Errors of Judgment

by Caro Fraser

  ‘Your light was on, so I thought I’d say hello.’ Leo stepped into the room and closed the door. ‘Working?’

  Anthony logged off the page and leant back in his chair. ‘Just casino stuff.’

  ‘Ah. Your Lion King case. Rachel’s told me about it. The hearing’s in a couple of months, isn’t it?’

  Anthony could feel the knot of fear still twisting his insides. He badly wanted to unburden himself to Leo, find a way to loosen the dread. ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant my ridiculous gambling losses.’ He added, with an effort at lightness, ‘I blame Edward, leading me into bad habits, luring me to poker games when I should have been in bed.’ He began to feel his anxiety relaxing. He would confess to Leo, and Leo would absolve him, help him.

  But Anthony’s words and manner irritated Leo. Gambling amused him only vaguely, and the idea that anyone should allow themselves to rack up losses struck him as incredibly weak.

  ‘Spending your evenings gambling? I imagine that’s why you were so badly prepared for that interlocutory disclosure hearing the other day.’

  Anthony gave him a sharp glance, all thoughts of confession and absolution dismissed. ‘What do you mean? Who told you that?’

  ‘George Webb from Holmans mentioned it to Henry. Henry mentioned it to me. Doesn’t do to let down instructing solicitors, you know. Especially someone like Webb. He’s the kind of person you should be looking to for reliable future income. But if you spend your nights in casinos and turn up ill-prepared—’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, the hearing has nothing to do with anything. Felicity messed the days up. I didn’t have time to get my head round the case.’

  Leo said nothing for a moment. ‘If you say so.’ There was an uncomfortable silence. ‘So, how much are you talking about?’

  ‘How much what?’

  ‘Your losses.’

  But Anthony knew the moment had passed. ‘Forget it. It’s not that bad. I don’t know why I mentioned it. Anyway,’ said Anthony, seeking now to deflect the conversation from himself, ‘why are you in chambers at this hour?’

  ‘I was meeting an old friend for a drink. I needed to come back to chambers to drop some papers off.’ He knew he could say nothing now about Gabrielle and Jackie. The mood was wrong. Anthony was angry, troubled, and he himself felt tired and confused. The faint trace of Jackie’s perfume clung to his face from where she had kissed him, and was a source of irritation rather than pleasure.

  Anthony nodded. They gazed at one another, aware of a loss of connection.

  Leo rose. ‘I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Can I give you a lift home?’

  ‘No thanks. I have some things to do. Papers to look at.’

  As he listened to Leo’s footsteps fading on the stairs, Anthony wished he had accepted the lift. He wasn’t seeing Gabrielle till eight. It would have been a chance to rewind the clock, confide in Leo and find some wise counsel. For an instant he almost got up and went after him. But the seconds ticked by, and silence reclaimed the empty chambers. Anthony locked up, and made his way home, glad of the thought of having Gabrielle to take his mind off his problems, even if she couldn’t solve them.

  It was ten o’clock when Gabrielle reached across to the bedside table to check the time on her phone. She rolled back to face Anthony. He was lying on the pillow with his hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ She traced a line with her finger down his chest, and kissed his shoulder.

  He didn’t answer for several seconds, then suddenly turned to her. ‘Sorry – what?’

  ‘Don’t worry. You were miles away.’ She sat on the edge of the bed, fishing on the floor for her underwear. ‘I have to go. I’ve got an essay to finish.’

  ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’

  ‘My parents have some family friends coming for dinner. They asked me to be there. Sorry.’

  Anthony got out of bed and pulled on his boxer shorts. He padded to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. When he came back, Gabrielle was dressed. He took her in his arms, stroking her face. ‘It’s weird. I’ve only been seeing you for a couple of weeks, and yet it feels like I’ve known you much longer.’

  She gave a crooked little smile. ‘Maybe we met in another life.’ She pulled a brush from her bag and dragged it through her hair. ‘So, what do you plan to do tomorrow night, now that I’m blowing you out? It’s Saturday, after all.’

