Errors of Judgment (15 page)

Felicity looked up, startled. ‘Rachel, hi!’ Rachel could sense her embarrassment. Felicity glanced across at Vince, who had been sufficiently distracted by Rachel’s arrival to stop chatting to the two men. ‘Rachel,’ said Felicity, ‘this is Vince. Vince – this is Rachel Davies. She was my boss, once upon a time.’

Vince smiled at Rachel woozily, giving her an appreciative once-over. ‘Was she now?’ He lifted his feet from the chair and stood up. Rachel, not quite sure what was coming, put out her hand. Vince shook it, then leant in to kiss her cheek. He reeked of both beer and whisky. ‘Rachel, you are most welcome. Like to sit down? Get you a drink?’

‘No thanks. I’m just on my way to the Ladies.’ Rachel
turned to Felicity. ‘I’m here with Oliver and a friend. We took a long walk along the river before lunch. Isn’t it a glorious day?’

‘Glorious!’ exclaimed Vince loudly, imitating Rachel’s proper vowels. ‘I say, isn’t it absolutely glorious?’ He laughed and turned to the two men at the next table for confirmation and approval, then sat down clumsily. One of them grinned sheepishly and looked away. The other muttered something into his drink, not smiling. Vince gave him a bleary, searching glance, then decided to let it go. He looked back at Rachel. ‘Glorious.
You’re
fucking glorious, you know that?’

Felicity put her hand on Vince’s knee. ‘Vince! Stop it!’ she urged. People at nearby tables were glancing round.

Rachel pretended it was all fine. ‘Listen, good to see you, Fliss. Give me a call some time.’ She turned and headed to the Ladies.

When she came out a few moments later, something had clearly kicked off between Vince and the men at the next table. He was shouting incoherent abuse, and one of the men stood up and fetched Vince a punch that knocked him off his chair. The girls began to scream, and then the table went over, sending drinks crashing and spilling across the floor. Bar staff raced across. Felicity crouched down to try and help Vince up, but he pushed her away so forcefully that she went sprawling backwards.

Rachel stood on the edge of the commotion, uncertain what to do. Felicity was getting unsteadily to her feet. Rachel went over to her. ‘Come on,’ she murmured, ‘you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. Let him look after himself.’

Felicity gave her a stunned, frantic look. ‘I can’t just leave him! Look at the state of him!’

At that moment three bar staff waded in, grabbing hold of Vince and his assailant, and hustling them both towards the back entrance. Felicity went after them. Rachel watched her go.

Sarah sat by the window in the half-darkness, staring across the river at the glimmering lights of Canary Wharf, waiting for Toby. One small lamp cast a muted pool of light in a far corner of the room. Her heart felt numb. She was about to inflict a terrible injury on someone to whom she had once – almost – been prepared to give her whole life. She couldn’t feel sorry for him. He was lucky to be making his escape. She had pretended not only to him, but to herself, that she loved him enough to marry him, simply because it meant a life of relative ease and prosperity, and freedom from certain kinds of menial cares. But take away those pleasing prospects, and the affection she felt simply wasn’t enough. She had been put to the test, and found utterly wanting. She had never felt less capable of love in her life.

She picked up her gin and tonic from the black lacquer coffee table and took a sip, thinking that a bit more
self-reproach
and spiritual abasement might be in order. But she’d done enough of that. She needed to move on, calculate the likely fallout with Toby’s family, and with her father.

Then the sound she had been dreading all day interrupted her thoughts. She heard Toby’s key in the door, the sound of it opening and closing, the thump of his overnight bag on the hall floor. His tall figure appeared in the doorway,
silhouetted against the glow of light from the hall. He stood there a few seconds, accustoming his eyes to the gloom.

‘There you are.’ He crossed the room. ‘What are you doing sitting in the dark?’ She said nothing. He gazed at her for a moment, then sat down on the sofa, but not next to her. Something in her silence, perhaps in her tense posture, put him on his guard.

Sarah swallowed the remains of her gin and tonic, and set the glass down. ‘How was your weekend?’ she asked.

‘Excellent. Always gratifying to beat the Scots. Paul’s wife and Alan’s girlfriend came along. They went shopping on Princes Street. You should come next time.’

‘Be a WAG, you mean.’

Toby laughed uncertainly. ‘Well, it’s a weekend away. I just thought, if other people take their wives …’ He decided to leave the subject, and leant over to pick up her empty glass. ‘Another?’

‘Thanks.’

