"I travel a lot," said Donovan.
"Exactly, but any court is going to want to see your son in a stable environment."
"So I've got to get a nine-to-five job, is that it?"
"Not necessarily, but you'd have to show some legitimate means of support. Your wife will do all she can to demonstrate that you are not a suitable parent."
Patterson leaned forward.
"What about Den's other .. . activities? Is she likely to bring them out into the open?"
Lau pushed her glasses a little higher up her bump of a nose.
"I doubt that her counsel would recommend that. If she were to highlight any, shall we say, criminal activities, that would be evidence that she was aware of them, and if she were to have profited from them would thereby identify herself as an accomplice. She'd be risking any assets she had. If I were her counsel, I would be advising her to stick to more parental concerns. Your lack of a regular job, your frequent absences from the family home, personal traits."
"Personal traits?"
"Abuse, physical, verbal or psychological. Whether you'd shown an interest in raising Robbie prior to the separation. Did you, for instance, attend parent teacher meetings? Take Robbie to the doctor? The dentist? School sports days?"
Donovan grimaced. He'd fallen down on all counts.
"Now, in view of your wife's infidelity, which under the circumstances I think will be uncontested, we can make a very good case for you being granted custody of Robbie."
Donovan relaxed a little. Finally, some good news.
"However," continued Lau, 'even if you were to be granted sole custody, that doesn't necessarily mean that you will be allowed to take Robbie overseas."
"Why not?" interrupted Donovan.
"Because even if you are granted sole custody, your wife would still have visitation rights, and those rights would be compromised if your son was living outside the country."
"But she's the one who left," protested Donovan.
"She went running off with her tail between her legs."
Lau scribbled a note on a yellow legal pad.
"Do you know where she is?"
"I've got people looking."
"If we could show that she is herself resident overseas, I think there might be less of a problem convincing a court that you be allowed to take Robbie abroad."
"We'll see," said Donovan. If he did find out where his errant wife was, custody wouldn't be an issue. A sudden thought struck him. He nodded at the injunction.
"Her lawyer did that, right?"
Lau nodded.
"If we get to a custody battle, could she do it all through her lawyer or would she have to appear in court?"
"Oh, she'd have to be there," said Lau.
"Quite definitely. The judge might well have questions for her, and we'd have to argue against their case. You'd both have to give evidence."
Donovan smiled and sat back in the sofa. If the mountain couldn't go to Mohammed, maybe he could get Mohammed to come to the mountain. If she wanted Robbie, she'd have to come and get him.
"There is the question of a retainer," said Lau.
"Julia," said Patterson, frowning.
"Den is a long-standing and valued client, there's no need .. ."
"That's okay, Laurence," said Donovan, taking a thick envelope out of his pocket. He handed it to Lau.
Lau opened the flap. If she was surprised by the wad of fifty-pound notes inside, she did a credit job of concealing it. She ran her thumb along the notes. Ten thousand pounds.
"Cash," she said thoughtfully.
"That'll do nicely."
Donovan looked over at Patterson and the two men grinned. Donovan nodded. Julia Lau was okay.
Sitting outside the headmistress's study brought back memories of Donovan's own schooldays. Donovan's alma mater was a prewar soot-stained brick building in Salford, with half a dozen Portakabins at one side of the playground for overspill classes. Most of the school's pupils left at sixteen, and in all the time Donovan was there he didn't recall anyone going on to university. Robbie's school was a world apart, all the children squeaky-clean in uniforms that cost as much as a Savile Row suit and no more than twenty pupils in a class. After-school activities for Donovan had been a quick cigarette behind the bike sheds, but Robbie and his peers could choose from a host of sports and activities, all supervised by teachers who actually seemed to enjoy their work.
One wall of the waiting room was covered with awards and trophies that the school had won, with pride of place given over to a large framed photograph of the Duke of Edinburgh paying a visit in the late 19805.
The door to the headmistress's study opened and for a crazy moment Donovan felt a surge of irrational guilt as if he were about to be given six whacks of a slipper. That had been the punishment of choice meted out when he was at school it never left a mark but it hurt like hell.
"Mr. Donovan? So nice to see you." The headmistress was a tall, thin woman with sharp features and long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. She offered Donovan an elegant hand with carefully painted nails, and they shook. She led him through to her office. Unlike Patterson's office there were no comfy sofas, just an old-fashioned walnut desk with a dark green leather blotter. A brass nameplate on the desk read "Andrea Stephenson. Headmistress' No Mrs. or Miss, or even Ms. Just her name and her title. A high-backed dark brown leather executive chair sat on one side of the desk, two simple wooden chairs facing it. Donovan could hear the computer on a side table buzzing quietly to itself.
She walked quickly behind the desk and sat down.
"I'm so glad finally to get to meet you, Mr. Donovan," she said. She ran her fingers along a pale blue file on the blotter. It was probably Robbie's file, thought Donovan, in which case she knew exactly how long it had been since Donovan had sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair.
"We are obviously a little bit concerned about Robbie's recent absence from school," she said. She put on a pair of wire-framed reading glasses, opened the file and glanced down at it.
"Robbie's aunt has been our point of contact, I gather."
"My sister. Laura."
"She telephoned to say that Robbie was unwell."
That's right."
The headmistress looked at Donovan over the top of her spectacles.
"Why didn't Mrs. Donovan phone us? Or you?"
"I've been overseas," said Donovan.
"Robbie's doing okay, is he?"
"Robbie's doing just fine," said the headmistress.
"A little boisterous, but then what nine-year-old isn't? It's not Robbie's behaviour that concerns me so much as his absence, however, I'm putting two and two together and getting the feeling that perhaps there are problems at home? Would I be right in that assumption?"
Donovan nodded and linked his fingers in his lap, though what he really wanted to do was to wipe the patronising smile off the headmistress's face.
"Robbie's mother has left the matrimonial home," said Donovan.
"I'll be taking care of him from now on."
"You and Mrs. Donovan are separating?"
"Robbie caught her in bed with my accountant."
"My God," said the headmistress, a look of horror on her face.
Donovan felt a surge of satisfaction at her reaction, but kept his feelings hidden. He stared impassively at her.
"Exactly," said Donovan.
"Now she's gone A.W.O.L. and I'm taking care of Robbie."
"Would you like me to talk to Robbie?" said the headmistress.
"I think he's okay. He's taking it well enough. No, what I'm here for is to make sure that you understand the position. My wife isn't to go near Robbie."
The headmistress frowned.
"I'm not sure I follow you."
"She's served me an injunction preventing me from taking him abroad, so until we overturn that, he has to stay put. It looks like she's going to try to get custody, and as part of that I think she might try to snatch him back."