Into the office after a tiring weekend at home. Busy with Ben and Harry. Taking them rollerblading in the park. Worrying the whole time in case they fall and hurt themselves and Social Care visit again. You, Caprice, moaning to Miles about how difficult I am. Telling him I need to see a psychiatrist. I think it is you who needs help. But then even psychiatrists can’t do much with evil psychopaths. So, basically, I’ve come into the office for a rest.

I boot up my computer and clamp my earphones to my head. I turn up the classical music. Brahms. A bit of Brahms always helps me to relax. I close my eyes and imagine I am dancing to the music. Spinning and pirouetting on points across fields. Leaping over hedgerows. Racing through beautiful countryside. Someone taps me on the shoulder. I open my eyes. Ted is standing in front of me, perspiring in his heavy wool suit. I switch off my earphones and pull them from my head.

‘Ted. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

‘I need to talk to you.’

‘Sit down. Fire away.’

He leans forwards, eyes burning into mine. ‘Our loan will run out in six months. Jenny Bletchley didn’t bite, did she?’

I shake my head. ‘No. I just couldn’t relate to her. She was selfish and unreasonable. You can’t win them all.’

‘Well we need to win some more business soon.’ He sighs and pats me on the shoulder.

‘Don’t worry. Six months is a reasonable length of time, and I’m hoping to raise some money from home, before too long,’ I reply with a smile.

114

Caprice

I press speed dial on my phone.

‘The Law Society. Can I help you?’ a crisp, sharp female voice answers.

‘I sent a letter of complaint to you about the solicitors Belgravia Private Clients of Ebury Street, two weeks ago. I haven’t received an acknowledgement yet.’

The owner of the crisp sharp voice takes a breath. ‘Did you fill in the online complaint form?’ she asks.

‘No. I sent a letter.’

‘Snail mail is no good anymore. You need to follow the Law Society’s complaints procedure and fill in an online form.’ My stomach knots. Online forms are not my forte. ‘You’ll find the link on our website.’

‘Thank you,’ I reply as crisply as I can.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I sigh inside as I boot up my computer. I take a deep breath as I download the form. It sprawls across the computer screen in front of me, print so small it makes my head ache. They want detail. So much detail. How can I proceed with this?

115

Hayley