‘Think I’ll join you.’ He stood up and went to the drinks cupboard. Sarah wondered if he was as aware as she was of the level of tension in the air. She had no way of behaving normally. It was merely a question now of getting from A, this instant moment, to B, the point at which she would put on her coat, pick up the bag that was already packed and sitting in the bedroom, and leave.

Toby uncapped the gin bottle and poured drinks. ‘Annabel was down for the weekend,’ he remarked. Annabel was Toby’s younger sister, already earmarked as a bridesmaid. ‘Mummy was trying to persuade her to suggest some colour or other for the bridesmaids’ dresses. Annabel said she should leave it up to you and stop interfering.’

Sarah could think of nothing to say. Toby brought the drinks over and sat down, still keeping a distance between them, but stretching out an arm along the back of the sofa. He stroked her hair, and asked, ‘You OK?’

Sarah took a swallow of her drink. ‘No. Not really.’ She waited for him to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t. When he lifted his glass, it was almost like a defensive movement. Sarah wondered for a fleeting instant if he suspected, or guessed what was coming. If he did, he wasn’t going to help her out. She had to continue. ‘I’m afraid something happened this weekend.’

He turned to look at her. ‘What do you mean?’

She looked down at her glass, which she was clutching between both hands in her lap. ‘Saying it like that makes it sound as though it was out of my control. But it wasn’t. It didn’t just happen. It was something I did.’

Toby set his drink down sharply on the table. ‘For God’s sake—’

She carried on quickly, not letting him speak, just wanting it to be told, out of the way, the hellish moment over. ‘I slept with Leo Davies. On Friday. After Grand Night. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t anything. I did it because I wanted to.’ She had wondered earlier if she would have to try to manufacture tears, but they came naturally. Saying it out loud charged her with genuine, ice-cold guilt, and she began to cry. ‘I did it, and it changes everything.’

She wept, pausing once to sniff and take a long pull at her gin and tonic, thinking what nice, strong ones Toby made, while Toby sat with his head in his hands.

After a while he lifted his head, staring straight ahead at the lights of Canary Wharf. She was appalled to see that he
had been crying, too, and her first impulse was to take him in her arms and comfort him. But she resisted it, and when she heard his next words, was glad she had. He turned to look at her. ‘It doesn’t have to change everything. I don’t want it to. People do these things. I’m not … it’s not like, well … that is, it’s not like I haven’t had a bit of a moment myself.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I mean, it didn’t go anywhere – it was when we went on that cricket tour last summer. It honestly didn’t matter, it meant completely nothing, and that’s why – that’s why I don’t want this to make any difference. To us.’

Sarah allowed herself a moment to digest this unexpected revelation. ‘Toby, it’s more than just a casual fling. I’m moving in with Leo.’

‘What? You slept with him once and you’re moving in? What are you talking about? This is mad!’

‘It’s complicated. It’s also much more than you think. Leo and I go back a long way. It’s made me realise’ – she spread her hands – ‘that there’s no way I can marry you. I don’t want to. I don’t love you. It’s simply no good.’

Sarah knew that a point had been reached where this either escalated into a full-scale row with attendant histrionics, more tears, and abuse hurled – which would be a waste of time since there couldn’t be any of the customary reconciliation – or she cut to the chase and left. So she stood up. Toby stood up too, and grabbed her by the wrists.

‘Sarah, please. This is ridiculous. You don’t mean any of this. You can’t just walk away. Please, baby.’

‘Toby, let go. I’m sorry. I never wanted this. But it’s over, completely over. Let me go.’

‘Do you love him?’ he demanded.

‘Let me go.’

‘Come on – I want to know!’

Sarah wanted to say no, but to her surprise she found that she couldn’t disown Leo. It was one lie she would not tell. ‘That’s not the point. The point is, I don’t love you, Toby. That’s all that matters.’ Perhaps the gentle finality with which she said this made him realise there was no further point. He let go of her.

‘I’ve packed some of my things. It’s best if I just go now. I can get the rest another time.’

He said nothing. She went to the bedroom. Her case lay on the bed, her handbag next to it. She took out her mobile and rang for a cab, then sat down on the bed and waited. After five minutes or so, Toby appeared in the doorway.

‘Look, do what you want now. Go where you want. I can’t stop you. We’ll talk later. No matter what you say, it can’t be over. Not just like that.’

Sarah knew it was best to say nothing. At that moment an alert buzzed on her phone. The cab was downstairs. She put on her coat, picked up her belongings, left the flat, and went down in the lift.

