Page 122 of Someone Else's Shoes
‘Ah. Nisha,’ he says, and motions at her to sit down. He does not stand up.
‘Not with her,’ she says.
He holds her gaze, as if trying to assess whether this is an argument he wants to pursue. But then he turns to Charlotte. ‘Give us a minute, darling. Perhaps you can make sure everything is cleared from the room.’
‘But not my clothes,’ says Nisha. And then adds, mischievously, ‘Darling.’
Charlotte, perhaps aggrieved at being denied her moment of triumph, gives Nisha a sharp, resentful look as she stands. She stalks off towards the elevators with a toss of her hair.
‘Where’s Ari?’ Nisha says, sitting down.
‘Why do you want to know?’
‘Just wanted to make sure he’s not breaking into anybody else’s house. A public service, if you like.’
‘I can’t think what you’re talking about,’ he says, and smiles blankly. He spies the carrier-bag by her shoes.
‘So now you’re carrying plastic bags instead of Chanel handbags. Classy.’
‘I didn’t think the moment deserved much more.’
He laughs then. ‘Nisha, Nisha. I always enjoyed your sharp tongue. So – are they in there?’
He reaches forward, but she scoots the bag back under her feet.
‘I want to see the settlement. I’m assuming it’s all drawn up.’
‘I want the shoes first.’
‘Why would I be here if I wasn’t bringing the shoes?’
‘I don’t know, darling. Your behaviour has always been a mystery to me.’
‘You’ll get them when I see the settlement.’
He sighs, shakes his head. He motions to a bespectacled man in a suit she hasn’t noticed before, but who has clearly been waiting at a nearby table. The man hurries over and presents Nisha with a sheaf of papers. She looks down. A typewritten agreement of several pages, the first headedSeparation Agreement.
‘Well?’ he says.
‘I need to read it,’ she says. She looks up, and sees Ari in the corner, watching her. She scans the room. Frederik the manager is by the desk talking to one of the receptionists, a man she does not recognize. As he talks he glances over twice. He will have been briefed too. She cannot see Jasmine. She sits up straight, determined not to let him see how alone she feels.
This document states according to the law of the state of New York that the petitioner and the respondent’s relationship has broken down for a minimum of six months and that the petitioner has so stated under oath.
‘Hang on,’ she says, suddenly. ‘This document is dated six months ago.’
‘Yes. That’s when you signed it.’
She flicks through the pages until she sees it: her signature, a little unsteady but it definitely resembles hers. ‘What? I never signed this. This says we have been separated for months. This has already worked out all the financial stuff. This says we are practically divorced.’
‘I thought it was best to get the ball rolling. Alistair prepared a document for us in advance.’
She scans the financial settlement. A sum to pay for a two-bedroom apartment in the city of her choice, up to a value of one point five million dollars. Ray’s college fees. A monthly settlement of ten thousand dollars until he leaves college.
‘I didn’t agree to this. You’ve – you’ve forged my signature.’
‘No, darling. You just don’t remember signing it. You always did have your head full of nonsense.’
She looks at Alistair, who turns away, a little awkwardly.
