Errors of Judgment (17 page)

She decided to put the conversation with her father to the back of her mind and concentrate on the rest of the day. The job interview had left her feeling pretty upbeat and in the mood for some retail therapy. It was almost eleven, so maybe she should get in a couple of hours of shopping, maybe rustle up a friend for lunch. Then in the afternoon she would buy some delicious food, and later on cook dinner for herself and Leo. She felt bad about the way things had been between them lately. Sarah had been convinced that Leo
was having an affair with the girl she had seen leaving his house, and that he hadn’t told her because he was hoping to have the best of both worlds. So, not prepared to let herself be played like that, she had kept a cool distance, and stayed out of his bed. Whatever he thought, Leo had said and done nothing to alter the situation. But the girl, whoever she was, seemed to have faded from the scene. Leo was home most evenings, working, reading, with no sign of any woman in his life. So perhaps she had been wrong. In which case she should start making up for lost time. They could spend the evening together and see where things went from there.

On the way to the station she rang and arranged a late lunch with a friend who worked in a firm of solicitors in Chancery Lane, then she took the tube one stop to Embankment and walked up to browse the shops around Covent Garden.

Leo and Gabrielle were snatching a hasty lunch at a restaurant in Holborn, just round the corner from the arbitration rooms where Leo was involved in a two-week hearing.

‘I only ever see you for an hour here and there,’ complained Gabrielle. ‘It’s hardly quality father-and-daughter time. In fact, that evening when I first came to your house is probably the longest we’ve ever spent together.’

‘OK. So, what are you up to this weekend?’

Gabrielle thought of Anthony, and wondered if she should tell Leo she was seeing him. No, not till she got to the bottom of whatever strange relationship the two of them had. And it wasn’t something she could see herself exploring right at this moment. ‘Nothing in particular. Why?’

‘Feel like spending it in Antibes with me?’ He signalled for the bill.

She smiled. It sounded like an idea. ‘What’s in Antibes?’

‘I’m in the process of buying a small property down there. A friend of mine had a yacht down there that he wanted to sell, and in a somewhat rash and inebriated moment, I bought it. I think I had the vague idea I could live on it, but it’s not really practicable. Not at my age. So I decided I needed somewhere to stay as well. What started out as a minor indulgence seems to have snowballed into a major extravagance. I’m going down there first thing on Saturday to look at a couple of places I’ve earmarked. I think I know the apartment I want. It’s in a building tucked away in a cobbled courtyard behind the main market street.’ Gabrielle was delighted with the notion of helping Leo buy a house. ‘Yeah, OK – I’m up for it.’

‘Excellent.’ He paid the bill and got up. ‘In which case you’re going to have to let me dash back to my laptop and try and book flights. Come on.’

It was half one when Sarah emerged from Nicole Farhi with the last of her purchases, a very sexily cut pair of blue trousers and a wrap-over dress. She’d spent far more than she’d intended, but was feeling very happy about it. She was strolling up Long Acre with bags on either arm, heading towards the wine bar in Holborn where she had arranged to meet her friend, when suddenly she saw Leo coming out of a restaurant not ten yards away. Sarah stepped into a shop doorway. He was with a girl – the same girl Sarah had seen coming out of his house on the night she had moved in. She watched as they stood talking on the pavement for
a moment. Leo said something to the girl which made her laugh, then he lifted a strand of hair from her face and kissed her lightly on either cheek, and they parted, Leo turning and heading towards Kingsway.

The girl walked past Sarah, oblivious. Sarah had time to look at her properly, see how young and lovely she was. So there it was. She’d been right from the outset. He was obviously in a relationship with her, this girl who looked barely more than a teenager. No wonder he had left her alone, made no moves towards her. Well, at least she knew where she stood now. He was only letting her stay in his house out of kindness – making love to her the night that Toby was away had been a piece of opportunism. Naturally he had behaved as though there was no one in his life, because that was what he wanted her to think. The plans for a cosy dinner and a pleasant evening of sex suddenly looked like a dismal joke. It was as well there was a job on the horizon. The sooner she got away the better, to rid herself of the delusion that there could be anything lasting between herself and Leo.

