Errors of Judgment

by Caro Fraser

  ‘This evening’s fine. I can cook us something, if you like.’

  ‘That’s all right – I don’t want to put you out. The set-top box shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.’

  ‘No, really.’ She smiled at Henry. ‘I’d like to.’

  ‘OK. Lovely. I’ll be round about eight.’

  The grind through the rush hour traffic took a frustrating hour, but when Leo finally got onto the M23 after Croydon, things began to speed up. Then after fifteen minutes he saw red tail lights building up ahead, and the traffic slowed to a crawl. Listening to useless local traffic information about an accident at Junction 14, he cursed himself for not taking the train. He would have been at the airport by now. Not for the first time, he reflected on how limiting a car could be in London, even a top of the top-of-the-range Aston Martin. In fact, having a fast car made the whole thing even sadder. If he didn’t make this flight, he would have to call Jacqueline, and let her take matters into her own hands.

  But gradually the traffic began to ease, and he reached the airport just after half seven. Once he had parked and walked to the terminal, the flight was already boarding, and he had to run to the gate. He boarded the plane with the tail-end stragglers, and took a seat at the back, a little out of breath, relieved to have made it.

  Without the distraction of a book or a newspaper, he was left entirely to his own thoughts on the flight. He found his concern was centred not on Gabrielle, but on Anthony. Gabrielle – unless for some reason Anthony decided to tell her – need never know about his own relationship with Anthony. But Anthony was well aware of how grotesque it all was. His lover was the daughter of a man with whom he’d slept – only once, admittedly, but degrees of normality did not apply to this situation. There was no knowing the extent to which it might alter, or even destroy, Anthony’s relationship with Gabrielle. Anthony knew that Leo had never stopped loving and wanting him. And it was he who had always put those possibilities out of bounds, admitting only the elements of profound friendship and unspoken emotional attachment. The incestuous nature of this entanglement would be too much for him. He would retreat, of that Leo was pretty sure. How would that affect Gabrielle? Leo had no idea. She was young. Leo wasn’t even sure how deeply she felt about Anthony. By the end of the year, it probably wouldn’t matter. As for himself, his part in all this was debatable. He had no reason to feel guilty – the coincidence of the circumstances would be risible if not so wretched – but for some reason he did. He decided not to explore this, but closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind of all concerns except finding Gabrielle safe and sound in Antibes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Henry left Cheryl’s with a heavy heart. A naturally kind person, he didn’t like hurting anyone, and Cheryl had cried a lot. But there was simply no point in going on with a relationship with someone you didn’t really love. It wasn’t fair. He wondered, as he caught the train to Brixton, whether he would ever find anyone to love and settle down with. Maybe there was no such thing as the perfect person. Maybe everything in life was a compromise. He was glad he had promised to sort out Felicity’s set-top box; it was something to take his mind off the business with Cheryl.

  When he arrived at the flat, Felicity had laid the table for supper.

  ‘I’m just doing us steaks and baked potatoes,’ she said. ‘And a bit of salad. Nothing fancy.’

  ‘Sounds ideal. Here, I picked up a bottle of wine at the off-licence on the corner.’

  ‘Lovely! I’ll go and open it.’

  Henry took off his jacket and unpacked the set-top box, while Felicity took the wine through to the kitchen.

  A few moments later, as Henry was examining scart leads, Felicity returned with two glasses. ‘I’ll just leave yours here,’ she said, setting down Henry’s wine on the coffee table.

  ‘Thanks. This shouldn’t take long.’

  She sipped her wine, watching Henry on his hands and knees, trying to sort out the various connections. It was nice to have a man around, helping out. Vince had rarely done a hand’s turn, and even when he did it had usually ended in failure, making more work than there had been to start with. Henry wasn’t like that. He was competent, industrious, and he did things conscientiously and well. She knew that from years of working with him.

  ‘How do you like your steak?’ she asked.

  ‘Medium rare, thanks.’