  ‘Not sure. Maybe I’ll pop along to Blunt’s. Edward might be there.’

  ‘As will the lovely Julia, no doubt. She and her husband practically seem to live there.’ Gabrielle turned to a mirror and checked her reflection.

  ‘I’m not remotely interested in her,’ replied Anthony. ‘As well you know.’

  ‘But she’s interested in you. Watch yourself.’ She picked up her coat. ‘And don’t gamble too much. You always seem to lose shedloads. I can’t believe you can afford to chuck so much money away.’

  When she had gone, Anthony put on some music and tried to clear his mind. With Gabrielle he had been able to forget his anxieties, but now they returned. He thought of the calculations he had done earlier, reckoning up his mortgage, outgoings, chambers’ rent, the cost of the new car he’d recently bought, against his monthly losses. Maybe the answer was just to stop. Just stop, cold. But how would that help? It was a panicky reaction, and the wrong one. Looked at rationally, the losses were only the cumulation of a losing streak. Nothing lasted for ever. What he really needed to do was to stop panicking and be patient. Quitting now would mean losing entirely the possibility of a big win. And really, that was all he needed – just one big, solid win to rebalance everything. Just fifty or seventy-five grand to set him back on an even keel. It was possible. It had happened to him before. And what about that guy who had won a hundred and eighty grand the other night? It would be mad just to stop. The truth was, he didn’t like the idea of giving up his nights at the casino. He enjoyed spending time there, seeing Edward and the new friends he had made lately. The answer was to cut down. Instead of lashing down a few hundred on every bet or poker game, he could bring it down to sensible levels. That was the solution. Thirty or forty pounds could just as easily net him a big win at higher stakes. He liked to think that he was cultivating a better idea of judicious betting. He even had a bit of a system going. It was just a question of hanging in there till his luck turned.

  His deliberations had made him feel better about everything. He glanced at his watch. Only half ten. He might as well start his new regime now. He felt happier, could sense luck waiting round the corner for him.

  He dressed, left the flat, grabbed a cab, and fifteen minutes late he was in the plush, warm, well-lit womb of the casino.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Toby stood at the kitchen window in his parents’ house, a mug of coffee in his hand. His mother’s car drew up, and he watched as she got out and crossed the yard to the house, Scooby bounding at her heels. She came into the kitchen, pulling off her coat, and saw Toby.

  ‘Toby, what a nice surprise! When did you get here?’

  Toby crossed the kitchen to give his mother a kiss. ‘About half an hour ago.’

  ‘You should have told me you were coming. I wouldn’t have spent so long in town.’

  ‘Just thought I’d pop down and see how you old folks are getting on. I have a lot of spare time these days.’

  ‘Well, I have just come back from Waitrose with the most enormous shopping, so you and your father can bring it in from the car. Where on earth is he?’ She went to the door leading to the hallway and called into the house. ‘Jon-Jon, I’m back!’

  Toby went out to the car, happy to postpone, if only by ten minutes or so, the business of telling her about the break-up with Sarah. He had been calling and texting her several times every day since the night she’d left. Yesterday she had eventually answered one of his calls, and by the end of their conversation he finally accepted that it was over, and that she was ne
ver coming back to him.

  He opened the boot and started to take out bags of shopping. His father emerged from the house to join him.

  ‘Have you said anything to Mum?’ asked Toby.

  Jonathan Kittering shook his head. ‘I’m leaving that to you.’

  They carried the bags into the kitchen, and Caroline began to bustle about, putting groceries away.

  ‘Mum,’ began Toby, ‘the reason I came down today—’

  ‘In a minute, darling. Let me sort all this out, and then we can have a chat. Make yourself useful and put on the kettle. I’m dying for a cup of tea. Shopping always wears me out.’

  While Toby made tea, Caroline unpacked bag after bag, talking nineteen to the dozen about her trip into town.

  ‘I met Denise Hannon at the delicatessen counter and I hardly recognised her. You wouldn’t believe the amount of weight she’s put on since summer. Here,’ she handed a bag of frozen food to Jonathan, ‘all this can go in the freezer.’