When the cab reached Chelsea, the driver missed the house, and Sarah got out a few doors down. She was just paying the fare, and as she glanced towards Leo’s house she saw the door open, and Leo emerge with a girl. The cab purred away up the street, and Sarah quickly picked up her case and retreated to the edge of the central garden and the shadow of the trees. At this short distance Sarah could see the girl was young and extremely pretty. Leo and the girl spoke briefly, then she kissed him and went down the steps
and unchained a bicycle from the railings. She waved once at Leo, and cycled away. Leo went inside, closing the front door.

Sarah waited for the clenched, painful feeling in her gut to subside. She shouldn’t be surprised. Just because they’d slept together on Grand Night didn’t mean he wasn’t seeing someone else. She of all people should know that. How ridiculous to hope that because he was letting her live in his house for a few weeks, he was interested in rekindling a relationship. After all, what kind of a relationship had they ever really had? Mutual use and abuse, no more. Well, at least now she knew the terms on which she would be living with him.

She picked up her bag and walked towards the house, fixing what she hoped was just the right smile on her face.

Leo realised that he could no longer put off the business of getting in touch with Gabrielle’s mother. Every time he spoke to her Gabrielle asked if he had done so, and his stock excuse – that he would do so when he felt the time was right – seemed to be wearing thin.

They were lunching together in Chancery Lane, Leo snatching time between court hearings, Gabrielle between lectures and tutorials, when she brought it up again.

‘I don’t understand what difference it makes if I get in touch with her or not,’ said Leo. ‘I would have thought my relationship with you is all that matters. How do you know she even wants to speak to me? It could be difficult for her. Embarrassing. Have you asked her if she wants me to get in touch?’

‘No,’ admitted Gabrielle. ‘I suppose it’s up to you.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I just think you should. I don’t know how you can’t
want to. It’s like – it’s like the whole thing is one big jigsaw, and this is the last piece that needs putting in place.’

‘Well, maybe you’ll get married some day, and she and I can meet again at your wedding. A fittingly romantic conclusion?’

‘It’s not about anything being romantic.’ Gabrielle frowned, and Leo could tell his remark had hit home.

‘Really? I think some little-girl part of you wants the long-lost lovers reconciled.’

She shrugged. ‘Yeah, OK. I suppose I want you two to …’ She cast around for words. ‘To, well –
acknowledge
one another. Otherwise it’s like there’s something you’re both ignoring, pretending doesn’t exist.’

‘By which you mean – you?’

‘Maybe. Anyway, I’ll keep on nagging you. And by the way, I am
not
romantic. I hate that word. I hate everything it stands for.’

‘I see. So you’re a material girl who doesn’t believe in love.’

‘No. I just don’t like sentimentality. I believe in love. I’m seeing someone now, as a matter of fact. Someone pretty special.’ She thought of Anthony, of how they had seen one another almost every night for the past week. What would Leo say if he knew?

‘That’s nice. A he or a she?’

Gabrielle sat back in her chair. ‘What a random thing to say! A man, of course.’

‘Why of course? One should never presume, these days.’

‘Either you’re trying too hard to be right-on, or—’ She broke off. Something slipped into place.

‘Or what?’

‘Nothing.’

Leo signalled for the bill, not really wanting to take the conversation any further. For all the ease and intimacy they had created over the past month and a half, occasionally they would hit these jarring pockets of incomprehension, which made them realise they didn’t really know one another.

‘I’d better get going,’ said Gabrielle. ‘I have a tutorial in ten minutes.’

‘And I have to get back to court,’ said Leo, fishing out his wallet.

‘I might come along and watch you after my tutorial. Nothing else to do.’

‘You’re very welcome. Although you might find my discourse on what constitutes an unsafe port somewhat tedious.’

She smiled. ‘I’ll be the judge of that. I like watching you in court. You’re pretty cool, you know.’

‘I wish some of my younger colleagues in chambers thought that.’

‘Maybe they do.’ She bent and gave him a light kiss on one cheek. ‘Catch you later.’

When he got back to chambers at five, Leo decided to grasp the nettle. He sat down at his desk, found the piece of paper Gabrielle had given him with Jackie’s number, and rang it. The photograph of Jackie had acted on his memory like an evocative trace of scent, or a snatch of music, but no matter how hard he tried to recall the places and events of that summer, he couldn’t bring them to life. One of so many affairs. Even the fact that she was French didn’t help – yet how many French women had he slept with? He was in the
middle of counting when a woman’s voice, light, smoky, answered.

‘Hello?’

‘Jackie?’