On Saturday morning Leo and Gabrielle arrived in Nice a little before noon, and drove in a rented car to a hotel in Juan-Les-Pins, where Leo had booked rooms. Then they drove round Cap d’Antibes to the town and had a late lunch at a bistro before heading to the estate agent’s office.

‘I looked at a few places online,’ Leo told Gabrielle, as they waited for the agent to fetch the keys, ‘but this was the one that really caught my eye. I hope it’s as good as its pictures.’

Gabrielle was flicking through one of the brochures. ‘The
way you described it makes it sound a bit poky. Why don’t you go for one of these apartments with a pool? Something a bit more modern and luxurious?’

‘Because I like the old town. I want to feel a part of it when I come here, be able to step out and buy croissants first thing, watch the market come alive at weekends. Anyway, who needs a pool when you have a beautiful beach a couple of minutes away? Not a huge fan of chlorine, personally.’

The estate agent, a slim, self-important young man, appeared with the keys and escorted them on the short walk to the apartment, which was on the third floor of an old building overlooking the Cours Massena. The ground floor of the building was a café-patisserie, and the apartment entrance was at the back, in a narrow cobbled street, through high wooden gates leading into a charming courtyard dotted with pots and shrubs. A gnarled bougainvillea creeper, wintry and naked, shrouded the doorway to the building.

The agent led the way upstairs to the apartment, and showed them around with great aplomb. ‘Vair light and airy. Vair unusual for the Old Town,’ he told them, leading them through the empty rooms. ‘Bedrooms are at the back, so all is quiet,
oui
? But the big living area through here has a balcony, quite
charmant
.’ He unfastened and flung back the wooden shutters, then opened the long windows to a balcony, with a high, wrought-iron surround.

They stepped outside, and the estate agent gestured towards the castle, whose medieval ramparts were visible. ‘That is where the Picasso Museum now is. Vair important tourist destination.’

Gabrielle leant on the iron railing and gazed down at the
busy street which sloped away to the harbour. She smiled and turned to Leo.

‘It’s absolutely amazing. I take it all back. Imagine sitting out here in summer, sipping pastis, watching the world go by.’

They went back into the living room, and at that moment clouds parted in the winter sky outside, and the
parchment-coloured
walls and scrubbed floorboards were suddenly washed with sunshine. Gabrielle gazed around.

‘It’s beautiful. Makes me want to go out and start buying things to furnish it.’

‘I hoped that particular task might appeal to you.’

She laughed. ‘Is that why you brought me down here? To do the place up?’

‘Only partly. You also speak French very much better than I do. I thought we might get through the formalities faster if you were here. Seriously, I wanted to see what you thought of the place.’

‘Well, I love it, and I don’t mind helping out with red tape.’

They went back to the agent’s office and completed a volume of paperwork. The agent seemed mildly discomfited to discover that Gabrielle spoke perfect French. It was half past three by the time the lease was signed, and the keys handed over. Leo and Gabrielle took a leisurely drive back along the coast, had cocktails in Juan, then ate dinner at Tetou. The next day they spent browsing furniture and antique shops, ordering beds, tables, chairs and sofas, and buying kitchen and bathroom equipment. At the end of the day they had dinner at the hotel and talked over the day’s purchases.

‘That was such fun,’ said Gabrielle. ‘Like furnishing a doll’s house. And so lovely to be spending someone else’s money.’

‘I’ll have to take a few days off in the New Year to come down and take delivery of the furniture. Which reminds me,’ Leo fished in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Gabrielle, ‘these are for you. I had them cut before we went out yesterday evening.’

‘Keys to the apartment?’

Leo nodded. ‘I can’t see anyone else using it. I like to think I have a project to share with my daughter. Come down whenever you like, bring a girlfriend, enjoy Antibes and Juan in season. Sometimes I’ll be here, sometimes I won’t.’

She leant across and kissed his cheek. ‘That is so amazing. Thank you.’

‘I say girlfriend, but you’re welcome to bring your boyfriend down, too, if you like.’ Leo paused. ‘You still haven’t told me anything about him.’

