Errors of Judgment

by Caro Fraser

  ‘Maybe we could repeat our great escape,’ said Leo.

  ‘What? Get in your car and drive all the way to Oxfordshire?’

  ‘Not that part. Just slipping away on our own. You could come back to my place for a drink. Unless there’s somewhere else you have to be.’

  ‘No, nowhere I need to be. Toby’s away. In fact, he’s away for the entire weekend.’ She paused. ‘I’m good to go, if you are. But I’d better say hello to my father first.’

  ‘Right. I’ll join you outside shortly.’

  Leo watched her as she made her way down the table towards her father. He felt fixated by his need for her, tantalised and tormented by the idea that now, after all their casual sexual encounters down the years, he might not be able to have her. He relished the uncertainty. How much sweeter, how much more exciting success would be, if he achieved it.

  Sir Vivian rose to greet his daughter, excusing himself from his fellows.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to come tonight? I would have been happy to bring you,’ he reproached her, accepting her gentle kiss on his cheek. ‘I thought you didn’t care for formal occasions at the Inn.’

  ‘I don’t usually. But I could hardly turn down an invitation from Leo Davies. He’s a silk in the chambers where I did my pupillage.’

  ‘I know very well who he is, and frankly I could wish you weren’t with him.’

  Sarah laughed. ‘What on earth are you on about?’

  ‘He doesn’t have the most salubrious of reputations.’

  ‘Really, Daddy, you shouldn’t listen to gossip. He’s clever and he’s fun, and he’s been a good friend to me, one way and another. Besides, you see fit to invite him to your annual bash.’

  ‘Hmph. I can’t imagine Toby would be best pleased if he knew you were out with some other man.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, give us both a little credit. He does know. Anyway, he’s in Scotland for the weekend. Now, lovely to see you, aged parent, but I have to be off.’ She gave him another light kiss.

  Twenty minutes later Leo’s Aston Martin pulled into Carlyle Square.

  ‘When did you move out of Belgravia?’ asked Sarah, as they crossed the street to his house.

  ‘About four years ago. I wanted somewhere with a garden for Oliver.’ Leo unlocked the door and put on the lights. Sarah followed him into the living room. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I’ll fix us both a drink. What would you like?’

  ‘Whatever you’re having,’ said Sarah. She wandered round the room, checking out the pictures and pieces of sculpture, some of them familiar, others not. Then she slipped off her heels, picked up a cushion, and sat on the floor with her back against the sofa, tucking the cushion behind her.

  Leo returned with their drinks. He handed her a tumbler of Scotch, thinking that she looked no older than she had when he first met her, sitting on the carpet with her arms round her knees, blonde hair glinting in the glow of the single lamp. He sat down in an armchair opposite, setting the decanter on the floor next to the chair. He stretched out his legs, unfastening his bow tie and the top button of his dress shirt.

  Sarah took a sip of her drink. ‘Nice malt,’ she said. ‘Why do you spoil it by putting ice in it?’

  ‘Sorry. Didn’t realise you were such a purist.’

  ‘You knew. You’ve just forgotten.’ She swirled the contents of her glass. ‘So – what’s going on in the wonderful world of 5 Caper Court?’

  ‘Not a great deal. Things roll on much as they ever did. I’m thinking of making some personal changes, though. I may be applying to become a High Court judge.’

  ‘That’ll be the day. You’d be bored stiff. I know Daddy found it pretty tedious.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t know why I say “may be applying”. The fact is, I am.’

  She stared at him over the rim of her glass. ‘Seriously? You’d be prepared to go from earning what you do as a silk, to a pitiful hundred thousand grand a year? I find that hard to believe.’

  ‘Life’s not all about money.’

  ‘Really? Since when?’

  ‘I’ve gained a great deal from being in the legal profession. It’s shaped my entire life. Now I feel it’s time to give something back. One can’t just go on taking for ever. And the financial sacrifice is hardly as great as you make it sound. I earn far more than I need. Life can be lived quite comfortably on a judge’s salary, you know. If one is doing something one loves and believes in, it’s not hard to make adjustments, to relinquish a standard of living which most people would find ridiculously extravagant anyway, for a single man.’

  ‘Leo, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so horribly pious.’ Sarah took a swig of whisky. But his words had touched her on the raw. It was exactly what she wasn’t prepared to do where Toby was concerned – to lower her expectations and accept, for love of him, a life less easy and affluent than she had hoped for. She struggled to rationalise it. Whatever sacrifices or changes Leo had to make, at least they were for his own ideals. She was being asked to sacrifice herself for the sake of someone else’s.

  Leo saw the clouded look on her face, and asked, ‘What’s eating you? Not something I said?’

  ‘Sort of. You seem to be turning into an altogether good person. Not something I’m ever likely to become.’

  ‘Goodness hardly comes into it. I should have thought that you, of all people, would realise that I’m doing this for purely selfish reasons. I want less pressure, and to be able to see more of Oliver. I’m not as young as I was. I need a bit of balance in my life.’ He paused. ‘What makes you think you’re a bad person?’

