change. But she knew she was wrong. Deep down inside, she knew that Johnson was already looking around for alternatives.
Perhaps Curst – even M. – wasn’t her worst enemy, after all.