Gabrielle knew that to hesitate or equivocate would be fatal. She said calmly, ‘Actually, he’s someone you know. I only found out recently.’ She glanced down, stirring her coffee. ‘He’s in your chambers. Anthony Cross.’

As soon as she spoke his name, she could feel the tension crystallise. When she looked up, Leo’s face was giving nothing away, though a muscle had tightened in one cheek. ‘Really? You should have said something before.’ His expression might be unreadable, but Gabrielle could detect an edge to his voice.

‘I told you – I didn’t know. We haven’t being seeing one another very long.’

Leo nodded. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. ‘Does he know about me?’

‘What? That you’re my father? Of course not.’

‘I’d have thought it would be a point of interest.’

‘To be honest, I haven’t told anyone. No one knows, except my family. Not even my best friends.’

Leo nodded, saying nothing.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Gabrielle. She asked the question in apparent innocence, knowing full well what was wrong. Far from being appalled or disgusted at the knowledge, confirmed now by Leo’s behaviour, that there was something going on between him and Anthony, she felt excited and curious. The knowledge gave her a strange sense of power over both of them. She tried to imagine, thinking of her own affair with Anthony and the hours spent in his bed, Leo enjoying the same pleasure.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ Leo gave a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘When were you thinking of mentioning it to people? About my being your father?’

‘I don’t know. I probably won’t, unless it comes up. I mean, it’s hardly the kind of thing you go around telling people randomly, is it?’

Leo didn’t know how to respond. He was stunned by the misfortune that, of all the people in the world, she should be seeing Anthony. Sleeping with him, too, no doubt – possibly even in love with him. Why was it his immediate instinct that the relationship should be destroyed? Was he jealous? Afraid? The lightning thoughts and impulses prompted by her revelation began to settle and rationalise. She was right to say that the information that Leo was her biological father was not something she was going to broadcast. She would only tell people who mattered to her. Thus, she was only likely to tell Anthony if the relationship developed into
something serious. God alone knew what would happen then. It would be beyond anyone’s control. If Anthony found out now – and it wouldn’t be from Gabrielle, it seemed – his reaction would probably be to end the relationship. That would probably be for the best. She herself had said she hadn’t been seeing him for very long.

He tried to relax his manner. ‘Well, life is full of coincidences, I suppose. He’s a lovely chap. Very bright.’

‘He speaks very highly of you.’

Leo studied Gabrielle, wondering if there was something which he wasn’t quite grasping. She was his daughter, after all, and devious behaviour was very probably in the genes. But he could read nothing in her expression, which was as sweet and open as ever. Best to let it go, while he worked out how to deal with the situation. He glanced at his watch.

‘Probably a good idea to turn in. We’ve got an early flight tomorrow.’

They went to their separate rooms. Gabrielle lay in bed, thinking, wondering how and when she would ever be able to tell Anthony that Leo was her father. She wasn’t sure, after this evening, that it was necessarily a good idea. But how, in all conscience, could she not?

Every year, when Christmas came to 5 Caper Court, Felicity cast herself as the unofficial Mistress of Revels, and would go around chambers decked out in her flashing Santa Claus earrings, humming cheesy Christmas pop songs, and draping pieces of tinsel over everyone’s PC. Her special pleasures were decorating the Christmas tree in reception, and arranging the food and drink for the chambers Christmas party, at which she would later get happily hammered.

But this year she didn’t seem to have the heart for it. She couldn’t even be bothered getting out the box of tinsel from the coat cupboard. The Christmas tree stood in reception as usual, tastefully decorated by a couple of the secretaries, but the clerks’ room was sombre and bare. Everyone noticed, and everyone was privately dismayed – even the senior members of chambers, who every year pretended to shudder at Felicity’s enthusiasm for sparkle and for singing ‘I Wish it Could be Christmas Every Day’ while doing the post.

‘Not very festive round here,’ remarked Jeremy Vane to Leo, as he fished his mail from his pigeonhole. ‘Not even a Christmas card in sight.’

‘Everyone sends electronic ones now.’

‘I know. Ghastly.’ He glanced at Leo. ‘How was your weekend?’

