Errors of Judgment (19 page)

On Christmas Day, Sarah came downstairs at eleven o’clock to find Leo wrapping Oliver’s Christmas present on the kitchen table.

‘Merry Christmas,’ said Leo. ‘Coffee’s on.’

‘Thanks. Merry Christmas to you, too.’ She poured herself some coffee. ‘You want a cup?’

Leo shook his head. ‘I’m meant to be at Rachel’s in half an hour. Oliver’s putting off opening his presents till I get there.’

‘What have you got for him?’

‘A Playmobil fire station. Rachel’s got him the fire engine. The trouble is, the box is so big that it’s not easy to wrap,’ said Leo, wrestling with the roll of paper.

‘Cut another piece. Here …’ Sarah took the scissors and deftly cut another piece from the roll and wrapped it round the end of the box. ‘Pass me the Sellotape. There. And the other end. See?’

‘I’m not much of a hand at wrapping things. Lack of practice.’

‘That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit that there’s something you’re not good at.’

‘How are you spending the day?’ asked Leo, suddenly wondering if she was going to be there all on her own.

‘I intend to do nothing for the next few hours, beyond soaking in a long, hot bath and contemplating my future. I had rather a heavy night …’

‘So I gather, given that it was well past three when I heard you come in.’

‘Sweet. You sound like my father,’ smiled Sarah. ‘With whom I happen to be spending the rest of the day. I’m helping him cook Christmas dinner for some of his friends. Just hope they’re not all fossils. Are you going to be at Rachel’s all day?’

‘Till six or so. Some people in Kensington have invited me for drinks, but it’s only a loose arrangement.’ Gabrielle had been insistent that he should meet the rest of her family, but he was still in two minds about going. ‘If I do go, I won’t hang about for long.’

Sarah poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘Right. Well, have a lovely day. I’m off for a bath. Oh, something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I haven’t seen you since Thursday – I’ve got a new job.’

‘Really? Where?’

‘London and International Insurance Brokers Association. On the legal side.’

Leo paused in the doorway. ‘Well done.’ He wondered if this was the moment to say something about the way things had been over the past few weeks, to explain that
he understood, and that he was there if she wanted him – in whatever way. It seemed sad that their relationship had reached this odd stalemate. ‘So …’

‘So I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of weeks.’

‘Right.’ He paused. ‘Well, congratulations.’ Then he added, ‘By the way, there’s something for you under the Christmas tree.’

Sarah raised an eyebrow, trying not to look pleased. ‘So Santa’s been?’ She smiled. ‘I left your present there, too.’

‘So I saw. I intend to open it later.’

‘OK – see you whenever.’

When Leo had gone, Sarah wandered into the living room. She crouched down under the tree – a tree which had been bought largely for the satisfaction of Oliver, for whom Christmas, and everything pertaining to it, was sacred. Her present to Leo and his to her were the only ones there. Sarah knelt there for a moment, staring at the two gifts, thinking how empty their lives were in some ways, hers and Leo’s. Neither of them had ever known anything else, she supposed. No siblings, few relatives, or not enough that cared, friends whose loyalties did not extend to the intimacies of gifts. It would have been different with Toby. She pictured how it would be at the Kitterings house in Surrey, and closed her eyes. No doubt they were all happy together, relieved at Toby’s lucky escape, reassured in the knowledge that she really hadn’t been good enough for their precious, golden boy. She wondered if she’d ever be good enough for anyone. She opened her eyes, and picked up the present from Leo and unwrapped it. Inside was a Tiffany box. She untied the white ribbon. Inside the box was a little blue suede pouch. She untied the pouch and drew out a delicate chain necklace
studded with three tiny diamonds. She held it up to the light, letting it slide through her fingers. Enough to make a girl think she was good enough for someone, after all. But the fact was that Leo was seeing someone else, and he wasn’t even brave enough – or kind enough – to tell her. Even the nicest present couldn’t change that.

The toy fire station and fire engine went down well with Oliver. Apart from his stocking presents, Christmas sweets, and some books, the only other presents he received were a remote control car from Leo’s mother in Wales, and a Harry Potter Lego Knightbus from his godparents. Leo and Rachel had always agreed not to spoil him by buying him too many toys and games.

‘You wouldn’t believe what some of his school friends are getting for Christmas,’ said Rachel, as they watched Oliver carefully steering the fire engine into the fire station and reversing it out again. ‘I’ve talked to other mothers. Playstations, laptops – Gabriel Sutton’s parents have bought him a quad bike.’

