SEVEN
“Hello Fraser, my name’s Marco Giannisi. Your father asked me to represent you.” He sports a broad smile, and he extends his hand to me in introduction.
The lawyer looks to be of a similar age to my father, somewhere in his fifties. Of medium height, slim and elegant with stylishly long, fine, grey, slicked back hair, his face has soft features, but they are largely obscured behind thick, black-framed spectacles. He carries an air of easy confidence, suggesting his relaxed manner belies an inner toughness. He’s wearing an expensive looking two-piece suit, probably silk, and a formal shirt open at the neck with no tie.
I stand to greet him, and we shake hands. I feel very uncertain. I’m so uncomfortable in this setting. And I’m speaking to a solicitor; I can’t remember ever meeting