‘I spent it in the South of France.’

‘Oh? Whereabouts?’

‘Antibes, the old quarter. I bought a boat from Jamie Urquhart in the autumn, and realised I need a place to stay if I was going to be serious about sailing her, so I’ve rented an apartment down there.’

‘Antibes – bit of a glitzy place, isn’t it?’

‘It can be. But I don’t think I quite make the glitzy category. The apartment’s tiny, and my yacht looks laughable compared to the enormous things on the international quay—’ Leo broke off at the sound of raised voices on the other side of the room, and he and Jeremy turned to see Felicity shouting angrily at young Liam, who was looking aggrieved and upset, while Henry seemed to be doing his best to calm things down. Suddenly Felicity burst into tears and fled from the room.

Jeremy stared in astonishment. ‘What on earth—?’

Leo crossed the room to find out what was going on.

‘Angela Butler and Chris Tebbins from Hill Dickinson have turned up for a ten o’clock conference with Michael,’ explained Henry. ‘They’re waiting in reception. But someone mistakenly put in Michael’s diary that he was meant to be going to their offices. So they’re here, and he’s there.’

‘And Felicity’s saying it’s my fault, when it’s not,’ put in Liam.

‘Fuss about nothing,’ muttered Jeremy, and departed with his mail.

Leo sighed. ‘Well, it’s hardly the biggest deal in the world. Liam, call Michael on his mobile and turn him around. Then get reception to apologise to the solicitors, tell them that Michael will be with them in ten minutes, and give them coffee.’

When Liam had gone, Leo turned to Henry. ‘Is there more going on here that I should know about? Even if Felicity is responsible for the diary cock-up, it’s hardly important enough to make her storm off in tears.’

‘I don’t know what’s up with her lately, Mr D. Liam absolutely wasn’t to blame, and she knows it. Last week she forgot to tell Roger Fry that a hearing date had been brought forward, and we had the solicitor ringing up from court in a state demanding to know why Roger wasn’t there. Felicity tried to make out that was Liam’s fault, too. We all make mistakes, but her putting the blame on young Liam – well, it isn’t on. He feels like she’s got it in for him, and it’s shaking his confidence. He’s shaping up very nicely, and I don’t want to lose him.’ Henry shook his head. ‘But I’m worried for Felicity, too. She’s not been herself lately. Not since that bloke of hers came out of prison. When I try to talk to her about it, she just clams up.’

Leo nodded. ‘I think I’d better have a talk with her.’

Felicity had taken herself off to a sandwich bar in Fleet Street, and was sitting miserably in a corner with a cup of tea, hating herself. She knew that the cock-up with the solicitors from Hill Dicks was down to her. She shouldn’t have blamed Liam. The fact was, she couldn’t get her head
straight these days. She’d let Vince walk in and take over her life. Every day was the same. Waking up hungover and depressed, despite the good resolutions of the day before. Feeling better by lunchtime, telling herself for the hundredth time that things were going to change. Making a series of resolutions – one, Vince would have to start taking responsibility for keeping the flat clean; two, Vince would have to make a bigger effort to find a job; three, Vince would do more shopping and cooking. Then getting home in the evening and being defeated by either the pigsty state of the place, or Vince’s already half-sozzled cheerfulness, or by her own weariness, and forming resolution four – tell Vince to get out. Then postponing that difficult moment by knocking back a large vodka and tonic.

After which the evening would just slide away. Supper would be whatever was in the fridge, or a takeaway from Pizza Hut or McDonalds, with another stiff drink to take the edge off the fact that she was failing herself yet again, and then another, maybe a bit of whatever Vince had scored down the pub. Then bed, and sex she couldn’t even remember in the morning.

Too much dope, too much booze, too little self-control and rapidly dwindling self-respect.

Felicity glanced up and saw Leo at the counter, buying a coffee. He came across and slid into the chair opposite her.

‘I thought I might find you here.’

Felicity said nothing.

Leo sipped his coffee. ‘Want to tell me what’s up?’

