Errors of Judgment(34)

Felicity struggled against this. Henry was giving her an honest answer, yet she wasn’t prepared to accept it. ‘Maybe I should just wait till he gets out, see how things are then, take it from there.’

Henry nodded. Let all that happen, he was thinking, and it’ll be too late.

Felicity was painfully aware of her own cowardice. To change the subject she asked, ‘So, how’s things with you and Cheryl. Everything OK?’

Henry nodded. ‘Coasting along. You know.’

Dear Henry, thought Felicity. He always looked so morose, even when he smiled. Like a sweet spaniel. She hoped this Cheryl wasn’t stringing him along. He deserved someone decent. She knew how Henry felt about her. It brought out some weird, deep-seated guilt that she couldn’t return his feelings. He really was the nicest man she knew.

Suddenly, half-embarrassed, Henry added, ‘We’re thinking we might get married next year.’

‘No!’ Felicity feigned delight and surprise.

‘Well …’ Henry toyed with his teaspoon. ‘We’ve been seeing one another for the better part of eighteen months. Seems about the right time. I’m not getting any younger.’

‘Well, that’s lovely. I’m glad for you both.’ Felicity laid her hand over Henry’s and smiled into his eyes. The uncertainty of her own feelings puzzled her. She should be pleased for him. Perhaps she felt this way because he’d found something she hadn’t, and wasn’t ever likely to find with Vince.

‘Thanks.’ Henry wasn’t sure why he’d told her that about him and Cheryl. It wasn’t even true. Well, not yet, though Cheryl had been hinting that way, and Henry was hard-pushed to find reasons not to. He suspected he’d said it to provoke some reaction in Felicity that he was never likely to get. And there she was, smiling away at him as if it was the best news she’d ever heard. And her hand over his in a way that meant they were really good friends. Just good friends.

Sarah took Toby’s call just before lunchtime.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Sarah. ‘You sound weird.’

‘I’ve been canned,’ said Toby. ‘Sacked. We’ve been told to clear our desks by noon.’

‘Oh God.’ Sarah’s stomach felt like it had hit the floor. ‘Oh God, Toby, that’s awful. What are you going to do?’

‘What am I going to do? Well, I’m filling a black bin bag as we speak, and when I’ve done that, I’m heading to the pub to get off my face.’ He hung up.

Sarah sought out her broker friend Miranda, an American woman in her thirties whose husband had been sacked by his investment bank just weeks earlier.

‘Another casualty,’ said Miranda. ‘Saul said that Graffman Spiers would probably go to the wall.’ She glanced at Sarah’s stricken face. ‘I’m truly sorry. I know how you feel. Come on, why don’t we drown our sorrows?’

They went to a wine bar in Fenchurch Street to discuss the crisis over glasses of Sauvignon Blanc.

‘At least Toby told you straight away. Saul didn’t let on for four whole weeks,’ Miranda told Sarah.

‘Four weeks? What was he doing all that time?’

‘Going to the gym. Boozing with friends. Having expensive lunches. Doing the denial thing. He rinsed through his final pay check in under a month. I was mad as hell, until I realised the poor guy was actually in shock. Works eighty hours a week for fifteen years, suddenly he wakes up one morning and he doesn’t know what he’s for any more.’

‘And now?’

Miranda shrugged. ‘Now he’s meant to be looking for another job, obviously, but I don’t know what he does all day. I leave him watching TV at breakfast, and I come home eight hours later and it’s like he hasn’t moved. I thought of letting the nanny go, but somehow I don’t see Saul turning into a house husband, picking up the kids, doing the chores. He’s a banker, for Christ’s sake. A master of the universe. We just have to hope this picks up, that the economy turns around and he gets another job.’

‘It must be hard, with the children.’

‘Sure it’s hard. The house is on the market, we’re living on our savings, but if he doesn’t get work in the next six months, God knows what’s going to happen. I’m trying to sort out a nanny-share to cut down expenses. I’m not the only Notting Hill mother in this boat. And we may have to take a long hard look at those nice private schools the girls are at. Still, at least one of us is working.’

Sarah nodded. To think just a couple of weeks ago she’d been contemplating the comfortable life she would lead once she was married, giving up work and living on Toby’s earnings in a beautiful London house, with no money worries. Why had she ever imagined it was going to be that easy? Because no one had told them this crash was coming, was why. Because just twelve months ago the whole world had been on one big roll, and the good times looked like they’d never stop. Well, they’d stopped as of noon today, and she and Toby were going to have to do some serious rethinking. He had to get straight out there and into the market. No question of him sitting around watching daytime television and feeling sorry for himself. He needed to find a job just as good as the last, if not better. He had to. Otherwise the future was far from orange. The future was bleak. And marrying someone who didn’t have a six-figure salary and excellent prospects simply wasn’t part of Sarah’s game plan.