  ‘Right – same as me. They’ll only take a few minutes.’ It was a little thing, but it pleased Felicity. Vince had always insisted on having his steak well done, and she’d hated cooking perfectly good bits of meat to a frazzle, only to have him complain that she never got it right, not like his mum. As she watched Henry work, she wondered vaguely how Denise was coping.

  ‘OK. All done.’ Henry emerged from behind the television. ‘Pass us your remote.’

  Felicity left Henry to set up the channels and went back to the kitchen to cook the steaks. When she came back through, she found Henry sipping his wine and watching a shopping channel. ‘There you go. All your extra channels. You’d still be better off getting a dish, though, or cable.’

  ‘This will do to be going on with. It’s brilliant. Thanks. Now switch it off and come and get some food.’

  Over supper they chatted about the goings-on in chambers. It was gossipy, relaxing, and pleasantly intimate. Afterwards, they cleared up and tidied the kitchen together.

  ‘Still a couple of glasses left,’ remarked Felicity, holding up the bottle Henry had brought. ‘Shame not to finish it.’

  They settled themselves on Felicity’s sofa and Henry picked up the remote. ‘Want to watch one of your new channels?’

  ‘Sounds daft after you’ve gone to all that trouble, but I think I’d rather just talk.’

  ‘Fine by me.’

  ‘So, how’s everything with you and Cheryl? Still all loved-up?’

  Henry twisted the stem of his glass. ‘Not really. You know I said I was going round to see her tonight? Well, it was to tell her I was ending it.’ He took a swig of his wine. ‘And to give her back her dad’s power drill.’

  ‘Oh, Henry – why?’

  ‘Because I’d finished the shelves – oh, I see. Sorry. Because … well, because she wants something long-term, and I don’t love her enough for that. And it seems unfair to let her think it’s going to turn into something it’s not.’

  ‘That’s such a shame.’

  ‘Yeah. But it would have been an even bigger shame if we’d got married and it hadn’t worked out.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Felicity glanced up at the sudden sound of someone knocking on the front door. ‘God, that gave me a fright. Who is it at this time?’

  She went down the hallway and opened the front door. There stood Vince.

  ‘Hello, Fliss. How you doing?’ He smiled, and Felicity could tell immediately that he’d been drinking.

  ‘Vince, I don’t want you round here. You and me are over. So piss off.’ She tried to close the door, but Vince held it open.

  ‘You don’t mean that. You were upset a few weeks back, but now you’ve had time to get over it, and you and me just need to have a little chat and sort things out. Isn’t that right?’

  ‘No, it’s not right – get out!’ She tried shoving the door shut again, but Vince leant against it, and a second later he was inside the flat.

  ‘We’ve got a bit of unfinished business, Fliss. I mean, why did you have to do stuff like change the locks? Couldn’t you just say to my face you wanted me gone?’ His tone of wheedling aggression and the stink of stale beer set off a sudden explosion of anger in Felicity. Why couldn’t he just get out of her life and stay out?

  ‘Because it wouldn’t have made any difference!’ she shouted. ‘Because if I hadn’t done what I did, you’d still have been here, still a big, useless waste of space. So get out – now!’

  Henry came into the hallway. ‘What’s going on, Fliss? You all right?’

  ‘Oh, hello – it’s what’s-his-name.’ Vince grinned. ‘
Henry, isn’t it? What a surprise, you being here, all cosied up with my girlfriend.’

  ‘I think you’ll find she’s not your girlfriend any more.’

  ‘I think you’ll find? What kind of bollocks talk is that?’ Vince advanced up the hallway towards Henry. ‘I think you’ll find my fist in your gob, mate, if you don’t shut it.’

  Henry, who was stocky and by no means unathletic, squared his shoulders as Vince approached. But Vince was a good few inches taller than Henry, and unlike Henry was no stranger to casual brawling, so the contest, if it came to it, was bound to go only one way. Felicity could see this, and quickly stepped between them. She tried to speak calmly and reasonably.

  ‘Stop it, Vince. You’re wasting your time coming here. You know that. Just leave. Please.’