  ‘Here’s your tea,’ said Toby.

  ‘Thank you, dear. Just pop it on the table. Nearly finished.’ She started to empty the last bag of groceries. ‘Actually, I’m glad you popped down, because we need to discuss arrangements for Christmas. It’s only a week away, you know. The way it creeps up! Annabel gets back from Florence on the nineteenth, though she doesn’t know yet if Marcus will be here or not. Daniel and Ffion can’t get here till the afternoon on Christmas Day, because they’re driving down from Wales, so I thought I would do the meal in the early evening, if people don’t mind. I was also thinking it might be a good idea if you and Sarah were to come down the day before, so that Sarah can give me a hand with preparations. I know she’s not all that keen on domestic chores, but if she’s going to be one of the family, she’ll have to learn to muck in—’

  ‘Sarah won’t be coming for Christmas,’ said Toby abruptly. ‘We’ve split up.’

  Caroline stopped, open-mouthed, a packet of milk chocolate digestives in one hand. ‘Split up?’

  ‘She ended it. Said she didn’t want to marry me after all.’

  Caroline put the biscuits on the kitchen table and sat down. ‘Good heavens. Oh, Toby – how awful for you. How truly awful.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Did you know?’

  Jonathan Kittering nodded. ‘Toby told me as soon as he got here.’

  Caroline looked piteously at her son. ‘Darling, I am so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I’m glad I found out now the kind of person she is.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When I was away in Scotland – you know, at the rugby – she slept with someone else. She told me when I got back. She’s moved in with him. For all I know, she could have been seeing him for months.’

  ‘What? How absolutely dreadful! Who is he?’

  ‘No one you know. A barrister called Leo Davies. Someone she used to work with. So you see, I’m probably well out of it.’

  ‘Yes. Oh, what a shock. I can’t believe it. You poor, poor boy.’ Caroline got up and went to hug him, standing on tiptoe to get her arms around him.

  ‘Mum, honestly …’ Toby tolerated her embrace for a few seconds. ‘I’ll get over it.’

  Caroline stroked his arms, then returned to the table and sat down, picking up her tea, her gaze growing distant. ‘I shall have to make some phone calls. What a good thing we decided on a marquee for the reception and didn’t book Calcott House. I imagine the deposit—’ She broke off, glancing at Toby. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, darling. I shouldn’t be thinking of such mundane things at a time like this. Too practical for my own good. How awful for Vivian. He was so thrilled when you and Sarah got engaged. His best friend’s daughter. So perfect. And now …’ She raised her eyebrows eloquently. ‘Though I have to say, sad as it is that you and she have split up, that Sarah was really never quite my idea of—’

  ‘Not now, Mummy,’ said Toby brusquely. ‘I think I’ll take Scoobs for a walk.’

  Jonathan sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I have to talk to Vivian, obviously.’

  ‘And say what, exactly? That Sarah has behaved appallingly? I should think he must be heartily ashamed of her.’ Caroline sipped her tea, and added, ‘That’s assuming he knows.’

  ‘Sarah must have told him, surely?’

  Caroline shrugged. ‘Who knows? I should wait until he rings you. In the circumstances, it’s really up to him.’

  ‘I suppose. I’ll give it till Wednesday. But if he hasn’t been in touch by then, I shall have to call him.’

  That Wednesday, Sir Vivian spent the hours between ten and two at the London Library, engaged in research for his new book, a history of the Cambridge Apostles. When he got back to his Westminster flat he felt he had pretty much earned an afternoon in front of the telly. He put on his slippers, toasted and buttered some crumpets, poured himself a glass of beer, and settled down on the sofa to watch the racing from Uttoxeter, the phone by his side so that he could ring his bookmaker if the urge overtook him. He had just taken one bite of crumpet and a sip of beer, when the phone rang.

  ‘Buggeration,’ he muttered. He hesitated, wondering whether to bother, then pressed the ‘mute’ button on the remote and picked up the phone.

  He recognised Jonathan’s voice at once. ‘Jonathan, my dear fellow. You’ve just caught me putting my feet up, watching the racing. How can I help?’