  Sarah set down her glass and ran a tired hand through her hair. ‘Oh, Leo – of all the people in the world, I should be able to tell you … but I daren’t. I’m too ashamed.’

  ‘Try me.’

  She rested her chin on her arms, staring at nothing. After a long silence, she said, ‘It’s to do with Toby. We’re meant to be getting married next year. Everyone’s thrilled – my father and his father are old friends, it seems to them like the perfect set-up, everyone’s all geared up for a big summer wedding. The thing is – I’m not sure I can go through with it.’ She flexed the fingers of her left hand, staring at the diamond.

  Leo took the stopper from the decanter. ‘Another?’ She shook her head. He poured himself another finger of Scotch. ‘Well, you won’t be the first woman in the world to call off her wedding. It’s over six months away – hardly a last-minute change of mind. Why so ashamed?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. It’s my reason for not wanting to go through with it. You see, as long as Toby was a banker, I was quite happy to be marrying him. I mean, someone sane, sweet and decent, so easy to love, earning a six-figure salary, with a whopping great annual bonus on top. What more could a woman ask? I thought our future was secure, perfect – well, as secure and perfect as one can hope for. But then Graffman Spiers went to the wall …’ She drew in a deep breath and reached for her glass. ‘And now he’s decided to turn his back on the banking world and become a teacher.’

  ‘A teacher?’ Leo couldn’t help feeling amused. Poor Sarah.

  She swallowed a mouthful of whisky and shook her head. ‘And that’s why I don’t think I can do it. I can’t face that life, Leo. I can’t live in a terraced house in … in wherever, and work nine to five, struggling to pay school fees, worried about money all the time. I can’t become that kind of person. It’s all down to money. So what kind of a wretched individual am I?’

  ‘You simply don’t love him enough. If you did, you wouldn’t care how much he earned, or what he did for a living. At least you’ve found out before it’s too late.’

  ‘You still don’t get it,’ said Sarah impatiently. ‘I know exactly what I feel about him. I don’t think I know how to love that way. Unconditionally, passionately, regardless of everything. I’m not made that way. But what I feel for Toby would have been enough. I would still have married him, been prepared to spend my li
fe with him, if—’

  ‘—if he’d been able to keep you in the style to which you’ve become accustomed?’

  ‘God, you make it sound so trite.’

  ‘Life often is trite. It’s a matter-of-fact business. I think you should congratulate yourself on your pragmatism.’

  ‘Leo, don’t laugh at me! I can’t stand it! I’m trying to tell you something—’

  ‘I’m not laughing at you.’ He set his glass down on the carpet and crossed the room to where she sat hunched against the sofa. ‘You think you know yourself so well, but I know you better. Stand up.’

  ‘You’re saying you already knew what a selfish cow I am?’ She set her glass down and stood up.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ He drew her towards him, holding her close.

  ‘But Toby doesn’t know.’

  ‘Then he’s going to have to find out. You can’t pretend to be a better person than you are. Or to love him in the way he expects you to.’

  ‘I know he deserves better. But I don’t think I can bear the moment when he finds out. He’s going to hate me. Despise me.’

  ‘That’s the price you have to pay.’ His lips brushed her neck, and he felt her shiver.

  She drew away. ‘I should go home.’

  ‘That’s hardly going to make things any better in the long run.’ He drew her close again, and kissed her for a long, intense moment. ‘Please stay. I want you. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more.’ His fingers slipped the thin satin straps from her shoulders and gently tugged down the bodice of her dress. Leo kissed and caressed each of her breasts in turn. Sarah shivered as his hand strayed from her breasts down across her stomach. He slipped his hand between her legs and she gave a little whimper, her mouth seeking his.

  ‘I suppose,’ she murmured after a moment, ‘that I might as well start as I mean to go on.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ said Leo softly. ‘That’s my lovely Sarah.’ He kissed her again, easing her dress down to her hips, till it slipped with a rustle to the floor.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The next morning Leo woke to find Sarah’s side of the bed empty. He sat up, wondering if perhaps she had slipped out of the house early and taken a taxi home, filled with guilt. Unlikely. Then he heard sounds coming from the kitchen. He lay back on the pillow, surprised by his own sense of relief.

  Moments later he got up, put on a dressing gown, and went downstairs, picking up the morning paper from the doormat. Sarah was in the kitchen making breakfast, barefoot and wearing Leo’s dress shirt from the night before. Coffee was brewing, and on the table stood a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, a basket of warm rolls, and dishes of butter and cherry jam. The radio was tuned to some music station.

  ‘Morning,’ said Leo, dropping the copy of The Times on the table. He picked up one of the rolls. ‘Where did these come from?’

  ‘Found them in your freezer and warmed them up in the oven. You haven’t got any oranges left, I’m afraid. I juiced them all.’

  ‘Good of you to bother.’ He poured out two glasses of juice.

