Chapter 3
Tuesday 22nd May
By eleven o’clock the next morning Isobel was dressed in a black skirt, white blouse and grey jacket – more consultant clothes. She carefully arranged the silver wig to cover her hair, put on a little neutral make-up and added her glasses.
Her journey took over an hour and she walked slowly the last bit of the way, arriving in the reception of the office at a quarter to one.
Patricia looked up as she entered. “Hello, can I help you?”
Isobel almost laughed out loud. “Yes, I was hoping to have a quick word with Peter Wright – I’m an old friend of his.”
At the sound of her voice, Patricia started but quickly covered it up. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
The white-haired Mrs Brown looked up with interest. Isobel turned to the wall paintings behind her, preventing any conversation. Mrs Brown resumed typing.
Peter came out to reception.
When Isobel turned he looked at her blankly.
“Hi, Peter. I hope this is an OK time to call.”
Peter’s eyes opened wide. “Yes, yes.”
Isobel quickly added, “Sorry to surprise you but I hoped that you would be free at lunchtime.”
Peter, smiling now, said, “Good to see you. Come in, come in.” Turning to Patricia, he said, “Why don’t you two head on to lunch? There are no meetings now until mid-afternoon so there’s no need to rush back.”
“Great, thanks.” Patricia turned to Mrs Brown. “We don’t often get an opportunity like this, so let’s make the most of it.”
“Let’s,” said Mrs Brown with a smile as she got to her feet.
Patricia quickly shepherded Mrs Brown out of the office, suggesting places for them to go to have their long lunch.
Isobel belatedly wondered if they were doing anything illegal. Hopefully Peter, the solicitor, was keeping them on the right side of the law. She followed him into his office.
Peter laughed and handed her the contract that Patricia had prepared to be re-signed. “God, I didn’t recognise you.”
“I just thought this might help me carry off the role better.”
“Where did you get the wig at such short notice?”
Isobel shrugged her shoulders, “Oh, it was something I was doing last year.”
“An acting job?”
Isobel looked pointedly at the documents, turning the pages. “Something like that.”
Familiarising herself with the contract, Isobel realised that Patricia had left small pieces of bright Post-It paper stuck to the relevant pages where signatures were needed. She was certainly efficient.
Peter instructed her on what to say to the couple on arrival and then said, “Now you’re ready to meet Anne and Thomas Banks.”
Isobel nodded and, taking a deep breath, went out and took her place at Patricia’s desk in reception. She checked the documents again and made sure that she had a pen ready.
She’d not been seated long when she heard the lift door open. Coming towards her were a man and woman. The woman – Mrs Banks, she presumed – was about 5 foot 7 inches tall, slim, with long blonde hair, and she was beautiful. She appeared poised and confident but distant. The man beside her, standing about 6 foot 2 inches and broad-shouldered, was sallow-complexioned with dark-brown hair and eyes. He moved with an easy grace and seemed very self-assured. Isobel suspected that he was very aware of his impact on others. They were a very attractive couple.
Standing up, Isobel assumed her role.
“Mrs Banks,” she said, coming around the desk and shaking the woman’s hand, “Thank you so much for coming. I really appreciate your understanding and help in this matter. Patricia was so upset about the mistake she made and afraid of losing her job, so thank you for solving the problem at this stressful time for her. Her son is still not very well but we’re hoping that he’ll turn the corner in the next few days.”
Anne Banks withdrew her hand and flexed her lips in what could be described as a smile.
Mr Banks stepped forward, extending his hand. “Thomas Banks.” His hand was warm and soft. He held Isobel’s hand gently as he continued. “We hope so too. Having a son ourselves, we understand the stress involved when a child is sick. Hopefully he’ll improve soon.” He turned slightly to his wife. “Thankfully, whenever our Tommy was sick Anne was there to mind him. It makes such a difference. Of course, with the stress of a sick child, we can all make a mistake. And Peter says that coming in today will expedite things and hopefully there’ll be no further delays.” At this he smiled, flashing white teeth.
Isobel could feel the power of his charm and his persuasiveness. He still had hold of her hand and she gently extracted it.
Rehearsing the lines Peter had fed her, she said, “The final documents are being drawn up and should be ready next Wednesday as arranged. This seemed the easiest way to remedy the mistake and ensure that nothing holds up the final signing.”
“Excellent.”
Peter appeared at the door of his office and Thomas Banks, with a small nod, made his way towards him.
Isobel moved towards Anne Banks and said with a smile, “What age is your son?”
“Nine.”
“Ah, getting big now!”
“Yes, he is.”
“Was he sick much when he was younger?”
“No, not really.”
Isobel waited, still looking attentively at her.
“As Thomas said, I was always there for him,” the woman said.
“This must be a very difficult time for you.”
Anne Banks turned away, saying brusquely, “It is. I’m finding it all upsetting and I just want to get the paperwork done.”
Isobel was startled but quickly pulled her face into an inscrutable mask.
Thomas Banks came back and, taking his wife by the arm, escorted her into Peter’s office.
Isobel followed them in.
They seated themselves across the desk from Peter.
“Yes,” said Thomas. “It’s been a trying few months, hasn’t it, Anne?” He looked at her. “We just want to get things in order so we can move on with our lives and do our best for Tommy.”
She nodded quickly. “Yes, as best we can.”
Isobel opened the documents at the first page requiring a signature and handed over the pen. Anne paused and then, collecting herself, studiously scribed her name. Isobel turned to the page for the next signature. Anne took her time signing.
Thomas stood up immediately it was done. “So everything is in order again and we can proceed?”
“Yes,” said Peter, getting to his feet.
“Great. Please pass our best wishes for her son on to your secretary.”
“Of course.”
“See you next week.” He shepherded Anne towards the door.
Isobel hurried forward in her secretarial role, to escort them out. In the outer office they left with a brief goodbye and she returned to Peter’s office.
It had all taken fifteen minutes.
Peter was sitting behind his desk again. “Not much time for you to decide. What do you think?”
Isobel looked at him and was silent, pursing her lips. What was going on?