Free The Younger Man by Sarah Tucker

realisation that he is looking horrified, then brain working overtime, then recognition that he should not look horrified, and definitely not look guilty, then recognition he should smile, then smiles, then recognition that smile does not look natural, then natural smile, then shoulders down, then composure. All in all, about ten different looks, all within 3 seconds. And I witness all of them. So does Fiona. So does Brian. Thank God he’s better at acting ambivalence in the courtroom.
    He turns to me and introduces Fiona.
    ‘Hazel, this is Fiona, my girlfriend.’
    I know, she’s already introduced herself to me.
    I turn to Fiona who is staring at Joe. Her eyes look a little sad now.
    ‘I was just passing on the way to work and thought I would say hi and ask if you’re free for lunch.’
    Joe, now smiling naturally, appearing composed, as he would in any major courtroom in the country, says he is free. ‘Yes, darling, although it will have to be a short one. About one okay?’
    ‘Yes, that would be lovely.’
    Fiona Gilhoolhy faces me, eyes still sad. Smiling, she says it’s nice to meet me.
    ‘It’s very nice to meet you. I hope we meet again.’ Fiona gives Joe a hug, one of those ones you give people that mean something. It’s the sort of hug a mother gives her child, hugging tightly and gently stroking with the fingers, in an almost, there, there, motion. She closesher eyes. Joe looks stiff and uncomfortable. He’s going through another round of more shock, horror, recognition, recovery and reciprocal affection. With meaning. With eyes open. Thank heavens I can’t see my own face. I always was pretty transparent when I was younger, but I’ve learnt through personal and professional experience to present a mask which has become pretty Teflon-proof. Something Joe has yet to learn, me thinks.
    Fiona turns and goes, briefly saying hello to Brian, who looks unashamedly bemused then charmed by her presence.
    I ask Marion if she can come to my office in half an hour for some shorthand, then head straight to my office, saying nothing to either Brian or Joe, as my mind is now going faster than if I had had ten extra-strong black coffees. I close the door and ring Fran.
    ‘Hi, Hazel, how are you?’
    ‘Me, fine. Fine. Actually no, I’m not fine. You know Joe. Joe Ryan, guy I’m working with. Twenty-nine-year-old, sexy, you think there are possibilities.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, last night, we went out drinking because he felt there was tension between us and we weren’t getting on.’
    ‘There is tension between you, but it’s sexual tension, surely he knows that.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t know. Thought he did, and yes, I thought he felt the same, but he’s twenty-nine, so perhaps he’s not as smart, or emotionally smart as I thought. Anyway, as Iwas saying, we went out, had something to eat, got a bit tipsy.’
    ‘Both of you.’
    ‘Yes, both of us. And then went dancing. And then we went outside.’
    Silence.
    More confused silence other end.
    ‘And you kissed.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You had sex?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You talked.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘So let me get this right, you went outside, didn’t kiss, didn’t have sex and didn’t talk.’
    ‘Well, he held me. He held me up against a wall and breathed on me. Nearly kissed me. But didn’t say a word. He just looked into my eyes and almost kissed me and breathed on me and pushed my head back so I could feel it more and well, that was it.’
    ‘What’s he like this morning?’
    ‘Well, he was ambivalent this morning. He didn’t say anything to me about last night and I thought, hey, these things happen. Nothing happened—well, it did—but nothing happened—and it was just one of those manoeuvres to try to break the tension.’
    ‘Despite the fact that it’s probably added to it.’
    ‘Exactly. It’s just that I felt, well, that he was a game player, that he didn’t like me and was just trying to unnerve me. He was drunk and I was drunk, I should