She turned her gaze to the window, and the street beyond. Leo let a silence elapse, then he went on, ‘Come on, we’re old friends. Think of all the times I’ve told you things I
wouldn’t tell anyone else in chambers. Don’t shut me out.’

Felicity’s eyes grew suddenly bright with tears. ‘Oh, Christ, don’t be nice to me.’

‘Is it to do with Vince? Henry mentioned something about him coming out of prison.’

She let her gaze meet Leo’s, and nodded. ‘He came out last month. I was never going to get back with him. Somehow it just happened. He’s there in my flat. He’s there right now. My little flat that used to be so nice, and he’s turned it into a tip.’ Felicity told Leo the whole story, how manipulated she felt, and how she couldn’t seem to find the strength to alter the situation. ‘He keeps saying he’ll get a job, but he doesn’t. If I have a go, he just laughs. It doesn’t matter how angry I get, he thinks I don’t mean it. It’s like – like punching wet lettuce. Or like one of those dreams where you’re trying to get somewhere, and it doesn’t matter how hard you try, you’re running on the spot, getting nowhere. I feel completely helpless, and it’s all my fault, because I still fancy the hell out of him, and he knows it. Like he’s got some sort of hold over me. I hate myself for being so weak.’ She shook her head. ‘You probably don’t understand.’

‘I understand all too well. I know what it’s like when someone has that effect on you. Your life isn’t your own. The only time you can think clearly is when you’re away from them. Then you make all kinds of decisions, promises to yourself about how things are going to change. But as soon as you’re with them again, your plans vanish into nothing. You might as well have never made them. And the knowledge that you keep failing yourself just compounds it, takes you lower and lower.’

Felicity nodded, her eyes fastened on Leo’s face. ‘That’s
exactly how it is. And you know what? I never even wanted him back in the first place. Rachel was right. She told me to lay it on the line to him from the start, tell him he couldn’t go making assumptions that things were just going to automatically go back to the way they were. But what did I do? I let him waltz right back in and plonk himself down. I must be the weakest person I know.’

‘Do you love him?’

‘No. That is, I do and I don’t. I mean, I know he’s no good for me, that in the long run he’s just going to fuck up my life as well as his.’ She glanced at Leo. ‘It’s got a name, that – hasn’t it?’

‘Codependancy, I think. Something like that.’

‘Yeah? Well, he knows just how to play me, the buttons to press, my weak spots.’

‘We’ve all got weak spots. But you really need to find some strength. You know this relationship is disastrous, and you need to sort it out. You have to ask yourself – how is this going to be in six months’ time? Am I going to let this guy run my life, jeopardise my career …’ Leo paused, catching the look on Felicity’s face. ‘You know it could happen. It’s obvious your work is suffering because of your personal life. Nothing major, so far, but with the kind of work we do, mistakes can have huge repercussions.’

Felicity buried her face in her hands. ‘I know.’ After a moment she looked up. ‘I feel like I’m in some kind of self-destructive nightmare. Like you said, I can decide here and now that he’s got to go, but when I get home, it makes no difference. The same old shit, over and over.’

Leo drained his coffee cup. ‘Then you need to take drastic action. Change the locks. Wait till he goes out, collect all his
belongings and put them outside, and never let him back in.’

Felicity contemplated this unhappily. ‘How would I work it? Even if I could get him out of the place long enough to change the locks, he’d come back and talk me round.’

‘Only if you let him. That’s where strength of will comes in, and I can’t help you there.’ Leo contemplated her despondent face. ‘But as both a friend and an employer, I have to say – you can’t go on like this. One, you’re making yourself wretched, and two, you’re in danger of doing yourself out of a job.’ Leo knew this was a hard thing to say, but he also knew instinctively that Felicity needed something to stiffen her spine. Maybe fear would give her the gumption she needed to get rid of this waste of space of a boyfriend. He hoped so.

She gazed at Leo, stricken. ‘You’re telling me I need to sort myself out, or else.’

‘I am.’

‘OK.’ She nodded. ‘OK.’

Leo touched her hand gently. ‘Good. See you back in chambers.’