  She came to the table and set down plates and knives. ‘Napkins?’

  ‘Over there. Third drawer down.’

  She returned to the table with the napkins and the coffee pot.

  ‘Which bit of the paper do you want?’ asked Leo.

  ‘Magazine, please.’

  They breakfasted in companionable silence, the radio murmuring in the background. Sarah, though she appeared to be immersed in The Times supplement, was still busy with the thoughts which had occupied her as she prepared breakfast. She didn’t feel remotely guilty about the night before. It had been bound to happen – though not, she liked to think, if Toby hadn’t lost his job and made his disastrous career-change decision. Marrying him, however, was now out of the question. She had known that for a while. But she also knew that extricating herself from the relationship was going to be tricky. Apart from Toby’s feelings, there would be the reaction of her father and the Kitterings to contend with. Damage limitation was going to be of the essence. She couldn’t emerge from this without reproach – that was impossible. But she might be able to shift a little of the blame.

  She lowered the magazine. ‘Leo?’

  ‘Mmhm?’

  ‘I need to ask you something.’

  Leo lifted his head from the sports section and gazed at her enquiringly.

  ‘Well, just before Toby lost his job, I gave up the lease on my flat and moved into his place in Docklands. The idea was that we would live there till we found a house. The thing is …’ She paused, and poured more coffee. ‘Once I’ve told him that the wedding’s off, obviously I can’t go on living in his flat.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘And I’ll have nowhere to go.’

  Leo sipped his coffee. ‘Can’t you rent somewhere else?’

  ‘That’s just it. I can’t. Not for a while, at any rate. You see, I lost my job, too.’

  Leo was surprised. ‘How did you manage that?’

  ‘Credit crunch. It’s been bad for everyone. So …’ she added quickly, before he could say anything, ‘I was wondering if I could stay here for a while. It wouldn’t be for long. I should find another job pretty soon.’ She crossed her fingers under the table and gazed at him, waiting.

  Leo was silent as he considered this. He could see advantages. Since the demise of his relationship with Anthea, the house could sometimes seem lonely in the evenings, even when he had work to do. The company of someone as intelligent, amusing and sexually stimulating as Sarah was quite an appealing prospect. He liked the idea – but it would have to be strictly on a short-term basis. However sweetly she might smile at him over the freshly squeezed orange juice, however delightful sharing a bed with her might be, she was bound to bring trouble in the long run. She always did. Plus, there was a risk he would get bored. He didn’t want to find Sarah boring, ever.

  As if reading his thoughts, she added, ‘It could be like that first summer. A few weeks of mutual enjoyment, I perform a spot of cooking and housekeeping while I look for another job, then we both go our own sweet ways.’

  Leo folded the paper. ‘On that basis – and it would have to be on that basis, mind – I’ll say yes. Though you’ll have to make yourself scarce on the weekends Oliver comes to stay. He gets my undivided attention. And you know what Rachel is like.’

  ‘Not a problem. Thanks, Leo.’ She stretched her arms languidly above her head, then picked up her magazine, sipped her coffee, and resumed reading.

  Leo marvelled at her cat-like serenity, and the apparent ease with which she was discarding what should have been the most important relationship of her life. However well he might know her, he would never properly understand her. He was suddenly conscious that the music from the radio was some unpleasantly insistent rap.

  ‘What station is that?’ he asked.

  Sarah looked up. ‘XFM.’

  ‘Right. Well, that has to go for a start.’

  ‘OK, boss.’ Sarah got up and padded over to the radio, and switched it to Radio 3, smiling to herself.

  The following morning in Brixton, the breakfast scene was less appetising. Felicity woke in a mucky tangle of sheets with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt like the bottom of a birdcage. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed, grasped the tumbler of water from the bedside table with a shaky hand, and drained it. She lay for a few moments with her forehead pressed to the pillow. Why had she gone with Vince to that club? Why had she let him persuade her to drop those pills, and then smoke dope on top of it all? Then there had been the vodka when they got home … She hauled herself slowly out of bed, and found her robe under a pile of other clothes at the foot of the bed. She hadn’t done any washing in a week. She uncrumpled it and put it on, then wandered through to the kitchen, where she could hear the radio blasting, feeling shivery and sick.

  Vince was sitting at the table in his boxers, eating leftover pizza from a cardboard box and drinking a can of lag
er.

  ‘Jesus, Vince – how can you?’ Felicity went to the sink to fill the kettle.

  ‘Hair of the dog, sweetheart.’ He turned and glanced at her as she stood hunched over the sink. ‘Feeling a bit rough?’

  ‘Rough’s not the word.’

  She stood blankly by the sink, staring out at the white December sky, filled with familiar feelings of self-reproach, but too hungover to care. She was aware of Vince dropping the empty pizza box down beside the overflowing swing-top bin. He stood behind her, running his hands around her body, nuzzling her shoulder. She wasn’t so hungover that she couldn’t feel instantly randy when he put his hands on her.