Майкл Ридпат: The Partnership Track

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah. We spoke last night on the hotel phone when we got back to our cabins. Harald was so pleased to be in with a chance. He thought once he was made partner, that would be the time to tell Bill.’

‘So Bill didn’t know about Project Assegai?’

‘Right.’ Manuela sighed. ‘Last night, Harald wanted to come over to my cabin, but I said no. Too risky. And we both needed to work on the case.’ Another tear leaked from her still-reddened eyes. ‘I wish I’d let him, now.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Let’s go.’

We left the bench and plunged back into the woods. Downhill, the trail was even more slippery, and I nearly fell twice.

We came to a more level stretch, where it was easier to talk. ‘You know speaking about the favela yesterday makes this more difficult,’ Manuela said.

‘How? I thought it went down very well.’

‘It’s not that. It’s like Bill has driven a stake into the wall between my two lives, weakened it. It’s a big wall, but it’s got a crack in it now. Why did he have to do that?’

‘That’s what Bill does,’ I said. ‘He finds your weak spot, and he presses. Hard. He thinks he’s being clever, but actually I think he gets a kick out of it. It’s power. The power of the bully in the playground. Not the big one that goes around beating up the little kids. The clever, quick-witted one who gets everyone else scared that they are going to be the kid picked on next. They are much more effective.’

‘You’re right,’ said Manuela. ‘You know, if I was back in the favela, there would be revenge for something like this.’

‘What, an eye for an eye?’

‘And more. If there are no police to enforce the law, you have to rely on your family. People have to know that if they mess with you, your family will protect you. More than that, they will avenge you.’

‘Shame Harald didn’t have anyone like that.’

‘You know, if I called my big brother, he’d be over here like a shot.’

‘And do what?’

‘Sort someone out.’

‘Sort out who?’

‘Whoever I told him to.’

‘And who would that be? Bill?’

‘Not Bill. Whoever killed Harald.’

‘That sounds a little scary,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should just leave it to the police. That guy O’Leary seemed smart to me. He’ll figure out who did it.’

‘I hope so,’ said Manuela.

We were silent as we scrambled down the last steep bit and out on to the snow-covered meadow beside the lake. Without discussing it, we turned left, away from the lodge, along the trail around the lake. It had already been cleared, so walking was easier. I could sense that Manuela felt safe in my company, as I did in hers. We both wanted to put off raising our guards for the police and Bill and his stupid mind games.

‘Tell me about Henrietta,’ Manuela said. ‘I mean, if you want to. She’s your wife, right?’

I hesitated.

‘Sorry,’ Manuela said. ‘That really is your own business.’

‘No, it’s OK,’ I said. ‘It would be good to talk to someone about it. I haven’t had a chance yet. I don’t know about you, but I never get any time to spend with anyone outside work. “Friends” become “old friends”.’ I paused. ‘Wives become ex-wives.’

‘Really?’ Manuela sounded shocked.

‘It looks that way.’

‘She doesn’t like you working so hard? Doesn’t she realize you have to?’

‘She doesn’t like it,’ I said. ‘And I think she is smart enough to realize I don’t have to.’

‘But you’ll never make partner unless you put the hours in.’

‘I told her that.’

‘And doesn’t she understand it?’

‘Oh, yes, Henrietta understands it. She understands it better than me.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She understands that making partner is more important than spending time with her.’

‘We all have to make sacrifices,’ Manuela said.

It was funny hearing Manuela echoing my thoughts, my arguments. And a week ago, even a few days ago, I would have insisted she was right. I had told Henrietta that once I made partner we would have enough money to make our lives easier, her life easier. She had argued, claiming that partners worked harder than vice presidents. I had denied this, but she was right, of course; I just hadn’t been prepared to admit it.

‘Henrietta has actually been very supportive,’ I said. ‘She’s a lawyer, she gets that professionals have to work long hours. And she has always known I’m ambitious. She understands what I do. It’s been good.’

‘Yeah. I liked it that Harald understood me.’

‘Sorry, I—’

‘No. We’ve talked about Harald,’ Manuela said. ‘Go on. How did things change?’

‘It was my mother’s death. She died in January. I was closing the Vietnamese deal, I mean right in the final meetings with lawyers. It was a two-nighter and it was going pear-shaped. I couldn’t leave it. I didn’t have time for thinking about my mother. It sounds awful, but do you know what I mean?’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Manuela.

‘Thing is, it was awful. It is awful. My poor dad is a mess. I was working on another deal at the same time, and my dad was useless, so I had to leave all the funeral arrangements and the probate stuff to Kieran, my brother. Henrietta seemed supportive; she always seemed supportive. We drove up there and back in the day, just stayed for the funeral. But afterwards she told me that unless I changed my ways, she was leaving. She said I had got my priorities all wrong. She said my father needed me. She said I was the most important person in my mother’s life, and she deserved more of my time than that.’ I took a deep breath. ‘She said she deserved more of my time than that.’

‘Oh,’ said Manuela, neutrally.

That neutrality told me she got it. She understood what Henrietta was saying, and yet she also understood how I felt: how partnership had become the most important thing in my life.

How it was more important than Henrietta.

‘I listened. And I tried. I tried damned hard. I tried to spend more time with Henrietta and not drop the ball on any deals, and keep myself in with a chance of becoming partner. I did blow off a couple of meetings to spend time with Henrietta — we went to Barcelona for a long weekend — but then I told her about the Rajasthan trip and this one. And she left me.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. And I’m here. And I shouldn’t be. I should be with her.’

‘Can’t you call her and tell her?’

‘She insists we talk face-to-face. No phone calls.’

‘Oh.’

‘See, she does understand me.’

‘I see,’ said Manuela.

‘I don’t know why Harald died, who killed him, but he was the best one of us. He’s a much better guy than Trent or Charlie, or even Cynthia. Or me.’

‘He was certainly better than me,’ said Manuela.

I couldn’t disagree. I liked Manuela, I liked her a lot, and she certainly had more to her than Trent or Charlie, but she was much more like me than Harald.

‘But the thing is: I’m here now. I’ve made my mistake, and it’s a big mistake, but I can still have a crack at partnership. To lose Henrietta and to lose the chance of partnership would just be stupid.’

‘Let’s go back,’ said Manuela.

We turned around and walked back in a silence of togetherness, scraps of thoughts whirling and spinning in my brain: Harald and the cruelty of his death, Manuela and her loss, Henrietta and my loss, how I wished I could just pick up the phone and talk to her. She would be great in a situation like this.

And my mother.

Suddenly I was struck by an enormous weight of emotion, like a massive avalanche tumbling down the mountain and over the trees, smothering me. Grief. I had lost Mum. I would never see her again. The person who really had loved me most in the world, who had been on my side always, was gone. Gone. Gone forever.