  ‘Vivian, I’m sorry to disturb your afternoon, but I had to call you. Toby came to see us a couple of days ago.’ A brief silence elapsed. ‘He and Sarah have broken off their engagement.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I would have thought Sarah might have told you. It happened over a week ago.’

  ‘She hasn’t said a thing.’ Sir Vivian tried to quell his alarm with words of reassurance. ‘Probably because it isn’t as serious as you think. You know what young people are like. It’s probably just a trivial tiff.’

  ‘I really think it’s more than that.’ Jonathan spoke his next words with evident difficulty. ‘Apparently Sarah has gone to live with another man.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘His name is Leo Davies. Toby thinks it’s possible she’s been seeing him for a while.’

  The spark of instinctive concern Sir Vivian had felt for his daughter on the news of the break-up was immediately extinguished. Shame and anger washed over him. He recalled Grand Night, the conversation he had overheard. Sarah had been with him that very evening. How could she do this to Toby – to everyone? ‘Jonathan, the girl has taken leave of her senses. She adores Toby. I’m sure there must be some explanation, some way of sorting this out.’

  ‘From the way Toby was speaking, I don’t think there’s any way back. We may just have to accept it.’

  There was a long pause before Sir Vivian spoke. ‘I cannot find words at the moment, Jon. You must let me speak to Sarah.’

  ‘As you wish, Vivian. As you wish. We are so sorry – about all of it.’

  When the conversation had ended, Sir Vivian was in no mood for beer or crumpets. He rang Sarah’s mobile, but it went straight to voicemail. He left a message asking her to ring him as a matter of urgency.

  Sarah didn’t pick up her father’s message until the following morning, as she was leaving the offices of an insurance company in Lombard Street where she’d been for a job interview. A few days earlier she had made a tentative approach to her ex-boss, Hugo, and found his wrath had cooled to the point where he was prepared to write her a reference – albeit a fairly equivocal one. As he himself had said, if every person in the City who’d ever screwed up was never able to work again, most major financial institutions would be in a state of collapse. The interview had gone well; Sarah was one on a shortlist of three, and instinct told her she had it in the bag. With any luck, by New Year she would be back in work.

  When she switched on her phone and heard the message from her father, she guessed that he had heard at last about her split with Toby. It had been a calculated decision not to t
ell him, to let him hear the news from the Kitterings. Since the tone of his message had been irate rather than sorrowful, she assumed he also knew that she was living with Leo. She stopped outside the entrance to Cannon Street station, about to call him back, when she thought better of it. She would go and see him instead.

  Fifteen minutes later she emerged from Westminster tube station and made her way to her father’s house near Smith Square. When he opened the door, Sir Vivian’s expression was one of surprise, and then gloom.

  ‘Come in,’ he said, and she closed the door and followed him into the living room. He permitted a stiff exchange of kisses. ‘What’s this about you and Toby? And why was I the last to know?’

  Sarah composed her features into an expression somewhere between sadness and anxiety. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I think it was because I knew how upset you’d be that I couldn’t face telling you.’

  ‘Upset about what? You breaking off with Toby, or the fact you’ve taken up with some other man? I simply do not understand you, Sarah. God knows, you were trouble enough when you were a teenager, but behaving like this at your age! You and Toby had everything ahead of you, and now you’re throwing it all away. For what? Explain it to me, because I simply do not understand.’ He sat down in an armchair, crossing his legs and staring at her with angry expectancy.

  Sarah leant against the fireplace. ‘I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. It sounds as though you know everything already. I was stupid. I did something idiotic. Toby found out. He’s right not to forgive me.’ Sarah allowed her eyes to brighten with incipient tears, then she looked away.

  Sir Vivian looked uncomfortable, and his manner softened. ‘I’m not sure that it’s my place to say anything about your behaviour. You’re a grown woman. I don’t pretend to understand the morals of today’s world.’ He sighed. ‘But if, as you say, it was simply a mistake, and no more, why on earth can’t you and Toby patch things up?’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that. Things have gone too far.’