  Vince gave a contemptuous snigger. ‘You’re not seriously telling me you’re picking him over me, are you? This half-baked tosser?’

  ‘Henry’s my friend. That’s all. And even if he was more than that, what would it be to you? Nothing in my life has anything to do with you any more, Vince. You’re irrelevant to me. And you know what’s sad about that? What’s sad is that it didn’t have to be that way. If you’d tried a bit harder, if you’d taken a bit more pride, cared more about me – we might have been all right.’ Felicity’s eyes brightened with tears as the truth came out. Vince’s smile faded, and his gaze faltered from Henry’s face to hers. Something in him seemed to slacken as he listened. ‘I really loved you once, Vince. I could have gone on loving you if only you’d tried to make it worth my while. But you never did. You just took and took and took, and gave nothing. There are two types of people in this life, Vince – givers and takers, and you’re a taker. You moved in here, you sponged off me, you never tried to find work or make something better of your life. You took all my love and affection and gave nothing back.’ The tears spilt over and down her cheeks. ‘If you’d really loved me, if you’d wanted any kind of future for us, you’d have done more to sort your life out. Maybe if you hadn’t had it so easy here, you’d have tried harder – who knows? But you didn’t. And I lost all respect for you. And I stopped loving you. So you coming round here after you’ve had a few beers and shouting the odds is going to get you precisely nowhere.’ She sniffed, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘Do you see that?’

  Vince stared at her, baffled. She could see in his eyes that if Henry hadn’t been there he would have tried to wheedle and plead, and ask for another chance. But the remnants of his pride couldn’t let him do that in front of Henry. He shook his head. ‘That’s wrong,’ he muttered. ‘All of it.’ He turned his angry gaze to Henry, and for a second Felicity thought he was going to go for him. But something in Vince had been defeated by her words. He simply turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

  Felicity felt shaky, and oddly worn out, and began to cry in earnest. Henry came and put his arms round her. They stood there for a long moment, until her tears subsided.

  ‘Well done. Saying what you said – that was brave.’

  ‘Not really. I was just being honest.’ She wiped her eyes. ‘I feel sorry for him, more than anything else.’

  ‘You’re too nice. I’ve always said it.’ He kissed her forehead lightly, happy just to be holding her.

  ‘No, I’m not. You’re the nice one.’

  ‘Then we’re a nice pair.’ He smiled at her, hesitated, then kissed her mouth. He waited for her to resist, to push him away. But she didn’t. She let him kiss her. Something sad in Henry’s heart told him she was just being kind, or kissing him for the comfort of it, but he gave himself up to the pleasure of it, enjoying it while he could.

  ‘I’m not sure about this,’ said Felicity, when the kiss had ended.

  ‘No, well.’ Henry stroked a stray curl of hair from her forehead. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He moved away from her, turning to go into the living room. ‘I should be heading home.’

  She grabbed his arm. ‘Henry, it does matter. This evening was lovely. Being with you just feels so – so normal. That’s what I’m not sure about. If it’s the right thing to feel. Or whether I just feel that because I’m used to being with you. And you’re the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt.’

  He smiled. ‘That’s a good start.’

  She put her arms around him. ‘It is, isn’t it? A start, I mean.’ She kissed him lightly. Dear Henry. It had never occurred to her, till now, how safe and secure she felt with him. Suddenly she wanted very much to kiss him again. But instinct told her that this had to be taken slowly and gently. ‘Why don’t we do this again? I mean, you could come round another time and—’

  ‘Stop being such a giver. My place next time. I’ll do the cooking. OK?’

  She smiled. ‘OK.’

  When Leo arrived in Nice a hire car was waiting for him, and Felicity had texted the name of the hotel he was booked into. He took the motorway route, and twenty minutes later he was turning into the car park of the hotel on the harbour front. He parked the car and walked to the Cours Massena. The town had a dead feeling, only a handful of bars and restaurants open, the rest closed for the winter. As the apartment building came into view, he gazed up anxiously at the windows of the third floor, but could see no lights on. He felt a little sick inside. Perhaps his hunch had been wrong. He should have let Jacqueline call the police when she wanted to. Perhaps he had wasted valuable hours.

