Errors of Judgment (18 page)

It was when he turned to look at her that she realised how fake it was. She could see it in his eyes. She let his plausible words, all the bogus self-justification and whining protestations wash over her. She felt unutterably weary.
Enough
, she told herself.
Enough
.

She let him finish talking, then stroked his arm. ‘Forget what I said. Let’s eat supper. I’m hungry.’ She got up and went to the kitchen. She picked up her glass of wine and emptied it into the sink, got the rice out of the cupboard and put plates to warm in the oven. Behind her she could hear Vince, cheerful now that he was off the hook, rabbiting on
about things Ossie and Quills had done and said, examining the navel fluff of his empty, useless day.

He came through and picked up the bottle of wine to refill Felicity’s glass.

‘It’s OK,’ said Felicity. ‘I don’t fancy any more to drink tonight.’

‘That’s not like you. Hey, you’re not …?’ Vince grinned, raised his eyebrows.

‘No,’ said Felicity. ‘I’m not.’ She stared at him for a moment. That he could even think that would be a good thing, a reason to smile – it put the lid on everything, finally, once and for all.

As they ate Vince’s Thai green curry, Felicity asked casually, ‘You done any Christmas shopping?’

‘What kind of a question’s that? You know I’m skint.’

‘Just you need to get your mum something nice. She’ll be expecting it.’

Vince nodded. ‘She’s asked us round there Christmas Day.’

‘Lovely.’ If there was one place Felicity did not intend to be on Christmas Day, it was Denise’s house. She added, ‘Tell you what, I get paid Friday. Why don’t I give you a bit of a loan and you can go and do some shopping up Westfield? Get your mum a handbag or something.’

Vince mused. ‘Yeah, all right.’ He finished his curry, then added, ‘I’ll pay you back. When I get fixed up, I mean. I reckon I’ll find a job in the New Year.’

‘Yeah.’

He leant across and kissed her, then sat back replete and comfortable. ‘I did the cooking, your turn to clear up.’

Felicity’s face was inscrutable as she cleared the plates
away. When she came back, Vince was skinning up a large spliff. She watched for a few seconds, thinking about the amount of money he must spend every week on dope.

He lit up, took a long drag, then handed it to Felicity. She shook her head. She badly wanted to feel the curling warmth of the skunk slowing her mind, letting her cares leach away, till nothing mattered. But she knew if she was going to see this through, she had to detach herself, stay hard-hearted and clear-headed.

They lounged on the sofa together, watching television. Vince smoked the spliff down to the end, then got up and poured himself a large vodka. ‘Sure you don’t want one?’ he asked. She shook her head, eyes fastened on the TV. Normally by this time they would have smoked a joint together, and would be starting to neck more booze, and she would be curled up lazily, hazily in his arms. A little bit of her ached for that. She got up and went to wash the dishes. Then she sorted out a neglected basket of clean washing, and did some ironing in the bedroom, listening to Capital FM.

She went to bed early and read for a while. It was a long time since she’d done any reading. Before Vince had moved in she’d been getting through a book a week. She became so engrossed that she was still reading when Vince came through, pulling off his T-shirt, scratching his chest and yawning. ‘Thought I’d join you for an early night.’ He sat down on the edge of the bed and plucked the book from her hands, then leant in to kiss her, his hands sliding beneath her pyjama top to caress her breasts.

Felicity pulled away. ‘Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.’

‘Not tonight, Josephine,’ murmured Vince, and wandered
to the bathroom. Felicity picked up her book and carried on reading, her nipples tingling from his touch.

Once in bed, he tried again, but Felicity elbowed him away gently, and carried on reading. Vince lay back, blinked, yawned, tried to talk a bit, but the dope and the booze got the better of him and he fell asleep in minutes.

When she heard the regularity of his breathing, Felicity switched the light off and lay in the darkness, thinking ahead. She had no idea how the next week was going to play out, but she was determined that by the end of it, Vince was going to be out of her life and her bed for good. Her stomach lurched with fear. What if she couldn’t do this? Then she thought of what Leo had said. He was one of the few people in the world whose opinion she really cared for. She wasn’t going to let him down, or herself.

Felicity had booked the locksmith for eleven, but the way things were going, she was beginning to wonder if she wouldn’t have to call him off. She hadn’t even given any thought to what would happen if Vince didn’t go out. How could she have the locks changed right in front of him? Picture the scene. It simply wasn’t going to happen.