Felicity worked throughout the afternoon in tight-lipped silence. Everyone tiptoed round her, sensing her mood. Henry shot her surreptitious glances now and again, wishing he knew what was going on in her head. At six o’clock, as he was about to leave, she was still tapping away at her keyboard. He went over.

‘Fancy a quick one? I’m not meeting Cheryl till half seven.’

Felicity shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’ve got a lot to catch up on.’ Then she stopped tapping and looked up. ‘Going anywhere special?’

‘Just a movie, then maybe a pizza.’

‘That’s nice.’

In the silence that followed, Felicity found herself wishing that she was going out for the evening with a normal bloke who had a job and who wasn’t a loafer and a sponger, and Henry found himself guiltily wishing that he was going out with Felicity instead of Cheryl.

‘OK,’ said Henry abruptly, hating himself for his disloyalty, ‘I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t work too hard.’

Felicity worked for another hour, then went home. She sat on the bus, staring out of the window. Perhaps she should try and make Vince hate and despise her, so he would want to leave. But she didn’t know how to make him hate her. She would have to hate him first, and she didn’t. She didn’t hate anyone except herself. Leo was right. She couldn’t let this crap set-up lurch on any more. Tonight she would spell it out to Vince. Then she remembered the other times she’d spelt it out, and how nothing had changed, and felt her resolve waver.

When she got in, Vince was sitting with his feet up, drink in hand, watching television.

‘You’re late,’ he remarked.

‘Some of us have to work,’ replied Felicity. She hung up her coat, and sniffed. ‘What’s that smell?’

‘Supper,’ replied Vince. ‘Thai green curry. I picked up some chicken breast and a jar of stuff from the supermarket. Found some boil-in-the-bag rice in the cupboard.’ He swung his feet off the table, stood up and went to the kitchen, returning with an overfull glass of wine. ‘Here. Sit down and put your feet up.’

Felicity’s heart sank. This happened every so often. Vince
would realise he’d been pushing his luck, trespassing too far on her goodwill, and so he would go through a pretence of making amends, of cooking supper and giving assurances of looking for work. Meaningless gestures which, she now knew, went nowhere. She stared into her wine, took a large swallow. ‘Vince?’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘I know why you’re doing this.’

He dropped a kiss on her head and sat down next to her. ‘Because I love you, babes.’

‘Because you know how fed up I am of all this, and you’re trying to butter me up.’

‘Hey—’

‘No “hey” about it. You think you can play me like a piano, don’t you? Here’s me working my arse off every day to pay the bills, while you spend your jobseeker’s allowance down the pub like it’s pocket money. And every time you see me getting fed up with the whole malarkey, you think all you have to do is tidy up a bit, buy a bottle of wine, open a jar of cook-in sauce, promise to look for a job, and it’ll all be fine. ‘Cause you’ve got everything you want, haven’t you? A roof over your head, a bed, telly, food in the fridge – naturally you want to make sure you don’t lose it.’

He seemed genuinely wounded. ‘Fuck me. Is that what you think?’

Felicity drained her glass of wine. ‘Roughly, yeah.’ She stood up and stalked to the kitchen to pour herself another. She had never been so forthright before. This could be his cue to go off on one, to start throwing things around and shouting. On one level she hoped he would. An out-and-out stormer of a row might provide a good excuse to chuck
him out. She took another swig of her fresh glass of wine to set her up, and returned to the living room. What she saw was not what she had expected. Vince was sitting on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped over his bent head, crying softly. Immediately she sat down next to him, stroking his shoulder, filled with anxious remorse for what she’d just said, forgetting the entire truth of it. Felicity couldn’t bear to see anyone cry, especially a big, strong bloke.

His voice sounded broken. ‘You don’t know what it’s like, Fliss. Prison wrecks you. It shatters your confidence.’ He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. ‘I know it looks to you like I’m just some kind of sponger, and it kills me that you think that. I’m doing my level best to get work, straight up. Thing is, it’s going to take time to get my self-esteem back to where it needs to be.’ He turned to look at her. ‘How bad do you think I feel about not bringing anything in? Tonight was just my way of trying to do something right. You’re the only thing holding me together. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t even care what happens to me …’