There was a pause. He could hear traffic sounds at her end, then she said, ‘Yes. Who is this?’

‘Leo. Leo Davies. Gabrielle gave me your number.’

‘Oh.’ She let out a breath, as if giving in to something. Leo realised she must have been preparing for this for some time.

‘I meant to call before now.’

‘No – it’s I who should have called you,’ she replied hurriedly. ‘A long time ago.’ The emotion in her voice made him realise that the subject of Gabrielle was not one to be dealt with in the blundering clumsiness of an out-of-
the-blue
phone call.

‘I thought … I thought perhaps it would be a good idea to meet and have a talk.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course. Hold on a moment – I’m sorry. I’m just paying a taxi.’ A moment later she came back on the line. ‘I’m in the West End right now. I could come over to the City and meet you somewhere in, say, half an hour?’

Leo hadn’t envisaged anything so sudden. He felt unprepared. But he could think of no good reason for putting it off.

‘Yes, if you like. There’s a wine bar in Chancery Lane – Hunter’s. It’s usually fairly quiet early in the evening.’

‘Fine. I’ll see you there.’

Leo clicked off his phone and sat musing. The casual, almost perfunctory nature of the exchange seemed at odds with the significance of the fact that he had just spoken, after
a silence of twenty-two years, to the mother of his child, a child whose existence he had been unaware of until very recently. Apart from her initial surprise, Jackie had sounded composed, unflustered by the idea of meeting up with him. But then, people of her age – his age – generally knew how to maintain a facade of imperturbability whatever their emotions. He guessed, however, that her feelings must be as turbulent as his.

Even at half five the basement wine bar was busy. There was a rowdy group of office workers crowded round the bar, the fag end of a Christmas lunch party. Not that he could have found anywhere quieter. Every bar and pub in the City was permanently busy in the run-up to Christmas. Leo glanced round, but could see no solitary females. He seated himself at a table as far away from the raucous office crowd as possible, and ordered a bottle of Rully Blanc and two glasses. He felt nervous, glad he had brought papers with him to read while he waited.

Jacqueline didn’t arrive till six. Leo had glanced up every time someone came into the bar, but when an expensively dressed middle-aged woman, unmistakeably not a City type, appeared in the doorway clutching a number of designer carrier bags, he knew it had to be her. She glanced around, then began to forge a path through the knots of drinkers. The closer she got, the more distinct her features became, and suddenly, extraordinarily, Leo recognised not just the girl in the photo, but the girl from that summer so long ago. She was older, her once dark hair streaked with blonde highlights to hide the grey, but her face was the same – not a girl’s face, but that of a beautiful, poised woman. The
physical sight of her seemed to open a door in his mind, and a thousand memories came cascading in. How could he have forgotten? The rush of recollection – of Jackie leaning over a window sill to call to him in the street, of Jackie sitting on a riverbank with her feet in the water, of Jackie tapping out a Gitanes and asking him to teach her to blow smoke rings – was so overwhelming that when he stood up and she recognised him, he was momentarily lost for words.

‘Leo,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry – it took me longer to get here than I thought.’ He stood up and shook the hand she held out. She set down her bags and took off her coat, and he hung it up for her. They both sat down. She clasped her hands together on the table, and smiled at him. ‘What a very long time.’

‘A very long time,’ he replied. He picked up the bottle. ‘I bought some wine. I can’t remember if you …?’

She nodded. ‘Please. Just a small glass.’

He poured the wine. She took a sip, then set the glass down. She met his gaze and let out an awkward laugh. ‘My God, this is so strange.’

Leo smiled. ‘Isn’t it?’ He was fascinated by how much she was still the girl he had once known, and yet not. Their initial exchanges were slow, each hesitating before they spoke.

‘So – I think I must apologise.’

‘For what?’

‘For the shock all this must have been to you. For not telling you at the time. I should have realised Gabrielle would want to find you some day.’

‘As shocks go, it’s been a very pleasant one. Truly.’

‘Maybe. But I should have told you a long time ago.’

‘It doesn’t matter now. Things are as they are.’

Nothing was said for several seconds. They were two strangers, locked in silence, struggling to deal with the intimacy which connected them. When Jackie spoke again, her tone was polite and friendly, like a woman making small talk at a drinks party.

‘Gabrielle tells me you’ve met – what, several times now?’

‘That’s right. We meet just about every week. It helps that she’s a lawyer. I mean, that we’re working in the same area.’

‘She’s doing that because of you. Studying law, I mean.’