‘Too much stuff is not what they need. Not at his age, not at any age. When I think back to Christmases in Wales back in the sixties …’

‘Yes, we all know,’ murmured Rachel, smiling. ‘You were lucky if you got an orange and a pack of coloured pencils. Amazing you weren’t sent down the mines as well.’

Leo raised an eyebrow. ‘That was touch and go too, in the long run. Thank God for Llanryn Grammar. If there’s one thing I don’t mind spending money on, it’s Oliver’s education.’ Leo reached into the inside pocket of his jacket hanging on the back of the chair and took out a small,
pale-blue box tied with white ribbon. He handed it to Rachel. ‘I almost forgot. Merry Christmas.’

Rachel took the gift doubtfully. ‘We haven’t exchanged presents since …’ She unwrapped it and stopped, gazing at the box. ‘I wish you’d said. I haven’t got you anything.’

Leo shrugged. ‘So? Open it.’

Rachel unfastened the white ribbon, and from the little suede bag that nestled inside she drew a chain necklace, studded with three tiny diamonds. She held it up, smiling. ‘It’s beautiful, Leo. Far too extravagant. In fact, I’m not sure it’s—’

‘For God’s sake don’t use that ghastly word, “appropriate”. I can buy the mother of my son whatever I like for Christmas.’

Rachel slipped the thin chain round her neck and fastened the clasp.

‘Thank you.’ She gave him a swift kiss on one cheek. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Leo shrugged and smiled. ‘Nothing special.’

Anthony spent Christmas Day at his mother’s house. In the years since his commercial success, Chay Cross had tried to be generous to his ex-wife, but Judith had never wanted or accepted from him any more than she felt was just repayment for the handouts and support she had provided throughout Chay’s impoverished hippy years. She still worked as a primary school teacher, and still lived in the same terraced house in East Dulwich in which, as a struggling single mother, she had brought up their two sons. Today she had cooked Christmas lunch for Anthony, Barry, her cousin Cora, Cora’s ninety-two-year-old father Sidney, and Yvonne, a fellow teacher.

Anthony had found the day tedious, and the atmosphere round the table in the cramped dining room claustrophobic. Cora managed to suppress everyone’s appetite by dominating the early part of the lunchtime conversation with a detailed account of her father’s bowel problems and his countless hospital visits. Then when the conversation shifted to more general topics, an initially mild disagreement between Yvonne and Cora on the subject of state versus independent education threatened to escalate, as a result of too much wine, into an unpleasantly acerbic row. But Judith managed to divert talk to the recession, and to the recent shock closure of Woolworths just three weeks earlier, so that the prickly mood was dispelled and everyone was unified by a general agreement that the country was in a shocking state and that it was hard to see where it would all end. Barry’s contribution throughout all this consisted of cynical remarks and
off-colour
jokes which everyone tried to ignore, but which Anthony found extremely tiresome. By the time six o’clock came Anthony was very glad of an excuse to leave.

‘I thought you’d be staying for a game of Pictionary and some turkey sandwiches,’ said Judith sadly, as they stood together in the kitchen, putting away the last of the glasses. ‘It’s one of the few times in the year I get to see anything of you.’

‘Sorry, Mum,’ said Anthony. ‘I promised my girlfriend I’d see her this evening.’ He felt entirely guilt-free, having cleared away the dishes with Barry, loaded the dishwasher, and washed every pan in sight.

Barry sauntered in. ‘You doing a runner? Think I might join you.’

Judith looked even more pained. ‘Why can’t you stay a little longer? Catch up with great-uncle Sidney – he loves a chat.’

‘Mum, I can’t safely get within two feet of great-uncle Sidney. If farting was an Olympic event, he’d be bagging gold for Britain.’

‘Well, he’s had his problems. Cora told you at lunch.’

‘Yeah, how delightful was that?’ Barry opened the fridge. ‘You won’t be wanting these lagers, will you? Mind if I take them?’

‘Go ahead,’ sighed Judith. ‘Are you two seeing anything of your dad over the holidays?’

‘I haven’t heard from him,’ said Barry.

‘He said he was coming over, that he’d be in touch. Must have changed his mind.’

‘Oh, well …’ Judith folded a tea towel. ‘Thanks for coming – and for the lovely presents.’

‘No problem, Mum. Lunch was great.’ Barry gave his mother a kiss.