  He let himself in and hurried upstairs and unlocked the door. The apartment was empty, but to his unspeakable relief, a canvas overnight bag sat on the floor, next to a sleeping bag. He went through to the kitchen and found an opened bag of pasta, a jar of pesto, and unwashed dishes and a pan in the sink. Leo took his mobile from his pocket and rang Jacqueline.

  ‘She’s here.’

  ‘Oh, thank God! Can I speak to her?’

  ‘I mean, her things are here. She’s not. She must have gone out somewhere. But the good thing is, you can stop worrying.’

  ‘I’m so relieved! But I still need to know what’s going on, why she left!’

  ‘I know, I know. So do I. I’ll talk to her, and tomorrow I’ll get her to call you. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ There was a pause. ‘And thank you, Leo.’

  ‘It’s what any father would do.’

  When he had hung up, Leo paced around the apartment. She could be in any one of the bars and clubs he had passed. The sensible thing would be to wait till she got back. But the place was still unfurnished, with not even a chair to sit in. Besides, his instincts told him that if she was troubled – and he believed she was – she wasn’t looking for the company of other young people. He asked himself what he would do in her shoes, alone, here, trying to make sense of some problem. He left the apartment, walked up the quiet midnight streets to the castle, and along the deserted sweep of the ramparts that looked out over the port.

  After he had gone a little way, he saw a solitary figure sitting on the ramparts wall. It had to be her. As he came closer, she turned at the sound of his feet on the cobbles.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I thought I might find you here.’

  ‘Leo!’

  ‘You’ve got everyone very worried back home.’ He swung himself onto the wall and sat next to her, digging his hands deep in his overcoat pockets. She was wearing a thick jacket, but she looked cold. He put an arm around her, and she leant into his shoulder and began to cry.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said through her tears. ‘I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I’ve just been so frightened and miserable, I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘Hey, hey. No need to be frightened. Is this to do with what happened on Saturday?’

  She took her head from his shoulder and stared at him, sniffing. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘I spoke to Anthony. And just so you know – the police weren’t called.’

  ‘Really?’ She looked visibly relieved.

  ‘I gather some money changed hands, and the whole thing is being hushed up.’

&
nbsp; She buried her face in her hands. ‘Oh, God. I don’t know whether that’s good or bad. Good for me, I suppose.’

  ‘Look,’ said Leo, ‘what do you say we go somewhere and talk about this?’ She nodded, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m booked into a hotel down on the harbour. You might as well stay there tonight, too. That sleeping bag at the flat doesn’t exactly look comfy. Come on.’

  They walked down the deserted street to the harbour, and along the quay to the hotel.

  ‘How did you know I was here?’ asked Gabrielle.

  ‘Just a hunch. I asked myself where I would go, what I would do, if I was afraid and wanted to hide somewhere.’

  They checked into the hotel, and went through to the bar, which was deserted, but still open. ‘Sit down, and I’ll get us both a drink, and see if we can rustle up some food. I haven’t eaten all day. Have you got any cash?’

  Twenty-five euros persuaded the bar manager to produce from the kitchen some bread and fruit, and a hunk of brie, and they sat in the silence of the bar with a glass of wine each, and ate a late supper.

  ‘So, what made you run all the way down here?’ said Leo. ‘Why were you so terrified of the police being called?’

  Gabrielle had taken off her coat, and in her sweatshirt, jeans and trainers, with her hair tied back, she looked very young and vulnerable. ‘OK, I’ll tell you the whole thing. I should probably have told Anthony, but I was too – well, I was a bit high.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’d taken some coke.’ She glanced at Leo’s face. ‘I know. Don’t look like that. It was just there.’

  ‘Well, for an aspiring barrister, it was a remarkably dumb thing to do. Potentially career-ending. That can’t be the reason why you hopped on a flight to France, though.’