Errors of Judgment(12)
‘I’m sure you must have imagined it. I didn’t see it.’ Jonathan closed the front door. ‘Maybe she isn’t fond of dogs,’ he added, and disappeared into the living room to watch the rugby.
Caroline went to the kitchen and began clearing up. Not being fond of dogs told you a lot about a person. She wanted to like Sarah, for Toby’s sake, but she certainly wasn’t the kind of girl she had envisaged Toby marrying, and didn’t look like shaping up to become the affectionate, respectful daughter-in-law she had hoped for.
Sarah slumped thankfully in her car seat and switched on the CD player.
Toby smiled ruefully. ‘Sorry to drag you away. I could tell you and Mum were just getting settled in for a good old chat about the wedding.’ Sarah glanced at Toby. He was a sweet man, but his social radar wasn’t terribly acute. ‘The thing is, I need to go into the office.’
‘On a Sunday night? Why?’
Toby’s good-humoured face tensed slightly. He maintained his smile, but the dark V of a frown appeared between his eyes. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of the biggest financial shit-storm for some decades.’
Sarah felt a tingle of alarm. ‘But Graffman’s is OK, surely?’ Toby had worked for Graffman Spiers for seven years, and the job had given him his Docklands penthouse flat, his Porsche, his six-figure yearly bonus and, if Sarah was being perfectly honest, much of his appeal.
‘There’s some serious firefighting to be done. I got a text from my boss just before lunch, but I didn’t want to mention it in case the old dear got in a panic.’
‘Your job’s safe, isn’t it?’
Toby shrugged. His face gave nothing away. ‘Safe isn’t one of those words you hear a lot around the CDS department.’
‘CDS?’
‘Credit derivative swaps. They’re trading instruments.’ He glanced at her and squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t look so worried. It isn’t global meltdown. Anyway, we’ve got each other, and that’s what counts.’
Toby dropped Sarah at her Kensington flat, and sped off to Canary Wharf. Sarah wandered into the living room, sat down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes, welcoming the solitude. She’d decided to live alone after three years of sharing with her friend Louise – a lovely girl, but definitely a touch OCD on the tidying and cleaning front – and had fallen in love with this place from the beginning. It wasn’t large, just a one-bedroomed garden flat off Onslow Square, but Sarah adored it, even if the rent was on the high side. It had beautiful hardwood floors and an odd vaulted glass roof over the passageway to the kitchen, which itself was a small, tasteful miracle of well-used space.
It was growing dark, but she could still make out the ‘For Rent’ sign outside, which the estate agent had put up the week before. It made sense, she knew, for her to move into Toby’s Westminster riverside apartment. They would be married in a few months, after which they would carry on living there until they found a house. On Toby’s income they would be able to afford somewhere in a decent area, and Sarah had already spent hours online, taking virtual tours of houses in Notting Hill and Islington, hitting the Heal’s furnishing website and refining her search to the upper price range, and leafing through interior-decorating porn in WHSmith’s. But no matter how many desirable residences she saw, in however many leafy avenues or charming squares, she knew nothing would ever give her the cosy, private pleasure of her little Kensington flat. She didn’t like the idea of anyone else living here.
She got up and closed the blinds so that she didn’t have to see the sign, and padded through to the kitchen. She made herself a mug of tea and brought it back to the living room, put on some music, and stretched out on the sofa, feeling vaguely depressed and unsettled. Ever since childhood she had hated the fag end of Sunday, the weekend gone, Monday looming. Added to which, today’s visit to Colebrook House hadn’t exactly been a bundle of laughs. She’d felt disconnected from Toby, who, back in the familiar context of his family, had become more theirs and less hers. Caroline Kittering had been doing a bit of dividing and conquering, of course, telling Toby gossip about local people Sarah had never heard of, and making sure Sarah realised what a good cook she was, and how she knew all the little things that Toby liked. That was territorial, and only to be expected. Today was only the second time she’d met the Kitterings. The last time had been at a wedding of one of Toby’s friends, and she hadn’t particularly cared for them, their solidity, their smugness. She’d thought at the time that it wasn’t important. Toby was one thing, and his family were another. Today had made her realise how wrong that idea was. Toby and his family were one and the same thing, and once they were married, she would become part of it.