‘Yes, thanks, Mum. Sorry I have to go so early. It’s just I told Gabrielle—’

‘Don’t worry. You get off. Don’t forget to say bye-bye to Cora and Sidney.’

Out in the cold of the quiet street, Barry asked Anthony, ‘What did you get Mum?’

‘A voucher for a day at some spa in the West End. It’s the kind of thing she’d never buy for herself. What about you?’

‘Egg timer. She said she needed a new one.’ He caught Anthony’s look. ‘What? I just don’t happen to be loaded like you.’

The remark gave Anthony a momentary pang. He’d recently been shocked to discover how little was left in his current account, the day after he’d spent eight hundred
pounds on a bracelet for Gabrielle. That was the trouble with splashing out hundreds – even the odd thousand – at casinos. You got used to dealing in big figures, even when it came to things like Christmas presents for your girlfriend. Still, there were quite a few outstanding fees that he would get Henry to chase up in the New Year, and a couple of decent wins at the tables could easily set things to rights, if his luck would just turn. Which it had to. No need to worry.

‘Need a lift?’ asked Anthony.

‘Depends where you’re going.’

‘South Ken.’

Barry shook his head. ‘It’s OK. I’m heading to Deptford to see some mates. I’ll catch a bus.’ They paused on the street corner. ‘By the way, I’m compering a gig at a club in Greenwich at New Year, if you fancy coming along. Bring your girlfriend.’

‘Yeah, could be fun. Email me.’

Anthony left Barry to wait for his bus and headed to where his car was parked. It was a BMW Z4, and he had bought it just three weeks ago, when he was still flush with the giddy sensation of having banked a hundred and ten thousand pounds from one single case. Its purchase had given him immense pleasure at the time. Now, as he pressed the remote through his coat pocket and heard the expensive slitch of the central system unlocking, he felt a faint sickness at the thought of having spent so much on a car.
It’s not like you’re Leo
, he told himself. But Leo was who he so badly wanted to be. Successful, in demand, work flooding in, plenty of spare cash to spend on the good things in life. He wanted to feel that everything was fine, that he was entitled to be behaving as he was.

He stopped by the car and drew in a long, deep breath of frosty air, wishing that he could just drive to Oxfordshire, to Leo’s house, and find him there with a welcoming glass of whisky, ready to listen to it all and understand and help him. But in the place he was, he felt he couldn’t reach out to anyone. He opened the car, its interior fragrant with the faintly sickly smell of new leather, and drove through the quiet streets to meet Gabrielle’s parents.

It was almost half five. Leo and Oliver had spent the last half-hour on the rug in front of the fire building a football stadium out of Lego. Rachel came into the living room carrying a tray with mugs of coffee for herself and Leo, and a glass of juice for Oliver.

Leo got up, and Oliver rolled over onto his back. ‘Mummy, can I eat my Smarties and watch my
Wall-E
DVD now?’

‘OK. You know where it is?’

Oliver nodded, fetched his DVD and put it on, then sat down cross-legged on the rug with a giant tube of Smarties from his Christmas stocking. Rachel curled up in a corner of the sofa and Leo sat down next to her. ‘What’s Wally?’

‘
Wall-E
,’ corrected Rachel. ‘It’s a film about a robot. It’s really pretty good. You should watch it.’ She sipped her coffee and added, ‘You don’t have to go, you know. You could always stay and meet Simon.’

Oliver had started to talk about Simon over lunch. Later, during a walk in the park, while Oliver was busy cracking ice at the pond’s edge, Rachel had filled in the details.

Leo grimaced. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

‘Why not? You have to meet him sometime.’

‘Do I? Is it that serious?’

Rachel hesitated. ‘Possibly. I don’t know.’

She had coloured faintly, not meeting his eye, and Leo could tell all he needed to know simply from her manner. He wasn’t sure quite how he felt. He only knew that he didn’t want to be reminded twice in one evening of his status as the outsider. He would be meeting Gabrielle’s parents later, and having it brought home to him how much he had missed – lost – in the twenty-two years of not knowing about her was going to be bad enough. Making small talk with Rachel’s new boyfriend, of whom Oliver appeared to think so highly, was not something he felt up to.

‘Anyway, I have to be somewhere.’

‘So you said. Who are you meeting?’

Leo knew she assumed he was seeing some lover – man or woman. He glanced at Oliver, making sure he was absorbed in his film. He needed to tell someone about Gabrielle. Rachel seemed like the ideal person.