Vince was wandering round the flat, hungover from the night before. Felicity made him coffee and a bacon sandwich.

‘Nice day for Christmas shopping,’ she said brightly, glancing at the clear sky.

Vince lolled back on the sofa, feet on the coffee table. ‘Not sure I fancy it.’ He took a bite of his bacon sandwich, then made a face. ‘I’ve told you I don’t like it when you don’t cut the fat off. My mum always cuts it off. I don’t like
bits of stringy fat.’ He pulled a piece from his mouth and set it on the side of the plate, then wiped his fingers on the side of his boxers and took a swig of coffee.

‘Up to you,’ said Felicity casually. ‘But it’s your last chance. You know what your mum’ll be like if you don’t get her something, specially if we have to be round hers Christmas Day.’ The little piling up of deceits was not pleasant, but she had to get him out of the house. She thought about everything Leo said. She had to do this to save her own life. ‘Go on – get it out of the way, then you can meet up with Ossie and Quills and watch the football round The Kempton. I’ll pop down later.’

‘Yeah, maybe. I’ll see.’

Felicity was worried that she’d said too much, been too pushy. Vince didn’t react well to pushy. She picked up his empty plate. ‘Anyway, there’s fifty on the side in the kitchen. You can pay me back later.’ Leaving the money out for him, avoiding the business of directly handing it over, was part of the game. She glanced at her watch. Ten past ten.

Vince drained his mug of coffee, got up, stretched, and scratched himself under his T-shirt. ‘I’m off for a shower.’

She listened to the water splashing in the bathroom, counting the minutes.

Vince emerged, showered and dressed, at twenty to eleven. Felicity was sitting making up a to-do list. She glanced up. ‘You off?’

‘I don’t fancy shopping on my own. You come too. You know the kind of thing Denise’ll like.’

‘Vince, I’ve got a million things I need to do. Working all week, the chores really pile up.’

He gazed moodily around, then dropped onto the sofa
and picked up yesterday’s
Standard
. He flipped through it for a few minutes, while Felicity pretended to concentrate on her list. Then he got up and sauntered into the kitchen. She knew he was pocketing the fifty. How much of that would go on a present for Denise, and how much of it down the boozer?

‘Right, I’m off,’ said Vince. ‘I’ll see you later down the pub?’

‘Yeah, most likely,’ said Felicity. She looked up and smiled. ‘Bye, Vince.’

An hour later, the locksmith had been and gone, and Felicity had two bright new sets of keys.

She found some black bin liners in the kitchen cupboard and went round the house, stuffing in Vince’s possessions. They were pitifully few. She paused in the act of folding up one of his shirts. He was thirty-three, with almost nothing to show for his life. If she discarded him, he would probably go from bad to worse. When Vince said she was all he had, it was just about true. She stared at the shirt for a few seconds, then thrust it into the bag, followed by his electric razor and toiletries.

When she had finished, she rang her friend Maureen.

‘Mo? It’s me. I need a favour. I need to come and stay with you tonight, if that’s OK. Just this one night.’ She explained about Vince, about changing the locks, about not wanting to be here when he came back and found out she’d kicked him out.

‘About time, girl,’ said Maureen. ‘Well done. I never liked to say it, but he is such a loser.’

‘You don’t have to tell me. I’ve known a long time. Too long.’

Twenty minutes later Felicity’s car pulled up outside Denise’s semi. She walked up the path and rang the bell.

It took Denise so long to come to the door that Felicity began to think perhaps she was out. Maybe she could leave Vince’s belongings up the side path near the bins, and pop a note through the letter box, scuttle away without confrontation. But eventually she heard the rattle of the chain being taken off. The door cracked open a few inches and Denise peered out. She had obviously just woken up. With her frowsed dark-orange hair and smudged eyeliner she looked strangely like Vivienne Westwood.

‘Hello, Fliss, darlin’!’ The enthusiasm was forced, but she opened the door wide to let Felicity in, clutching closed the front of her peach sateen kimono. Felicity stepped inside, bringing the bin bag with her.

‘What’s that?’ asked Denise.

‘Some stuff of Vince’s.’

Denise nodded, not comprehending. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’ She headed for the kitchen, and Felicity followed.

