Carlton has been on holiday with his family (!) since The Incident.  I do not know what to expect when he returns. Will he treat me to more of the same? Will he resort to other means of attack? One thing is for sure: I am not expecting him to leave me alone. But, in fact, that is exactly what he does. For two whole weeks I have no contact with him at all; which is even more unnerving than seeing him every day.

Meanwhile I have resolved to tell no one of the kiss. I am too ashamed they will think I was an active participant in it. But, of course, Jane and Margaret notice that something is up.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jane says with her typical directness. “You’ve got a face like a smacked bottom.”

“Happy New Year to you too.”

“What’s up?”

I let out a large sigh and explain: “After the Christmas Party; I was waiting outside. Someone crept up behind me and put their hands over my eyes. I thought it was you but it turned out to be Carlton getting ready for a grope.”

“Did you punch him?” Jane’s solution to everything is violence.

“No, I kneed him in the groinal area.”

“You didn’t!?”

“I did.”

I can tell she is impressed. She is looking at me with a mixture of shock and awe. As if she is seeing my potential for the first time. “Then what happened?”

“He staggered about, swore quite a lot, threatened me a few times and then a taxi pulled up and I jumped in.”

“Wow! Excellent. What kind of threats did he make?”

“He told me that I would be sorry; that he was in a position of power and that he would make my life a misery.”

“Ok, well then, we need a defensive strategy.”

In the past, Jane’s defensive strategies have been known to rival NATO’s.  And she doesn’t disappoint. “You need to write a report of the incident and put it in a sealed envelope marked: Philip Carlton. Tell Personnel that you want this put on your file immediately and it may only be opened with your permission.  Tell Caroline what happened – off the record. Tell her that the matter is resolved as far as you believe and you will not be taking it forward unless Mr Carlton makes any further move.  In the event that he does you will make a full statement to the Police, you will launch an immediate employment complaint and you will call all his previous victims as witnesses. In the meantime, she must take action to prevent him from ever doing this again to anyone else. Finally, you need to tell her to deal with Alistair.”

“Is that all?”

She thinks for a moment; “No. You must learn Kung Fu.”

I think that might be the easiest part of the strategy.  “Can’t I just resign?”

“No!”

But before I can put my strategy to the test, I have my secondment to deal with. I have to tell Margaret what has happened.

“Well, I’m shocked,” she says, with a look of mild astonishment in her eyes. “Even I didn’t think he would be so public in his attentions. That’s very schoolboy. I thought he would be more sophisticated than that.”

“Oh, he usually is,” I tell her, “But he had obviously had quite a lot to drink.”

“So, when he let his guard down he showed his true colours.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Learn Kung Fu.”

She laughs. “So you can properly disable him next time?!”

“Yes, but in the meantime, I am going to file an off the record report with Personnel; tell them I shall go to the Police if it happens again.”

“Do you think that will work?”

“Absolutely not. He may lay off the physical abuse but he’s bound to step up the emotional torture. That’s his way.“

“Well, you know you can always rely on my support.”

“Thanks, I know. You have done so much already. The list of witnesses may yet be utilised.”

“I hope not.”

Me too. But I know I haven’t seen or heard the last of Mr Carlton. So I set about putting Jane’s scheme into action. Caroline fakes shock when I tell her.

“Gosh, I’m so surprised to hear this!” she says with steely surprise. “He has always been so proper in his dealings with us. Are you sure you haven’t made a mistake?”

“He groped me.”

“Yes, but there are many forms of groping aren’t there?”

Are there?

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well,” she laughs, “You know! On one hand there’s a bit of flirtatious fumbling and then, on the other, there’s full-on molestation.”

Does she have a checklist for this, I wonder? Hair stroking = light lechery; bottom pinching = medium molestation; breast squeezing = hard core harassment?

“It was full-on molestation,” I tell her. There’s no point in beating about the bush.

“I see.” She purses her lips and makes that slapped arse look we all love so much. “And what do you expect us to do about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?!”

“I shall write a report. You shall put it on my file and note that this has taken place. Then you will do nothing.”

“You don’t wish to bring a complaint?”

“Not at the moment. I would prefer to deal with this in my own way; if it doesn’t work then I shall expect you to act.”

“I see.” She is, clearly, delighted to hear this. No nasty sexual harassment claim for her to clear up.  “Are you sure? I mean, if he really did something as serious as that he should be dealt with via the official channels.”

“He did and he should but we both know what will happen if I make a complaint. Junior lawyers don’t win employment battles with senior partners, no matter how valued they are.”

“We always do our best to be fair in our complaints handling,” she assures me.

“I’m sure you do,” I agree, “but, in the final analysis, they are our employers. If they don’t want to employ us they don’t have to.”

She nods, accepting this fundamental bias of labour law.  “Well, thank you for letting me know. I shall, at least, be able to keep an eye on Mr Carlton.”

“Please do. If he does anything more serious than this, I may be forced to change my plans.”

And staple his testicles to his desk.

Jane is waiting for me back in my office. “How did it go?” she whispers.

“Fine, she was delighted to do nothing.”

“She believed you?”

“She seemed to; once I’d passed her molestation test. Flirtatious fumbling is ok, but full-on molestation is not, apparently.”

“Where does she draw the line?” she asks.

“God knows! Somewhere between giving us a suggestive wink and selling us into sex slavery.”

This seems to amuse her. “Well, I think I might try it out on Tarquin,” she laughs. “See how far I can push it!”

My concern is: if she did: he’d be clad in leather, locked in a basement and turning tricks by the end of the week.

“I don’t think Tarquin’s ready for that,” I point out.

“No, you’re right,” she hoots. “He needs to lose his virginity first! Ha  ha ha!”

“Perhaps you could help himt?” I suggest.

She immediately stops and glares at me. “I would rather gouge my eyes out off with a teaspoon!”

Fair enough.

“Anyway, this conversation is not about me, it’s about you,” she says crisply. What are you going to do about Carlton?”

“I’m going to wait and see,” I tell her.  Because, to be honest, I don’t know what else I can do without getting laid off….