‘I doubt that’s entirely down to me.’

‘You’re her father. She sets great store by who you are, what you have achieved.’

‘I’m only her father in one sense. You and your husband have brought her up, you are her true parents.’

There was another long pause, then Jackie said, ‘I’m relieved to hear you say that. Daniel, my husband, has been—’ She broke off, trying to find words. ‘Anxious about all this. There was a time when you seemed to have become a fixation with Gabrielle. She knew about you, she made it her job to learn a lot about you, but she was so nervous about actually going to find you. It took her a long time. We didn’t encourage or discourage. It had to be something she did as and when she wanted to. We were worried she was building you up into something – Daniel thought you might …’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know … eclipse him in some way. That he would lose something. Not her, but – well, something. The fact of Gabrielle being his daughter.’ She spoke hurriedly, as though glad to be releasing her fears. She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Leo
remembered what a very emotional girl she had been. So much was coming back to him.

‘Gabrielle is more his daughter than mine,’ he replied. ‘She knows that. We’ve talked about a lot of things. Whatever balance there is to find in situations like these, I believe she’s found it. I don’t think she expects anything from me.’

Jackie shook her head. ‘You don’t know her very well. Not yet. Gabrielle is – she is, well, not a demanding girl, exactly. But she is passionate, very wilful. We’ve had some very tempestuous, difficult times with her. It’s better now she’s older. She seems to have found some stability. I’m glad she’s doing what she’s doing. And I really believe the fact that she has persevered with her law studies, that she has made it this far, is to do with you. To make you proud.’ Jackie laughed uncertainly. ‘Or the person she has made you up to be. This ideal she’s had.’

‘I’m far from ideal. As I’m sure she realises, now that she’s getting to know me better.’

Jackie put her head on one side and gave Leo an appraising look. ‘Self-deprecating. That’s not the way I remember you.’

Leo realised that over the years Jackie must have thought about him often, in a way he had never thought about her. Finding out she was pregnant a few weeks after they stopped seeing one another must have acted like a catalyst, crystallising the recollection of the relationship, and of him, for ever.

‘I can’t remember the person I was then.’

She drew a deep breath. ‘It’s probably not the right moment to start going back over old times. I don’t even think I want to. Do you?’ The look she gave him was
searching, almost challenging. Leo didn’t know how to respond. By saying nothing, he felt he was failing her. She went on, ‘Gabrielle, the here and now – that is what counts. I want you to understand, Leo – Daniel and I want you to understand – that you will have a lot of influence over Gabrielle, now that you are in her life. As I say, she has been something of a wild child. Perhaps we indulged her too much. A lot of her friends are rich, spoilt kids, maybe not the best people for her to hang out with. It will be good if you can help to keep her steady.’

Leo poured a little more wine, giving himself time to think how to respond.

‘I’m not sure if I’ll be much use in that department. I don’t know anything about the rest of her life. But I’ll do what I can – if she needs my help, that is. She doesn’t seem to.’

‘Don’t worry – I don’t mean to burden you with responsibility for her, not after all these years. It’s just that if things go wrong, or she has problems, you might have some influence with her, in ways we don’t. You know what young people are like.’

‘I think I understand what you’re saying. I’ll keep an eye on her. She seems fine, though.’

‘Yes, I hope so.’

There was another silence. It felt as though the subject of Gabrielle had been disposed of for the moment. ‘So,’ said Leo, ‘Gabrielle tells me that you and your husband live in Richmond? And you have two sons?’

The next twenty minutes were filled with a courteous exchange of information. By the end of it, Leo felt more remote from Jackie than he had at the beginning of their
meeting. It was as though they were retreating from intimacy, rather than making headway.

She broke the tension by glancing at her watch. ‘I’m afraid I have to go.’

She slipped on her coat. Leo helped her pick up her raft of carrier bags. ‘So much Christmas shopping,’ she said. ‘I seem to finish up buying presents on behalf of everyone else in the family.’ She lifted her hair free of her coat collar. ‘I envy you, having a little boy to buy presents for. I always think Christmas is for children, really. Grown-ups just go through the motions. It’s when you’re a child that it’s magical.’

‘Oliver’s very excited, certainly,’ replied Leo. She put out her hand, and he touched it, then they both laughed awkwardly, and Jackie leant over and kissed him on either cheek. ‘Goodbye, Leo,’ she said.

Her fragrance was one he knew, but couldn’t name. He wasn’t sure where he had last encountered it. Surely not twenty years ago? He smiled. ‘Goodbye.’