‘You caught me on the hop,’ said Denise, filling the kettle, then reaching for cigarettes and a lighter lying on the worktop. She gave a throaty laugh. ‘Or rather, off it. I was out on the piss with Shelley and Rhona last night.’ She pulled out a fag, snapped the lighter, and took a deep drag. ‘Getting too old for this caper. But we had a laugh.’ Her gaze wandered for a few seconds, then returned to Felicity. ‘So – what brings you round here on a Saturday?’

‘Like I said, I’ve brought Vince’s things.’ She set the bag against the leg of the kitchen table. ‘I can’t have him living with me any more.’

Denise’s eyes widened. ‘What you on about?’

‘I’ve told him a million times – things aren’t working out between us. We’re bad for one another. I need him to leave. But he won’t listen. So I had the locks changed this morning, while he’s out. I didn’t know what else to do. And I’ve brought you his things.’

Denise set her cigarette carefully to one side, its tip clear of the work surface. Then she grasped Felicity’s forearms gently and looked intently into her face. ‘Fliss, don’t do this. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him. He needs you.’

‘Well, I don’t need him,’ replied Felicity stonily. ‘And he’s about the worst thing that ever happened to me. Not that he’s a bad person. But I can’t carry him. He’s lazy, he’s a sponger, and I don’t want him any more.’ Denise let go of Felicity. Her expression was stunned, pained. ‘I don’t mean to hurt you, Denise. But this is … this is non-negotiable.’

Denise raked a hand through her hair. ‘What makes you think I want him here?’

‘I don’t, necessarily. But I couldn’t think of anywhere else to bring his stuff.’ She sighed. ‘No point in tea. I’d best be off.’ She turned and went down the hall. Denise padded behind her.

‘He’s not going to let it end here, you know,’ said Denise, when they reached the front door.

‘It’s not up to him. Vince has got to sort his life out without me.’ She leant forward and gave Denise a peck on the cheek. ‘Good luck.’

‘Thanks,’ replied Denise. She sounded weary. Felicity left and drove home, astonished at how accepting Denise had been. But then, she was Vince’s mother. She knew better than anyone what Felicity had been putting up with.

Vince went to the local market and did some desultory shopping with Felicity’s money, dropped in at the bookies, and then went to the pub, where he spent the afternoon watching the football and drinking with his mates. It wasn’t until seven o’clock that he began to wonder where Felicity was. He rang her mobile a few times, but got no answer. He and his friends decided to move from the Kempton Arms to another pub for more drinks, and from there to a club in Brixton, and although Vince tried ringing Felicity a couple of times throughout the evening, he wasn’t especially bothered when she didn’t answer. He tried his luck in the club with a redhead called Candice but, being pretty drunk by this stage, didn’t get far. He left the club with Ossie and Quills, and they went to buy kebabs. Vince suggested going back to Felicity’s place for a few more drinks and some dope. Felicity, he assured them, would be cool about it.

Fifteen minutes later, Vince was battling boozily with the lock. Eventually he gave up and started banging on the door. When that produced no result, he tried the keys again. After more struggling and swearing, Ossie took over.

‘They don’t work, mate,’ he concluded. ‘They don’t fit. You sure they’re the right keys?’

‘Course they’re the right keys. They’re the only ones I’ve got.’

‘This the right door?’ ventured Quills.

‘Course it’s the right fucking door!’ Vince began to beat on it again.

‘I reckon she changed the locks, mate,’ said Quills.

‘Happens,’ agreed Ossie.

Vince stared at them for a moment, then started banging on the door again, shouting Felicity’s name.

A man in a vest and boxers emerged from a flat down the corridor.

‘You lot gonna stop that effing noise? I’ve got a baby in here.’

‘Fuck off!’ Vince began kicking the door.

Felicity’s neighbour stormed down the corridor. He was enormous and beefy, and sufficiently enraged not to feel intimidated by three drunks. ‘Right,’ he said.

The next few minutes were mayhem. Two other male neighbours woken by the row came down from the floor above. Vince and his friends were too drunk to put up a proper fight, and after much barging, tussling and a few erratically thrown punches, they were forcefully ejected from the building.

Out on the pavement they swayed and swore for a while, then eventually wandered off into the night.

On the landing by Felicity’s front door lay a carrier bag containing the Christmas presents Vince had bought in the market, and the remains of a half-eaten kebab.